White (The Wings Trilogy Book 1)

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White (The Wings Trilogy Book 1) Page 9

by Angelina J. Steffort


  “That’s great, congratulations!” Sophie danced around the kitchen and hugged me. It reminded me of Greg’s dance earlier at school when Ms. Weaver had announced our grades. He had lifted me from my chair and swung me around in a circle. It had been embarrassing. The whole class had laughed, and Ms. Weaver had threatened to downgrade me to a C if Greg wouldn’t let go of me immediately.

  I went to my room and threw my school things into the corner. I had nothing to do this evening, so I started rearranging my book shelf out of boredom. I pulled out book after book and sorted them by author. Then I carefully put each pile back on the shelf in alphabetical order. A single pile was completely mixed in genre. Those were the books I had gotten from my parents over the years. Most of them were children’s books. I opened one and flipped through the pages. My dad had read to me frequently when I had been a child. I could still hear the sound of his voice when I looked at the pictures on the pages. I really missed him. And Mom. Sometimes I just needed a shoulder to cry on, and it was hard when there was no one except for your still not grown up sister.

  I wanted to ask my mother for good advice concerning Adam—whether he was good for me, or whether I was just interpreting my wishes onto some randomly picked guy. Sometimes I was so unsure of myself that I couldn’t believe anybody could be interested in me. My mother would have known something, would have said something to make me feel better. I closed the book with a loud snap and put it back on the shelf with the rest of the remaining pile.

  My phone vibrated somewhere in my bag. I glided along the wooden floor to answer it. It took a minute to find it.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, it’s me, Greg.”

  “Hi Greg, what’s up?”

  “It’s a Thursday afternoon and we don’t have to do anything for school tomorrow. Would you like to go see a movie with me?”

  “Now?” I asked unbelievingly. Usually seeing a movie with my best friend would have been the most natural thing in the world, but with Greg’s blurring the line between friendship and romance it felt right to keep a bit more of a distance. “It’s quite late, don’t you think?”

  “Or I could come over to your place and we could watch some DVDs,” he suggested.

  I was mildly shocked. It was the second time within a week that Greg had taken the offensive. I would have liked to see a movie with him, but I was afraid of giving him the wrong impression.

  “Greg. Maybe another time. We are going out tomorrow anyway, all together. See you tomorrow at school,” I laughed and hung up.

  I realised I had forgotten my groceries in the car and went outside to get them. When everything was put away, I picked up the cookbook and took it with me to my room. Ian was still sitting on the couch in the living room, watching television, but Sophie was sitting on his lap now, with his arms wrapped tightly around her.

  Confessions

  “Careful with the milk,” Amber said to Lydia. “You’re spilling it.”

  The three of us were standing in the Porters’ kitchen, trying to bake a cake. It took us some time to find all the ingredients we needed. I had brought most of them with me, but we had to use some of Lydia’s mom’s baking stuff. The batter was nearly ready and the oven had reached the appropriate temperature.

  Spending time with my two friends was good. It took my mind off things a bit. My thoughts weren’t circling around Adam’s green eyes all the time, and I could forget that I had to let Gregory know—in a nice and friendly way—that I thought of him only as a friend.

  I took the baking pan and handed it to Amber who was holding the bowl with the dough. We poured the batter into the pan together and shoved it into the oven.

  “Thirty minutes,” Lydia told us. I looked at the recipe and started preparing everything for the chocolate icing. We had decided to decorate the cake with colorful sweets and candles—one for each year.

  We sat down at the kitchen table while the cake was in the oven.

  “Have you already started your college applications?” Amber asked.

  “I have organized some from different colleges and started on my essays,” Lydia answered.

  I shook my head. So far, I had successfully ignored the fact that graduation was the most important topic this year. There were other, more interesting things, occupying my mind—like a mystical boy from the graveyard. And I was back to thinking about Adam.

  “I want to study acting, definitely.” That was Amber. “Maybe I’ll go to some college in L.A., or I simply go and try my luck in Hollywood.”

  Amber was very talented, but I doubted that she would make it without a proper background in dramatic arts.

  “Go to college and try later. You’ll have a better background,” I told her.

  “I know, but then I’ll be too old,” she frowned.

  I shrugged and had a look at the cake.

  “I think it’s nearly done.”

  Decorating took longer than we had thought. I left the Porters’ place at 7.30 and had to hurry. I flew up the stairs to my room and pulled the closet door open. I tried on several outfits and discarded them for various reasons. After what felt like ages, I decided on tight jeans and a deep blue, tight shirt.

  I left a pile of crumpled clothes behind me on the bed as I went to the bathroom and took a quick shower. Though I only did the most basic things I needed almost an hour to get ready. As I looked into the mirror I wasn’t sure whether or not I liked what I saw. It was just the pale, thin me. I averted my gaze and went down the stairs.

  Amber and Lydia were already waiting for me in the driveway in Amber’s car. I got into the backseat and we were off to the club. Lydia held the plate with the cake carefully on her lap.

  We arrived at the same time as Jenny and Sam.

  “Greg’s already inside,” Sam called over his shoulder as he went through the door first. We followed and made our way through the half empty club. Before sneaking up on Gregory we lit the candles.

  “Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you,” we sang as we stood behind him. He jumped and turned around. A wide smile spread on his face when he saw us standing there with the cake.

  “You have to blow out the candles and make a wish,” I instructed him. He made a pondering face and blew.

  “Thanks!” Greg hugged all three of us in a row. “But we aren’t only celebrating the day of my birth. This evening, we also celebrate Claire’s achievements in history,” he said theatrically.

  “Shhhh!” I tried to stop him and blushed.

  “No, Claire. Everybody should know how bravely you fought,” he went on. I buried my face in my hands and giggled awkwardly.

  “Shut up, Greg!” Amber shot at him, laughing.

  More and more people filed in to congratulate Gregory. Greg beamed with happiness. It seemed like our effort in forcing him into this party hadn’t been in vain—he actually enjoyed himself.

  “It was the right thing to do, you know, talking him into this little party,” Lydia noted and I nodded in agreement, laughing at the obvious fun Greg was having with slicing up the cake.

  Gregory offered me a piece of cake and we sat down on the sofa in the corner. The music was so loud I could barely understand what he was saying.

  “Is Sophie coming, too?” he screamed over the noise.

  I shook my head. “Sophie is at home with Ian, I don’t think they’ll turn up tonight. Do you miss her?” I joked.

  “Very funny!” Greg shot me a sarcastic look.

  A dark figure standing at the bar caught my eye. He was tall with black hair. I could only see his back, but I recognized the jacket.

  “Excuse me for a moment,” I went over to the bar.

  Before I had closed the space between us he turned around, two drinks in his hands. I nearly ran into him as he started walking. I stumbled into the man next to me, trying to prevent a collision with Adam.

  “Sorry,” I mouthed at him. He nodded in acknowledgement as I straightened up and turned back to Adam.

  “Hi,�
�� he called over the music and smiled—surprised but obviously pleased. I lifted a hand and waved once, so I didn’t have to ruin my voice. I wasn’t sure if I could have gotten out a word anyway—Adam looked perfect again. His bright green eyes looked at me in amazement. I couldn’t understand why, but his gaze made my knees feel like pudding and my head like a hot air balloon. Once again I was surprised how breathtaking he was. There was a aura of peace around him even in this crowded, noisy room. Just looking at him was calming, and still so exciting at the same time that I felt like I needed to double the size of my heart to be able to feel it all.

  “I was on my way to say hello, but you were faster,” he told me.

  I was still lost in my thoughts so much, I couldn’t answer. I forced myself to not grab him by his jacket and pull him close enough to kiss him. I folded my arms so they wouldn’t be able start moving independently from the rest of my body, then I took a step backwards to lessen the temptation to throw my arms around his neck and crush against his perfect chest.

  “Shall we go over and sit with the others?” I suggested as I found my voice again. I started walking back towards Greg, who was sitting on the sofa with Amber, Sam and Jenny. Lydia was standing a few feet away in deep conversation with Richard. It was good to see her that happy. She deserved someone who really cared.

  Adam greeted the others politely. Amber flashed a perfect smile, Jenny and Sam waved at him, and Gregory eyed him suspiciously. I sat between the two boys—Adam on my right, Gregory on my left.

  Adam pushed one of the drinks into my hand, raised his own glass and looked into my eyes. “To the most beautiful girl in Aurora,” he toasted so only I could hear it. I felt my face grow hot and was grateful about the colorful half light in the club. I looked up shyly, not sure if he was being serious.

  Then Amber pulled at my arm. “Our song! We’ve got to dance!” she cried enthusiastically.

  Thankful to escape having to answer, I followed Amber to the dance floor. I felt the music run through my body and moved in time with what I thought was the beat. I was sure I looked ridiculous, like an idiot, next to Amber. She was so graceful and talented. I turned around for a brief second. Adam was watching her movements. It always hurt to be outshone by Amber. She didn’t do it on purpose, I was sure about that, but she did it all the same. Adam watched her spin and dance for a minute, maybe longer. My insides folded into a tight knot. Adam’s face hardened ever so slightly, and he let his gaze sink to the floor in front of him. I turned my face away quickly, not wanting him to see me watching.

  Jenny joined us with Greg, both of them already dancing as they made their way through the moving crowd. Greg moved close to my side and moved with me. What the—

  He was a little too close for comfort, the way he moved with his body pressed against my back.

  “Greg,” I screamed at him over the music, “I’m no tree you can scratch your belly on.”

  He laughed and took a step backwards, placed one finger on his own head and spun around like a ballerina. I had to laugh, too.

  The music was great. It kept me on the dance floor much longer than I had intended to stay. It was long past midnight when Adam stood behind me, suddenly, and grabbed my arm.

  He pulled me away from Greg and Amber, who were now dancing together. I protested jokingly, but he couldn’t hear me.

  A few seconds later we were in the street in front of the club. The street lights were throwing small circles of light into the dark street. It was still unnaturally warm outside. Or maybe it was because Adam was still holding my arm that I didn’t feel cold at all.

  “I want to talk to you before I don’t have a chance.” He fixed his eyes on mine. My head felt light for a moment. I waited in silence with a questioning look.

  “Claire I—I—,” he tried to push the words from his mouth.

  “Yes?” I demanded.

  “—I can’t.”

  I turned on my heel and started walking. It was only a ten minute walk from the club to my house. He had just destroyed my good mood as well as my evening.

  “No, wait!” he sighed. “I have to talk to you.”

  “I thought you can’t,” I snapped at him.

  “Yes, but …I need to talk to you.”

  His pleading voice melted my insides. I wanted to be angry at him but failed.

  “If you want to talk, you’ll have to walk me home,” I demanded. It was a lame attempt to steal a little more time with him. I heard his feet touch the ground behind me. He hurried to catch up with me and walked beside me for a few strides before he sped up a little. My feet were tired from dancing and now started hurting from my sprint away from Adam.

  “Are we in a hurry?” I asked, since he was a few feet ahead. What was that all about? Damn, I had to come up with a plan to find out what his strange behavior meant. What this thing between us was. It was starting to unnerve me. He affected my feelings too much for my own good. In only a few minutes I had been angry at him, then I had feared his words, than I had longed for his words and now I was angry again.

  “Adam, slow down,” I demanded and stopped to take my shoes off.

  Adam watched me balance on one foot while pulling off the other shoe. Suddenly his face lit up with amusement. “You are a strange girl, Claire Gabriel.”

  Okay, what exactly did strange mean? Did he think I was a freak? I hated his ambiguous statements. They left too much space for imagination.

  I grabbed my shoes and hurried on. No way I would make a fool of myself. If he was not interested, fine. I didn’t understand why he would get me off the dance floor—just to say nothing; Or why he would make nice conversation while we were in the company of others, just to run away from me every time we were alone. I didn’t understand the twisted thing that was going on between us. Since I had met him in the graveyard in early autumn, I couldn’t make any sense of his behavior. He seemed to find me without knowing where I was going to be—like he could predict my next steps. But he seemed to be unable to stand being alone with me for too long.

  I realized I was home when I stood in front of my house. I was fuming. The keys slipped from my hands several times while I fumbled for the right one. He was still there, standing right beside me watching how I made a fool of myself—again. Barefoot and unable to find the right key. Honestly, I was close to tears. I just closed my eyes intending to let them flow when a warm hand touched my cheek. My eyes opened and looked into his perfect green eyes. They seemed to glow with intensity, something I had never seen before, it looked beautiful. His hand trailed my jaw, his expression questioning.

  YES, I thought. Our faces were only a few inches apart, Adam was moving closer still. The anger I had just felt faded away as quickly as it had come, his gaze made sure of that. His fingers touched my lips, I let them fall open, took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I felt his warm breath brush my cheek. I smelled his scent, all of my senses screamed for his touch. After what felt like minutes, his soft lips touched mine ever so slightly, igniting a slowly burning fire in my chest.

  CLANG! A loud noise broke the silence. It sounded like metal on stone. Adam pulled away immediately. I looked around and bent down to pick up my keys. Adam was faster. He got to the metal bundle before I could even reach my hand out. The perfection of the moment was ruined. He stood there for a second, hesitant, leaning in my direction and straightening again.

  “I’ll just go then,” he suggested in a husky voice.

  I had to say something, quick, or he would just turn and walk away. Maybe I wouldn’t get another chance. I had to keep him here.

  “Adam—come in. Sophie won’t notice, I bet she’s fast asleep. You wanted to talk to me—remember? Stay—” I tried to hold him in place with my gaze.

  Adam made a quick movement and held out the key for me. I offered my open hand and he let it fall into it. His gaze was hesitant and slightly stressed. In my head, I admitted to myself that I was a loser at seduction—had never been any good at boythings anyway. Why would Adam b
e an exception to that? It was only natural that I had done something wrong.

  But Adam didn’t leave. He was standing there in silence, like he was rooted to the spot, watching me unlock the door. I pushed it open and, wondering if he had run off into the darkness, took a step and another and another until I had to turn to close the door behind me. He was right there in the doorway, looking at me intensely.

  “Are you sure you want me to come in?” His eyes were so honest, so unbelievably goodhearted, he could have asked anything from me in that moment, but he didn’t. All he wanted was certainty, that this was what I wanted. I nodded once, not trusting my voice. He rushed to my side and closed the door behind us. Forcing my breath to slow down, I led the way to my room.

  The stairway was dark, I stumbled twice before I made my way upstairs. I felt his eyes on me as I walked upwards. What on earth had made me say he should stay? My room wasn’t cleaned, I didn’t know what books lay around on my bed or desk, and I was pretty sure that the pile of clothes I had tried on before going out that night still lay where I had left them.

  I didn’t know if he sensed my upcoming panic, but he placed his hand on the small of my back to support me. His touch eased the panic at once and reminded me of the fire I had felt before.

  “Can you give me a second?” I asked before I opened the door to my room.

  “Sure.” He smiled.

  I opened the door only as much as I had to to slip through and pulled it shut behind me. The shoes I still held in my hand were thrown out of sight. I looked around—nothing too bad, no old pizza and no embarrassing books—just some classics and the pile of clothes. I picked it up with both arms and stuffed it into the closet. Then I smoothed the quilt on my bed and closed the window. I had a glimpse in the mirror as I hurried to the door. I took a deep breath before opening it. Adam was standing on the other side of the door. I just couldn’t believe it. One more breath and then I pushed down the handle.

  He was still standing there, solid and real.

 

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