He looked back at me over his shoulder and his teeth shone in the moonlight. “You’re my counseling partner. It’s my job to bring more excitement into your life.”
My heart nearly skipped a beat and I stumbled. Straightening up again, I ducked my head so he couldn’t see my red cheeks. “Um, I think we need to work on your reading comprehension skills. I don’t think you read the job description right.”
“It’s an added perk of the job. Counsel some kids, make you take your nose out of those books of yours…”
“I take my nose out of books!” It was hard to sound indignant when speaking in a whisper.
“‘Reading comprehension?’ Who says stuff like that?”
I stuck my nose up in the air to give myself a snobbish appearance. “People who want A’s in English.”
He poked me with the foot-stick. “Just sweep, book nerd.”
We worked in silence for the next few minutes, Dev laying down trails of “footprints” around the cabins, me sweeping away any trace of our non-devil existence. After we finished with the girls’ cabins, we started the trek around the lake to the boys’ cabins. When we were far enough from any cabin, I tilted my head to stare at the perfectly clear sky above us.
“I love how the stars and the moon are so much brighter out here. It’s like you can practically reach out and touch them,” I said, when the tension of the silence between us got to be too much. “I never can tell if the moon’s waxing or waning.”
“The moon is a liar,” he said under his breath. Dev had stopped walking and was also staring at the perfect crescent in the sky.
“Excuse me?” I turned my focus from the sky to his shadowed profile.
“The moon’s a liar,” he repeated, this time in his regular voice. “You know crescendo and decrescendo, right? Like, the way they work in music?”
I tilted my head and snorted inelegantly, cringing at my faux pas. “No. I’ve only played flute for seven years.”
“Nice sarcasm.”
“I learned from Em.” I brushed at imaginary lint on my shoulder and fake-polished my nails on my sleeve.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” He flashed me a grin before tracing the moon’s silhouette with his finger. “What letter is the moon making right now? C or D?”
That was a weird question, but I gamely played along. “It looks like a C.”
“C, like crescendo. That means the moon is waning. Decrescendo-ing. Because the moon just lied to you.”
“Huh.”
“So now you know.”
He started walking again and I hurried to come up alongside him. Damn his longer legs. “How did you learn that trick?”
Dev gave me a sheepish smile. “Every time I visited my grandparents on their plantation in India, my grandfather would wake me up and drag me out to the fields in the middle of the night to teach me about the stars. He used to be an astronomer.” He lifted an open palm to the sky. “The sky there was kind of like this, with no artificial lights to fade it out.” This Dev was quiet and serious, almost reverent, while he spoke.
I could just picture little Dev in his pajamas staring at the sky. “It sounds beautiful.”
“It is. I love going there—it’s kind of magical. It has the biggest, clearest sky on the planet. The poinsettia bushes lining the drive to their house are as tall as you. Butterflies are everywhere. And when the bougainvillea is in bloom, it’s like snow is swirling around you as you walk up to the house.”
“You should write that down. I’d definitely love to read about that.”
“Nah, I’m not good at writing. I’m good at making words and music come to life.”
“The acting thing. That’s why you and Lexie get along so well.”
He faltered a step and tried to cover it up with a cool expression. “And me and Em and all the other theatre geeks.”
“Yeah, but aren’t you and Lexie closer than you and Em?” I asked, forcing my tone to stay light. I picked up a rock and tossed it into the lake so it made a satisfying plunk. Like my heart in a minute.
“Lexie’s cool, but she can get kind of needy. I don’t really know why she invited herself over to our lunch table like she did.” Our lunch table. I froze midway through throwing another rock. Dev’s expression smoothed into something that was frustratingly impossible to read again. “Why are we talking about Lexie?”
This time, I shrugged. Remember, no matter what, you still didn’t interest him enough to ask you out, a little voice warned me. But the tiniest bubble of hope rose up in me. “I’m not sure. C’mon, we have kids to scare.” I kept my eyes on the lake so he couldn’t really see my face or the tiny smile that threatened to break through. Maybe he really is just shy.
Golden series book 2: Glittering Chapter 30, PG. 372
Maeve’s breath came in short bursts, freezing in little clouds that were barely visible in the twilight. It was impossible for the Dullahan to miss her, considering she was standing in the middle of the road, but a primal part of her wanted to hold her breath and hide any sign she was there. With shaking hands, she pulled off her golden torque and closed her eyes as she rubbed its braided surface one last time before slipping it into her bag. The Dullahan may have found a way to make himself immune to gold, but she wasn’t going to risk turning him away.
The rush of demonic horse’s hooves carried on the wind towards her and she widened her stance, pushing back the urge to throw up as she drew her sword. “Your chances of dying are about ninety-five percent,” Sibeal’s words came back to her, and she tightened her grip on the sword so much that the hilt’s leather wrapping cut into her palm, “but, the good news is, if he beheads you, the energy released by the evil of his blade touching the good of your blood will make everything go boom.”
Either her powers would destroy him or her blood would. One way or another, she was going to stop him. She was the Harper. Her powers were the stuff of legend, and she’d be damned if her courage didn’t live up to those same legends. Maeve pulled back her shoulders and shook off the last of her fear as a dark shadow came into her line of sight.
She was ready.
He was never going to hurt anyone in her or Aedan’s worlds ever again20.
47
The energy from the night before still danced across my skin. Dev and I had finished putting out the footprints and he walked me back around the lake. We had fallen into this weirdly comfortable silence that he would sometimes break to point out a constellation. He had even grabbed my hand to steady me when the moonlight wasn’t enough to see all the ruts in the path, and hadn’t let go until we were close to the girls’ cabins. And all of that happened despite the fact that I’d completely forgotten to be Maeve or Marissa or anyone out of my notebook. I hadn’t been able to sleep after practically floating back to bed and spent the night flipping through it and taking more notes. There had been something about the easy way that we were able to talk that almost made me feel like it was okay that I forgot for one night, but I wouldn’t forget again.
I absently curled and uncurled my fingers, the ghost of his touch still there a few hours later. After working so hard to push him out of my head, now this whole camping thing brought me right back to December. I was in so much trouble.
“Phoebe, are you paying attention?”
I looked up sharply to see Dev gesturing at one of the campers who was trying to position herself on the crawling rope bridge.
“Sorry.” I reached out to steady the two ropes that hung in parallel above the small creek and almost jostled the camper still making his way across. Smooth.
That camper climbed off of the bridge and threw a dirty look my way before high-fiving Dev and heading off to join his classmates in the next challenge.
The girl on my bank, watching the whole exchange, looked at me with a little bit of fear before starting to cross. While I was useless and a potential danger to them, Dev was so good with the kids, encouraging them and treating them as if they were the same age as us. The
guys fist-bumped him as soon as they reached the other side, the girls blushed and giggled as he reached out and lifted them off of the ropes and onto solid ground. He really was a little bit like Evan from Cradled. Actually, a lot, if Evan played clarinet and didn’t farm and was Indian instead of ScotchCanadian. The absolutely perfect love interest.
“Last one!” Dev called out as I steadied the ropes for one of the boys.
“Thank goodness.” As soon as the camper was most of the way across the creek, I stood and checked behind me. He was right, no more campers. “What was that supposed to teach them, anyway? How to get muddy?”
Dev glanced up from his clipboard with barely concealed amusement on his face. “Concentration and balance. It’s really not bad. Haven’t you ever gone across a two rope bridge before?” In the noon sunlight, his teeth were bright white against his tanned skin, already darker from our days outside.
I looked down. The dirt that had collected on my sneakers became endlessly fascinating. “Uh, no. I got ‘sick’ when we had to do it in sixth grade and skipped to the next obstacle.”
His grin grew wider. “Well, we have a few minutes before they expect us at the mess. Give it a try.”
I stared in horror at him. “No.”
“I tried archery.”
The heat rose again in my cheeks as the memory came rushing back. “Well, that’s different. You can’t get hurt doing archery.”
“Tell that to my arm. That string hurt.”
“Wimp.”
He bounced the ropes in a way that was probably supposed to make them look inviting. “I know you’ll regret it if you don’t try. Do it for me?” He waggled his eyebrows in a way that made me want to giggle.
His grey-green eyes caught mine and I sighed. Why was it that I could never say no to this guy?
“Fine.” I eyed the bridge warily. The ropes were low, like floppy parallel bars close to water that had mostly churned to a few inches of pure mud at this point. I bent over, getting a closer-than-usual whiff of the earthy decaying plant smell of the creek. “Seriously, Dev, I don’t know about this...”
“C’mon. It’s easier than starting a fire.”
“Ha. Very funny, Nature Boy.” But as I spoke, I leaned over until I was almost horizontal to the creek. I arranged myself on top of the ropes the same way we had taught the kids, those two ropes the only things between me and an instant soaking. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath—I was Maeve, strong and beautiful and, just like in Chapter Thirty of Glittering, ready to face anything.
“You know, you have to move if you want to make it across the bridge,” Dev called out with a chuckle.
“I was just getting my balance.” I said before starting to pull myself across the bridge. I got about a yard in before the ropes wobbled under me, and my leg splashed into the creek, water seeping into my sneaker. “Oh, frak!”
“Frak? Do you ever actually curse?”
I looked up at him with a grimace. The water actually felt slimy. “I say frak all the time.”
He coughed, but I could tell he was covering up a laugh. “That’s not a curse. That’s a Battlestar Galactica reference.”
“Well, frak you.”
That time, he did laugh. “You’re doing okay. Just wrap that leg back onto the rope and keep going.” I looked up. He had crouched down on his side of the creek, his hands held out encouragingly, as if he could pull me across with the sheer force of his will.
I grit my teeth and pulled myself back onto the two ropes. Eleven year olds had gotten across this thing with only a splash or two and I had almost six years on them. I could totally do it. My arms burned as I tried to drag myself forward in the weird froggy-crawly motion Dev had used in his demo. Another half a yard and the ropes unbalanced and twisted again, flipping me over so I landed directly under them, butt-deep in muddy water. A choked, almost laugh-like sound came from the opposite bank, but when I checked, Dev still had that serious, supportive expression on his face.
I was wet and soggy from head to toe. My counselor polo was spattered with mud and clung in an unflattering way to my chest. My one pair of cute jeans was now covered in a layer of mud. I had to be honest with myself—even if Dev could see past my knitting stuff, the geekiness, and the whole book thing, how I looked at this moment was probably just icing on the cake. I should have gotten up, walked away, and tried to preserve a scrap of my dignity, but then a little laugh bubbled up in me. The universe really had a sick sense of humor.
Dev’s brows were drawn together in confusion and worry. “Are you okay over there? Do you need me to help you up?”
“No, no...” I laughed, squeezing out words between giggles. The whole situation was ridiculous. “Just hold the ropes steady so I can get back on without flipping over again.” Maeve wouldn’t have given up, and at this point neither would I.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” I pulled myself to standing, dissolving into another round of giggles at the suction-y sound that accompanied dragging my butt up out of the mud. “Like you said, I can do this.” I plopped back onto the ropes, the mud making them slippery on top of being wobbly. Keeping my eyes trained on his, I slowly made my way across the creek.
It only took three or four more falls into the mud to get to the other side.
Dev reached out a hand to help me out, pulling me up off of the bridge as if I weighed nothing. “That was...interesting,” he said, giving my very muddy form a once-over. “Are you really okay?”
I squeezed water out of my limp and stringy ponytail. “I’m fine. Wet, but—” I plopped onto the ground beside his feet and rolled up the soggy legs of my jeans, cursing at the sight before me. “Oh, frak, these are handknit. And Malabrigo.” I tugged at my now stained socks, the colorway unrecognizable under all of the mud and silt.
He sat next to me on the bank. “You wore handknit socks to go camping?”
I shrugged, slipping off my sneaker to assess the rest of the damage. “Normal socks give you blisters and wool gets warmer when it’s wet. Plus, I kitchener the toe, which is so much better than the seam on commercial socks...” I trailed off, realizing I was babbling and that he was looking at me strangely again. “Um, yeah, it’s a knitter thing. I know it sounds strange...”
“It is,” he agreed, but instead of walking away like I thought he would, he reached over and wiped a glob of mud off of my forehead. “You know, you really are unique, Feebs.”
My skin tingled where he had touched it, but I pushed that feeling away, trying to focus on not turning into a whimpering puddle of knitterly geek. At least I had that much self-respect.
“Thanks,” I said, dryly.
He kicked at my sock-clad foot, not meeting my eyes. “I like unique.”
My head shot up. What?
He paused for a moment before continuing, as if he— Dev, the hottie of the entire clarinet section, the guy who could have any girl in the marching band or theatre club— was trying to drum up the guts to say something to me. Sock-knitting, book-reading, hadn’t been on a date—like, ever—me.
“Most girls would have stopped the first time that they fell off of that thing. You didn’t. That’s impressive.”
“Lexie wouldn’t have fallen at all.” I shivered as a stiff breeze blew over us. It wasn’t too cold out, but being wet didn’t help with staying warm.
He laughed. “What is it with you always bringing up Lexie?” He reached over and started rubbing my arms to help me warm up.
I turned as still as a statue, heat rushing over me. Suddenly, I didn’t notice the cold. “I thought you two liked each other.” I sucked in a breath.
He finally looked up, his eyes greener than ever as they reflected the barrens around us.
“Phoebe…” he reached over, flicking another blob of mud off my nose where it had settled in the last minute, “I don’t like Lexie as anything more than a friend.”
“Oh.” What would Maeve do? I mentally scanned through my library of heroines and lan
ded on Marissa. What would Marissa do?
Dev kept staring at me, a frown tugging at his lips. “You didn’t think that she and I were dating, did you?”
I shook my head, still praying that some Marissa-wisdom would pop into my head. “No, I mean, kind of. I mean, I saw you two on New Years.” Oh, hell. Somehow, every plot in the Hidden House series had totally flown out of my head. I was so screwed. “You know how Em and I are always trying to keep up with everything going on with all of our friends.” And the horrible attempt at butt-saving babble started. “I mean, we’re still trying to figure out who Alec’s been crushing on, and you should have seen us with Grace and—”
“Got it,” he said. His frown grew a little deeper and he stood, holding out his hand to help me. “You need to get cleaned up and I need to get over to the mess to supervise our table.”
“Right.” I waved his hand away. “I can do this.” I pushed myself to standing, my footing a little bit uncertain between my wet sneakers, the mud, and the sand.
Dev reached out to steady me and my arms slipped in his hands, making me fall against him. “Frakin’ mud,” he choked out but laughed as he tried to straighten me up and slipped again. After another few moments of wobbliness, he dragged us both onto the relatively dry sugar sand.
I couldn’t help it. His shirt was now stained with a meshaped imprint and I pressed a cold, muddy hand against his face and back into his hair with a giggle. I was giddy, an electric buzz running from my stomach and practically shooting out of my fingers and toes. “I think you missed a spot.”
He stealth-grabbed a blob of mud from my shirt and squished it into my ponytail. “So did you. Why are we friends when you’re so mean to me?” he asked, staring down at me with a faux-serious expression.
I swatted at that serious nose with a muddy finger and giggled so much that my side started to hurt. I was punchdrunk from the falls into the creek, or maybe there was something off about the water. Whichever one, some part of me that I couldn’t seem to control took over. Marissa would be proud. I leaned closer, feeling the heat rising off of his body.
Bookishly Ever After Page 24
