The sun peeked through my sheer purple bedroom curtains, its brightness burning my eyes. I was on my side, facing my alarm clock, which said seven o’clock. Solid breathing came from behind, tickling my neck. A weight pressed against my hip—Gabe’s arm. All that had happened last night came crashing back, and he was still there, in my bed with me. I held my breath and slowly rolled onto my back. Gabe shifted. A smile curled his lips.
“It’s a bit early for a Saturday, Snowflake.” His words were low, heavy with sleep.
Sensual, my mind uttered, and my heart responded by beating rapidly. Before I could give him a comeback, my nose registered the sultry smell of bacon. “Someone’s cooking,” I whispered.
“Do you think it’s the psychotic murderer? He’s going to feed us before he slays us?” he asked, mischievous.
I punched him in the arm. “You heard me last night?”
“Snowflake, I think the whole town heard you.” He opened his eyes then. Two beautiful pools of green searched my face, lingering on my lips before focusing on my eyes. My skin warmed and I looked away. “I love it when you blush.”
“You do?” I couldn’t believe he’d stayed, and we were lying next to each other. All night. Did he like me? What about Cindy? Should I tell him she had a thing for him? His hand rested on my stomach and I wondered if he could feel the electricity buzzing beneath.
“Snowflake, I do.” He rolled onto his side and I did the same, his fingers creating goose bumps as they moved back to my hip. Our noses practically touched, and I suddenly worried about morning breath. I hadn’t brushed my teeth. I turned in my lips, pressing them together. He started laughing. “What are you doing?”
“I haven’t brushed my teeth,” I said, cupping a hand over my mouth.
He pulled my hand away. “Don’t care.”
“Yeah, but what about your morning breath? It might singe my eyelashes,” I said, finally coming up with a snappy comeback.
He laughed and rolled off the bed. “You have a point. Let’s go see what the psychotic murderer is cooking along with that bacon.”
I grinned, thankful and disappointed that the moment had ended. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
He raised his eyebrows in question, and I glanced in the direction of my bathroom. “Ah,” was all he said as he went to the door.
A bolt of agony. I didn’t want him to leave. I’d clung to him in my dreams last night. Awake, I realized I didn’t want to stop. I needed him, with his incessant playfulness and thoughtfulness. On top of that, well, he was hot. “Gabe,” I called, hearing the tremor in my voice.
He turned back, concerned. “Yeah, Snowflake?”
“Thank you.” I looked down, unsure. My feelings for him were new, and a part of me wished I could go back to just being his best friend.
He walked around the bed to where I stood and gripped my tee shirt that used to be his in his hand, making a fist, pulling me to him. He lifted my chin with a finger, but I kept my eyes down, focusing on his masculine hands that were big, but not too big. “Are you going to be okay?”
I nodded, unable to understand why tears stung my eyes. He pulled me into his arms, and I reciprocated with a fervor I didn’t know I possessed. Tucking my face in his neck, I held on as though my life depended on it.
We stayed that way a long time, until I heard snickering from the doorway.
“Professor Pops wanted me to tell you both to come down for breakfast.” It was Bart. He stood in the doorway looking super uncomfortable.
I cleared my throat.
Gabe whispered, “Never, Snowflake.” And he gave me a pointed look. My heart leapt into my throat. Maybe last night’s words and the way he’d held me hadn’t been dreams.
“Promise?” I examined his face, his eyes, to see if he was serious.
In answer he kissed my cheek, and my whole body melted like butter. “Promise.”
“Hurry up,” Bart said, and disappeared.
Gabe squeezed my hand before exiting my bedroom. And I sighed.
After handling the necessities—change of clothes, brushed teeth and hair, and a bathroom break—I ran downstairs. All the guys were seated around the kitchen island and at the table. I couldn’t help but smile. Having the kitchen bursting with delicious smells and most of my favorite people filled me with total happiness. “Hi,” I said, sitting on the oak dining chair next to Dorian. The guys were piling their plates with waffles, eggs, and more eggs, and cantaloupe, and strawberries. Taking a plate, I scooped some of the fruit onto it.
Professor Pops came over and plopped a waffle onto my plate. I looked up; grateful he’d done so much. “Thanks, Professor, but I’m a vegan. No eggs or milk for me.” I grimaced, feeling bad, but I just couldn’t bring myself to eat anything meat or meat related. I picked up the waffle, but Professor placed a hand over mine and patted.
“I know all about it. These waffles were made without eggs, and I used almond milk instead of regular.” His gray eyes twinkled like he’d lived a thousand lives and knew everything about everything.
“Oh,” I said, setting it back on my plate happily. Neither my dad nor my stepmother would’ve been so thoughtful. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he smiled.
The notion that he’d come over and cooked for me was incredible and another testament to the reasons I adored him and his sons. They were incredibly good, decent men because that’s the example Professor Pops set for them. I had to wonder how he and the guys had gotten in and where all the food came from. My refrigerator held yogurt, apples, raw almonds, and orange juice, and I had some vegan whole-wheat pasta and tomato sauce in the pantry, but that was about it. I wasn’t going to ask him though. That would’ve been rude. Besides, I was too busy stuffing my face with fruit covered waffle. Gabe sat at the island, his back to me, so I didn’t get a chance to talk to him during breakfast.
There’d been a lot of grunting and chewing going on after Sebastian uttered a quick prayer, but not much else. The food was divine. Salvatore and Bart had apologized, clearing the air. Afterward I helped Professor Pops clean up the kitchen. When it was just the two of us in the kitchen, Professor Pops filled the large sink with hot water and dish soap. A perfectly good stainless-steel dishwasher had been installed next to the sink, but he wanted to hand wash the dishes.
“You know, we could throw these in there.” I pointed at the dishwasher.
“True, but where’s the fun in that?” He wriggled his eyebrows, and I giggled. He handed me a plate. I dried it and placed it in the cupboard.
“Your sixteenth birthday is in two months,” he said out of the blue.
“It is,” I agreed.
“Have you made any plans yet?”
I stood beside him and took another plate he handed me. It was hot and I hurriedly dried it. “Not yet. My parents won’t be back from St. Bart’s for a while, so I’m not sure.”
He didn’t say anything right away. I looked up. His jaw flexed and his eyes were scrunched as though he had to concentrate to wash the plate.
Professor Pops had thick gray hair. He was tall and lean. I figured he’d probably been very handsome when he was younger. As it was, I’d say he was distinguished. He had on a pair of tan slacks, a red and white checkered button up shirt, and a tan sweater with dark suede patches at the elbows. On his feet were loafers, and in his left breast pocket were silver wire-rimmed reading glasses. He was the epitome of what I believed a Professor of Religion should look like. Well, a professor of any kind, really.
After I put away the dried plate, I came back for the next one. “It isn’t a big deal. Maybe I’ll invite the guys and Cindy over to watch a movie. That’ll be fun.”
He blew out a breath and I deliberated if I’d made him mad.
“Professor?” I asked tentatively.
He dropped the plate in the soapy sink, letting it splash, and turned to me. Taking the towel from my hands, he dried off his and then placed it on t
he counter. “Snow, I know I’m not your father, but over the years I’ve come to look at you as an adoptive daughter. I’m very fond of you.” His eyes glowed as he spoke.
“I know,” I said, my insides tingling with the sweet warmth of love. I was curious as to what he was getting at. “And I really appreciate that. Thanks again for making me breakfast.”
We waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll call your father and stepmother,” the word came out like it’d been laced with acid, “and ask their permission, of course, but if you’ll let me I’d like to throw you a birthday party at my place. Something big, grand, something that declares to the world what an amazing young woman you are.” At the last part he squeezed my shoulders affectionately.
Unbidden tears crept into my eyes and I quickly blinked them away. What was up with me? “You don’t have to,” I said.
“I would be honored if you’d allow me to. This old man hasn’t ever had the chance to throw an extravagant birthday party. All the boys ever want is pizza and some sort of activity.”
“An activity sounds great,” I inserted hurriedly. I didn’t want him to have to go to all the trouble.
“No, please. Let me do this. May I?” He took one of my hands and held it between his. They were soft and warm.
“Okay,” I said, a little shyly.
“Excellent.” He patted my hand. “Now, about Gabe.”
I swallowed a lump I hadn’t known existed in my throat. “Gabe?” I squeaked out.
“Yes.” He nudged me over to the table and we both sat. “The boy—”
The whole group forced their way into the kitchen and one of the guys cleared his throat, interrupting whatever Professor Pops had been about to say.
Dorian spoke. “We were wondering if we could take the train into Boston.”
Professor Pops released my hand. “That sounds intriguing.” He looked from Salvatore to Bart. “Bathrooms must be cleaned first. Then you may go. Just be home before midnight.” He handed Dorian some money he’d pulled from the wallet in his back pocket. “You have your cells if there’s an emergency?” They all nodded, and I hid a smile behind my hand. They were men; the two youngest were Gabe and Dorian, and they were both seventeen. Four would be graduating from the academy this year, but they knew Professor Pops cared for them a great deal and would never intentionally disrespect him. A twinge of longing surged through me.
“Want to come, Snowflake?” Gabe asked, eyeing me.
The guys all added their assent. I searched Gabe’s face. Did he really want me to tag along? It seemed that he did.
“Sure. Sounds fun.”
The brothers took off, leaving Professor Pops and me alone again. I wanted to bring up Gabe and ask him what he was going to say, but I couldn’t figure out a way.
Chapter 6
After showering and blow-drying my short hair I searched for an outfit that wouldn’t embarrass the guys. It frustrated me to realize I cared, and it was all Gabe’s fault. Before last night—before his words, and his kindness, and his snuggling with me without trying anything, and his kiss on my cheek—before any of that, I hadn’t given what I wore a second thought. I threw on any old pair of jeans and any old tee shirt. Not even the gorgeous Cindy Croswell and all of her helpful hints had done any good.
It. Was. Gabe.
He’d said I was sexy, and he’d made me feel sexy, so I wanted to be sexy. I growled in frustration.
“Ugh, what’s happening to me,” I hollered at myself, throwing on a pair of baggy faded jeans and a vintage Def Leppard shirt. At least the sleeves were a light blue that matched my eyes. That seemed girly. I didn’t have makeup, but I did have cherry lip balm. I applied some after brushing my teeth again and fluffed my hair a little. “Cindy would be so proud,” I mocked my reflection in the mirror. Adding a pair of black Converse and a black leather belt, I grabbed my wallet and headed next door to Adam Henry’s house.
Calling Professor Pops’ house a house—well, it was a downright lie. The thing was a sprawling mansion. An acre of land separated my house from his, but the mansion sat on ten acres. The amenities included a tennis court, a basketball court, a heated swimming pool that could be indoor or outdoor, a three-hole golf course, and a putting green, plus the house. My house looked like the servant’s quarters. Maybe it had been a long time ago.
I dinged the bell and waited. You’d think a butler would answer the door, but no. It was Salvatore. His shiny black hair was wet and pulled into a tiny ponytail.
“Rockin’ the pirate look I see,” I said as I stepped into the foyer.
Almond colored eyes registered shock, as did his gasp and the way he dramatically put his hand on his chest. I couldn’t help the laugh that started in my belly and bubbled into my throat.
“Where’s your poofy shirt and pantaloons?” I asked, following him into the kitchen. He had on a getup similar to mine, baggy jeans and a vintage shirt. His tee shirt was black and had AC-DC across the chest.
Pulling open a door on the large side-by-side stainless steel refrigerator he grabbed a soda and popped the top. “You want one?”
“Um, duh,” I responded, to which he grinned and tossed me one. I flung up my hands in an effort to at least block the can, but a hand reached in front of me and grabbed the can from the air.
“Dude,” Dorian yelled. “Did you forget who this is?” he asked, pointing in my direction with a thumb.
I smacked him in the arm. “I totally had it.”
“Uh-huh, sure you did.” Dorian looked freshly showered too. His sandy hair was still wet and slicked back. He always dressed so nicely and today was no exception: a light green polo with dark jeans and a brown belt that matched his shoes.
“You’re so pretty, Dorian.” I grabbed the can of soda from him and cracked it open.
He smirked. “Don’t I know it.”
One by one the guys sauntered into the kitchen, each handsome in his own way, each dear to me. These guys were my family. I’d do anything for them, and I knew the feeling was mutual. After last night’s freak-out, I figured the guys might act weird toward me, but it was same ol’ same ol’, and for that I was grateful.
Gabe walked in last. He looked just as he always did—gorgeous brown hair, mischievous green eyes, olive skin, and a body of lean muscle—but everything was different too. Those arms held me last night. He’d made me a promise, and as he walked toward me, I knew he meant it. The closer he got, the warmer my body became. Ignoring his brothers, his lips brushed against the side of my face, as though resealing the promise he’d made earlier.
One of them—Sebastian, I think—did the whole fake cough thing. “Jerk.”
“Yeah, you’re just jealous. Get over it,” Gabe responded.
Jealous, I thought. No way. But as I scanned the faces of the brothers, I realized something. Sure, they were family, but we weren’t related, and they saw me as potential, not a sister. How long had this been going on? Had I really been so oblivious? I knew I was turning red and I lowered my face, intently studying the soda can. But I’m not even pretty, I thought, mortified.
Heathcliff cleared his throat. “Let’s go. The train leaves in twenty minutes. Hopefully we’ll make it.” He grabbed a set of keys off a hook on the wall that said, coincidentally, KEYS.
Eight of us in one car; this ought to be interesting.
Turned out to be four of us in two cars. Heathcliff drove the red Audi and Salvatore drove the black Mercedes SUV. Gabe sat in the back with me and Dorian sat in the front next to Heathcliff.
Heathcliff had been right. We made it, but not by much. As soon as we were in, the train pulled away.
The ride into the city was fun but uneventful. There was one brief moment when I got the distinct impression someone was watching me. The little hairs on the back of my neck and on my arms stood up, and I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Trying to be nonchalant I searched for the cause, but didn’t notice anyone acting strange or, at least, not strange towards me. Shrugging it off, I
listened to the guys and their interesting conversations about sports, cars, and women.
Chapter 7
There was something magical about Boston. Puritans founded the city in 1630 so perhaps magic would be considered blasphemous, but that was the word that came to mind. After Salem, it was my favorite place. A hum, or a vibe, pulsed through the city, uniting its occupants.
We started at Boston Common. Salvatore brought a Frisbee and we played on the grass for a while. The air was humid, hot. After an hour we were all sticky and in need of liquid refreshments. The eight of us went to a local coffee shop for a cold drink.
After that we split up. Sebastian, Salvatore, Bart, and Daniel decided to get out of the heat and go see a movie. Heathcliff informed us Professor Pops had asked him to drop something off. It was all very secretive. Dorian, Gabe, and I said we’d keep him company.
We took Tremont Street to State and decided to stop at the Faneuil Hall Market Place. It was packed with people and all sorts of shops, from clothing to jewelry to food to purses. The guys each bought themselves a slice of pizza which smelled so heavenly I almost rethought my food choices but settled on an almond fruit smoothie.
We purchased tickets to see a play contending for Broadway called Chasing Disaster later that night. It was a musical about the life of Sylvester Stallone. Stallone and a musical didn’t seem to mix, but we wanted to give it a shot.
The sun had begun to set, making the glass buildings glow as though they were on fire. Heathcliff led us into an alley that, at one time, hundreds of years ago, had been a cow path. Sunlight dappled the brick buildings high above, but down near us darkness prevailed, as did the dank smell of rotting trash and fish.
I breathed through my mouth with little relief.
“Where are we going, Heath?” Dorian asked, a hand over his nose.
Gabe shoved him. “You’re such a baby.” He glanced at me, worry creasing his forehead. “How are you handling this?” he whispered.
I put a hand over my nose and mouth. “Gotta say Dorian has the right idea. The smell is awful.”
Blood and Snow: Snow White Reimagined with Vampires and Magic (Seven Magics Academy Book 1) Page 3
