The Light of the World (The Light Series Book 1)

by Tara Brown

  “Night class. Which one?” He is annoying me.

  I shake my head. “Study group.”

  “So, not a class?” he asks.

  I shake my head again. He makes me nervous or I make myself nervous when he's around.

  He puts his hands on my arms and pulls me into him. “Hey, are you mad at me? You know I was joking, right? You don’t owe me anything. Especially not what I was joking about. I mean, unless you want to owe me. In which case you can start repaying me anytime.”

  I scowl. “Ewww. No, I have to go. I have stuff to do.”

  His grin is boyish again. “I'm kidding. You're so tense. Really, you aren’t mad at me, right?”

  I can't be. His boyish charm and cocky smile have me beaten down. My arms spark from his touch. It almost burns. My belly starts to feel funny. I'm starving.

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “It's been two weeks and I've gone to your dorm, phoned you. Why are you avoiding me?” he asks softly.

  I shake my head and notice the tension in his fingers on my arm. “I'm not. I swear. I've just been busy and trying to figure out classes and stuff.”

  His eyes burn when he looks at me. I gulp.

  He bends his face down and kisses my cheek. “Let me walk you to your next class.”

  Heat is everywhere. “I have to go home. My classes are over till later. Till study group. I need to get ready for study group.” I am a moron and a bad liar.

  He puts an arm around me and leads, making my legs walk with him. He grins. “Let me take you to an early dinner.” He swallows my hand in his and pulls me along the grass. If I'm not careful, I think he will swallow all of me up.

  His car is nice. Nicer than I thought it would be. I never thought that he would be rich, but when I see his car I know he is. It's a sleek-looking white-silver Lexus. I don’t know anything about cars, but I know this one is expensive. It has three mufflers in a triangle and says LFA on the back. The interior is blood red and black. It looks futuristic. I want to touch everything, but instead, I watch him.

  He drives sporadically. Fast and then slow. Jerky and then calm. It's like he's trying to hide his true speedy self from me. He talks about his frat brothers and how the freshmen were a great selection this year. I don’t pay attention. I watch him. Him and the conflict he is trying to hide.

  The restaurant is a pasta house.

  He smiles at me from across the table. I don’t know what he's grinning at.

  “What?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “You seem weird. You sure you're not pissed at me?”

  I shrug. “Yeah. I'm just, you know. Embarrassed. I don’t know what happened those two days. I woke up in your bed, smelling like barf and sweat, and I'm embarrassed.”

  He leans across the table and his sweet boyish smile makes my stomach ache. “I swear I never touched you and all you did was sleep. In and out of sleep. Your friends came and got water down your throat a couple times and then you would sleep. Once you ate broth that Michelle made. You don’t remember?”

  I shake my head and drag my finger up and down the condensation on the glass of cold water in front of me.

  “You're safe with me. You were then, and you are now. So, can we move past it?” I realize his thumb is massaging my palm. Our hands are stretched across the table. I don’t remember letting him touch me. The heat and sparks are making me feel funny. I'm starving and my stomach is hurting again.

  I pull my hands away and sit up properly. “I'm not going to have sex with you.”

  He laughs. “I know that. I never asked if you wanted sex. I just want you to give me a chance.”

  I cock an eyebrow. “You asked if I wanted to repay you.”

  “I never said sex. Maybe I meant helping with my essays or cleaning my room. Besides, you're not really my type.”

  “Why dinner and phone calls and taking care of me if you don’t like me? Seems like a lot of effort for a girl you don’t like?” I'm being a jerk again. I try to offer a smile at his incredulous look. I know he can't believe I'm so rude. I can't either. Something about him creates conflict.

  He shrugs it off and shakes his head. “You're under my skin. Every minute of hanging with you so far is locked away and tormenting me slowly. It replays constantly. You in my boxers or dancing or walking down the path.”

  I blush. “Sounds painful.” Sounds like you're stalking me.

  He taps the table. “It is painful.” He looks pained.

  The server places our bruschetta appetizer down on the table. She licks her lips when she looks at him. “Hey, Wyatt.” She seems nervous.

  “Hey.” He looks up for a second but then back at me.

  I smirk. “Thanks.” But she leaves and ignores me.

  “You know her?” The question is really, “Did you sleep with her?” but I'm trying to be more polite.

  He shrugs again. “She graduated last year. We hung out a couple times. She's kind of strange. She dated a friend.”

  I change the subject. “I love that our economy is so great that she finished her undergrad and is still a server.”

  He laughed. “I think it's a pretty common theme. You should try some of this. It's good.”

  He puts a piece on a plate and passes it to me.

  I have never eaten it before. Willow doesn’t do wheat. Ever. I lift it to my lips and take a bite. I moan before I can catch myself. “Oh my God,” I mutter, trying not to spit food at him.

  He nods and takes his bite. Watching him eat is better than I imagined it would be. His blue eyes sparkle and his jaw flexes. “You like me. I know you do.”

  I laugh. “You're too cocky for your own good.”

  “I'm just cocky enough. You want another?”

  I wipe my mouth. “No, thanks. I don’t do much wheat. My stomach can't handle it.”

  He gives me his charming smile. “I wouldn’t have brought you to a pasta house if I’d known that.”

  I brush it off. “No worries. I'll just have a protein shake with enzymes later.”

  He laughs. “You're weird.”

  I narrow my eyes. “You've said that already.”

  The waitress comes back to take the plates. “So how's senior year?”

  He shrugs. “Good. Can't complain. The house got great pledges and we have a full house. A lot of the freshmen never went Greek, so we got lucky.”

  She ignores me completely. I feel uneasy around her. She glances at me when he looks down at his phone. He picks it up and stands. “Sorry, I have to take this.” He leaves the table and walks to the back of the restaurant. She watches him leave and whispers, “Run.”

  I frown. “Sorry?”

  She looks at me and her eyes are fiery red. “Run!”

  I get up from the table and back away. “What is wrong with your eyes?”

  Her voice gets creepy. “It's not me you need to worry about. You were dead when you were born, Rayne, and when he knows it, you'll be dead again.”

  The words are from my dream. I back away from her. “How did you know that was in my dream? How do you know my name?” I almost stumble. Fortunately, no one else is in the restaurant.

  She gives me a frightening look. “When they know what you are, they will come for you. You were dead when you were born.”

  I turn and run and don’t stop. Not even when I reach the campus. I'm in better shape than I thought I would be. I'm winded, huffing and puffing, but I'm still alive. I didn’t know I could run farther than a block. I push it up the stairs. My hand shakes when I finally get the key in the lock. I throw open the door and let out a huge gasp as I close it.

  Mona looks confused. “What are you doing?”

  I shake my head and try to catch my breath. I huff and puff a few times and then nod. “Running. For sport. You know, exercise.”

  She doesn’t look convinced. “Well, Wyatt called like two minutes ago looking for you. He said you ran out on him. You left your phone in here again. Willow called too. I told her that you were at
class. Why did you run away from Wyatt?”

  I shake my head and wave my hand at her. “No.” I struggle to get my breath. “No. I just ran off the meal. Big, carby pasta lunch. Too many carbs.”

  She crosses her legs, and I can see her underwear. I turn my head away. “Dude, skirt.” I almost need to take a knee, I'm breathing so hard.

  She looks down and straightens her legs and skirt. “He said you acted funny. Some waitress he knew scared you off.”

  I frown and can't believe it's taking me so long to get my wind back. Maybe I'm not in good shape. “You guys had quite the grand old chat.”

  She laughs. “Well, I told him it was weird that he took you to a restaurant at three in the afternoon. He's kinda weird. Who eats lunch this late?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know how to feel about him. I'm conflicted. I think I like him, but I feel weird about him. You're right. He's kinda strange.”

  I shake my head and walk to my bed. I sit and look at her. I want to tell her about my encounter with the waitress, but I know she's going to call me a weirdo. She will mock me, and I won't actually feel better or accomplish anything by it. The red eyes and the dreams are messing with me. I don't believe it, and I was there.

  “What are you doing?” I try changing the subject.

  She sighs. “Going through photos from the other night. We took a ton.” She hands me her phone and smiles. “Look at this one.”

  I take the phone from her. I can't help but smile, seeing the three of us dressed to the nines and looking fabulous. Michelle looks the prettiest. She really has blossomed since we moved away from our old hometown. I took the first year off after high school to work. She did it to cocoon and become the beautiful butterfly she is now.

  “Michelle is so gorgeous. I wish I had her legs. She's so thin and yet meaty. You know?” she asks.

  I nod. “She is stunning. She's lucky. Good genes.”

  I hand the phone back. “She probably has an amazing metabolism.”

  The flux in her tone gives it away. “She told you?”

  Mona laughs. “She did.”

  I shake my head. “She keeps telling everyone. She's crazy. I would lie.”

  Mona shrugs. “I guessed.”

  I give her a curious look. “How? She looks impeccable. I didn’t even recognize her. Not even a little.”

  She looks down. “Too perfect. She has no flaws. No fat in weird spots or a muffin top. She eats like a pig. Typical guy metabolism. Plus, the Adam’s apple isn’t all shaved away.”

  I laugh. “That’s funny. I never noticed.”

  “What was she like before, when she was a guy?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “Lost. Like he never fit. This is what he's supposed to be now. He is a she. She makes sense. He never did.”

  Mona fidgets with the hem of her skirt. “I think all girls feel that way.”

  I nod. “Yeah. I think it's pretty much the standard for our generation. Too many options.”

  As it was just about to get deep, and she seemed like she was about to open up to me, a knock interrupted our little chat.

  I look at the door and then her. She grimaces and nods. She mouths, “It's probably him.”

  I nod back.

  Crap.

  I stand and walk to the door. I don’t know what to say: “A waitress with flames in her eyes knew exactly what I dreamt about and told me to run away from you?” It sounds crazy to me and I was there.

  I put a hand on the doorknob. He bangs on the door and shakes it in my hand. “Rayne, open up.”

  His fist against it feels almost violent. Fear runs up my spine. I look back at her.

  Suddenly, he speaks softly into the door, “I know what she told you. That waitress had a crush on me last year. It was no biggie. Nothing happened.”

  I swallow hard and keep my hand pressed against the door. “It's okay. She isn’t all there, Rayne. She's really crazy. She dated a friend to try to get to me. That's all it was.”

  He has no idea what she told me. He thinks I'm acting like a jealous freak.

  Now I'm annoyed. I open the door just as he pounds on it. I look at him and try to see the asshole. I try not to notice the chiseled jaw, gorgeous face, or boyish smile. I try to focus on the cocky grin. I try to remember that he makes the magic in my tummy hurt.

  He leans on the door, taking up the entire frame.

  “Where is she?” he demands.

  Mona looks at him and then me. She raises an eyebrow and points at me.

  I wave a hand in front of his face. He doesn’t flinch.

  “I'm right here. What are you doing?” I say.

  He growls. “Mona, stop playing with me. Where is she?”

  I look back at her. “He can't see me?”

  She doesn’t look convinced. “Dude, she's right there.”

  “Funny, Mona. Where is she? Did she call you?” He looks agitated. He has sweat on his brow.

  “She is right there. She is in front of you. She is there.” Mona looks annoyed.

  I push him but he pushes off the frame at the same time and points at Mona. I tumble forward into the hall past him. He looks angry. “You're really funny.” He turns and walks away.

  I look back at her and the words of the waitress float through my mind, “You were dead when you were born.”

  “What the hell was that? Why are you messing with me?” She's obviously infuriated. She gets up and storms from the room. I'm alone and confused. I close the door and run after him.

  He is across the greens when I finally catch up enough for him to hear me.

  “Wyatt, what the hell are you doing?” I shout after him, “What was that?”

  He stops and looks back at me. “What is your problem?”

  I point back at the dorm. “I don’t know what that was, but I was standing there. You—”

  He looks crazy angry. “You didn’t have to run out on me, Rayne. I was just getting the phone. She is nuts. I swear.”

  I cross my arms and watch his eyes. They don’t turn to flames. They don’t flicker even. He's normal. I'm the not-normal one in our relationship that isn’t a relationship; my eyes see in the dark, and I'm always sick and hallucinating.

  He looks at me with his head cocked. “Why did you run out?”

  I point back at the room. “Why did you pretend you couldn’t see me in my room? You think I'm acting nuts? Well, what about you? I was standing in my room. I watched you talking to Mona. Why are you screwing with me?”

  His face drops. “You? You were in the room? I couldn’t see you in the room.”

  I shake my head. “I was there. I was. I saw you. I tried to touch you, but you ignored me. You honestly couldn’t see me? How is that even possible?”

  He is pissed. Whatever I've said has made a vein in his head bulge and he crosses the gap between us in a step. He grabs my arms hard and shakes me. “WHAT ARE YOU?”

  I feel like my brain is going to explode. “I-I-I don’t know what you mean!”

  He slaps me hard. I see stars. My vision goes dark for a second and suddenly I feel it—the heat rushes through me. My vision gets hazy. I see his hand come up to slap me again, but this time when he swings, I block it.

  He stops. His face is horrified. “No.”

  I'm huffing and disoriented. I don’t know what is happening. I've never been struck a day in my life. My cheek is burning and it feels like my blood is boiling. I gingerly put my fingers to my face. I taste my own blood in my mouth.

  “Never come near me again,” I whisper.

  He shakes me one last time and releases me. He backs away from me. He is breathing like flames will shoot from his lips any second.

  I fall to my knees. The muggy air feels cold suddenly. I swear a piece of my soul breaks off and follows him across the greens.

  Chapter Six

  Two months is a long time to wait for someone to apologize. Especially when the man-whore who should apologize dates everything that moves. Not even dating . . .
flaunting and screwing.

  I feel sick most days.

  It isn’t that I mean to let him be everything, even after he attacked me. I'm stronger than that, and I have more self-respect than that.

  It isn’t that I mean to let him ruin my life. My life is more important than that.

  It's that I can't shake him. He's shaken me like it was nothing. I was nothing. I am nothing.

  Depression isn’t the right word. All consuming is the right way to say it.

  Michelle is curled around me, twirling my hair. Mona is making a collage of the pictures of us on poster board. If my mom could read it, she would be disappointed.

  I don’t need magical picture-reading skills to see the lost hollow look in my eyes. Even in the pictures I don’t remember because I was so drunk, I can see it.

  The look.

  No matter how hard I try and no matter what I do, he is everything. He is my life. The piece of my soul that broke off and went with him was bigger than the piece that stayed, and I am broken. The farther I am from him, the more I want him. It's painful and mysterious. Like Stockholm syndrome.

  “You know that guy you slept with last month?” she asks.

  I glance up at Mona and nod. “Matt?”

  She shakes her head. “Eww, what? Matt? No, the guy from the bar who gave us drinks all night. You slept with Matt too?”

  I blush. “What? I was drunk.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, glad to see you aren’t getting too out of control.”

  Michelle pulls my hair. “Sam. The one that took your V-card was Sam. The fact you can't remember means you're drinking too much and having too much sex. This isn’t you. Willow would freak.”

  “You've slept with more guys than I have.” I tilt my head at her and give her my duck lips.

  She grins. “Gay guys don’t count.”

  I frown. “I can have sex if I want to. I'm in college. I need to experiment. Sam was hot anyway.”

  Mona smiles lazily. “So hot. He looks just like Ryan Gosling in this pic. Imagine him in a suit?” Her eyes glaze over.

  I look over and moan. “I need to go see him again. That was fun, I think.”

  She rolls her eyes again and mouths nasty words like “slut” at me.

  I sneer but Michelle pulls my hair again. “No, didn’t you hear? He got beat up. Bad. Like a month ago. Jumped on his way home. My friend Marcie got a job at the bar to replace him.”