CHAPTER THREE
I woke on the bedroom floor, tangled up in my sheets. Even though I slept through the night, I felt drained. It wasn’t until rubbed the sleep from my eyes that I recalled the dream: Jace, the heat, the kiss. I pressed my lips together and wrapped the covers tightly around me.
“It was just a dream,” I assured myself. I hadn’t actually made myself available to Jace. I hadn’t wasted my first kiss on him…even if it did taste so sinfully delectable.
Footsteps on the first-floor brought me back into the present. I drug myself off the floor and was careful not to make too much noise. No matter how tired, I wasn’t going to hang out with Martha all day. I hardly survived yesterday afternoon. My world had become entirely too warped when I chose McKesson High over solitary confinement in a house in dire need of a deep clean.
John ran interference with Martha while I slipped out the front door. I dialed Bree. She picked me up one block from my place. I’d just swung the pickup’s door open when I got a text from Martha telling me to call at the first sign of an upset stomach.
“JJ’s?” Bree suggested as soon as she took a good look at me.
“Definitely.” My stomach was growling like a rabid animal.
“Rough night?”
I nodded and looked out the window just in time to hide my grin with my hand. My lips were swollen. I tried not to think about what I’d done to my pillows. I opted not to tell Bree about my dream because she was the type of person to look too deeply into it. Yes, I indulged in a happy fantasy with Jace in my sleep. No harm done. However, it didn’t mean I even remotely wanted him in real life; Bree didn’t need to overanalyze it. I didn’t need to over think it either…so why was he still invading my thoughts? Jace’s demeanor, conceitedness, and attitude screamed “player.” He’d walk all over my heart if I let him.
“You know I’m not going to let you wander around like that,” Bree said as she pulled away from the curb.
“You know the rules. No make-up at school.”
She scoffed like I didn’t have a choice. “Minimal concealer today, Winnie. You’ve got a wicked case of eye-bags.”
“No eye-liner.”
“No liner, but then you have to let me tackle your hair.”
I nodded, secretly grateful that there was someone in my life who’d tell me if I looked like a slob even if I wasn’t big into the whole appearance bit. After finishing, she drove the rest of the way to JJ’s.
The small coffee bistro smelled like its walls were coated with coffee beans and flavored syrup. The business changed names several times over the years, but had kept the atmosphere similar. Not wanting to compete with any of the chain stores, JJ’s kept its vibe more relaxed. It was superb when I had an afternoon to kill, but not so much on the morning before class. The waitress finished a texting-convo before she wrote down our order that included a much needed double shot of espresso.
We’d just ordered our drinks when I heard a shuffle across the tile behind us. Without having to look, I knew who it was. Aside from my dog, Hector was my oldest friend. Like Max, he was a part of my makeshift family. He hobbled due to an old boxing injury that had shattered his right kneecap. Knocking me on my butt in the ring more times than I could count, Hector literally helped me overcome some hard knocks in my life.
He grabbed my shoulders firmly and briefly held me tight, instigating a playful fight. If I wasn’t so hungry, I’d have socked him in the gut when he first gripped my shoulders.
Even though he had six inches on me, I proved my own in the ring. He couldn’t match my agility, even if he could obliterate me with a few solid hits.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” Hector said.
Since I could smell coffee on his breath, I knew this was merely a gesture of good will for Martha. She must have sent him to check up on me. That she knew exactly where I went after leaving the house, meant I was all too predictable and made a mental note to address that issue.
“You need to brush up on your spy skills, Mr. Coffee Breath,” I said.
He raised his hands in the air. “You caught me.”
“Are you going to hit some bags with me later today?” I asked, not wanting to talk about my over-protective foster mother.
“Only if Bree joins you,” Hector said.
“And show you up in the ring? I don’t think you want the humiliation,” Bree teased, and grabbed the drinks that our waitress finally got around to making. “Better get going, Winnie. At this rate, we’ll get there just in time to miss first period. As enticing as detention sounds, I’d rather spend my afternoon with Ryker. He’s taking me on a secret date – mission impossible style. Parents aren’t cleared to know the classified details.”
“Let me guess, he’s taking you to a movie?” I said.
“Hush! You’ll blow our cover!” she giggled.
“See you tonight then?” I asked, reconfirming my workout date with Hector.
“Like I’d stand up a gorgeous gal like you!” Hector said, bidding us goodbye.
Once outside, Bree nudged my shoulder. “If he weren’t like, old enough to be –”
“–he’s only twenty-two. It’s not like that’s ancient,” I interrupted and took my drink. Pulling the top off, I let it cool before I climbed into the pickup. “And no, I’m not interested. It’d be like kissing my brother.”
“He’s good looking, in great shape, considering his limp, and his light brown hair shimmers perfectly in the right lighting,” Bree continued, like my rapport meant little to nothing.
“Maybe you and Ryker should give it a rest. You seem to be rather hung up on brown-haired guys lately,” I said, thinking about the color of Jace’s hair.
“Not loving Hector’s sickly green eyes,” Bree said, ignoring my comment. For a moment I thought she might actually consider pursuing a date with Hector. “But then again, I’d hold out too, if the hottest new guy in school was chasing my tail. Ryker mentioned, in passing of course, that things got a bit hot in art class with you and Jace.”
“What happened in class, was that I got sick and was surrounded with bad company. And for that matter, I’m not holding out,” I stated, pronouncing every word clearly.
***
Tapping Stella to the art classroom just as the tardy bell sounded, I closed my eyes, turned my head, and then looked around the room. Jace’s smoky outline was the only figure that showed in the cloak of darkness. He was in the far back corner of the room – sitting in my spot to be exact. He waved at me.
I had the sudden impression he’d picked up art class for the pure pleasure of annoying me.
He leaned back. Considering that I couldn’t see much definition in his shadow hazy, I couldn’t help to noticed how smoothly he moved. I hated that my heart picked up its beat. The simple act of watching him lean back in a chair shouldn’t make my pulse race. Pressing my lips tight together, I tried – unsuccessfully – not to think about how his lips had felt on mine. Only in dreams did guys do and say everything perfect while in reality they were the complete opposite.
I opened my eyes and almost brought my hand to my face to block his blazing sight. I didn’t recall his silhouette being this bright yesterday. I lowered my gaze. My hair fell around my face. It helped to hide my surprise. I was extremely pleased Bree opted for a casual hair-do. Only a few, tiny braids were woven throughout my hair, but I lost the fight against wearing mascara.
Mrs. Briggs was already rattling off whatever lesson plan she had scrambled together for the day. At least she didn’t get on my case for my lack of timeliness. Raising my head, I tucked my hair back behind my ear and walked confidently to my spot.
I made it halfway across the room before the nausea hit me. How was he doing this? Jace had another thing coming if he thought he was going to win a battle of the wills with me. I mentally patted myself on the back once more for not telling Bree about the dream. I knew she’d never purposely “out” me, but a few secrets have slipped from her mouth before. If it got o
ut that I literally dreamed of Jace, not only would I be absolutely mortified, but he might actually believe he has some kind of influence over me. Pressing my hand against the wall, I steadied myself and hoped the nausea would pass, when a vision hijacked my concentration.
Warm, brilliant red liquid seeped into my pink blanket. I was a young child, an infant. Lightning flashed the night sky while rain pelted the roof only to stream down the window beside me. My screams competed with the thunder. But no one listened to me, not even the wrinkled old man who held a bloody knife in one hand and a cane in the other. Blood gushed from a young girl next to me. My pink blanket turned red. Colors blurred until everything melted into a shade of gray.
I stifled a whimper when the vision faded away. Only in my visions did color arise and this one ended with darkness. Also, I was always older in my all my visions – my future. If I wasn’t mistaken, the vision marked the day in the past – the day I lost my family and my sight. Tears quickly gathered in my eyes when. I lowered my head, wiped them away, and hoped no one noticed. I clenched my teeth and willed the world to stop spinning in a spiral of gray. I leaned against the wall in attempt to keep my balance. I closed my eyes together as tightly as I could, willing more tears not to leave. Keep yourself untouchable, I thought because only the weak cried. I refused to shed another tear for their deaths. Nothing I could do would bring my family back. Revenge dug its cold claws into my soul long ago. I forced my misery down deep. I needed to be strong.
My future always unraveled before me as broken pieces of visions, randomly throughout the day - but not my past. It’d been dormant, until now. I wanted to scream out in fury thinking of my sister’s pointless death. The man who murdered her and probably my parents, was old, near the last days of his life. I always imagined him being middle age, not elderly. That he might already have died a peaceful death wasn’t something I was willing to accept. I wanted him to suffer for his crimes; I yearned for justice. It was ghastly enough that he stole my parents’ life, but my sister was as defenseless as I had been. It was unacceptable.
“Winnie?” Mrs. Brigg asked, bringing me back into my pathetic existence. “Are you still not feeling well?”
“I’m just peachy,” I lied, stifling my grief.
She hesitated, expecting me to change my mind. When I didn’t, she continued her lecture. I needed a punching bag and then a pillow. Seeing my sister’s murderer in my visions wasn’t something I was prepared to tackle in school. I needed a distraction.
Pressing my lips tight together, I glanced at my spot that Jace had so kindly occupied. I smiled spitefully, pleased to take my anger out on someone so delightfully aggravating.
I took one step forward and nearly fell. His blazing white silhouette dimmed as I gathered my bearings. I tried to shake the absurdity that he could control my physical well-being, even though I a part of me still suspected he could. I took a deep breath and continued to my table. I passed one table before I nearly dropped Stella, because my hands were drenched with sweat. Again, I paused and closed my eyes and looked upon his hazy figure.
Jace nodded, encouraging to me to come closer. With a frown plastered on my face, I passed by another table. After bumping into one, I apologized and opened my eyes. Everyone else’s dark shadows stayed the same shade of utter darkness, but the white abyss I labeled “Jace”, had dramatically darkened. I seriously needed a doctor check-up. Sometimes my eyes played tricks on me, but not this extreme.
“You’re in my spot,” I glowered, standing a few paces away.
“If you want it, you’re going to have to take it,” Jace said, tossing what appeared to be a ball of clay in the air.
“Winnie’s known to throw a wicked right hook; I wouldn’t intentionally annoy her unless you’re looking for a black eye,” Ryker chimed in.
Folding my walking stick together, I tried to keep my voice at a reasonable volume which was incredibly difficult. Putting up with the two most maddening males in the history of mankind was another feat I hadn’t the energy to deal with today.
“She doesn’t look like much of a fighter,” Jace chuckled and rocked back into his chair. “Being passive-aggressive suits her.”
Why did his voice have to sound so enticing? I dug my nails into my palm, forcing me to think clearly. “Please move.”
“Don’t want to sit by your dream boat, dearest?” Jace said. “Your cheeks are a little rosy. Flustered about anything in particular?”
The dream with Jace blitz-attacked my attention. It wasn’t real, I reassured myself. I was in bed making out with my pillows, not the middle of a field and with Jace. Besides, in my dream he looked like a dark shadow, like everyone else instead of the irritating white abyss like he did now. Even if my lips were swollen, my pillow had been the receiver of my affection – not Jace, not the most narcissistic jerk I’d ever met.
“Nope,” I said, dismissing my dream as some kind of subliminal joke my hormones had played on me.
He casually threw the clay in the air. He was baiting me, assuming I’d bite. He waited for a come-back, or any remark, but what he didn’t know was that I’d lived with my fair share of bullies. I stood silently, calculating the rhythm in which he threw the clay ball. At the point where it was the highest, he looked up, and I gave the chair’s leg a swift kick. Jace collided into the floor, and then stood up faster than I could follow. He seized my arms. He could’ve melted my flesh with as hot as his hands felt. My feet wanted to give out when another vision raided my thoughts.
A flash of the old man, holding onto a bloody knife in one hand, trickled into my mind. Scarred and wrinkled, his hands dripped with deep red blood. Collapsing to his knees, the old man grinned vindictively as an impossible gift was bestowed upon him. Smoothing out like his skin was being ironed, the old man grew young. His gray hair deepened in a dark brown, curling at the ends. His insane laugh echoed in my mind.
The vision ceased to play out when Jace tightened his grip on my arms. Rattling off commentary in his language, he acted like he wanted to strangle me. Struggling to keep himself dimmed, his anger spread over me in a heat wave. I was sure he’d send himself into a blazing white figure again. Conversely, just as quickly as the warmth passed over my body, it was replaced by a tingling sensation that crawled over my skin, energizing me.
I pictured him glowering down at me while he lost his cool. It filled me with gratification knowing that I was getting under his skin too. Jace mumbled a few words in his cryptic language, and as if on cue, a headache formed at the base of my skull when his figure brightened, but I’d come equipped with a few tried and true items from Martha’s medicine cabinet. A container full of ibuprofen rested nicely inside my backpack, along with a bottle of Pepto-Bismol and even a few Benadryl pills.
“I asked nicely for you to move,” I stated, defending myself to whatever sting of obscenities he cursed.
Just as I prepared to make some snide remark about his secret language, the definition in his white figure twisted vaguely. My head pounded, my eyes filled with tears, and I forgot how to breathe. We stood facing each other; we were two insults away from throwing punches when he subtly leaned closer to me; the space between us was too far away and entirely too close at the same time; the mood between us shifted. I waged a war with myself. Lured by Jace, I was simply exasperated. The thought of giving him a sample of my right hook tempted me, but the idea of doing other vigorous activities distracted me as well. I swallowed and held onto my anger instead of focusing on his magnetism.
The definition in his face chipped away from the shapeless abyss into a more precise shape. His mouth formed in my sight, which was impossible. My own mouth watered eagerly when he parted his lips slightly as he breathed deep – methodically deep. The clasp on my lungs loosened just enough for me to catch my breath. A moan resonated in his throat, after the gasp escaped mine. His plush lips promised lucrative activities that made my body tighten in ways it hadn’t ever had before. I clenched my teeth, promising myself not to act like
a giddy school girl – no matter how lickable his lips looked.
“You test my patience,” Jace groaned.
He lifted me so I wasn’t standing on my own. My feet still touched the floor, but it was an illusion. He held me, supported my body weight. I twisted in his grasp. It didn’t faze him. He held me easily. I swallowed hard, not exactly hating his abundance of upper body strength. A prickle flowed from his hands onto me; I sensed that he was enjoying my vulnerability. I bit my lip to keep me from saying something regrettable. I only spoke after I convinced myself that it didn’t sound idiotic.
“You test mine.” My defiance wasn’t exactly profound.
“She tests all our patience,” Ryker said, adding his two cents.
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