“I’m sure you’ll survive.” At least he was mildly amusing. “Where’s your girlfriend? Daniela?”
“I assume she is at home washing her hair, or some similar activity women indulge in when they are deeply involved in avoiding a particularly undesired pastime. She is also not my girlfriend. She is simply a friend.”
“Why? I mean, she seemed nice and she had pretty hair.” I avoided the cute description mainly because I couldn’t remember what she looked like. Hair seemed generic enough.
“She is, she does, and she even smells like vanilla, but she’s only a friend.”
“Does she have a boyfriend already or is she not allowed to date yet?”
“Not that I’m aware of and I’m not sure why I would care.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Why the intense interest in Daniela?”
Why, indeed? I didn’t care if they were dating. Did I?
“I was attempting to figure out why the two of you weren’t dating. You seemed like you would make a cute couple.”
“And you came to this conclusion through your one minute observation of us in the hallway? I would think with your vast knowledge of love, you would realize not all people are compatible and are simply not interested in each other as anything other than friends.” He leaned forward. “Do you date every male friend you have? Is it a prerequisite for being allowed entrance into your circle?”
“Who has prerequisites for friendship?” Even as I said that, I realized who would do that. Phoebe. “Never mind, I forgot about my sister. Well, I don’t and I don’t date all of my male friends.”
“So why the assumption that I am either dating Daniela or that I should want to?”
“I don’t know! I was trying to have a conversation you didn’t completely spin way out into the universe.” Why had I even contemplated the idea that I might be able to get along with this guy for more than a few silent seconds was beyond me.
“Ah, well, as a conversation starter I believe ‘how about those Lakers’ or ‘this weather is crazy’ do a much better job than ‘why aren’t you dating that girl I saw you talking to’. This is, of course, only my humble opinion.”
“Fine. How about those Lakers?”
“No clue. I don’t watch basketball. I prefer football or hockey. Now the Kings, they’re not doing so well.”
I dropped my head into my hands and gave a defeated laugh before looking up at him. “Why is it so hard to have a normal conversation with you?”
“The concept is highly overrated. If I were normal would you even attempt to converse with me?” One of his eyebrows lifted making him look even more like Dr. Spock. “Or would I simply blend into the masses and be overlooked by your keen eye for the unusual?”
“If you were normal we’d be having a conversation that actually made sense.”
“True. So, let’s make sense of our conversation. Last week, you asked me what I want for my life, yet you never told me yours beyond denying the two point five children and a comfy life with your current beloved.”
I had denied that future not because I didn’t want it, but because at the time I had thought it wouldn’t happen. It’s easier to avoid disappointment when you know in advance that your dreams never will come true.
My new one, though, gave life to those fantasies.
“I never said I didn’t dream of those things, just that they weren’t in my future.”
“Why dream of them if you don’t plan to pursue them? That is the purpose of having them, isn’t it?”
“At the time, I didn’t think there were options. I thought everything was predetermined and… that life wasn’t going to happen for me.”
“That was a week ago. How has your perspective of the world and fate changed so drastically in such a short time?”
His words made me pause. It was a huge shift in a short time, yet the memory of my old future was a distant one. Already the sharp clarity once defining the days ahead of me was blurred.
“Something that was going to happen didn’t,” I replied.
“Something you wanted to happen?”
“No. I didn’t want it to, but it was supposed to.”
“Ah, so you had a grand scheme and it failed to materialize, thus effectively changing future outcomes.”
“Not really, well, maybe. Do you believe in the supernatural?” As soon as the question popped out of my mouth, I wanted to swallow them back.
I didn’t want to talk about my gift with Bastian. Heck, I’d never even confirmed it to Andrew, although he’d pretty much figured it out. Bastian though would have no idea about all the crazy stuff I used to tell people that had eventually led to our classmates referring to us as The Freaky Matlins.
“If you are inquiring about whether I believe in ghosts and vampires, then no I don’t. Now the existence of alien life forms I am open to as well as the eventual probability of zombies.”
“No, I mean supernatural like visions or sixth sense,” I explained. “Do you believe there is a force in the world that enables some people to be more than just normal?”
“You sound like you went to some fortune teller and they said you were going to win the lottery and then you were surprised when you didn’t.”
“Why would Chloe need to go to a fortune teller?” Owen asked as he and Bianca joined us along with the delivery of our drinks and nachos.
“I would think the answer is fairly obvious,” Bastian said, popping a chip heaped with cheese and salsa into his mouth.
Owen snorted. “Yeah, but this is Chloe.”
“So?” Bastian looked back and forth between Owen and me.
I tried to kick Owen under the table, but missed and caught Bianca instead. She glared at me and then nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. Apparently, he didn’t take the hint, because his only response was to glance at her with his forehead furrowed in confusion. His next words only served to prove his cluelessness.
“She doesn’t need a fortune teller. She already sees the future.”
Bastian laughed right up until he took in the serious expressions we all wore.
“Please tell me you’re joking? You seriously believe that?” he said to Owen and Bianca.
Bianca slapped him lightly on the back of his head. “We’re not delusional. Chloe really does see the future.”
“You guys are serious? You really believe in hocus pocus fortune telling?”
I might have been offended if I wouldn’t have reacted the same way. Having this ability didn’t make it any easier to believe when someone else claimed to have a supernatural gift.
“I don’t just believe it, I know it,” Bianca said.
Bastian turned his skeptical gaze on me. “Prove it.”
Chapter 15
Skepticism was a familiar reaction to face when someone learned of my gift. It was one of the reasons I didn’t go around proclaiming my ability. While I once would have had no problem with someone asking for a show, I no longer performed on command.
“I’m not a dog or on trial. So no, I’m not going to prove it.”
“You asked me if I believed in the supernatural,” he said, munching on another nacho. “And while at this point in my life I would have to say no, I am always open to displays of evidence to the contrary.”
Bianca gave me an encouraging smile, while Owen focused on consuming as many nachos as possible without stopping to breathe.
“Just do it, Chloe,” she said. “He’s relentless, and if you don’t show him now, he’ll keep bugging you.”
“Fine.” The word may have come out grumpily but, strangely enough, I actually felt invigorated. Concealing my gift most of the time, made it boring, and those who knew what I could do tended to not be impressed. Phoebe would say I was a show off, and maybe I was a little, but amazing someone was a heady experience.
I glanced around for my prey, someone whose future seemed easy enough that I could control how deep I went in. I settled on a guy with blond hair sweeping across his forehead, he also happen
ed to be the closest person to us. Walking around to the other side of the table I turned my back to him and stepped backward, shifting slowly so I wouldn’t make contact and risk going in deeper than I intended.
The images of his evening were fairly mundane, he’d flirt with his girlfriend, he’d lose every game he played, and then during his last game he’d strike the cue ball so hard it would fly off the table and hit his friend in the arm.
I pulled out and was about to make my way back when my prey stepped back and bumped into me. Maybe my gift was going crazy again or maybe because I’d just been in, but I fell deep into his future. So many images flashed by it was hard to grasp meaning for any of them. The vision was brief and I was out as quickly as I’d been in.
Bianca grasped my hand and tugged me back to our table.
“You okay?” she asked. “You were doing that weird zombie face again.”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Good, because it’s my turn to break and I am absolutely going to take Owen down this time.” She grabbed the triangular rack from him and, placing it on the table, began to organize the balls with Owen repeatedly taking them out and putting them in different positions. At first, I thought he was doing it because he was really anal and wanted them in the right spots, but seeing the way he and Bianca were laughing, I realized he was actually flirting with her.
“Is that it?” Bastian asked, bringing me back to the point I’d been trying to make. “Because I found it sadly lacking in any solid evidence. Anyone can stand next to a person and look like they’re flying high as a kite.”
I smirked back at him. “No, that’s not it. Blondie back there is going to lose every game he plays and then on the last one, the cue ball will shoot off the table and hit his buddy with the faux leather jacket.”
The three of them leaned to look around me and then back at me again.
“He doesn’t have a friend with a leather jacket,” Bastian said as if the was proof I was making things up.
“He’s not here yet.”
“So I have to wait all night before I get any proof?”
“You are exceedingly hard to please.”
“True, but that is a good thing isn’t it? If I were easy, where would the fun in proving me wrong be?” He had a point, and the more he talked the more I wanted to prove it to him.
“Bianca, hold up,” I called out just as she was getting ready to break. She paused and I went over to her, holding my hand out an inch from her chest and on the edges of the pale pink haze surrounding her. It only took a second to see what I needed to see. “Thanks.”
“You’re so weird,” she said.
I rushed back to Bastian. “Three side pocket, cue ball right corner, Owen plays solids and wins before she can shoot again by sinking the eight in the left corner.”
He watched over my shoulder. There was the crack of Bianca breaking, followed by curses. She’d scratched.
“She sunk the three and the cue ball,” Bastian said and for the first time since I brought up the supernatural, doubt was absent.
I made sure not to turn around, keeping my back to the pool table so he wouldn’t be able to say I cheated somehow. He watched them play and I could tell from his expression that he was a little amazed. I wondered if it was wrong for me to feel a tiny bit proud of my ability.
When the game ended, I waited for him to say something, to ask how I did it, to express his awe, but he didn’t. Instead, he took Owen’s cue and challenged Bianca to a round.
My ego deflated almost instantly. I’d expected some reaction.
“He gets to you, doesn’t he?” Owen said, sitting on the stool beside me.
“No. Maybe.” I sighed and shook my head. “Is he always so irritating?”
“Nah. He’s usually more on the normal side of things. He’s only like that around you.”
“So what is it about me that makes him want to be annoying?”
Owen considered that a moment before answering. “Maybe because he knows he can annoy you. I’ve only ever seen you like that when you’re around Phoebe.”
“That’s because she’s my sister, and if you had one you’d know what I was talking about.”
“I did have a sister. She died a few years ago.”
That shut me up quick. I couldn’t believe Phoebe hadn’t spilled the beans about something so big.
“Relax, Chloe. You haven’t emotionally traumatized me.” He nudged his glasses up and stared at me.
I remember Lily telling me once about Owen’s ability to make you feel like he is looking into your soul. I hadn’t taken her seriously since she said it during the height of the drama between her and Micah. Now I understood what she meant. Owen had a piercing gaze that made me feel completely exposed, while at the same time totally at ease. Suddenly Bianca’s soon to be infatuation with him made a little more sense.
He blinked and I looked away, focusing on stirring my half-melted ice cubes around my glass. Anything to avoid being sucked back into his eyes.
“So how come Bianca didn’t tell me Sebastian was coming? She knows I have issues with the guy.”
“Maybe she ran out of time. He only came because he found out you were going to be here.”
“What? Why would he do that?”
“He has a thing for you.”
“No way. He does everything he can to drive me up the wall. He doesn’t have a thing for me.”
“So why were you the subject of his major art project?” Owen asked.
I sat back, taken off guard. “What project?”
“There’s a drawing of you in the hall by the art room. That was his project.”
I glanced over at Bastian who seemed to be holding his own against Bianca. My stomach twisted at the idea of him having a thing for him. So, why was the guy a total jerk every time I spoke to him?
When I didn’t respond, Owen wandered away. I started shoveling nachos into my mouth. They’d be gone by the time I finished playing my next game, thanks to Bianca and her new crash diet that would unsurprisingly fail at the sight of melted cheese. I had my mouth full when I noticed a familiar looking guy in a leather jacket walk past.
Wadding up a napkin, I threw it at Bastian, missing by a good foot, but still managing to catch his attention, probably because he was already looking my direction. I gestured with my thumb over my shoulder to the new arrival. His eyebrows lifted and he nodded his head.
“Okay, so I am mildly convinced,” he said when he joined me at the table after losing to Bianca.
“Calling the game earlier didn’t do it for you?” Typically, little parlor tricks like that were enough.
“I don’t know if you rigged it with them before I got here in some elaborate prank.”
His hand ruffled his hair and for once, it wasn’t plastered against his head. I tore my eyes away and watched Owen and Bianca. Noticing Bastian as anything other than an annoyance wasn’t going to make my life clearer.
“So, what will convince you?”
“I’m reserving final judgment for the flying cue ball. Any idea on when I can expect the deed to be done?”
I shrugged. “Sorry, all I know is that it’s the last game he’ll play before leaving.”
“Considering it is only nine thirty and they don’t close until midnight, I have approximately two and a half hours in which I’ll need to sit here and wait.”
I sighed. His sarcasm grated on my nerves. “Fine.”
His eyebrows rose. “Are you admitting this was an elaborate hoax?”
“No. Fine, as in I’ll look again.” I glanced over my shoulder at the boy I used as prey. It would be impossible for me to get close enough without the girl plastered to his side not questioning my sudden appearance next to her boyfriend.
My other option sat across from me. But going into Bastian’s future never seemed to show me anything positive. On the other hand, what did I have to worry about? I knew I could keep near the present, just see the next few hours.
I slid
my hand across the table, my fingers lingering at the edge of the slight haze around him. Taking a deep breath, I let them cross through.
The images were simple, clear. The pool hall and the blond guy. Owen and Bianca, Bastian and me, playing another game. Owen leaves. The cue ball flying.
Suddenly, something gripped my hand and I sank deeper. My vision darkened and middle-aged Bastian is there, tall but not as lanky as he is now. His hair is cut close and the style suits this older Bastian. He sits at a wide desk. Papers scatter. Computer screens he watches. I try to backtrack, to see what happens before to lead him to this point in life. The images are scarce, yet familiar. Locations and people overlap with ones I’ve seen of my friends. But the closer I get to the present, the harder it becomes to see through the darkening fog.
A pitch black takes over, with flashes of light so bright I am blind to the images accompanying them.
“Song break, heart break.” The words trembled from my lips as I reentered the present.
“What does that mean?”
I shook my head to clear my mind. “Nothing. I was just thinking of something else.”
The random talking during visions was definitely happening more. Ever since Javier’s party it had been getting worse. I couldn’t figure out what the words meant, but each time they carried an ominous tone to them.
The grip on my hand remained and, looking down, I saw Bastian’s fingers wrapped around my own. I tugged loose. “Why were you holding my hand?”
“Um… you reached out, and I thought you needed to make a physical connection in order to do your thing.”
“Well, I don’t.” I ran my palm along the top of my thigh attempting to dispel the slight tingle that remained. I glanced over at the pool table. “Owen! What time are you leaving?”
He shifted his cue to his other hand and checked his watch. “About an hour. I have to be home by eleven. Why?”
“Just wondering.” I turned back to Bastian. “It’ll happen when Owen leaves.”
“Are you sure you want to give me such a specific moment in time?”
“Absolutely. Now if you don’t mind, I’m feeling the need to redeem myself from Owen’s complete domination during our match.”
Watch Me: Teen Paranormal Romance (A Touched Trilogy Book 3) Page 13
