Elysian

by Addison Moore

  “Whoa.” His chest rumbles over mine. “I really don’t think we want our first time to be in Chloe’s bedroom. I doubt that would be a good omen.”

  “I don’t believe in omens,” I say, tucking my hand inside the back of his boxers.

  “Skyla,” he laughs, plucking me out again. “I want it to be special. And it will be, most anyplace other than here.”

  “It’s the ultimate F.U.!” I bite down a smile.

  “I’m not interested in getting back at Chloe and having sex with you all at the same time. When we’re together, it’ll be special. I already know this, Skyla.” He says that last part anguished as if he knows something else as well. He lets out a depleted sigh. “I wanted to talk to you, and this is as good a place as any.”

  “Somewhere quiet and private? Like Chloe’s bed?” Which, by the way, feels like a blanket thrown over concrete.

  “I don’t care about Chloe, Skyla. I care about you.” He brushes his thumb over my cheek, and everything in me melts. Gage Oliver is like an opulent stone that shines a light from the inside and pulls you in, makes you crave to become a part of him in the most intimate way.

  “OK,” I say hesitantly. “So let’s talk.”

  “Skyla”—his eyes moisten as he takes me in with a resolute sadness—“I get why you want to see if there’s anything there with Logan. You were with him first. He’s got ahold of your heart. And I’m not delusional, I know he will forever.” He swallows hard, and his Adam’s apple rises and falls with disappointment. “But I don’t get Dudley. Skyla, he’s not the one for you. I can’t see it. The truth is, the only person I see you with is me.”

  “Gage.” I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him close. “I don’t know what’s happened with me. I want nothing more than to be your girlfriend again. I miss you. I miss you holding me like this in the butterfly room, at school, everywhere. I miss hearing your voice vibrate through me when we’re close like this. I miss the way you smell like soap and mouthwash every single time I see you. I miss everything so bad. I want it all back.” A sob begs to buck from my chest, but I won’t give it.

  “Then say the word.” His hot breath rakes against my neck like a fire. “I’m already yours, Skyla, you know that.”

  “And I’m already yours, Gage. You have to know that, too.” I’m not sure why I said it, outside of it being the truth. I’m not really sure how I can feel like I belong with more than one person.

  He takes in a breath before baptizing my forehead with a kiss.

  “You’ll figure this out. I know for a fact this ends.”

  “You do? Did you have a vision?” A swell of hope rises in me. If Gage knows the future, this could hold the answer to every question I’ve ever had.

  He gives a slight nod, his lips cinch with uncertainty as if he were already regretting his decision to tell me as much as he did.

  “Do you know what happens?”

  “I know one thing,” he whispers, tangling his fingers in my hair. “Something big happens in about a year.” A secret smile emerges, and he holds it back just enough to fuel my curiosity.

  “Tell me, Gage. I want to know.”

  He shakes his head. “I want every decision you make to be your own. I don’t want you, or Logan, or Dudley to think I’m influencing you.” His grin widens.

  “Gage.” I pull him in. A hot stone settles in my chest. Gage is convinced we’re going to be together, but something about it doesn’t feel right. It’s as if innately I know there’s more to the story, that Logan and Marshall will be an intimate part of my life.

  We lie there holding one another on Chloe’s bed until the noise downstairs starts to dwindle.

  Gage may not want to influence my thoughts, but he sure painted a picture. I’m not so sure he’d be smiling if it were Logan or Marshall I was going to be with this time next year. He may be hesitant to fill me in on the finer details of the future, but I’m pretty sure I can squeeze it out of someone, and just who that someone might be, I have no clue.

  The picture-board above Chloe’s bed catches my attention—Chloe and the bitch squad, Chloe and her non-existent brother—Chloe and Demetri at Marshall’s haunted yard sale last summer.

  Demetri Edinger.

  I think I just found my someone.

  ***

  On Sunday, Paragon Presbyterian pierces the sky with its morose, grey exterior. A sizzle of lightning, followed by the clatter of a deep-throated roar, takes over the island. After the service, Logan speeds over to “talk to Dudley for a second,” whatever the hell that’s about. Speaking of hell, that’s exactly where Logan is sending Marshall if Chloe doesn’t return the pendant.

  Demetri stands by the entry talking to Chloe, so I excuse myself from Brielle and Gage and head on over. Chloe and Demetri greet me with their serpentine smiles, their matching black trench coats as if it were some club uniform they were adhering to.

  I’m sure they’re marveling at how the building doesn’t catch fire with the two of them in it.

  “So what are we talking about?” I ask, bouncing into their midst. “What a life of fire and brimstone will be like when you’re both eternally damned?”

  “Funny you should ask.” Chloe zeroes in her molten hatred in my direction. “We were just talking about you.”

  “Don’t tease her.” Demetri lowers his chin at Chloe as if he were doing that very thing at the moment. “Fill her in on all of the juicy details. I’m anxious to know her thoughts on the subject.”

  “Wouldn’t you love that?” Chloe blows her way out of the building and into the parking lot just as the sky illuminates a brilliant shade of lavender. God, I hope she catches a lightning bolt right in the ass.

  “Testy,” I say, watching her peel out of the lot like a demon on wheels, no metaphor needed for that one. “Looks like someone forgot to rip the heart out of their enemy and eat it for breakfast.”

  “That’s exactly what she’s ready to do, Skyla. Are you that enemy?”

  “You know damn well I am.”

  Demetri glows under the guise of his wickedness. His cologne wafts over me, nothing but a bad combination of rust and evergreens, as he gives a little laugh.

  “What can I do for you, Skyla?” He nods at someone off in the distance.

  “I want to know the future. I need answers, and I can’t seem to get them from anybody else. Also, I need the damn pendant off the bitch’s neck.” There. That felt unnaturally cleansing as if a good confession to Demetri was what I needed all along.

  “Mind your tongue in the Lord’s house, young lady.” He pulls a pair of black leather gloves from his pocket and begins squeezing them on. “Knowledge of the future, you say. Ironic that your nemesis also had the same request just moments before you arrived. Don’t you think it’s ironic, Skyla? Both you and Chloe on the same track for so long. However—the road is about to narrow, and only one of you can stay on course. Are you prepared to take the journey destiny has carved for you?” Demetri reaches out and cradles my chin in his hand. My body goes rigid, immovable as iron. “There is pain, and freedom in your future Skyla—a battle of magnitude is on the horizon. You may never win, but that’s for you to figure out. I know nothing more.” He steps outside the foyer just as the rain starts to slice through the sky. “You know where to find me, Skyla. I look forward to helping you achieve your goals.” I hear that last part as if he whispered it in my ear.

  Ms. Messenger. Marshall’s voice resonates through my mind like a shotgun blast.

  I turn and bump into his handsome eminence and a wave of guilt washes over me for conferring with the enemy, but, hey, desperate times call for desperate Fems.

  “What in heaven’s name was that about?” He observes Demetri through the open mouth of the door until he disappears into the rain entirely.

  “I want answers, Marshall. I want to know who I end up with because I can’t make a decision. I want Ellis back. I want into the damn Transfer, so I can rattle Ezrina’s secret from her, and I want to k
now what the hell has Logan acting like a stranger half the time. Oh, and Emerson’s blackmail against Chloe has got to be a beaut. That would be a great bonus.”

  “Again, no Pendant?” He frowns. “I’m beginning to think you have it out for me.”

  I jump a little at my oversight. “I don’t. I swear I don’t I have it out for you. In fact, the more time I spend with you, the more I’m convinced I have a future with you.”

  Mom barrels in our direction with the baby secure on her hip.

  “Are you coming to the opening of the Gas Lab this afternoon?” She directs it toward Marshall, but I’m stunned by the announcement myself.

  “As in today?” I’m shocked. This is the first I’m hearing of it.

  “Yes, right now in fact.” She glances down at her watch.

  “Aren’t grand openings supposed to be grand? As in lots of advertising and promotion, perhaps good weather?” I point outdoors at the raging storm that’s descended upon us.

  “This is Paragon, Skyla. The weather forecast until June is rain.” She makes a face at my attempt at logic. “Besides, everybody knows word of mouth is the best form of advertising. Drake and Ethan have texted all their friends.”

  “So two people will show up.” As in Em and Chloe.

  “Oh, Skyla,” she huffs as the baby gives a hard tug at her earring. “Everything’s such a joke to you.” Her face contorts. Mom brings her hand to her mouth and gags as if she’s about to vomit on my shoes.

  Marshall plucks the baby out of her arms while she makes a quick dash to the ladies room.

  “Looks like the new edition is making demands on her already,” Marshall says, passing off baby Beau in my direction. “Skyla.” Marshall presses it out sad. “I’ve decided to aide you in any manner possible to get those answers you so desperately crave.”

  “Really?” I can feel my cheeks growing hot because I was so quick to make a deal with Demetri, and now here Marshall, who never denies me, is ready and willing to do this. “Is this against the rules?”

  “Very much so, but I’m open to breaking a rule or two where you’re concerned.” He leans in and gazes at me lovingly. “You’re worth it.”

  I can feel all of his affection for me, and, honestly, there is nothing nicer than having a hot Sector by my side.

  “Great. So when do we begin?” I bounce on my tiptoes.

  “Saturday night.” He walks out the door.

  “Saturday? Wait—that’s Halloween!” I shout after him as he steps into the rain.

  “One week and not a moment sooner.”

  An impenetrable fog settles over the parking lot, and Marshall puffs out of existence.

  Doesn’t anyone drive anymore?

  I’ll get some answers on Halloween. My spirit soars at the idea.

  I glance back and notice that both Logan and Gage are watching me like hawks. The future and all of its secrets get buried by the love those two are emanating in my direction.

  I wish it was last year, that I still had Logan on a string and Gage lying over me like a bulletproof vest—Marshall and all of his sexual musings wrapped around me like a blanket.

  Damn, I hate the future.

  18

  Gas Up

  The sky above Paragon weeps as Logan drives us over to the grand opening in the Mustang. He hitched to church with Gage, so I offered the ride. He asked sweetly if he could drive—I wouldn’t deny Logan a kidney if he asked for it. And I’m sure Logan wouldn’t deny me anything. He’d give back ten times what I could ever give.

  A breath gets caught in my throat. Marshall wouldn’t deny me anything either. He loves me with an intensity that borders on impossible.

  “What’s on your mind?” he asks, taking the back roads that have already been washed out with mud slicks. A stream forms on the north side with evergreen branches getting pulled along for the ride.

  “You’re on my mind.” In a roundabout way. “How intensely I love you.” True story.

  His cheek cinches to the side. “Any progress with Chloe?”

  “You mean regarding the pendant? Funny how you care so much about saving Marshall all of a sudden.”

  He frowns into the road, and his sidelong dimple goes off without reason.

  “Halloween is coming up,” he says, not so discretely changing the subject. “You’ll probably think this is stupid, but I was sort of hoping we could go together—maybe get themed costumes?”

  My heart swims at the idea. “I’d love that! And I think themed costumes are totally cute. Like you could be ketchup, and I could be mustard, or salt and pepper, or we could be superheroes or pirates.” I take up his hand. “You don’t know how happy this makes me.”

  “I’m glad.” Logan draws my hand to his mouth and seals his lips over it. “I always plan on making you happy.”

  “Logan,” his name sings from me like the saddest song. I want this. I want Logan in the driver’s seat for the rest of my life no matter how sexist it sounds. I want him in my bed. I want to feel his deep-throated kisses that take on a life of their own. I want all of that and a hundred times more.

  He gives a sad smile and squeezes my fingers.

  “I desperately want those things, too.” It comes from him, hoarse, serious as a bullet.

  Logan’s features cloud over. I can tell he’s holding up that wall of granite again because I can’t read his mind. It’s the same feeling I used to get when Gage held things back for so long.

  “What are you keeping from me?” I whisper. “Gage said you had a dirty little secret, but that you would kill him if he told me.”

  He gives a slow blink. “He’s right.” West High comes up, and Logan takes a turn in the opposite direction as we head over to the Gas Lab. We all know how much high school students crave flavored air and cheeses made from curdled breast milk, so already I can imagine the out of business sign slapped across the front.

  “All right, Skyla, I’ll let you in on my dirty little secret.” He gives a quick wink.

  The bowling alley emerges with its stone exterior just as the rain ceases. Logan pulls in across the street, next to a construction site, while I examine the bowling alley for clues.

  “Did you get a new sign?” The “B” in Bowling was out for a while. I know he had it written on his to-do board, listed as to fix.

  “Nope, but I probably should.” He nods to the construction zone. “The surprise is actually this way.” He points to the left of the truck.

  A white sign is staked out front of the skeletal framework of a house, reading Townsend Construction. The house, itself, is enormous in both girth and width, and I can only assume it’s another Kragger expansion project.

  “This is your favorite place,” I whisper. This is exactly where Logan wanted to build a house for himself one day—for us. “Hey!” I tilt into him.

  “This is for you, Skyla.” He twists a crooked smile. “I’ve wanted that lot for as long as I could remember, and a few months back when I saw the for sale sign I couldn’t resist. It doesn’t matter who you choose. I want you to have it.”

  My heart sinks. “Logan.” His face bleaches out, grey as the day outside, but it can’t kill the joy in his eyes, the gentle twitch of his dimple. “I love it. And I love you and your big heart. But this house isn’t for me, it’s for us.” I want to call him out on it. My heart is pulsating in my chest so hard I can hear the echo in my ears. “Logan, do you remember those visions? That little child we held hands with along the beach? That was this beach, wasn’t it?”

  “It was.” His gaze intensifies as he buries a smile in his cheek. “Skyla, your mother said we’d be separated for a while—”

  My phone goes off and startles the crap out of me because the volume is turned all the way up.

  “It’s my mom.” I’m sure she’d hang up right this minute if she knew Logan was trying to gift me a brand new home that could make an appetizer of the Landon house. Mom and her piss-poor timing.

  “We’ll come back.” He taps me on
the knee. “I’ll give you the tour when it’s not so muddy.” He starts up the Mustang and drives us in the direction of the Landon’s soon-to-be financial failure.

  I text Mom and let her know I’m on my way before she can finish the reprimand on my voicemail.

  “What were you going to say?” I ask as an explosion of lightning shakes out its wicked tendrils across the span of the entire sky. It’s luminescent and brilliant as if God, himself, were trying to get our attention—or my mother in the least.

  “I was going to say, we happen.” He glances over at me with a fresh look of desperation in his eyes. “Please believe me, Skyla. We will happen.”

  I like Logan’s assurance—his faith in us.

  Funny how Gage practically said the same thing about himself Friday night.

  I know one thing for sure. We can’t all happen.

  And too bad for me.

  Because right about now, I want them all.

  ***

  Logan takes up my hand just as we’re about to walk up the street to Ethan’s brainchild, the Gas Lab.

  Note to the Landon marketing department—cursing future business establishments with egregious monikers just might be your calling.

  “Zombie football player and zombie cheerleader?” Logan pulls me to the side of the building, under the protection of the awning, as the rain sizzles around us.

  “For Halloween? That’s perfect! Plus we already technically have what we need. I love it.” I dot his cheek with a kiss and have a hard time pulling away. “You know Logan”—I sweep the street with my gaze—“I’m going to make a decision. Not only because it’s not fair to you or anyone else to leave you hanging but because I think I need to grow up, stop letting my emotions overrun logic. I need to stop and think for once. That’s what this is about. I’m stopping to think, and it feels good. It feels really good knowing that I’m not deceiving you or Gage, or even Marshall. All of these visions, these predictions, I’ll admit they confuse the hell out of me, but they also bring me a strange sense of comfort.”