"And when I'm not laughing?" I ask, biting down on my bottom lip, my gaze fixed on his mouth.
He lips turn up in a small smile. "Still beautiful," he breathes.
I let out the breath I'm holding. Heat floods the pit of my stomach and I'm consumed by the aching desire to press my lips to his. I lean forward slightly. Lex inhales sharply and jumps up from the couch.
"I'm afraid I must be leaving," he says in a choked voice.
"What?" I ask, blinking back my surprise. "Don't go yet." I can hear the pleading in my voice but I don't care, I need him.
"I wish I could stay," he responds, his face contorted with an expression of conflicted longing, "but it's getting late."
"Not that late," I whisper. I stand and take a hesitant step toward him. His expression softens and a small smile plays on his lips.
"Late for you. You should be preparing yourself for tomorrow."
"To-" I start to ask and then stop, slapping my palm against my forehead. "Shit."
"I take it you forgot?" Lex asks his eyebrows raised.
"More like, overlooked." I sigh, remembering that I have to go to tea with the Ladies Council tomorrow. Dread eats away at the lingering happy feeling that spending time with Lex has given me.
Lex looks like he's considering something. I start to ask what's wrong, but he stops me by taking my hand. He leads me to the door, not letting go right away. We both watch as he slides his hand up until his thumb rests on the inside of my wrist. I feel my blood rise inside my veins to meet his touch.
"Good night, Evan," he breathes without looking up.
He drops my arm gently and slips smoothly through the doorway, shutting it behind him. Dread takes over completely and I'm left feeling cold and slightly hollow.
With a sigh, I head over to the door that leads to my closet and begin rummaging through the racks of clothes until I find the pale grey silk dress I bought on my shopping trip with Lex last week.
The dress is simple, yet elegant and is the only one I bought that doesn't have flowers plastered across it. I hold it up to my body as I gaze at myself in the mirror. Absently, the fingers on my free hand find their way to my necklace. I wasn't planning to wear it to tea, but the idea of taking it off unnerves me. I contemplate my options for a few moments before an idea strikes me.
I slip the chain over my head and begin wrapping it around my wrist on my right arm, the same one that Lex held earlier. The thought sends a tiny shiver down my spine. The chain loops around my wrist three times before it's secure. The dress is long sleeved so it will hide the stone easily.
Satisfied with my solution, I fasten the necklace back around my neck and hang the dress up on the closet door. With a heavy heart, I wander over to my spot on the balcony, where my copy of Rules of Attraction still rests.
I stand still, my arms wrapped around me, as I watch the sun burn gold and fade to darkness. Slowly, I feel the dread in my stomach begin to dissolve, but I still feel uneasy. There are so many secrets and lies to wade through and I have to believe that there is a reason for all this.
Secretly, I want that reason to be Lex. But I know that it's a selfish and vain thought. My parents died for more than a cute boy, if they died for any reason at all. It's hard to believe that the events of my life, so far, have just been random, even if it would be easier. I press my fingers to the heart-shaped stone and it warms, but the sensation isn't comforting. It rings of warning that the worst is yet to come.
Chapter Seven
I'm not exactly sure why I care so much what these women think of me, but I wake up at dawn and dress and change and fix my hair and put on make-up and wipe it off and reapply and change and change back. I've also downed at least a pot and a half of coffee, much to Thelma's disapproval, which only adds to the manic jittery feeling that I woke up with.
So, I'm standing on the steps of a painfully white two-story house, completely strung out on caffeine, weighing the pros and cons of bolting. For the millionth time, I straighten my hair with the palm of my hand and fix the perfectly straight hem of my dress. I'm violently fighting the urge to call Lex and ask him to take me home. The thought of Lex calms me slightly, but I'm still nervous as fuck. I'm sure if I don't go in Magda won't kick me out on the streets, right?
Before I have the chance to escape the door opens, revealing a squat middle-aged woman with dark curls cropped close to her head. Her lacquered pink lips are split in a wide cheery smile. I suppress an eye-roll and climb the rest of the way up the steps to meet her, my own fake smile painted on my face.
"Evangeline! My goodness! Mag said you were pretty, but I had no idea!"
"Uhh," is all I can get out before she pulls me into a surprisingly painful bear hug.
"My name is Mary Morris!" she exclaims, giving me another squeeze. Finally, she lets go and starts to head inside, pulling me with her. "Come in, come in! Everyone is dying to meet you!" she practically shouts. Everything that Mary Morris says seems to end with an exclamation mark.
The house isn't as grand as the Price Estate, but it's sparkling clean and well furnished. Mary leads me down a short hall into a sunny dining room where there is a cherry wood dining table set for tea.
When we step into the room the lively chatter stills. My face burns as a half dozen pairs of eyes look me up and down, scrutinizing every inch of me. I keep my hands pressed to my thighs to prevent myself from fidgeting or balling them into fists. Despite my deepening blush, I manage to keep my face smooth and unbothered.
One of the women sitting around the table stands. She's tall and painfully thin, in the way models strive for, and she has bleach blonde hair that she keeps scraped back in a tight chignon. The skirt suit she's wearing is skin tight and blood red. I glance at Mary who suddenly seems worried. My pendant begins to sizzle against the thin skin of my wrist where it's tucked snugly inside of my sleeve.
"My word. You are the spitting image of your mother," the woman croons in a sickeningly smooth voice. I watch in fascination as she walks slowly around the table until she stands just before me. She reaches out her slender arms and pulls me into a loose embrace. I can almost feel the cold coming off of her; it makes my skin crawl in waves. She pulls away quickly, to my relief. "Hopefully, you're not too alike," she says with a smirk as she glances over her shoulder and shares a knowing look with a sour looking woman.
Mary Morris clears her throat nervously, takes me by the shoulders, and leads me to an empty chair. I manage to sink into the chair gracefully as I fight the tremble that threatens to erupt through me. My fingers itch to caress the stone and find comfort in the familiar gesture, but I keep them folded in my lap and ignore the impulse.
The creepy woman and Mary both take their seats. Everyone else turns to stare at me expectantly. I give what I hoped is a big, beaming smile, but I can't keep the look of wild confusion out of my eyes.
"Oh!" Mary exclaims, jumping up, "I need to introduce you!"
She starts clockwise around the table, placing her hands on each woman's shoulders. First up is a brassy redhead with teeth that seem too big for her mouth when she smiles.
"Evangeline, this is Hyacinth Rupert." Hyacinth continues to smile, although her near colorless blue eyes lack kindness.
Next is Gena, pronounced "Jenna", Macintyre. Gena appears to be one of the younger members. She has a pretty smooth complexion, dark eyes, and shining waist-length black hair that is neatly pushed back with a thin, pearly-white headband.
Following Gena is a pair of identical faces, both with short mousy-brown hair, lusterless brown eyes, and impossibly tiny ears. The twins are named Susan Thomas and Selma Rose. Susan was the one with the perpetually sour expression on her face that shared a knowing look with the creepy woman. Selma's face is smooth and difficult to read.
Sitting next to Selma, trying to make herself seem smaller than she actually is by placing her hands in her lap and hunching her shoulders forward, is Grace James. Grace can't be much older than I am but there is something in her
eyes that leaves me with a hollow haunted feeling. Her gaze meets mine briefly before it returns to her lap, her long auburn hair shielding her face.
Last to be introduced is Miranda Holloway, the woman who hugged me when I came in, if you can call that a hug. When Mary introduces her, Miranda has a smug, satisfied look on her face, as if she is so important I must know all about her and admire her already. I give her a blank look before managing a half smile; she sneers in return.
After the awkward introductions are through, Mary Morris begins to serve tea. It's Earl Grey and boring. The others make polite chatter for a while, occasionally asking me questions. I try to be cheerful and friendly but it's taking a lot of energy; since the accident, I've been mostly on my own and my conversational skills are seriously lacking. Though, I doubt I would be up to making conversation with these women under the best of circumstances.
For the most part, Miranda ignores me, which is lucky. Once or twice I catch her staring at me with a malevolent look in her eye. I try to convince myself that I'm imagining it, but there is no mistaking: Miranda Holloway does not like me. I have no idea why and I have no desire to figure it out. Whatever her problem is, it doesn't matter. I've known women like this before, and I've found it's best to just stay clear and not engage.
"Evan, dear?"
I must have spaced out because I can't remember what Gena asked me. "I'm sorry I..."
"Oh it's quite alright," Gena replies cutting off my useless stammering. She and Mary Morris exchange a dark look. "After what you've been through," Gena continues, "it's a surprise you could make it here at all. But we are so glad that you did." She gives me an indulgent smile that I immediately resent. "What I was asking, dear, is if you are looking forward to starting school at Price High in the fall." It's irritating how she keeps calling me "dear" and "sweetheart" when she can't be older that twenty-five herself.
"Oh, uhm, yes, actually. I've been kind of on my own up at the estate, and it'll be nice to make some friends." It's a downright lie, but I know it's what they want to hear.
"My goodness," Mary interjects, "we had no idea! Magda told us not to bother you until you were ready. You have no idea how long we've wanted to meet you! After your mother left..."
"Mary." Selma's cool voice interrupts Mary's incessant stream of words. "Mary, dear, weren't you going to write down the recipe for this lemon cake for me?" she asks, gesturing to the dwindling sunny yellow cake dripping in a creamy glaze at the center of the table. Mary nods, her cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment. Both women stand up and head to the kitchen.
The other women give me shy smiles, except for Miranda whose eyes sparkle with amusement and Susan who just glares. Miranda opens her mouth to speak, but Gena quickly cuts in with a story about a recent shopping trip in New York City.
I do my best to keep up with the conversation, but I'm dwelling on what Mary Morris was about to say. My mother never spoke about her time here and I'm aching for any details I can get. After a while, Mary and Selma return to the table. I notice that Mary is slightly deflated, and I find myself feeling bad for her. The others don't acknowledge their return, but keep up the chatter, which also bothers me.
"Evan, how would you like to be a part of the Church picnic planning committee?" Gena asks, causing me to flinch since I'm not paying attention.
"Oh, we would just love that!" Mary exclaims.
"Yes, we would," says a bright, unfamiliar voice.
I turn to see a girl about my age standing in the doorway. She has hair the color of corn silk and is just as tall, thin, and tan as Miranda Holloway. The resemblance is explained when the girl saunters over to Miranda and places her hand on her shoulder.
"Hello, mother," she says coolly.
"Delia, you're late," Miranda replies in a bored tone.
Delia's hand drops from her mother's shoulder, but her smile remains sunny and unbothered. "Ladies, I apologize for being so late, but I was being fitted for my Miss Apple Fest dress."
Everyone coos simultaneously and I stifle a giggle. They have to be shitting me if this is a real thing. Delia seats herself in the empty chair next to her mother. Her gaze wanders around the table and lands on me. The disdain is clear. Internally I cringe; it was one thing to have to avoid Miranda Holloway, it's entirely another to have to deal with someone I'm probably going to end up in school with.
"Dear, you don't have to apologize for a thing!" exclaims Mary Morris, her previous enthusiasm fully renewed. "Miss Apple Fest is such an exciting time! Why, I remember it like it was just yesterday!" She sighs and her eyes take on a glassy, faraway look.
"Anyway," she says, shaking her head as if to clear her thoughts, "you haven't been properly introduced! Evangeline, this is Delia Holloway. I'm sure you two will be good friends before you know it!"
Delia and I exchange a look that clearly says no way in hell. Her mouth breaks into a wide grin but her eyes remain cold and fixed.
"I'm sure you're right, Ms. Morris," Delia answers in a honey smooth voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Ms. Morris! You make me sound like an old woman! How many times do I have to tell you to call me Mary?"
Delia just smiles wider, her gaze still fixed on me. The stone at my wrist grows cold, so cold it burns. It hurts, badly, but I refuse to flinch.
"As entertaining as this afternoon has been," Miranda interrupts in a bored tone. "I'm afraid I must be going. Joshua is returning from his business trip to Japan and I'd like to be home when he arrives."
Miranda and Delia both rise in one fluid motion. I clench my teeth to keep my jaw from dropping; it's unnatural the way they move, like they have an impossible amount of control over their bodies. Maybe it's Pilates; maybe it's something else.
Everyone else rises, too, leaving me sitting awkwardly. I stand up as gracefully as I can, but my legs have gone slightly numb from sitting for so long.
"Evangeline," Delia croons as she walks closer to me, "it was so nice to finally meet you." She looks me up and down as she extends her hand. I consider leaving her hanging, but everyone's eyes are on us. I straighten my back and take her hand, locking eyes with her to let her know that she can't intimidate me. Out of nowhere, I feel a surge of power shoot through me and into the hand that holds on to Delia's. It reminds me of what happened the night of the lightning storm except in reverse, the power flowing out of me instead of in to me, and I realize that I'm entirely in control of it. Delia's eyes widen slightly and she tries to pull away, but I hold on, pushing the invisible power out of my body until I feel it envelope us both.
"Call me Evan," I reply coolly with a smile. After a beat, I drop her hand, breaking the connection. I have no idea what just happened, but it felt good. It also left me feeling slightly weak. Even so, I manage to turn smoothly on my heel and follow the ladies out onto the front porch where they say their goodbyes.
Albert, my grandmother's driver, is waiting by the town car. I am relieved to finally be leaving, but I refuse to relax around these women, no matter how nice some of them seem.
Before they let me escape, they make me promise to come to their church picnic committee meeting on Sunday. It is the last thing I want to do, but I figure it's what Magda meant by upholding my duty to the town. It makes sense to comply if I want to keep her out of my hair and out of my life. I slide in to the backseat of the car, taking care not to relax until we're around the block and out of sight.
Chapter Eight
When I get back to the estate I find Lex sitting on the front steps, waiting for me. I'm so elated to see him after the afternoon I just had, that I don't care about the huge, stupid grin that lights up my face. Lex plays it a little cooler, standing up slowly and casually, but his eyes sparkle with unmistakable excitement.
"Come on," he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me along with him.
I kick off my heels as we run into the house and up the staircase, not stopping until we reach the door of a room I've seen before but never gave much thought to.
"
What's this?" I ask, panting.
Lex just grins and gestures for me to open the door. I give him a wary look and turn the handle. I'm not sure what I expect, but what I find on the other side of the door certainly isn't it. The room has been arranged to look like a modern living room, something this museum of a house is seriously lacking. There's a large cobalt blue sectional sofa, a red lacquer coffee table, a flat screen TV and, best of all, my turntable set up on its own stand.
My records are displayed on the middle row of shelves that take up an entire wall. Besides my records, the shelves are mostly empty and begging to be filled. Placed directly in front of a large bay window is a sky blue velvet chaise lounge, perfect for lying on and listening to records on a moody day. A few modern art prints are scattered on the walls and there is a pair of end tables that match the coffee table and are adorned with sleek metal and glass table lamps.
For the first time since I left Connecticut, I almost feel at home. A million thoughts about how and why flood my mind but I push them all away. The only thing I allow myself to feel right now is appreciation, and maybe, just maybe, the first tentative blossoms of love. I turn to face Lex, who is watching me intently. It only takes a few steps to close the gap between us. His eyes widen slightly as I reach up and take hold of the lapels of his leather jacket. I can hear his breath go ragged and I like that I can effect a man that way.
I have to stand on my toes to be able to look into his eyes, our faces only inches apart. We both keep our eyes open as I lean forward and touch my lips to his. He doesn't react at first and I'm afraid that I've misjudged his feelings, but his hesitation doesn't last long. Lex melts into the kiss, his arms wrap around my body and he pulls tight against his chest. I open my mouth and allow him access. His tongue delves into my mouth, deepening the kiss. My body burns a throbbing endless heat, as if my every cell is on fire.
Evan Elemental (The Evan Elemental Series) Page 5
