My head jerked a nod.
“Good.”
He removed his hands, and I winced as I rubbed my arms. I would definitely have bruises. Mark began to turn and then stopped. He faced me again and before I knew it, he’d punched me in the gut. The breath rushed out of my lungs and I folded over to the ground.
“That’s for defending those mongrels,” Mark said from above.
I looked up in time to see him drift into the forest like a ghost.
I stood, using the tree for support, and waited for the pain to ebb. Slowly I felt every muscle in my body relax as though I’d been dunked in a hot bath. Tears sank down my face and I wiped them away. I’d never been punched before. I felt like I was going to puke.
I couldn’t understand what Mark had meant about mongrels. What mongrels? Surely he couldn’t still be pissed about the Whelan thing. And why would he call them that of all things?
Not wasting another moment trying to decipher Mark’s insane ramblings, I ran back to camp, climbed into my tent, and zipped it behind me. I crawled into my sleeping bag and curled up.
For a while, I thought about going into Derek’s tent and telling him what had happened. Maybe he would go beat up Mark or better yet, tell me everything would be all right and hug me until the tears stopped. But the memories of our fight earlier halted me. Nobody would believe me anyway. And Mark would deny it, of course. I’d just have to keep an eye on him myself if I wanted to be safe. Nobody around here was going to protect me—that was for certain.
I lay awake for a long while, listening to the tree branches creak and groan around me. I don’t know if it was minutes or hours that passed, but somewhere between listening to the trees and falling asleep, I heard the low, distant sound of a wolf’s cry to the night.
It sounded lonely, just like me.
Cross-country tryouts came and went the Monday after our trip to the La Poudre. Derek was supposed to come to watch me run, but he never showed. After our fight, I hadn’t really expected him to, but I still found myself looking up into the stands every few minutes to check. Even without him, I kicked ass on the track field. It was like every time I started running, the pounding of my heart erased the thoughts of Derek. And the harder I ran, the better I felt. I was so pumped full of adrenaline that I won all my heats and made the team.
It didn’t completely eliminate the sting of Derek’s absence, but it was something.
Over the next two weeks he called me less and less. He only met me for lunch when I forced him and we hardly ever spent any time together after class. I knew I was losing the only true friend I had at CSU and I felt cheated. As though Derek was throwing away ten years of friendship just because I didn’t want to be his girlfriend. Had those years meant so little to him that he could cast me away so easily? It was backward and probably wrong, but even though I’d been the one to reject Derek, I felt jilted. I had said I didn’t want to be his girlfriend, but I never said we couldn’t be friends. I’d forgiven Derek after he cheated on me in high school. Our friendship had meant more to me—did mean more to me—than one stupid fight. I just wished he felt the same.
The Tuesday on which I was supposed to meet Lucas Whelan in the library arrived much too quickly for my taste. It wasn’t an event I was looking forward to, especially after hearing all those sinister rumors about his family.
I walked up the stone steps, halfway hoping that Lucas wouldn’t show. He hadn’t been in class yesterday, which was a good sign. But I didn’t want to be the irresponsible group member, so I had to at least go and check.
I went inside the library and was instantly hit with the aroma of coffee, copy paper, and overdue books. We were supposed to meet next to the research computers so I did a quick scan of the room and realized that Lucas wasn’t there. I delved further into the library, peering around in corners and looking over my shoulder. Maybe he forgot? I wished I could read the illegible phone number he’d given me so I could call him and guilt him into coming. I’d tried several times in class to get up the guts to ask him for it again, but the intense heat of his vibe always quelled me.
But I did have Courtney’s number. Maybe he’d blown me off to be with her. That seemed like something he’d do. I texted Courtney:Hey, are you with Lucas? He was supposed to meet me for a project but he’s not here.
A moment passed before Courtney responded.
OMG, no! I broke up with that weirdo a week ago. LOL!
I blinked, staring at my phone. I was tempted to pry and ask her why she’d dumped him, but I decided it wasn’t my business. I was ready to forget the whole thing, when I saw a set of stairs to my left and thought that he might be on the second floor. So I jogged up the stairs and did a scan.
No Lucas.
I went up the third and fourth floors, but he wasn’t on any of them. Annoyed beyond belief, I checked the topmost floor, peering behind each and every desk until, finally, I found Lucas lounging in the last one.
“Lucas!” I gasped when I saw him.
He jumped and looked around. His big brown eyes fell on me and they crumpled into a scowl.
“What the hell did you do that for?” he asked. He sat up and cracked his neck.
I shifted my weight and said, “I’ve been looking for you for the past twenty minutes. I went to all five floors.”
He didn’t seem to care. He wasn’t even looking at me.
“Why are you way up here?” I demanded, still fuming.
“You said meet in the library.” His eyes remained on the window beside the desk. I wondered what he was looking at.
“I said next to the computers on the first floor.”
He appeared completely unconcerned.
I took a big breath to steady my temper and sat down at the table shoved haphazardly into the bay window. I busied myself getting organized but I could feel Lucas’s eyes on me and that boiling energy rolling off of him. I wondered why I seemed so attuned to his vibe—usually I only felt it when I first neared someone. I looked up at him, but he was still staring calmly out the window, totally at odds with his vibe. Am I imagining things?
I cleared my throat and he turned his head toward mine, but still didn’t look directly at me.
“Are you ready?” I asked.
“For what?”
I faltered. “For . . . you know, to work on the project.”
“I’m ready whenever you’re ready.”
I watched him twirl his pen between his long fingers, fascinated by the seamless motion of his hands and the way his angular eyes followed the pen—focused, unblinking. I broke my trance and said, “Well, Professor Polk has this whole thing broken up into sections, so if we each take two, then we can be done faster.” I paused, waiting to see if he’d object. He didn’t, so I continued. “I’ll take the first two and you take the last two. Okay?”
“Yep.”
I nodded and began to reread what my part of the project would be: just some research, a PowerPoint presentation, and a bibliography. Lucas had to compose the actual paper. I hoped he didn’t think I gave him the harder part on purpose. I began to obsess over whether or not I should offer to swap sections with him, when Lucas suddenly asked, “What’s your name?”
It took me a moment to gather myself. It seemed so odd that he didn’t know my name. I knew his name much too well.
“It’s Faith,” I said. “Faith Reynolds.”
“Pretty.”
More shock. “Thanks,” I muttered.
“Belief,” he said intently, his eyes cast carefully away from me.
I stared.
“That’s what your name means, didn’t you know?”
I nodded my head.
“Belief in the unbelievable,” he murmured. His eyes jumped to mine for an infinitesimal moment and then refocused on the desk.
I’d heard this about a million times, but somehow it felt different coming from Lucas. While others joked about my name or quoted biblical verses at me, Lucas’s tone was melancholy and almost ... hopeful at
the same time. As though he wanted me to agree that I could believe in the unbelievable. His vibe had even calmed, becoming somber for once.
It was a stark contrast to his usual grumpiness, and I was surprised to see a different side to him. I hadn’t expected it. I tried to smile at him, but he still glared at the desk. The muscles in his cheek twitched, and when he spoke his voice was rough.
“My name is Lucas,” he said at last. “But I think you already know that.”
I was relieved to switch topics and get back to something normal. “I did.” Then I felt compelled to explain myself—it sounded like I was a creepy stalker girl. “My suitemate is your ex.”
“How do you know she’s my ex?” His voice wasn’t angry, or sullen. Just curious—like he didn’t expect me to be so knowledgeable about his life, or something.
“When I couldn’t find you, I texted her and she told me you guys split.” I paused, wondering if this was a sore topic for him. “Sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say.
“Why are you sorry?”
“I—I’m,” I stammered like an idiot. “I’m just sorry that you broke up. It sucks to break up.”
“Nah,” Lucas said, shrugging. “It only sucks when you actually liked the girl. It wasn’t anything serious.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, but he wasn’t looking at me. Still.
I held in my words for a while, but after a few minutes, I couldn’t help but spit them out. “Listen, don’t think I’m rude or whatever, but how can you date someone you don’t even like?” As far as I knew—and I knew a lot thanks to thin walls—he and Courtney had never had sex, so why would he bother being with her at all?
Lucas flipped through the glossy pages of his textbook and said, “I date a lot of girls I don’t like.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Why?”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s dumb. It defeats the whole purpose of dating.”
“And what do you think the purpose of dating is, oh wise one?” Sarcasm dripped off his words.
I said in my calmest voice, “The point of dating is to go out with people you actually like so that you can see if they fit.”
“Fit,” Lucas said slowly. His slanted brows knitted together in an irritatingly handsome way. “Fit what, exactly?”
“Your life.”
“And what if there isn’t one girl on this planet that’s gonna fit my life? Then am I free to date girls I don’t like?”
“Well . . . yeah, I guess. But there has to be at least one girl that fits your life.” I laughed a little, trying to lighten the mood. “I mean, there are a lot of girls out there. You shouldn’t give up. You’re only, what? Nineteen?”
To my surprise, Lucas’s mouth curved up in a rueful smile. His eyes remained on his book. “Believe me, Faith. If I thought there was even a remote chance that there was one girl on this earth that would ... fit in my life . . .” His eyes flickered to mine for an instant and he sighed deeply, looking down at his books once more. “Let’s just say it’s not going to happen for me.”
I wished I could see his eyes, read what was really behind that statement. What could have happened to this guy that would make him so cynical? So like me? And why did I even care if he dated girls he didn’t like? It was no bother to me. Besides, trying to convince him of something I didn’t believe myself felt like a lie.
“Well,” I said, eager to put an end to this topic. “I’m sure you’ll find somebody.” The words sounded hollow, even to me.
I heard the low, growling sound of him laughing, but it was bitter and hard.
“No,” he said. “I won’t.” There was a note of defiance in his tone that I didn’t quite understand, almost like he was forcing himself to believe the words. I itched to know more, but I couldn’t make myself speak. Instead we remained entrenched in silence, only speaking when we needed to ask questions on the project and never—not once—looking at each other.
5
VIBES
It was nighttime when we emerged from the library. Yellow lamps cast an eerie glow over us as we meandered down the campus walkway. I racked my brain, trying to think of a way to shake Lucas without being rude.
Nothing came to mind.
“Where do you live?” Lucas asked gruffly.
“Ah—right over there,” I said, pointing off to the left vaguely. “Edwards Hall.”
“It’s kind of late ... do you want me to walk you?” I saw him sneak a glance at me.
In truth, it would have been nice to have someone big and strong walk me to my room with all this talk of murders, but I shook my head.
“It’s not far,” I said.
“I don’t mind.”
I looked up and found him looking off into the night with shifty eyes, almost like he was nervous. I wondered if he was thinking about the murders, too.
“All right, then,” I agreed. I couldn’t think of any reason for him not to walk me.
The old pines and dying elms lining the campus walkways seemed to glare down at us as we walked quietly past. I stared into the shadows, shivering, and not just because it was freezing. The darkness had made me nervous ever since the incident with Mark on the La Poudre. I never ran at night anymore.
“What are you thinking?” Lucas asked softly.
I was momentarily thrown by the languid tone of his voice. It took me a moment to come up with a feasible lie.
“I was thinking that I have to wake up early tomorrow for track,” I said. Though I hadn’t been thinking it, it was still true.
“You any good?” Lucas asked.
“It’s about the only thing I am good at.”
His expression was skeptical. “When’s your next meet?”
I looked up at him with a half-smile. “Why? Are you going to come watch?”
Instead of answering, he asked another question. “What would happen if I did?”
I’d probably pass out from nerves, but I couldn’t tell him that. “You’d see me win,” I said instead, letting my confidence show through in my voice.
He cracked a small smile. “Then maybe I’ll show up.”
We were outside my building now. Lucas leaned casually against the brick wall, looking down at his shoes. He was so sexy I forgot to be stunned that he might go to one of my track meets. All I could do was admire the way his black hair fell across his forehead and remind myself firmly that reaching out and sifting my fingers through it was out of the question.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you at class?” I said. I didn’t mean it to sound like a question, but he was so seldom in class that it almost made sense to ask.
“I suppose you will,” he said. “Night, Faith.”
For inexplicable reasons my heart actually skipped a beat when he said my name.
“Night,” I managed, brushing past him to unlock the door. I felt his eyes on me the entire time that I fumbled with the lock and staggered over the threshold. I waved one last time as I shut the door behind me, hoping that he would at last meet my eyes.
He didn’t.
After our meeting in the library, I did start seeing Lucas in class more often, though he never showed up at any of my track meets—thank God. But his mood was just as pissy as always. Part of me had been hoping that would change—that I’d cracked a layer of his armor that afternoon at the library—but he didn’t speak to or look at me unless he had to. Any hope I’d had of fostering some kind of friendship was quickly eliminated. We dissolved into what we always had been. Nothing.
September passed in a blur of homework, classes, and track meets. It seemed that Derek was not going to get over what happened at the La Poudre. The few calls I did get from him petered away to nothing. I never even saw him anymore, never bumped into him on campus.
Derek’s absence had created a hole in my heart. He’d been my best friend since elementary school, been with me while I’d dealt with the unthinkable, and now he had left me like I was nothing. Just because I didn’t want to be Derek’s girlfriend d
idn’t mean we still couldn’t be friends. He’d broken my heart and I’d gotten over it for the sake of our friendship. Why couldn’t he do the same for me?
The Saturday before Halloween, I was forced to go into humanities class for an extra study session where—hopefully—we would be getting the answers to the test next week. But the study session was a complete a bomb. Not because Professor Polk didn’t give an excellent review. He did. But I could barely breathe, let alone copy notes, with Lucas sitting beside me. Staring at me, more precisely. It was the first time since the disaster in the library that he’d so much as acknowledged my existence. Now he was staring at me with beautiful unblinking eyes. Making my spine tingle, my breathing turn to shallow, ragged heaves and my fingers go absolutely numb.
I got zero notes accomplished.
In an act of supreme kindness, Professor Polk let us out early as our “Halloween treat.” I looked over at Lucas out of habit and did a double take when I saw that he was still sitting down. Normally he vaulted out of his seat and left as soon as possible. And not only was he still sitting, but he was also looking in my direction. Not at me—he never looked directly at me—but toward me.
“So, I’ll see you on Monday?” I asked tentatively.
“Sure.” He bit his top lip, creasing his eyebrows together, and then stood up. “I’m hungry.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked around. “You wanna come with me to get some food?” he asked in a rush. I thought I saw his eyes flicker toward mine for a second, but it was too fast to be sure.
I was taken aback.
“I thought you didn’t like me,” I said before I could stop myself.
This time his eyes did look down at me. He sat back down in his chair and leaned in a little.
“I never said I didn’t like you.”
“You don’t talk to me,” I said. “You don’t even look at me.”
“I’m looking at you now, aren’t I?”
Blood on the Moon Page 5
