Celestra: Books 1-2

by Addison Moore

  “Pull over,” I unhitch my seatbelt and lean further out. I can feel him grab me by the back of my shirt in an effort to keep me from sailing out the window. We pull into a turnout facing the ocean.

  Soft subtle waves lap over the rocky shore. The moon sprays out its iridescent glow, flutters over the water like a million dancing butterflies.

  It feels good like this—nice and still as opposed to moving on a sixty-five mile an hour merry-go-round.

  “You OK?”

  “I’m fine.” I land back in my seat. Gage pinches off his belt and turns the radio down a notch. He nods to the music while looking out the window.

  Gage and those deep soulful eyes—I want to fornicate for real in the cab of his truck.

  I’m going to tell him this, but it comes out a lazy smile instead. He comes at me more than willing. Kissing Gage feels surreal, like I’ve waited my whole life to have him here with me. It’s as if I’m heightened to this awareness, and now I want nothing more than to be with him. I run my hands down his chest and dig my fingers into his jeans causing his stomach to contract. I fiddle with his button and take hold of his zipper.

  “Skyla.”

  I can’t open my eyes. It feels so good to spin like this—so dizzy.

  16

  Spin

  “Shit!”

  The expletive echoes in my mind like a gong. It takes three tries before my eyelids obey and slit open exposing the confines of my bedroom. I’m half off the bed, my neck dangling from the side, staring at something…something glossy and wet that reeks like…puke?

  “Why didn’t you tell me you threw up?” My mother rushes into my bathroom emerging with a towel.

  The expletive in question surprisingly came from Mom, which isn’t altogether abnormal, but she definitely reserves them for the most harrowing of events.

  My head hurts—bad. For a second I try to remember if Gage and I were in a car accident last night. They say you don’t feel anything until the next day and mother F, does it ever hurt. I let out a deep meaningful groan.

  “Here.” Mom ditches into the bathroom before tossing a damp towel over at me.

  It takes all my strength to sit. It feels as though my blood’s been mixed with concrete, and to my surprise, I’m naked. I pull the sheets up to my chin and slink back down a notch.

  Think, think…

  I have no freaking recall of how I got in bed or undressed.

  “What were you drinking?” Her marked irritation gets my attention.

  “I wasn’t drinking anything. Lemonade, I was drinking lemonade.” That’s right, I think. I close my eyes and gently rub my temples.

  “You weren’t drinking lemonade, Skyla. Drake’s sicker than a dog. Tell me right now, I want the truth. Did you drink beer or any hard liquor?” Her emerald eyes dart right into me.

  “No.” I don’t know what Drake was ingesting. I really don’t care. “I told you it was lemonade. It had like mint in it or something.”

  “Where were you?” She makes a final swipe at the floor with the towel and holds it at her waist.

  “Carson, some girl from East. Her parents have a house near Devil’s peak.” It’s like I was injected with truth serum or something.

  “Drake says he drank lemonade.” She spews the words out like venom. “I’m contacting Carson’s parents. I’m letting them know they’re responsible for poisoning two of my children.” She walks towards the door taking my vomit-laden towel with her.

  “You’re going to embarrass the hell out me.” It hurts to raise my voice like that. My throat feels raw. “It must have been spiked. Probably everyone knew, but me.” Because apparently, I’m special that way.

  “Oh, I’m sure it was spiked. I want a formal apology or I’m going to press charges.” With that she storms out and slams the door.

  I reach for my cell and text Gage.

  You take off my clothes? ~S

  Less than five seconds later.

  Yes.

  My cheeks sizzle with heat. He took off my clothes!

  I pull back the sheets and cringe. He saw me naked. Who knows how long he sat there gawking? He probably took advantage of me, or worse—pictures.

  I scramble to find my cell, which gets momentarily lost in the folds of my covers.

  Fuck you. ~S

  Ten seconds later.

  You’re welcome.

  ***

  By four in the afternoon, my mother and Tad are on their way over to the Armistead’s house to receive their formal apology and perhaps tell them off in the process. I told my mother I would be asleep the rest of the day. I lock my door and push the dresser over it just enough. Logan’s meeting me up in the butterfly room. I’ve showered and dressed and am fully expecting him to have seen naked pictures of me, so I’m slightly ticked and mortified at the same time.

  “Hi,” I say climbing in and taking a seat across from him.

  “Hi yourself.” He tilts his head, narrowing his gaze. I can tell he’s holding back a laugh.

  “He took pictures didn’t he?”

  “Took pictures of what?” His forehead creases, like maybe he really doesn’t know what the heck I’m talking about.

  “Of me. Naked.”

  He straightens. Logan’s entire person revolts.

  “Who took pictures of you naked?” He’s good and pissed and it’s safe to assume—nope—he didn’t know.

  “Gage?” I’m hesitant to fill him in on the details.

  “Why would Gage take naked pictures of you?”

  “I don’t know.” I try to shrug it off. “Were you even at that party last night?”

  “No.” It comes out curt. “I had to open this morning. Does Gage have naked pictures of you?” He looks simultaneously hurt and horrified.

  I don’t think there’s going to be a right answer to this one. Either way, I’m pretty sure Logan is going to beat the crap out Gage later—oops and oh freaking well.

  “Maybe. Someone spiked the lemonade, and I was wasted. I woke up without any clothes on, and I asked Gage if he did it. He said yes.”

  His expression lightens. He folds his hands and considers this while looking around at the walls like he’s seeing them for the very first time.

  “You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” he gives a slow nod.

  “It’s like…” I grapple for words, “he’s taking this whole boyfriend thing too far.” OK, so maybe I am too, but it’s all Logan’s fault. I never wanted to do this to begin with. If I don’t suck face with Gage on a regular basis, he’s practically threatened to hook up with Carly, or Michelle, or some other hot girl I’m not even aware of yet.

  Logan reaches over and tugs me onto his lap. His head rests on my shoulder as he combs his fingers through my hair.

  “I heard Ellis gave you flowers.”

  “Yeah, but I lost them.”

  “Gage is writing you a poem. I found it scrawled in his chicken scratch on his desk.” He sounds decidedly hurt.

  “A poem?” I almost want to say because he saw mine, back in my old room, but Logan would freak if he knew I was time traveling. Or light dr…

  You’re time traveling? He asks.

  “Shit,” I whisper. I hate when I forget he can hear me.

  Just the once. I say, trying to wash the time with Chloe out of my mind.

  Where? He inspects the back of my hand for the pale spots that appear each time I cross dimensions.

  L.A. to see my dad. I tried to change things, but he still died…

  Sorry.

  He brushes the loose hair from off my face and bounces a kiss off my forehead. I meet his lips and wrap my arms around his waist. We don’t talk about Gage anymore.

  17

  Fake

  I wouldn’t say I was cheating.

  It’s not my fault I can hear Ellis thinking—struggling to solve problem after problem on our Algebra Two quiz. It’s not my fault Ellis wore shorts and his bare legs are pulled back brushed up ag
ainst mine. I blame Gage, really.

  Gage drops his pen and leans over to get it. I catch him giving a disapproving glance at my handy footwork before sitting upright in his seat again. I offered him the job first, so I don’t want to hear him squawking about it later. Besides, it’s a total coincidence that Ellis is working out for me this way. What’s a little flirting? It’s not like Logan’s going to mind. He practically has me whored out to Gage anyway.

  Besides, I’m still miffed over that whole naked thing—so miffed I haven’t shared two words with Gage this morning.

  I rearrange the numbers on the last two problems. Actually I’m fairly certain I’ve corrected them, and it will be Ellis who gets them wrong. Then the bell rings.

  “Nice work,” Gage says as we hand in our papers.

  “Best test I ever took.” Ellis pats me on the back before heading out the door. It’s like he thinks I’m cheating on Gage with him now.

  “So did Logan knock you around?” I ask Gage as we head out of class.

  “You lie to him and tell him I have pictures?”

  “I guess that’s a yes. And no I didn’t lie. Do you have pictures?” We make our way into the sea of bodies bobbing up and down in the hall.

  His Adam’s apple rises and falls dramatically.

  “You…” I start, still reaching for something intelligible to say.

  “I don’t—didn’t.” He holds up a hand. “I was tempted.” We hit an even stride on the stairs. I see Brielle heading in the opposite direction, but she’s gone before I can say anything.

  “Why’d you take my clothes off?” I try to keep it to a whisper, but a few heads spin around in front of us.

  “You puked all over them. And in my truck—thanks for asking.”

  “Oh, gross. Sorry.” I hadn’t even thought of that.

  “Yeah, well.” We walk outside and pause in a dappled patch of sunlight. The sun’s won its constant struggle and broken through a dark thicket of clouds. Mom mentioned this morning that a storm was about to push through Paragon.

  “You remember anything from that ride home?” He asks.

  Ride home…I draw a blank.

  “Sort of,” I lie.

  Gage leans in. The weight of his stare assures me it was something monumental.

  “Did I take my own clothes off?” Did I just say that out loud?

  “No. But you wanted to.”

  A hand slaps him on his shoulder, startles me. It’s Logan. He walks by as though nothing happened. Not even a hello. I don’t know how much longer I can do this. Something has to give. I can’t survive like this, like I’m nothing to him—less visible than air.

  “After practice, you wanna go on an adventure with me?” Gage asks.

  In the distance I see Logan, his broad shoulders pulled back as he chats with a group of girls. Scary loners have a certain attraction about them.

  “Will you teach me some of your gifts someday?” It’s the knowing I’m after, teleportation too.

  “Sure.” Gage would teach me to run a nuclear facility if I asked him to.

  “I’m in.”

  ***

  If I knew Gage’s adventure involved a wetsuit and snorkeling off the rocky shore of some hidden beach on the south end of the island, I probably would have said no. I didn’t bother hiding behind his truck when I pulled on the rubber second skin. After all, he’s seen me in less than my bra and underwear.

  Fleecy white foam laps over our feet as we make our way into the icy water.

  “I got you.” He steadies me with his hand. A swell comes up, and we’re waist deep within a moment’s notice.

  I let out a scream.

  “It’s freezing!” My teeth start to chatter uncontrollably like the windup toys you see at Halloween.

  “Pee in your suit.”

  “What? No.” He did not just say that.

  “Whatever.” He hands me a mask and snorkel. “Spit in your mask so it doesn’t fog up.”

  “Gross,” I say, as I follow Captain Disgusting’s orders.

  I put it on just like he showed me. I’ve snorkeled before when I was ten or something. My dad had a way of pulling me out of my comfort zone and making me try new things. I don’t miss that part of him. It was like he would hone in on my fears and take me right to them, make me face them until they were crushed beneath my feet.

  Gage and I swim out a good fifty feet. The ocean’s calmer out here, clearer, prettier.

  I didn’t think we’d see much because of the blackened sky. The dense, dark clouds have worn an ominous shade of grey all day, but I can make out an entire school of tiny fish and loose floating leaves of seaweed as wide as the palm of my hand. There’s an inherent beauty about the ocean. It’s something shockingly simple yet so tremendous in magnitude it belittles you in the scope of its universe. I wish I could live here, swim in the sea day after day. Maybe this will be our thing, Gage and I.

  A pepper of rain dots the surface. Gage pulls away and dives down towards the bottom. It’s the starfish he’s after. Its lavender glow makes it suspect, and he wants to feel it, bring it to me so I can touch it.

  My body rises without my permission, and I pop up to the surface. My mask flips off and my snorkel with it. I’m hit with a massive amount of force, and I get sucked further out by an errant wave neither of us saw coming.

  I claw and struggle to reach the surface. Rain comes down like hatchets as I try to take in a lungful of air. I’m sucked back under, tumbling over and over again like the spin cycle of a washing machine. I can’t breathe. A jungle of seaweed coils itself around me like a thousand leather leashes. I’m tangled—thrashing—can’t see…which way is up?

  My lungs give. I open my mouth with the eerie knowledge this will be my final breath—one filled with salt and water—I’ll slowly black out and die.

  A hand clasps over my shoulder. It’s him! It’s the boy from the bleachers, the party—the dream.

  He gives a friendly smile before pressing his lips to mine. I inhale deeply, take everything he’s willing to give me, greedy and quick. His chest presses against mine as his legs wrap around my body.

  It’s the most erotic breath I’ve ever taken.

  18

  Just Breathe

  Sharp tempered pelts tap across my flesh in even time. My lids flutter open, and I see the sky shrouded in black boiling clouds expending its endless tears as a torrential liquid fury comes down on top of me.

  “Skyla!” Gage shouts slapping me, jostling me by the shoulders.

  I cough and sputter, struggling to rise to my elbows.

  “Let’s get out of here.” It gurgles out from me.

  I can see the angry ocean churning up in a billowy wash as water rises high up on the shore. It’s so dark out. I wonder how long we’ve been gone.

  Gage scoops me in his arms and starts running across the sand dunes, over the grassy knoll, and back into the parking lot.

  I climb in his truck, weak as paper.

  “I’m taking you to the hospital.” He buckles me in. He appears next to me and roars the engine to life.

  “No, I hate hospitals. I won’t get out of the car.” I wipe my nose with the back of my hand and see a thin line of blood glossing across it. I pull down the mirror on the sunshade. There’s a slight cut on the top of my lip that looks swollen.

  The kiss. It all comes back to me.

  “How’d I get back on shore?”

  “I found you passed out. You don’t remember?” The tires skid out as he picks up speed. It’s raining so hard the headlights reflect off the water, and I know for a fact he can’t see shit.

  “Slow down. Are you trying to put me in the hospital?”

  “OK relax.” He slows down to a crawl. “You were with me, then you got sucked under.”

  “You let go.”

  “I swear, if I thought for a minute…” His hands fly up in frustration.

  “Just hold the wheel.” I slide my fingers up over his and help him steer us back into t
he proper lane. “I have to tell you something. A few weeks back I had this dream… I was swimming with Chloe. It was about some guy kissing me underwater. Then the other night at the game, he was there. He called my name, and it was…” I try to remember if it was even him or my imagination.

  “And?” His eyes ignite in curiosity as he grips the wheel with both hands. There’s a tension in his voice leading me to believe he doesn’t like where this is going.

  “I saw him again at Carson’s party.”

  His lips pull into a line.

  “Shit,” he moans.

  “So just now, I was tangled in seaweed. He was there again.”

  “Then what?” He looks resolved to what I’m about to tell him.

  “He kissed me.”

  ***

  “You’re going to live.” Dr. Oliver pulls his mini flashlight away from my left eye. Purple spots appear everywhere, and I try to blink them away.

  Logan helps me down from off the kitchen counter as his Aunt Emma drapes a heated bath towel over my shoulders. It carries the distinct scent of lavender. I dissolve under its warmth like a good dream you remember in the morning.

  “I put it in the dryer for you,” she smiles. Her hair is pulled back in a tight glossy bun. She doesn’t have any makeup on. The skin around her eyes is thin as rice paper, an entire roadmap of frail blue and purple veins spider across her eyelids. She gives a gentle smile. “You want me to call your mother?”

  “No, that’s OK. I sent a text on the way home and let her know everything’s fine.” Technically, I said I was studying with Gage. She would never have agreed to let me snorkel in the rain.