Sophie's Secret Crush - [Whispers 05]

by Tara West

  “Look,” Frankie said as he wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve. “Sorry about today, bro.”

  Ethan smiled sheepishly at both of us. “Yeah, me, too.”

  Was this really happening? Were Ethan and Frankie actually making up?

  Frankie gave me a gentle push and then winked at me. I took the hint and walked over to Ethan, my numb feet feeling like they were floating on a cloud. As I neared Ethan I noticed he was smiling at me. This was all so strange.

  When he held out his hand to me, I couldn’t help but smile back as I entwined my fingers through his.

  “You two make a nice couple,” Frankie said, his voice sounding raspy and maybe just a tad deflated. “Take care of her. She’s really special.”

  Ethan pulled me to his side and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “I know.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Rehearsal was interesting. Vanessa Schumeyer, the other lead girl in the play, claimed she had some kind of virus. What she was doing at school, besides infecting everyone, I had no idea, other than she wanted attention. And believe me, she got plenty from our drama teacher and several of the students. Finn was practically waiting on her hand and foot.

  Gag.

  Mrs. Jahns told her to go to the nurse, but Vanessa fell against Mrs. Jahn’s padded sofa, sweeping her had across her brow in the most fake theatrics I’d ever seen. Then she said in a deflated, whimpering voice, “The show must go on.”

  No, I’m not kidding. The girl was always overly dramatic, but her disgusting display of hacking into her fist and pretending she was about to faint, had pretty much tipped the scale of the barf-o-meter.

  But, honestly, her little spectacle was the perfect distraction for Ethan and me. We snuck into one of the rehearsal rooms because Ethan said we should rehearse our “love scene.” And holy heck, did we ever nail the kissing part! A little side note: never in the play did we actually kiss. I’m pretty sure my mom and my dad would have pulled me from the drama club if I kissed a boy on stage. But since Ethan was playing the role of my husband, we kind of felt that making out was the perfect way to get us both into character.

  Okay, so maybe that was a stretch. Maybe we just wanted to make out.

  We were lying on this gigantic bean bag chair on the floor, arms and legs entwined, and Ethan’s warm body pressing against me as the fabric from the chair molded around my body like a squishy pillow.

  His kiss was unlike anything I’d ever felt before, which triggered an explosion of fireworks inside me. As his tongue swirled and darted against mine, and his soft lips gently molded against my mouth, I was aware of two things. First, Ethan was a hell of a good kisser. Second, as the core of my body began to heat and buzz with hormonal overload, I knew the boy was going to get me into some serious trouble.

  *****

  When we finally emerged from the rehearsal room, Ethan wore a totally goofy grin and his hair was sticking straight up. My hands shot to my hair. It felt poofy and oddly electrified. I involuntarily gasped while trying to squash it back down.

  Finn raced up to us, seemingly oblivious that we both looked like we’d emerged from a wind tunnel. “Hey, Vanessa is giving me a ride home.”

  “Uh, oh.” Ethan chuckled while elbowing Finn in the ribs. “You finally get her to notice you exist?”

  “Amazing,” I cooed, but I’m not quite sure my exclamation was meant for Finn. I was still reeling from Ethan’s kisses.

  Finn grinned at Ethan. “I know when I’m not wanted. Besides, you need to get your A/C fixed. Your car is damn cold.”

  *****

  “So, are we going to talk, or just sit in awkward silence?” Ever since we’d gotten in Ethan’s car, the emotions projecting off him ranged from hot and bothered, to frustrated and confused.

  Something was up with him. Too bad, because after that awesome make out session, I was expecting him to be in a better mood. Now we were almost to my parent’s house and Ethan and I still hadn’t talked. I knew he wanted to speak and I sure had a lot I needed to say.

  He frowned, keeping his gaze centered on the road. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking.”

  “About?” I asked.

  His expression froze. His hands stiffened as they clutched the wheel. It took a while for him to speak, let alone move a muscle. Finally, he cleared his throat. “I burned you. Why are you with me and not Frankie?” The words came out on a hoarse whisper, the pain behind them searing a hole my heart.

  Ugh. Enough was enough. I figured now was the right moment to tell him he wasn’t the only freak on the planet. Besides, I knew he would never feel totally comfortable with me unless he knew about my powers, too.

  “Pick a number, any number. Don’t say it aloud,” I warned.

  He shot me this weird look, like I’d sprouted a ginormous, oozing pimple on my chin. I had a mental visual of me with an inflamed, leaky zit. Gross. I wondered if Ethan would have still kissed me with Big Bertha in the way.

  I let out a deep breath, trying to purge that grotesque image, and searched his brain for the answer.

  “212?” I asked. “Isn’t that the temperature water boils?”

  Figures Ethan would pick a number related to heat.

  He gaped at me a long moment before turning his gaze back to the road. Luckily, we’d just come to a stop sign.

  “How did you know?” he asked, his voice laced with awe.

  I shrugged as I picked imaginary grime from my fingernails. The purple polish was chipping. Crud. I’d just painted them yesterday.

  “Pick a color,” I told him. “Red’s too easy. Pick another.” Duh, it was the color of his car and the stop sign in front of us. “Burgandy?” I asked while scratching my head. His steering wheel and dash were a burgundy color. “Real creative, Ethan.”

  His words came out on a rush of air. “How are you doing that?”

  I folded my arms and leveled a smug look. “You’re not the only one who is “special” Ethan Maeson. And I’m with you, not Frankie, because you’re the one I want to be with.”

  “Oh.” He barely breathed the word. The dazed look in his eyes turned from one of shock to something else. Then the slightest of smiles lifted the corner of his mouth. He brushed a shaky hand through his messy hair, and let it fall beside him as he clenched his fist by his side.

  Taking a chance, I reached over, settling my hand on his. It wasn’t too hot or cold. His skin hummed beneath me, tickling my palm and sending a wave of energy to my core. I inwardly smiled. “Your hand feels nice.”

  He turned his hand up and laced his fingers through mine. “So does yours.” He looked at me, a subtle smile playing at his lips. “So do you do that mind thing all the time?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Only when I really need to.”

  He arched a brow, looking at me skeptically. “How often do you do it to me?”

  “Only a few times. I won’t do it again unless you let me. I promise.” I didn’t want to tell him I could still read his thoughts when they projected into my brain. I figured I’d save that for another time.

  He slowly nodded as his subtle smile widened. Odd, how the humming of his flesh increased in tempo as well. It felt strange, but wonderful. I didn’t want to pull away.

  I was so thankful for that stop sign. It seemed like we were going to sit at the intersection for an eternity, which was perfectly okay with me. I was in no rush to get home.

  Ethan heaved a sigh, and his eyes dimmed ever so slightly. “About that whole burning thing. I’m working on controlling it.”

  “Don’t worry.” I smiled reassuringly. “You’ll get it.”

  “I’m getting better at it.” He looked down at our joined hands as he gently traced the back of my hand with his thumb. “Just be careful next time I’m in a bad mood.”

  I swallowed hard and repressed the urge to moan. His touch felt so good, it was making it way too hard to focus on our conversation. “I won’t grab you again. Not until I know you can control it.”

&
nbsp; A shadow stole across his face and darkened his eyes. “I still feel like shit about that.”

  “Don’t. It was an accident. Besides, I’m all healed.” I held up my other hand to show him the red blisters were gone.

  He leaned forward and frowned. “Your fingers are peeling.”

  Ugh. The boy was one major guilt trip after another. “They don’t hurt,” I said.

  I jumped in my seat at the loud honking sound behind us. Ethan and I pulled apart and I turned to see an angry man in a pickup shaking his fist at us.

  Ethan looked both ways and then stepped on the gas.

  An emptiness settled in my chest when we’d let go of each other, but I didn’t want to come off as too needy, so I repressed the urge to reach for his hand again.

  “So this mind thing of yours…” His gaze darted to mine as he flashed a boyish grin. “I figured I was the only freak at school.”

  “Nope.” I laughed. “Believe me, nobody understands you more than I do, Ethan.”

  Ethan’s cheeks reddened, and I watched in awe as what appeared to be a breeze ruffled the strands of his dark hair. His gaze darted to mine for just a second and I swear his cheeks were so red they appeared to be on fire. “So does this mean you’ll be my girl?”

  Though I didn’t squee out loud, on the inside, I was squeeing big time. I bit my lip while nodding, trying not to look as eager as I felt. “Yeah.”

  When he leaned over and grabbed my hand, warmth and joy flooded my veins and sent my senses soaring. Having an elemental boyfriend was so cool. I folded my heels beneath me and leaned toward him. I couldn’t wait until we parked. I wanted nothing more than another explosive kiss. I only hoped my parents weren’t home yet.

  My shoulders slumped and I stifled a curse when I saw mom outside getting the mail. Somehow, I got the feeling she was only pretending to check the mailbox, and had been waiting to spy on Ethan and me.

  Considering how little trust she’d shown in me lately, I wouldn’t have been surprised.

  Crap. I so want another kiss.

  “Call me later,” I said to him as I squeezed his hand one last time.

  He squeezed back before flashing a bashful smile. “As soon as I get home.”

  Chapter Twelve

  My mom followed me into the house, and I had this feeling of dread that she was going to start nagging me about something.

  “So how was your day?”

  Oh, gawd, no. Not the “how was your day” question. Why did I get the feeling it would soon be followed by accusations?

  Let’s see, mom. Would you like to hear about the two boys who fought over me? The makeout session I had with Ethan Maeson? Maybe the creepy episode where I tried to mind-control my teacher and his eyes glowed red?

  “Fine.” I shrugged my book bag to the floor, feigning indifference. Best to play it cool. Now should have been the time when I excitedly told my mom Ethan had just asked me to be his girlfriend, but I had the sinking feeling that she wouldn’t take the news well, so I decided to keep our relationship secret for now.

  I headed toward the fridge and pulled out the tea, half tempted to drink straight from the jug. Making out could sure work up a thirst. I grabbed a big glass from the cupboard and poured. Not only was I extremely thirsty, I was tired, too. This kind of sleepy haze had been hovering around me all afternoon. I needed a little caffeine to pick me up.

  Mom was standing behind the center island, tapping her fingers on a cutting board. She looked better today than the other day; her hair was swept up in a neat bun and she wore a tailored business suit accented with pearl earrings and a matching necklace. Maybe she’d gotten a good night’s sleep. Mmmmm. Sleep. The thought of a nap before I tackled homework was tempting.

  I could tell by the look Mom was giving me, she wasn’t satisfied with my answer. “Just fine?” she asked, her voice rising in pitch.

  I signed into my tea glass. “Yeah.” Averting my gaze, I swallowed several gulps before wiping my face with the back of my sleeve.

  Mom’s eyes narrowed. “I saw the way your cheeks were flushed when you got out of that boy’s car.”

  Oh, crap. Not this again.

  “His name is Ethan, Mom,” I said through a clenched jaw.

  Mom planted both hands on her hips. “I know who he is.”

  My heart sank. The woman looked ready for a fight, and honestly all I wanted to do was go take a nap. “He’s really nice.” My voice fizzled out, sounding like a popped balloon. I wasn’t in the mood to argue.

  Her lips twisted. “At least we haven’t caught him sleeping in your bed.”

  That’s it! I’d had enough. I set down my glass and snatched my bag off the floor. “I’ve got homework.” I picked up the tea and drank several more gulps for good measure before turning on my heel.

  “I heard from LuLu today,” Mom called at my back.

  I stopped in my tracks and slowly turned around. My mom was clever. She knew I couldn’t resist news from LuLu, my ever elusive, and I thought sometimes imaginary, sister. LuLu was in her final year at medical school, which was why she said she never had time for family. I’d sent her a Facebook message a few months ago, wishing her a Happy Birthday, and she’d never responded. Either she really was that busy, or else she didn’t care about her family. And yet, whenever Mom mentioned she’d heard from her, I always listened attentively like an obedient puppy.

  I remembered how she used to babysit me when we were little. How she’d play dolls and have tea parties with me and always come to my defense when our middle sister, Rose Marie, teased me.

  When she went off to college her freshman year, it was like she completely fell off the face of the earth. Rarely did she visit, and when she did, she only stayed a few days. She always had great excuses, like she was part of some work study program. Sometimes I wondered if she wasn’t just avoiding our family. Now that my powers were strengthening, I’d already resolved to pop inside her head next time I saw her again and find out. If I ever saw her again.

  “How’s she doing?” I asked.

  “Really busy with med school.” Mom heaved a sigh. “She might not make it for Thanksgiving.”

  Wow. Big shocker, there. “Ah, well, Thanksgiving isn’t as important as Christmas,” I said. And then it dawned on me. I had the perfect lead-in to ask mom if I could go see AJ and Krysta.

  “I guess not.” Mom shrugged, but I could tell this news upset her. Maybe it wasn’t a good time to bring up Salem. I knew I should have walked away and kept my mouth shut, save the Salem thing for a day when she was in a better mood.

  When would that day come? Maybe when my hair turned gray.

  So I went against my better judgment and opened my big mouth. I struck a casual pose and leaned against a padded bar stool, shrugging my bag to one side and pretending my future happiness didn’t hinge on my mom’s answer. “Since the whole family won’t be here anyway, AJ’s family invited me to spend Thanksgiving with them.”

  To my surprise, she didn’t bat an eye as she nodded agreeably. “You can go there for dessert like you did last year.”

  I cringed before shaking my head. “No, mom. They’ll be in Salem for Thanksgiving.”

  “Salem?” She gasped as a hand flew to her chest. “They want you to go to Salem? Absolutely not!”

  “Why?” I asked, trying hard to keep my signature whine from slipping into my voice. “What’s the big deal?”

  She held up a finger, her eyes narrowing to slits. “First you’re doing a play about witches, and now you want to go to Salem. Don’t tell me you’re getting into witchcraft,” she ended on a shrill note.

  Oh, no. So not good.

  “No,” I squeaked, as a wave of shame overcame me. I hated myself for lying. I was a witch—a witch who was too terrified to come out to her mother.

  Mom threw her hands in the air. “Don’t think I don’t know what’s in Salem, a bunch of freaks pretending to be witches.”

  Uh, not really pretending, I thought, at least not my
friends, but I didn’t dare voice my opinion out loud.

  If it was at all possible, her voice rose in pitch. “I won’t have a Satan worshipper in my house!” Her cheeks reddened and I swear I saw steam shooting out of her ears.

  “Mom.” I heaved a frustrated groan. “I don’t worship the devil.”

  Mom stormed up to me and shook a finger in my face. “Your father’s grandmother pretended to be a witch. I don’t want you to end up like her.”

  I swallowed back the knot of emotion which rose in my throat and told myself I would not cry in front of my mom. Why was she freaking out? If anyone was possessed by the devil, I’d say it was her. “Dad said his grandmother was a wonderful woman.”

  Mom rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “She pretended she could talk to her cat. She was always brewing potions and burning candles. She was crazy!” Mom ended on a roar.

  “You know what?” I shook my head, hardly believing this was my sweet mom acting so mental. “I’m sorry I brought it up. Forget I asked about Salem.”

  When I turned away, I had the eerie feeling I was turning my back on a raging bull. I could feel her eyes boring holes into the back of my skull. I marched up to my bedroom with heavy feet. At that moment, all I wanted was to sink into my bed and cry myself to sleep.

  *****

  I woke up to a rough tongue on my face and a furry body pressing against my windpipe. My eyes fluttered open and two pale feline orbs stared back at me.

  Your parents are calling you to dinner, little witch.

  “I can’t exactly get up with a cat on my face,” I rasped.

  Though she was only a few months old, thanks to her magical powers, Alessia was almost a full grown cat. I winced as Alessia’s hind claws scratched my chest. Then she bounded off me with the help of my hand on her rear.