Knowing You_The Cursed Series Part 2

by Rebecca Donovan

  “So this is where the creeping happens,” I say, taking it all in.

  An old desk and banquet table along with several two-drawer file cabinets outline the perimeter, every surface covered by a keyboard, monitor or hard drive. A three-shelf bookcase is filled with tiny monitors. When I examine the ones that are on, I recognize the feed. It’s Blackwood’s outer perimeter.

  “I thought you said you didn’t come from money?” I question, accusation heavy in my voice. Not that I know anything about what I’m looking at, but the equipment appears new and expensive.

  “I didn’t say I don’t make it,” he quips.

  “You are scary.”

  “Oh, you have no idea,” he replies, still wearing the arrogant grin that causes shivers to erupt down my spine.

  I try to convince myself that confiding in Brendan was my only choice if I want to get any answers. But I’m not convinced he’s trustworthy. Perception is his curse. He’s not at all who he appears to be, but can somehow see right through everyone else. He’s so forthcoming with the truth, it almost makes me uncomfortable. Then again, like he said, the truth can easily be manipulated … by perception. Everyone has their own version.

  Now I’m freaking myself out, and am seriously regretting getting him involved.

  Brendan could very easily be behind all of this. Maybe he blames my mother for his mother’s death. It’s hard to believe he didn’t see my resemblance to her in the picture he has on his bookshelf. I look just like my mother when she was a teenager, even with her oversized sunglasses on. He wasn’t surprised when I told him who she was—he already knew. Brendan’s sought me out and has been messing with my head from day one, asking questions although he already knows most of the answers.

  I can’t trust him.

  The door to the tower flew open and the sorceress appeared before them. She cast a spell to release Thaylina from the confines of the cloak. The girl tumbled to the floor, scraping her knees and elbows. She lay on the cool stone, awaiting the return of her breath.

  I can’t believe I agreed to this extra shift at the country club. Mr. Garner neglected to mention when he relayed Cary’s request, and admittedly I didn’t ask, that I’d be working from seven ‘til ten, so that I’m back in time for my eleven o’clock class. The golf course is barely functional this early in the morning. Only the diehard golfers are out on the course. I come across some of them prepping their carts when I shuffle down to The Deck.

  What I don’t expect to find, is the guy doing laps in the pool. I didn’t think it officially opened until like nine or something. I stay close to the side of the building to get a better look. Whoever it is, is taking it seriously, wearing a swim cap, goggles and fitted long swim bottoms, like they do in the Olympics—the only place I’ve ever watched swimmers compete. I admire the lines of muscle rippling along his back with each stroke. I can only imagine what his chest looks like.

  I duck back closer to the building when he finishes at this end of the pool, sweeping the goggles and cap off in a fluid motion as he dunks his head under the water without allowing me to see his face.

  “Lana?” Cary beckons.

  I spin around too fast and crash into a stack of chairs stored against the building. I reach to steady them just as they topple over and make the loudest noise ever.

  “Sorry,” I cringe. Cary watches this entire disaster curiously. I can’t bring myself to turn around to see if the guy in the pool witnessed this, but he’d have to be deaf not to have heard it.

  I am becoming the worst version of Brendan. And failing epically.

  “You okay?” Cary asks, helping me stack the chairs.

  “Yeah, just humiliated,” I admit, because I have the most horrifying curse in the world. Cary chuckles lightly.

  “Well, I have the keys you’ll need for the storage rooms and cages. Don’t worry about liquor inventory. The bartenders take care of that weekly. Just the paper and dry storage. The charts list everything so you know what to look for. Start here, then go out to the ninth hole storage, and then finish inside the Clubhouse. You’ll find several storage closets in the main building. One for paper products, like napkins and towels, and another for dry storage, like sodas and non-perishables. That’s it, pretty simple.”

  He hands me a tablet and shows me how it’s broken down by tab. Thankfully, it’s something I can do half-asleep, because that’s as much of my brain that’s functioning this morning.

  “Thank you for coming in to do this on your day off,” he says

  “No problem,” I answer and watch him walk away before rounding the building to the employee entrance.

  I slip the key in and open the door. I scan the storage room, deciding where to start. I’ve just begun counting bundles of hand towels when someone appears in the entrance leading to the service area.

  I yelp and he hollers at the same time.

  With my hand to my chest, I stare at Grant standing in the doorway holding a sports drink, in the same swimsuit as the guy in the pool. His bronzed skin is flushed from exertion, along his chest, all the way up his neck to his cheeks. And he’s still glistening wet. My heart doesn’t calm at the sight of him. If anything, the crazed wet hair and smooth sculpted definition of his broad, muscular chest makes it beat faster.

  “Lana? What are you doing here?”

  I can’t speak. I open my mouth and my erratic pulse cuts off every word I try to form. Heat creeps up my face and fills my cheeks. I think I need to sit down. This is way too much to handle this early in the morning.

  “Are you okay?” he moves toward me. I hold up my palm to stop him. “What?”

  “I can’t,” I say shaking my head, forced to close my eyes to gather my stupidity.

  “Are you having an asthma attack?” His voice is filled with concern. “Do you have an inhaler?”

  I shake my head. He sets his hand on my shoulder. “What is it?”

  I exhale and shake off his touch. “I wasn’t prepared to see you half naked.”

  He laughs. “Are you serious?”

  “Sorry. I know that sounds very sexist, but I really can’t function with you standing here looking like that.”

  “Wow. I guess I’ll go then.” His tone heavy with amusement. “You’re hilarious.”

  “Or something,” I say, completely mortified and still unable to look at him.

  He leans in close and murmurs in my ear. “Now you know how I feel every time I see you. And it has nothing to do with how much skin you’re showing.”

  I bite my lip to keep from smiling. I turn just as he disappears out the door.

  Somehow, I’m able to compose myself and remember how to count, then spend the next three hours doing exactly that.

  Apparently, on Tuesdays, Grant lifeguards at the pool. And according to Kaely, who is working the bev cart with a forgettable guy, it’s the most popular day. He’s doesn’t sit upon the lifeguard chair shirtless, thankfully, or else there would be a hell of a lot of teen girls, and mothers too, pretending to drown just to be saved. But him—in the red shorts and the white tank top with a pair of black sunglasses—is still enough to attract the members who appreciate the artistry that is Grant Philips. He seriously belongs in a museum for people everywhere to admire. Okay, I know I’m being ridiculous.

  Before changing out of my uniform, I leave a voicemail for Joey, asking when he’s coming back to Kingston. I tell him that I found something I need to show him. And of course he has to call back while I’m changing and the phone is in my locker. I curse when I see his missed call and voicemail.

  “Hey Lana, I’m leaving for Nantucket with my family on Thursday for the Fourth. We’re going to be there for a little over a week. I’ll come up when we get back. I found something I need to show you too. Hopefully you can make sense of it, because everything I’m thinking is a bit crazy. Can’t wait to see you.”

  At this point, it’s all seems crazy. I hate that I have to wait two weeks, but it’s not like I’m going anywhere. Maybe we
could figure this out if the weirdo were more direct and didn’t leave abstract messages and photos of parents-past. And hearing that Joey’s going to Nantucket is disturbing, considering the photo was taken there. But it would make sense if the house in the picture is theirs.

  I arrive back on campus in time for American government and take a nap before French. I probably should’ve used that time to shower and put some effort into looking like a human being, but the day is lost on me. It’s not worth the effort.

  I refasten the hair tie around my nest of a topknot, rub some deodorant under my arms and walk down to dinner in a pair of cut off sweatpants and a cropped tank top. I’m tempted to take one from Ashton’s dress code and go barefoot, but settle on a pair of flip-flops.

  I receive a message from my chemistry teacher before I make it out of the dorm.

  Tutor is meeting you in the library at 7:00 in study room A.

  Oh, crap. I turn back around and climb up the flight of stairs to get my messenger bag out of my room. I won’t have time to come back after dinner.

  I smile when I see Lily sitting at our table. “Hi. Come for a visit?” I didn’t know were allowed visitors outside of lawyers and parents. But maybe if she’s on Lance’s approved list.

  “Yes and no,” she replies. “I’m tutoring this summer.”

  My day may have just improved. “Please tell me you’re my chemistry tutor.”

  She grimaces in apology. “I’m not a science girl, sorry. I’m a writer.”

  “When are you meeting your tutor?” Ashton asks.

  “After dinner.” I sigh dramatically. “I hate chemistry.”

  “Then you’re not doing it right,” Brendan says just to be annoying. Ashton yelps in surprise when he does something to her under the table.

  “Gross,” I grumble.

  “The Fourth of July carnival’s this weekend,” Lily announces. “We should all go together.”

  I look to Lance since I can’t go without him. And he’s been deemed more responsible than me by some dumbass. It’s a good thing I like him.

  “Sounds good,” Lance replies for us both.

  I leave them in the Court to meet my tutor in the library. I have to ask the librarian where the study rooms are located, and she leads me down a narrow spiral staircase to the basement level where study cages house desks and empty bookshelves. Interspersed between them are wooden doors marked with gold letters, beginning with A and eventually, study room D at the very end.

  “Your tutor must not be here yet,” the librarian says, flipping on the switch outside the door before unlocking it for me. “I’ll bring them down when they arrive.”

  “Thank you,” I say, entering.

  The room isn’t much bigger than the chemistry closet I used to hide away in at Sterling High. Yes, I’m aware of the irony now that I’m meeting a chemistry tutor … in a closet. There’s a round wooden table with a half dozen chairs. And that’s it. Guess they don’t want students getting distracted while studying.

  But they weren’t counting on my tutor either, because he is going to be one hell of a distraction.

  “No way,” he says from within the doorframe.

  I laugh at the cosmic joke. Because of course it’s him. Especially after my bumbling humiliation this morning. Add that combined with the fact that I haven’t showered or even brushed my hair today. Someone somewhere in the cosmos is laughing hard. Guess Grant won’t be dumbfounded by my blinding beauty now.

  “You know what? I’m not really surprised,” I tell him when he sits down on the other side of the table, across from me. Good thing he’s distanced himself because I’m afraid I don’t smell all that great right now. “Fate and I are feuding, and you’re my punishment.”

  He grins in amusement. “You believe in fate?”

  “I don’t know if I believe in fate exactly. But I don’t believe in coincidence either. Anyway, I’m not failing philosophy, so who cares what I believe.”

  “Another time, because I do,” Grant says sincerely. “Are you really failing chemistry?”

  “Not yet,” I reply, slumping back in my chair. “We have our first test on Friday and I will be if you don’t help me pass it.”

  “What are you having difficulty with exactly?”

  “Staying awake.”

  He laughs. “That could be a problem. Why don’t you show me what you’re working on.”

  I may have to continue saying dumb things this entire tutoring session just to keep him laughing. The sound is deep and throaty and comes from a real place. His laughter makes me smile, whether I realize I’m doing it or not. And I must be staring and smiling dopily at him right now because he has to clear his throat to get my attention.

  “Did I lose you already?”

  “Uh, no,” I say, pulling the tablet out of my bag. “I’m here, sort of. I haven’t had much sleep the past couple of nights. Sorry if I’m out of it.”

  “I’ll try my best to keep you awake,” he says, moving to the chair next to mine so we can review the information on the tablet together.

  Oh, I’m definitely awake now.

  An hour later, I emerge from our closet, without being kissed. I know that’s not what we were in there for, but closets have a reputation for a reason. Grant remained the ultimate professional, even when our knees inadvertently touched or his arm rubbed against mine. He was all about making sure I understood chemistry. Which I did … and felt. And now, I hate Brendan for his stupid comment at dinner.

  Grant is brilliant. And patient—very, very, patient. But I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s kinda scary-perfect.

  “Do you have any flaws?” I ask him when we reach the main level of the library.

  “Of course I do,” he scoffs. “I could list them for you. Or let you find out for yourself.”

  “I like a challenge,” I reply with a teasing smirk. “Thank you for helping me.”

  “Let me know how you do on the test?”

  “I will. I’ll tell you when I see you at the club on Friday.”

  “Oh, um, I wanted to ask if you wanted to go to the carnival on Saturday.”

  “We’re going,” I say with an enthusiastic smile, now that I know he’ll be there too. When he presses his lips together, I realize that’s not what he meant. “Oh. You were asking me on a date, weren’t you?”

  “I wasn’t going to call it that because you said you don’t date, and your chaperone would need to be there, but … yeah. I was hoping you would go with me. But a group thing sounds good too.” He doesn’t say the last part with much fervor.

  “I’ll win you a prize,” I tell him, trying to make up for disappointing him.

  He smiles weakly. “See you Friday, Lana.”

  That wasn’t the reaction I was going for. I watch him walk out the main entrance, before heading back to the dorm.

  I wish I'd known he was asking me on a date before I told him about the group. But... would it have mattered? I shouldn't date. Right?

  I have to remember that school’s starting up in two months and he won’t be working at the country club any longer. He attends a different school. I don’t have a car. We’ll never see each other. I know this is weak reasoning. But then I look at my thumb, and it's the only reason I need.

  The carnival is held at the ski resort on the mountain side of Kingston. I get a glimpse of downtown as we drive through, and it’s cute, in a small New England town sort of way, with all of the storefronts lining one main road—which is predictably called Main Street. There’s not much to it, but it screams quaint and charming.

  “We’ll have to take you on the ten-minute tour of downtown Kingston sometime,” Ashton says from beside me.

  “I think I just saw it in the thirty seconds it took to drive through.”

  “They have this old movie theatre that only shows two movies. You can tell they tried to update the seating, but like twenty years ago.” She leans in closer so only I can hear, “Is Grant meeting us there?”

  My smile i
s the only answer she needs.

  And it makes its encore appearance when we find him waiting for us at the ticket booth with Squirrel and Stefan.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I bought your tickets,” he says handing me a strand of paper tickets while everyone else gets in line to purchase their own.

  “Thank you,” I say, taking them from him and folding them up to slip into the front pocket of my cut-offs. “I’ll be sure to win you the biggest stuffed something I can find.”

  He reaches for my hand just has Kaely squeals, running straight toward me from across the carnival, then proceeds to attack me with a mauling hug

  “Um, I just saw you two hours ago at the club,” I say, smothered by her thick bushel of hair.

  “This is going to be so fun!” she exclaims.

  Grant and I don’t get a moment alone together the entire time we’re at the carnival. Which ends up being completely okay because it probably would’ve been awkward to separate from the group. It was meant to be all of us, together. And I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. I’ve never laughed so hard in my entire life—watching Squirrel and Kaely squirt water into clowns’ mouths like they were Olympic competitors; hearing Lance scream like he might pee his pants on the twisting ride that turns upside down; or trying to make a chain, holding each other’s hands on the swing ride, and failing.

  “I think I’m going to throw up,” Kaely says after we trip off the Tilt-a-Whirl.

  “I warned you not to eat that fried dough before we got on,” Ashton says, holding Kaely by the arm to help her balance.

  Lily giggles. “Your nose still has powdered sugar on it.”

  Kaely sticks out her tongue to try to lick it off.

  I make a fist and rub it, which makes her sneeze … all over my hand.