by Dela
“Thanks,” I said, nervously swiping loose hair behind my ear.
I looked down because staring at him did something to my ability to move, and worried that I looked pathetic. His bare feet wore the same blue sneakers from that night. I drew my eyes slowly upward, astonished that he was here. I could see outlines of muscles underneath his deep V-neck shirt, as well as his tattoo, which was now a bland black marking. I was staring at it in awe, remembering its glowing blueness, wanting to reach out and touch it, when a sudden change of scent in the air caught my attention. It was the scent that had lingered in my room after the accident. I dared to look back up, feeling stunned . . . and violated. My new, uncontrolled anger took over, and I glared at him.
“You.” I barely managed the word.
He smiled at my obvious frustration and spoke with a Latin accent so hot it startled dormant butterflies in my stomach. “How are you?”
“You! But . . . how?”
“Me what?”
I tried to remain composed, but no one’s voice was that sexy. It made me giddy, which made me angrier.
“The car crash, how did . . .” Suddenly I couldn’t remember what I was going to say. In that instant, a tear of pure horror swelled in the corner of my eye. “Were you in my room?”
He scuffed his shoes on the pavement. “What? Of course not.” He plastered on a smile, laughing as he held out his hand. “I’m Lucas Castillo.”
I must have sounded ridiculous, accusing a stranger of being in my room, and I had very hesitantly inched my hand into his when I got zapped. It didn’t hurt—it turned into a soft tingle. It was exciting, even, like the nerves you get from a first kiss, but I pulled away, scared, and looked up. His mouth was agape, and he seemed just as curious as I.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded.
He recovered with a gorgeous grin and swiped his hand through his dark hair. “I go to school here.”
My body pounded for answers. “Did you get me and my friend out of the car that night?”
His arms folded, and he stared as if I were mad. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re the anonymous ‘young gentleman’ everyone was talking about in the hospital. Aren’t you?”
He dropped his gaze and put his hands in his pockets, shifting from foot to foot. “Look, I don’t know what you saw, but I wasn’t there.”
“I saw you.”
He straightened up, cupped his hands behind his neck, and stretched, looking annoyed. His voice was harsh as he stared at the sky. “I’ve got to go. See you in class.”
Then he crossed the parking lot and disappeared. I stared for a moment, baffled, then went on with my day.
As I walked to the cafeteria for lunch, the harsh afternoon breeze chilled me to the bone. I pulled my cardigan tight around me as I entered. I noticed that everyone had turned to stare out the window. Ashley, Hayden, Tana, Tyson, and Tommy all stood in a circle, eyes glued to the far corner of the parking lot.
Bri came up next to me, Jett close behind her. “That’s Gabriella Castillo. She’s our new English TA,” she said, her eyes on the three cats putting books in a car with a Lexus emblem on the back. It was white and, judging by the sportiness, very expensive. “When I’m her age, I want to look that good.”
“Bri, she looks the same age as us,” I remarked.
“Who buys their freshman kids Porsches and LFAs?” Jett huffed jealously.
“Theirs do,” Bri said.
Though I remembered how pretty they all were from Lucky Pin, it was hard not to notice their exotic beauty in the mix of us fresh-out-of-high-school college kids. In the daylight, their faces were even more enchanting, to a degree I knew neither I, nor anyone I knew, would ever achieve. Even their posture was perfect; they were like models posing at a photo shoot for tanning oil.
Gabriella’s face was pure loveliness—when it wasn’t upset. She had a small nose, and I actually admired her large, accentuating eyebrows when they weren’t furrowing at me. The long eyelashes complemented them well. Her collection of gold bracelets reflected the sun’s brightness in a shower of light. I was wondering how heavy all that jewelry was, or if it was even real, when I realized that the blond boy and Lucas wore bracelets too. Theirs were finer and made with dark threads or leather.
Out of nowhere they started arguing, as they had at Lucky Pin. Lucas was spitting words at them while the other two stood there and took it.
“What are they fighting about?” Tana looked concerned through the pound of makeup caking her face.
Tommy, Bri’s crush, snorted. “Look at all of you—it’s pathetic.” He slid a trucker hat over his short hair, letting the light brown curls stick out.
I felt a light touch on my arm and flinched slightly.
“You okay?” Jett asked.
“Yeah, why?”
“I don’t know. You seem different.”
Bri slid to my side and swung her arm around me. “She’s perfect; look at her.”
He looked me up and down. “That’s my point.” Bri skipped off to see some other friends, but Jett leaned in so only I could hear. “Shouldn’t you still have bruises on your skin, or scabs at least? How did they all go away so fast?”
“Jett!” Tommy yelled. “Let’s go. The boat’s ready. I want to get as much wakeboarding in as possible before the sun goes down.”
“We’ll talk later,” Jett said. He ran to catch up with Tommy.
Jett was right, but I couldn’t let him know that. I flipped back around to watch Lucas, a thousand questions running through my mind.
It was strange how swiftly their composure changed. They were now leaning against their cars in a daze, staring off in different directions. I almost felt bad for how strange it seemed, this lack of recognition of each other. If I had only glanced over briefly, they would have appeared to be waiting for someone, but the longer I stared, the more it seemed they were mourning something.
“They’re the family that built that big house on Fallen Leaf Lake,” started Tyson, Tana’s boyfriend.
“What does their dad do?” Ashley asked, her cinnamon hair falling perfectly straight down her back.
“Nobody knows. My mom works at Tahoe Review Journal, and she said that the lady who interviewed them for the welcome column told her that their parents objected to doing the interview. Something about a death in the family made them too sad, so it was Dylan who did the interview,” Tyson commented.
“Dylan?” I asked.
“Yeah, the blond with the hot English TA—I mean, wife,” Tyson corrected. Tana snorted, and he smacked a kiss on her cheek. “Not as pretty as you, of course.”
Tana rolled her eyes and turned her shoulder away from him as she crossed her arms. There was a chill from the window when Bri stepped closer.
“What sort of business do you think they have here?” she asked.
“Probably the illegal sort,” Tana retorted.
I watched their beauty more closely. They were too graceful, too fluid, and they definitely weren’t here for anything illegal. It was something else entirely, my intuition informed me. Suddenly, Lucas directed his gaze toward me. I froze again. The thought of our skin tingling together frightened me, and I remembered how my room had smelled of him. I was starting to dislike him more already.
He held his stare as his lip curved up crookedly, saturated with curiosity. Still looking at me, he said something that made the other two follow his gaze. I glanced away quickly, but the shiver still came, knowing they were watching. But then his See you in class jarred my next step, and I couldn’t help but look back.
When he waved to me with a taut smile—as if he knew I would look back—I swung around, somehow upset.
“Hey, Zara, we’re all going to the movies. Want to come?” Tana asked.
I couldn’t think straight, not with the feeling I w
as being watched. I tightened my grip on my bag and looked away. “Not today, Tana. I’ll catch one next time.”
I was on Lake Tahoe Boulevard when I decided Lucas was like a scratch ’n’ sniff. There should be a sign plastered to his shirt that says scratch here, because you can only scratch so far before you realize you aren’t going to get anything in return. Nothing but a bad taste in your mouth.
A migraine formed later that night as I washed the dishes. It had a cold edge to it, like an ice pack left on my head. Mom let me leave the dishes to go upstairs and rest. I had just opened my bedroom door when my cell rang. I leaped for it and stubbed my pinky toe on the hardcover history book I’d left on the floor. I picked up the phone, cursing at myself for the agonizing throb.
“Zara?”
I sat down, reached for the wretched book, and angrily tossed it on the bed. “Hey, Bri.”
“Oh my heck. That family, here?” she started, sounding elated.
“Yeah. Imagine,” I said, more interested in rubbing my toe.
“I have a theory.”
“Theory?”
“Yes. They’re cops, the undercover kind. Something is about to go down at our school. You just wait. I’m always right.”
“Bri, they are not undercover cops,” I declared.
“You’ll see. Hey, listen. I wanted to call you and get your okay with this.”
She suddenly sounded bubbly. It made me nervous. “With what?”
“The girls and I decided we should do a girls’ night at the new club in Reno and . . . we wanted to invite that new TA, Gabriella.”
I didn’t have a problem with Gabriella. It was her steamy brother who gave me a funny feeling, a deep-in-my-soul bad feeling. I didn’t feel right about this.
“Why? You just said you thought she was a cop.”
“I did. Don’t argue. And besides, I want her to be our friend. And then if she is a cop, she can protect us if something goes wrong. Where do you think she keeps her gun?”
“Bri, one, we don’t need protection, and two, Gabriella is married.”
“So? Married people have friends,” she said. She sounded so naïve.
I laughed, baffled. “Yeah, other married people.”
“Well, she said yes. So everyone is meeting at my house on Friday after school. Oh, and we’re crashing at my house after,” she added quickly.
“Did I ever have a say in this?”
She paused. “Well, not really.”
“Then why did you bother to call me?”
“I don’t know? Habit I guess. You will be there, though,” she insisted.
“Bri, I don’t . . .”
“Great, see you then!” Her voice went up an octave as if she’d inhaled helium. “Got to go. Tommy’s calling.”
I tossed my phone on the pillow, went to the bathroom, and brushed my teeth, deciding to shower in the morning. After I put on my pajamas, I rolled onto my bed and stared at the white-and-red flowers sitting on the windowsill. Max and Casey must have gone to the grocery store to buy them. Mom didn’t have those kind of roses in her garden, and she wasn’t the buying-flowers type. They were nice to look at, though, and I fell asleep admiring them.
Lucas
CHAPTER FIVE
Tick
I didn’t realize how much Zara hung out with Jett. Watching them, though, I realized I was growing fond of her. The way he’d touched her in the cafeteria the other day made me cringe. I’d added myself to Zara’s History 113 class a week before. When I found out Monday that he was in the same section as Zara and I, I made Dylan work his godly measure on him after school. Jett changed classes.
Still, that boy was relentless. He rode in her car when Zara went to pick up her last check from Lucky Pin. I knew because I followed them. I never let Zara out of my sight. If I couldn’t do it, then someone in my family did.
I imagined how it would go when she saw me in her class. I figured it probably wouldn’t be good, since she despised me at the moment, but the girl didn’t have a choice. I wasn’t going anywhere. I mean, I couldn’t because I was protecting her, but I didn’t want to either. The prospect of getting to know a sacrifice was too fascinating.
I walked into the auditorium promptly at one o’clock and sat in the first row of stadium seats. In all my years of college, I’d been accustomed to sitting in the last row up top, but I wanted Zara to see me clear as day. I set my only notebook down on my lap and leaned back, rubbing the nubs of hair on my chin as I listened to her footsteps trotting nearer. I smiled, anxious to see her reaction, but when she walked in, her sling bag was sliding off her shoulder, and she fiddled with it instead of noticing me. Her gorgeousness pleased my eyes, and my stomach tensed with desire to be closer to her than I already was. I counted down as she unknowingly stepped closer to me.
On the count of one, when she finally looked up and realized the only empty seat in the room was next to me, her mouth dropped open.
“Hi,” I said.
She plopped the heavy brown pleather bag down on the floor and sat silently. I watched her, noting the extreme tension that tightened her body.
“How are you?” I asked.
Her eyes barely grazed mine before her chin dropped toward my arm. “So what’s with the tattoos?”
I wasn’t ready for that. I swept my right hand over my markings. I hadn’t thought about the girl having a personality—much less not liking me. I’m breaking a tradition that could kill me, and this is how I’m treated? I still liked her, but I glanced away, bothered. “It’s a family thing. We all have one.”
“Like a crest?”
“Something of the sort,” I replied.
“What do they mean?”
I looked back to her and snickered in a way that made her recoil. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
When her gaze wavered, I leaned in, lifting one eyebrow. “Wait, you don’t like tattoos, do you?”
She acted like I was a threat. She looked to the front of the classroom, lifted her chin bravely, and swallowed. “I’ve never been a fan.”
My hollowed stomach filled with amusement, and I couldn’t keep the corners of my mouth down. She was a horrible liar. I leaned on the armrest and turned toward her. “And your parents, they taught you this?”
Her short-lived defiance wavered as I gazed at her. She looked away. I suspected it was to hide a blush. “Sort of. Faith, I guess.”
“You have good parents.”
Abruptly, she shot back, “Why are you here?” There was fire in her eyes.
I raised my eyebrows, pointed to the professor walking in, and stated, “Um, school.”
“What are you studying?” she demanded. Her sassiness excited me.
“Generals right now.”
I expected her to say something smart after that, but she let off and just watched me. I let her as I pretended to be a good student and opened my notebook.
“Where did you move from?” she suddenly asked.
“A little town near Cancun, Mexico.”
“Why would you want to move here?” she said. Now she sounded snobby.
I squinted at her, feeling the low smolder of irony as I held back a laugh. “It’s complicated.”
“Do you live in the dorms?”
I nodded. I saw her shiver as she leaned away from me.
“So, what part of town did you move to?” she asked.
“We just bought a house off Fallen Leaf Lake.”
“We?”
“My parents are retired and moved here, and my sister goes to college here too.”
“I thought the government owned a lot of the land around there.”
“They do. It’s complicated,” I repeated, annoyed this time. I had been out of touch with girls for so long I couldn’t remember if all girls were this nosy.
This gir
l’s hands were shaking when she looked back up through her lashes. “Look, Lucas—for what it’s worth—thank you.”
“For what?”
“For saving my life,” she whispered.
What little breath my body held was sucked out, and I stiffened. How does she remember?
Zara took notice and glanced around us. Then she scooted in closer and whispered, “Why do you keep denying it? I saw you. I know you were there, and I know you saw something else that night too.”
Her memory unraveled my calculated thoughts, and my vision dimmed. How could this be? Eventually, I narrowed my eyes and leaned in close enough to let her scent drive me crazy. I was careful not to get too close. I wanted to, but it squeezed that physical trigger, wanting to seize control as it had before I was immortal. “How do you remember so much?”
She blinked slowly. “What do you mean?”
I didn’t have time to answer her as Professor Tanner began her lecture. So I returned my unwelcome attention to Zara, who was now messing with her hair to create a shield from my glare. I didn’t mind because I loved her hair. I could tell when she’d just washed it from the way her shampoo’s extracts flowed in the air. Today it smelled like eucalyptus and orange tea, a nice change from her usual strawberry scent.
I expected Zara to look back up—humans are curious creatures, drawn to us by nature—but was pleasantly surprised when she held her ground for a solid ten minutes. When she cracked moments later and tried to sneak an inconspicuous glance, I grinned. She responded with an even more peculiar stare, curious about my amusement but slightly upset, then looked away, shaking her head.
A little while later, her expression shifted to a soft pout, probably annoyance with the awkwardness between us. I chuckled. It reminded me of my sister’s attitude and drama. Women. Zara scowled at me for laughing before turning back to the professor, continuing her silent game, but I thrived on this reaction.
In the middle of class, the professor assigned us a two-page report and presentation with a partner on the archaeology or civilization of either the Aztecs or Mayans. Suddenly Zara was willing to talk. I didn’t like talking about my past, but I especially didn’t want to come off as a know-it-all, which would only make Zara more suspicious.
