Watermark (The Emerald Series Book 3)

by James, Kimberly

  To his ever-growing credit, Michael didn’t gloat on his way back to his desk, despite the low whistles and spattering of claps offered by our classmates. My heart sank into my stomach. Too late to cry sexual harassment or abuse of power.

  “Now that the fun is over, page thirty-six in your books everybody.”

  The bell rang forty minutes later. I waited to pack up my book bag until most of the class had dispersed. Michael paused at my desk and picked up the note, crumbling it into a tight ball.

  “See you Friday,” he said, mouth spreading into an easy smile. Then without looking, he pitched the paper wad over his shoulder. It fell dead center in the trash can.

  Did the guy ever miss?

  6

  “So…” Ally poked me in the ribs with her elbow as I rolled the ball basket onto the gym floor. “The big date. Are you excited?”

  She’d peppered me with questions all during practice. Her enthusiasm for my social life was taxing, probably because I hadn't had one for so long. I'd ventured out more this past summer and even let her talk me into having a party at my house as a way to reintroduce myself back into the world. I was about to offer to dress her up and let her take my place Friday night, but for some reason that idea didn’t sit well with me.

  “It’s not like that.” I gritted my teeth, knowing she'd never cease her questions until I satisfied her curiosity.

  “Oh, come on. It’s me you’re talking to. You wouldn't have agreed to that bet if there weren’t some part of you that wanted to go out with Michael. So what gives?”

  “Okay, fine.” I picked up the last ball from the floor and tossed it into the ball carrier. If there was one person I should be comfortable talking to about my so-called date with Michael, it was Ally. “Maybe I think he’s cute.”

  “Oh, Erin,” she said, bouncing on her toes in apparent excitement. “I’m so happy for you.”

  “I said I think he’s cute.” I tried for a passive tone, not wanting to make a big deal of one single date. We were going to hang out at a football game with upward of a thousand other people. It didn’t mean anything.

  “I know.” She schooled her expression to one less animated. “It’s okay. I get it. He definitely has that whole sexy, geeky vibe going on. Besides, it’s time.”

  “You think he’s a geek?” I knew he wasn’t the hottest guy in school, but to classify him as a geek was a stretch.

  Her eyes narrowed slightly, mouth pensive, as though she’d given this a lot of thought. “I think Michael is that rare hybrid of a guy who defies the use of labels.”

  "Making him well-rounded,” I concluded. I liked the idea of well-rounded. It sounded stable. It sounded safe.

  “You could say that. He’s also persnickety about girls,” she said, her smooth brow creasing as she readjusted her ponytail. If he was picky about girls, he probably wouldn’t have been interested in me, leading me to conclude one thing.

  “He turned you down.” I struggled to keep the corners of my mouth from curling up. Score another point for Michael. He hadn’t hooked up with my best friend.

  “Flat. Last weekend,” she said, her tone disbelieving. “There was this thing at Charlene’s.”

  I’d heard about the thing at Charlene’s. I might have been ready for school and small social engagements but full blown parties with hook-ups and alcohol and who knew what else was still a little out of my comfort zone. I’d skipped the party and watched Buffy reruns with my other BFF, Caris.

  “Jax was back in town and he didn’t call me. I needed a distraction. I mean, who does that?” Ally’s excitement for me slowly fizzled, replaced with dejection. “Not one word. He could have at least had the decency to dump me before totally ignoring me. I would have settled for a text-dump over a universe of silence.”

  It was no secret half the guys in school had been waiting for Jax to go off to college this fall, in essence putting Ally back in single status. Relationships rarely survived the gulf between high school senior and college freshmen. This was one torch I was ready for her to extinguish.

  “I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not. Jax isn’t good enough for you, Al. Never was.”

  “Okay, since you’re into making deals, I’ll make one with you. I’ll never mention the J-word again if you try to enjoy your date with Michael. Give him a chance. He really is a nice guy.”

  I didn’t make any promises.

  After we put the balls back in the locker room, we left the freshman the job of taking down the nets and walked out of the gym together.

  “Ooh, somebody can’t wait until Friday.” Ally clipped my arm with her gym bag.

  Michael stood by my Tahoe looking long and lean and not a bit geeky. Ally smirked and gave me the “call me” sign. I hefted my bag higher on my shoulder. It suddenly felt as though it weighed more than I did.

  “Hey,” Michael said as I approached. He was sporting that almost smile that I was beginning to almost like.

  “Hey yourself,” I mumbled. I wasn’t acting unfriendly on purpose, but it was as if my heart had an airtight lock around it, and if I allowed a smidgen of feeling to seep through, it might stop altogether. No pounding hearts. No jolts of electricity at eye contact. No wayward thoughts of kisses and linked hands. I wasn’t going there with Michael. I wasn’t.

  He leaned against the passenger side door, relaxed and confident, not a hint he shared my timidity. He reminded me of my dad that way. Cool under pressure. He probably always weighed consequences before he acted and made sensible decisions. I could maybe deal with sensible. Unlike with Jamie when I’d lost all sense, damn the consequences.

  “I wanted to talk to you about Friday.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, highlighting the vein running down his biceps. I traced it with my eyes before they lifted to his.

  “Okay.” My bag slipped to the ground and I mimicked his posture—arms crossed, face open and honest. Damn. Upon further inspection, the guy had the prettiest brown eyes I’d ever seen.

  “Listen, I know Mr. K put you on the spot and if you don’t want to go out with me, I get it. I don’t want you to.” He shrugged and looked at his feet, displaying the first sign of a chink in his armor of confidence. “Not unless you want to.”

  This guy was really growing on me.

  I took up position beside him, the door of my car warm on my back, deciding it was time for a little honesty.

  “Do you know anything about me at all?” I kept my eyes riveted on the ground and the chip in the burnt orange paint on my left big toe. I could feel his eyes on me. He did that a lot, simply stared. And while I should probably find it creepy, it was a patient kind of stare, not so much penetrating as a gentle waiting.

  “I’ve heard stuff,” he said.

  He’s heard stuff? Did that mean he knew I was married and pregnant at sixteen? Did he know about Jamie? What he was? The thought of giving him a rundown of my sordid history, even an abbreviated one, made my head pound. I felt the urge to flee this place that surrounded me with so many memories. But oddly, I felt the need for some company. Michael’s company.

  “You want to go somewhere with me?” Not waiting for an answer, I turned to open my door.

  “Right now?”

  “Yeah,” I tossed the invitation over my shoulder. “Right now.”

  I watched as he walked around the hood of my Tahoe, opened the passenger door, and crawled inside. He made the interior of my roomy Tahoe feel cozy and spiced it with the woodsy scent of his cologne. Michael’s long legs stretched in the floorboard and his elbow cocked on the window, his demeanor relaxed. Dark, thick lashes like butterfly wings outlined his brown eyes. Now that I was getting a closer look, I realized they were more amber. I avoided the lips. Lips were dangerous places. His ears were a little too big and well camouflaged behind the feathered ends of his hair. His nose was crooked.

  “How did you break your nose?”

  His fingers instinctively pinched the slight ridge where the bone hadn’t healed quite right. />
  “Took an elbow going for a lay-up freshmen year.” His brown eyes brightened, clearly relishing the memory. “Two black eyes. Pretty awesome.”

  “Yeah, I bet it was,” I said. Something happened when he smiled. All his features aligned into pleasant imperfection. But it wasn’t just that. Something happened to me when he smiled. Something I wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge. My fingers cinched around the steering wheel.

  “Best part was the shot went in. Dude got a technical. After they cleaned me up and mopped the floor, it ended up being a four-point play. One of my finest moments.” It was a good thing his ability to shoot was better than his ability to wink. It was cute though, owl-like and innocent.

  “My mom wanted to take me to get the bone realigned, but I think it adds character.”

  I would have to agree on that point. His was not a perfect face, but taken as a whole, the pieces fit together nicely, crooked nose included. He seemed nice too, and the thought made me sad.

  “Why do you want to get mixed up with me?”

  “Because you seem like a person of character. Like you’ve had your nose broken a few times. And instead of taking the bench, you’ve mopped yourself up and won the damn game.” His imperfect face was a mask of seriousness.

  I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. His corresponding smile spread wide. “Wow. That…” I turned the key in the ignition. “You’re so full of shit.”

  “Well, it sounded better than the truth.”

  “Which is?” I prompted, feeling at ease now.

  He opened his mouth then shut it. “Nah, you’ll laugh and think I’m creepy. It’ll ruin all the progress I’ve made with you.”

  “Nope. Can’t tease me like that. And besides, I already think you’re creepy.”

  “You do?” He looked genuinely hurt.

  “I’m joking. If I thought you were creepy, I would hardly let you in my car. So spill it. I want the truth.”

  His eyes dropped from my face to my chest. My t-shirt was on the fitted side and emphasized my rack. I knew it was a nice one. Like I said, my mom was a beauty queen, the nearly extinct all-natural kind. I knew I had certain physical attributes most guys admired. Michael’s cheeks flushed. Ahh, so that was it. He was about to confess he was a boob man.

  He breathed deep and dragged his gaze back to my face as if it were the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. Then he let his carefully gathered breath out slowly and said, “Ankles.”

  I blinked and repeated, “Ankles.”

  “Yes. You have perfectly sexy ankles. I stare at them all during class.”

  I waited for him to crack a smile or laugh. He did neither. This was no metaphor for another more intimate body part. He was totally serious and totally embarrassed about it.

  And if I were keeping a mental tally sheet on Michael, I’d just filled up the pro-column.

  I pulled from the parking lot wondering how I was going to resist a guy with meltingly warm hazel eyes and an ankle fetish.

  * * *

  Michael’s one true passion in life so far was basketball. He loved his mom. Emulated his dad. Tolerated his little brother. Listened to alternative country music and liked to read. His favorite book was Stephen King’s The Stand, and he secretly enjoyed watching chick flicks, most notably John Tucker Must Die, which he’d watched an embarrassing amount of times, the last one as recent as last Sunday night.

  All this I found out on the way to the Oak Lake State Park, the place we’d first met. Or, I should say, the place I’d about bowled him over. My tires crunched as they rolled over the oyster shell parking lot and pulled into a spot under an oak tree decorated with Spanish moss.

  Michael gazed at me, his eyes thoughtful. “I thought you stopped coming here.”

  “Not a lot of time lately.” I cut the engine, not wanting to revisit that morning or the reasons why I hadn’t been back to the lake as much as I would have liked.

  “Or maybe you really, really don’t want to go out with me and you intend on murdering me and dumping my body in the lake.” His gaze dropped to my bag on the floorboard. “You don’t have a knife in that bag do you?”

  The place was deserted in the afternoons, and I’d parked in the farthest spot from the pavilions and picnic tables. There wasn’t another person or car in sight.

  “Knife’s in the back along with my crowbar,” I deadpanned.

  He veered closer to his door. “You shouldn’t joke about stuff like that. I think I’m scared.”

  When he smiled a dimple creased his right cheek. How had I missed that before?

  “Who says I’m joking?” I hopped out the door under the shade of the trees. Leaves tingled overhead, a promise of relief from the heat. I walked to the back of my Tahoe and unlatched the hatch. I’d been keeping a cooler in the back for all my unwanted gifts, seeing no sense in letting all the fish go to waste.

  “I’ve never met a girl so into dead fish,” he said from over my shoulder.

  For half a second, I thought about telling him someone left this in my locker today. I was averaging one every two weeks.

  “I’m not. I just don’t like to see a good thing go to waste.”

  “And you see smelly, dead fish as a good thing?”

  “For what I have in mind, yes.”

  Michael was also squeamish. He tried and failed to help me cut the fish into bite-sized chunks, an exercise that ended up being pretty entertaining to watch. I would never forget his expression when I pulled the carving knife out of my glovebox. I thought maybe I’d finally scared him away, but he was still here, sitting beside me on a wooden bench built into the dock. Another point in his favor; he was a pretty good sport.

  The breeze picked up, bringing with it a nice whiff of the fish waiting on the end of the dock. The lake spread out beneath us like a sheet of gleaming copper, dotted with green lily pads along the bank. A dragonfly hovered nearby, wings flicking over one of the white blossoms. A blue heron perched on one leg across the lake. The silence was peaceful and comfortable. Surprisingly, I was too.

  “I’m guessing you don’t get into scary movies.” I tilted my face to the sky and let the sun warm my cheeks.

  “Can’t even watch previews. I have to cover my ears and close my eyes. When I was ten, I had nightmares for a year after watching E.T.” He cut his eyes at me. “So now that I’ve confessed I’m a complete wuss, I’m guessing you do get into scary movies.”

  “I’ve been known to watch a few.”

  “Why are we whispering?”

  I hadn’t even noticed. “So we don’t scare her away.”

  I saw her out of the corner of my eye and laid my fingers across Michael’s forearm. I leaned toward him, my chin next to his shoulder. “She’s coming.”

  Michael angled his head down and our faces were so close our noses nearly touched. The gold flecks in his eyes were like sunlight streaming on the copper lake.

  “Who’s coming?”

  It was an odd moment, and I could almost forget why I brought him here. Luna's brown, furry nose cut through the water, her lithe body leaving wrinkles in its wake.

  “It’s a weasel,” he whispered, seemingly unimpressed.

  “No. It’s an otter.” Technically he was right, but otter suited them so much better.

  Luna crawled up the edge of the dock, claws grasping the cracked wood. I had only been out here one other time since, well, I thought I heard a monster. With school and practice, I’d been too busy. Luna had been a no-show that day. My paddleboard stayed stored in the garage. Now who was the wuss?

  But Luna was here today, her nose working overtime until she identified the chunks of fish as food. She grabbed one of them between her jaws and immediately jumped back into the safety of the water. She didn’t swim far before turning over on her back. She then proceeded to examine her prize with tiny claws and twitching whiskers.

  “Is this the part we go ‘awww’?” Michael asked.

  This was the part I thought I could actually like Micha
el Bray.

  “Its hands are so creepy. They’re like… hands.” He fake shivered.

  I stifled the impulse to slap at his leg. It had been so long since I’d felt this carefree and comfortable alone with a guy who wasn’t Jamie. I had to do something to stop myself from making a bad judgment call. And getting involved with Michael Bray would have been a bad judgment call. For all my talk of an afterlife, I wasn’t ready for a relationship. His hazel-eyed, scaredy-cat self was undeniably tempting.

  “Someone’s been leaving dead fish in my locker,” I said, hoping if my unsavory history hadn’t scared him away, maybe the fact that I was possibly being stalked by a crazed psycho would deter him. He had a basketball career to focus on. He didn’t need my drama in his life. I didn’t need my drama in my life. It was over. Curtain drawn. Act over.

  “What?” His eyebrows dipped below his feathered bangs.

  “The fish.” I searched for any telltale signs he was disengaged. “The one you saw me taking to the dumpster. Someone left it in my locker as some kind of prank.”

  “Why would someone leave you a dead fish?” His eyes lost some of their usual soft quality. I wasn’t sure how to answer. I wasn’t sure I knew exactly. At best it was just that, a stupid prank. At worst, it was someone trying to remind me in some sick way what I’d lost.

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged and stared at my lap.

  “Have you told anyone?”

  “No. Just you.” When I looked back up, I realized my mistake. He held his mouth tight and his Bambi eyes looked more like demon eyes. I was all too familiar with that hard, determined look. It seemed I’d underestimated Michael Bray. Why did every guy I was interested in suffer from a hero complex? Instead of scaring him away, I’d probably instated him as my new sidekick.

  “Well, I think maybe you should tell someone. Mr. Russell, or the guidance counselor.”

  Mr. Russell was the principal and also a friend of my dad’s, so no way on that account.

  “I can handle it. It’s no big deal. It’s a few dead fish.”

  “A few? How many is a few?” Now his hackles were really up. The hair on his arms visibly stood on end.