Monica opened the front door before I had the chance to knock. She’d changed into a slim-fitting black dress, but her feet were bare and her fine, blonde hair was knotted messily at the top of her head.
“I fell asleep as soon as I got home,” Monica said. She frowned, scratching her chin. “I was so tired all of a sudden. It was crazy. I felt almost like someone had drugged me.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” Monica said. “I feel better. You want some pasta?”
I shook my head. Now that I knew Steven was coming, I was a jangle of nerves.
“Steven’s coming. He’s going out for dinner with some friends, and then they’re all dropping by.”
Monica nodded. “I still haven’t called David,” she said. “Give me a minute, will you?”
I wandered through the Boer’s living room as Monica flopped on the couch and dialed her boyfriend. Jamie had collected trinkets from almost every country in the world, and I opened a glass-paneled bookshelf to reveal a selection of Tibetan books about the dead.
“Don’t read those,” Monica called over. “You won’t be able to sleep.”
Intrigued, I pulled one of the books free and started flipping through. I tried to tune out Monica’s voice as I gazed down at the intricate illustrations and ancient designs. They were both cool and terrifying; a picture of a tortured-looking soul flying out of its body made me shudder.
Monica’s voice cut loudly through the room. “Fine,” she said. “Bye.”
“What’s wrong?” I hastily replaced the Tibetan book and closed the shelf.
“He can’t come because he’s going to a party at the University of Burlington,” Monica said sourly. She frowned. “I can’t believe him.”
Privately, I was glad even if I hated seeing my friend upset.
“That sucks,” I said. “Maybe he already had plans.”
“He doesn’t even want to go there when he graduates,” Monica grumbled. “I don’t know why he wants to go tonight.”
I shrugged. “Maybe he wants to make older friends?”
Monica glared at me. “Like older girls?”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said quickly. “Come on, let’s move this stuff.” I gestured toward some of the fragile glass art that Jamie and Brian had collected. “Your parents would be so pissed if anything is broken.”
Monica sighed. “They’d probably just tell me it was meant to happen,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Mom is really on this big, serendipity kick lately.”
Still, she helped me move some of the bigger pieces into her father’s study.
“Hey, reach up to the doorframe,” Monica said. “There’s a key there. We should lock this stuff up so no one goes in.”
“That’s awfully paranoid of you.”
“Elizabeth, please,” Monica said bossily. “You’re taller. I can’t reach.”
I stretched and felt around the top of the doorframe. Sure enough, my fingers closed around a heavy brass key. After locking the door, I returned the key to its home on the dusty frame.
A knock sounded at the door, and Monica looked at me in panic. “Go answer that,” she said quickly. “I need to finish getting dressed.”
I nodded and darted through the sunny, dusty rooms. I yanked open the door and gasped when I saw Steven standing there, surrounded by six other guys. I knew them all – small town, after all – but they were all juniors and seniors, and we weren’t close.
“Hey,” Steven said. He grinned. “You live here now?”
I laughed harder than necessary. “Monica’s upstairs,” I said. “She’ll be down soon.”
Steven held up a case of beer. One of his friends whooped and held up a brown paper bag with a big bottleneck sticking out.
“We brought stuff,” Steven said modestly. “Can we come in?”
I nodded. Just being around Steven made my palms sweat and my heart race. He looked really hot in a black t-shirt and dark jeans. His blond hair was pushed back from his forehead, and his skin was remarkably still tanned from the summer. As he walked into the kitchen, he brushed against my side. Shivers raced down my spine.
I followed, watching as he set the case of beer on the counter.
“They got a fridge?”
“Not a big one.” I pointed to the small fridge in the corner of the room.
Steven laughed. His eyes crinkled up and he looked adorable and goofy. “Monica’s parents are real hippies, wow,” he muttered as he looked around.
“Yeah.”
“My parents think they’re like, devil-worshippers,” Steven said. He raised an eyebrow. “Andrea still has nightmares about that stupid séance.”
“Oh, god, do not mention that to Monica,” I said. “She hates thinking about it.”
“So do I,” Steven said. “My parents made us go to church every day for a month after that happened.” He cleared his throat, then pulled open the cardboard case. “You want a drink?”
After a moment’s hesitation, I nodded. Steven tossed me a lukewarm can, and I opened it. The sour, yeasty smell of the beer made me want to gag, but I opened my lips and poured about half of the drink down my throat at once.
“Damn,” Steven said. He gave me an appreciative glance. “You’re a badass, Hartsell.”
I blushed hotly. Just as I was about to reply, Steven’s friends rushed into the room. They grabbed beer from the case, toasted, then popped open the cans and drank loudly. One of them burped, and I bit my lip, so I wouldn’t groan.
“Hey, Elizabeth, come outside for a second,” Steven said. He jerked his head toward the door.
One of his friends made a moaning noise, and Steven punched him gently on the shoulder. I rolled my eyes and tried not to blush as I followed Steven through the crowd of guys.
Steven opened the kitchen door and walked out into Monica’s backyard. The trees were hung with copper and steel ‘art’ that Jamie had made. There was a nice fall breeze, but I could tell the night was going to be one of the first cold ones this year.
“Hey,” Steven said softly, “I hope I didn’t say anything weird, you know, about Andrea and Monica.”
I shook my head. “No,” I replied. I wasn’t about to tell him Monica’s true feelings about his sister, even if I did share them at times.
“Andrea’s a little different,” Steven said. He took a long swig of beer, then walked over to a large oak tree and leaned against the trunk.
“She’s just young,” I said. “She’ll grow up. I changed a lot in the past year.”
Steven let his gaze slide down my body, and I blushed hotly.
“I’ve noticed,” he said coolly. “But you were never like Andrea.”
I frowned, “How?”
He sighed. “She’s just…she’s so naïve,” Steven said. “She thinks that the world revolves around her, and if she’s not getting attention, she acts out. Our mom is so happy right now because Andrea’s been going to church every day. She thinks she’s really serious about God.”
“And you don’t?”
Steven shrugged. “Honestly, I think she does it for attention,” he said slowly. “I think she’s unhappy about growing up and not being the baby of the family anymore.”
I nodded and scowled. “My little brother is in eighth grade, and my parents still treat him like a five-year-old,” I said. “They don’t realize he’s starting to grow up.”
“Andrea wishes Mom and Dad would do that,” Steven said dryly. He laughed.
There was a pause, and I bit my lip. A horn honked from the street over and I jumped, almost spilling my beer over my feet.
“Hey,” I said suddenly. “Why did you stop calling me?”
Steven’s cheeks showed the faintest hint of pink, but he cleared his throat and took a drink. “It’s stupid,” he said. “You’d laugh.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why? What happened?”
Steven sighed. “My mom wasn’t really happy about
the idea of me…I don’t know, dating or whatever.” He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his lean throat. “She told me you were too young.”
I snorted. “I’m only a year younger than you.”
“Yeah, but Andrea’s in your grade.”
“She’s a year younger than me,” I said. “Come on – even you said I’m nothing like her.”
Steven shrugged. “It’s more than that,” he said. “It’s like…my mom doesn’t really approve of teenagers…” He trailed off nervously. “Like, she wouldn’t want me to have a girlfriend. I think she’s worried I’d get someone pregnant.”
My cheeks burned flame red at the idea of Steven and me having sex.
“Not that I plan on doing that,” Steven said quickly. “I mean, with anyone.” He coughed again.
The silence came back, only this time it felt more awkward. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “I hope I didn’t say anything.”
Steven shrugged. Suddenly, there was a loud sound in the woods – like a loud, piercing screech. I jumped in the air, dropping my beer and spilling it all over my shoes. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I knew that it wasn’t just from being around Steven.
“What was that?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Maybe some kind of animal?”
Steven frowned. “It didn’t sound like anything that would be back there,” he said slowly.
I glanced up and stared at a helicopter flying low across the sky. It flew over Monica’s house and toward the woods, the blades loudly chopping through the air.
“Holy shit,” Steven said. “Something’s really going on.”
I nodded. I knew it was irrational, but a weird feeling of dread had come over me, almost like I was afraid of something. The problem was that I had no idea why I was feeling that way.
“I’m being so weird,” I said, kicking a clod of grass. “I’m not usually this jumpy.”
Steven smirked. He licked his lips and stepped closer. “I didn’t think so,” he said in a low voice. “You seem nervous.”
I bit my lip. “I’m not,” I protested weakly.
Steven stepped even closer, bridging the gap between our bodies. He reached for my hand and laced his fingers with mine, squeezing my palm. Then he pulled me against his body and put his other arm around my waist.
“I really like you, Elizabeth,” Steven said. He swallowed. There was no smugness or mocking in his blue eyes.
“I like you, too.” I licked my lips.
Steven bent down and kissed me. At first, it was awkward, but then Steven shifted his head to the side and angled his lips against mine. A hot thrill shot through my body, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him close.
The sound of a door banging made us leap apart. When I spun around, Monica was standing at the back door with an incredulous look on her face. I blushed.
“Steven, your friends are trashing my kitchen,” Monica called. She smirked. “You think you can get them to stop?”
“Uh, yeah.” Steven jogged into the house. “Sorry!”
Monica walked over and raised her eyebrow. “So much for not leaving me alone.”
“You were getting dressed.” I flushed. “You didn’t have to interrupt.”
Monica rolled her eyes. “Come on,” she said. “We should get back inside before those assholes break everything in the house.”
With a groan, I turned and followed her.
I couldn’t believe it, but in the short time I’d been outside with Steven, a ton of kids had shown up. Half of the school was there – the rooms were so crowded I could barely weave my way through. Someone had turned on the Boers’ stereo, and loud music was thumping. The wooden floors of the house were shaking, and for a moment, I seriously believed the upper story would collapse onto the lower.
Inside my chest, my heart was pounding and thumping like crazy. I couldn’t believe that Steven had actually kissed me. My head was suddenly filled with thoughts: ‘Was he going to ask me out?’, ‘Would he just start ignoring me again?’
One of Steven’s friends bumped into me and spilled his beer. My legs were drenched with cold, sour-smelling foam, and I cried out and jumped into the air.
The guy glanced down. His scarred, acne-inflamed cheeks pinked, and he shrugged. “Sorry,” he muttered. “That was an accident.”
I pushed past him and ran up the stairs before locking myself in the upstairs bathroom. The sink was old, and it took the water ages to turn warm. I pulled off my jeans and shoved them under the tap, scrubbing them with the strong lavender soap Monica’s mother used for cleaning everything. By the time I found an ancient hair dryer under the sink, I was freezing. I blow-dried my jeans until they were only a little damp, then washed my hands and face and went back downstairs.
To my surprise, Monica was sitting in the living room alone. “I made everyone leave,” she said. “I don’t feel well.”
I frowned. “Some asshole spilled beer on me,” I said. I flopped down next to her on the couch. “You okay?”
Monica groaned. “We have so much cleaning to do tomorrow.” She gestured around the room, and I winced at the display of plastic cups and beer cans. “This blows.”
“I know.” I felt guilty. I was the one who had prodded her into having people over. “I’ll help.” The slight buzz I’d felt earlier from drinking in the backyard with Steven was already beginning to fade, and I suddenly wished that I was home, in bed. My wet jeans were uncomfortable and cold, and Monica was in the most peevish mood I’d seen her in recently.
“Just put on a movie or something,” I said. “I’m going to take these jeans off.”
Monica tossed me a knitted afghan from the corner of the couch, and I snuggled underneath, yawning and flopping around until I was comfortable.
“You got what you wanted, at least,” Monica said smugly.
I blushed. “I don’t know what he’s going to do,” I said. “He told me his mom didn’t want him to have a girlfriend.”
Monica raised her eyebrow. “And then he made out with you,” she said. “So there.”
I bit my lip. “I guess you’re right,” I said softly.
Monica grinned. “I know,” she said. “I always am.”
Chapter Three
I woke up cold and groggy on a foam pad on Monica’s floor. There were three blankets on top of me, and I’d borrowed a pair of Monica’s father’s pajama pants, but I was still freezing. The floor beneath the foam was hard and uneven, and I yawned, pulling the blankets around my face and closing my eyes.
“I’ve been up for hours,” Monica said. She sounded bored, and I sat up, rubbing my eyes. She was sitting up in bed, fully dressed, reading something on her computer.
“Sorry.” I yawned again. Somewhere, in the depths of my brain, I knew that I’d had another dream about Steven. But judging from Monica’s annoyed expression, I knew I shouldn’t say anything. We’d stayed up until three in the morning, and I’d talked about Steven until my throat had gone hoarse.
“We need to clean up,” Monica said. She closed her laptop and got out of bed.
“Can we eat first?” I blinked sleepily. “I’m starving.”
“I need to spend the afternoon writing an essay,” Monica said. “You should probably leave soon.”
I frowned. “What’s wrong?”
Monica opened her mouth as if to reply, but then bit her lip and shook her head. “Nothing,” she said. “Come on. The downstairs is a mess.”
Monica and I were silent as we collected the cans and plastic cups and put everything in garbage bags. We opened her father’s study and moved the art back into the rest of the house, making sure that everything looked the same.
“Jamie and Brian really don’t care,” Monica said. “They just want to make sure nothing was broken.”
“You know, you can tell me if something is bothering you,” I said slowly. “I talk about my problems all the time. I don’t want to feel
like I’m burdening you.”
Monica shook her head again. “Nothing,” she said. Her brown eyes flashed with annoyance. “I’m fine.”
‘Obviously,’ I thought sarcastically as I carried the big bags of garbage out to the curb. ‘Probably something with David. She’s probably just mad he went to a college party instead of coming here.’
To my surprise, when I went back inside, Monica jerked her head toward the woods. “Hey, you wanna walk?”
“I thought you had to write a paper?”
Monica shrugged. “I should,” she said, “but I really don’t have to, at least not right now.”
“Okay…” I paused. “You worried about being alone?”
Monica didn’t reply. She grabbed a jean jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. I followed her back through the house and out the kitchen door. The woods looked thick and ominous even in broad daylight. I shivered.
Monica set off at a remarkably fast pace, and I had to pant and jog to keep up. She was about a head shorter than me, and it was a sore point, ever since she’d once been mistaken for my younger sister. Normally, she was the one who had to trot to keep along with me. But she was making big, purposeful strides across the damp earth, and by the time we got to the tree line, I was already winded.
“Keep up,” Monica said over her shoulder.
I gazed around at the verdant forest, thinking of how it would feel to walk with Steven alone in the woods. ‘Maybe he’d press me against a tree and kiss me,’ I thought. I glanced down and bit my lip so I wouldn’t blush. My body tingled whenever I thought of Steven’s lips against mine, and I sighed softly.
“Hello,” Monica said. “I asked you a question.”
My head snapped up. “Huh?”
“I said, ‘Remember when we used to come out here? When we were kids?’”
“Oh.” I nodded quickly. “Yeah, definitely.”
Touch of Fire (Into the Darkness Book 1) Page 21
