Wicked Hunger

by DelSheree Gladden

Chapter Eleven: Quickly Losing

  (Zander)

  My mountain bike falls against the side of the house with a clatter. I should probably lock it up, but I’m too tired to care. Covered in sweat and a shade darker from spending the day out in the sun has left me thirsty, exhausted, and hopeful. The hopeful part of me stays buried deep inside as I walk into the house. Books scattered all over the living room only seems unusual when I realize Van isn’t here with them. I call out for her, and no one answers, not even my grandma. Curious, I cross the living room to the kitchen and find it empty as well. I’m about to check upstairs when I see a note on the counter.

  Grandma,

  Went to the gym with Noah, my new English partner. Be back in a couple hours. Call my cell if you need me.

  Love ya,

  Van

  She went to the gym with Noah? And didn’t even text me to let me know where she was going? What on earth does working out have to do with an English project, anyway? Maybe she suggested a work out before they got started on their project to keep her hunger at bay? That’s why I spent the morning mountain biking. It makes sense, but Van assured me she didn’t react to this Noah guy at all. Either she lied to me, or something else is going on. I don’t particularly like either option.

  I almost whip my phone out right then and call her. The fact that she’s at the gym and probably doesn’t have her phone on her while she’s working out doesn’t stop me as much as the fight I’m sure will break out when I confront her. We both have hunger issues, but Van also has a hot temper that has nothing to do with her hunger. If I attack her for sneaking off with Noah and possibly lying to me about him, she’ll get angry, and whether her hunger wants Noah or not, her anger will feed it until it finds someone she wants and pushes her to act. Our argument will have to wait until the risk of Van hurting someone is at a minimum.

  Staring at the phone in my hand does remind me of what I was planning on doing before I saw the note. I scan through my contacts and tap on Laney’s dopey grin. The irony of the mental rant I just gave my sister doesn’t escape me.

  “Zander?” Laney asks when she answers her phone.

  “Hey. Do you have Ivy's number?” It’s blunt and not very polite, but I have no intention of getting dragged into a long, drawn out conversation with Laney. Of all Van’s friends, I enjoy talking to Laney the least. Even the twins that dress like three-year-olds are better than Laney. She never shuts up.

  “Ivy’s number? Sure. What do you want it for?” she asks coyly.

  Just shoot me now. I roll my eyes. “She offered to help me with my math.”

  “And you’re taking her up on her offer?”

  “Obviously. What’s her number?”

  “Hmm, are you sure that’s the only reason you want her number? You and Ivy seem to be running into each other quite a bit lately. I know you’ve sworn off girls since Lisa died, but I’m beginning to wonder. Is there something secret going on between you two?”

  I don’t think Ivy had any idea how much she was asking of me when she didn’t give me her number. I’m tempted, very tempted to hang up and forget the whole thing. Yeah, right. I have to see Ivy again. “Laney,” I say patiently, “if there was something going on between me and Ivy, don’t you think I’d already have her number?”

  “This could all be an elaborate attempt to cover up what’s really going on.” Her conspiratorial tone annoys me. Not only is she partially right, which stings, but her mention of deception pulls my thoughts back to Van’s note and my irritation doubles.

  “Just give me her number, Laney.”

  Laney has never shown any fear around me at all—I don’t think she’s smart enough for that—but the edge to my voice spurs her to do as I say. “Fine, fine. You don’t have to be a jerk about it.”

  I shake my head at her. Jerk? That was pretty mild, if you ask me. She’s the one making this difficult. A few seconds later, I have Ivy’s number, and all but hang up on Laney when she tries to ask me more about what Ivy and I are going to be studying.

  I have everything I need now, her number, physical exhaustion to keep my hunger in check, and a good reason for calling her. Calling her should be easy. Instead of dialing her number, I set the phone down and head upstairs for a shower. I take my time washing and rinsing away the dirt and sweat from this morning. When the sheeting water does nothing to calm my anxiety, I finish up and move on to getting dressed. It doesn’t take long enough. Too quickly, I’m back in the kitchen staring at my phone.

  My fingers move independent of my brain and start dialing Ivy's number. I'm surprised when she picks up on the first ring.

  "Well, that took you longer than I expected," she says.

  "What?"

  "I was expecting your call half an hour ago."

  "You knew I was going to call?" I ask.

  Ivy laughs, and I relish the sound despite my confusion. "Laney called the second after you hung up on her," she says.

  "I didn't really hang up on her. I was just done talking."

  "You hung up when she was in the middle of a sentence."

  "When is Laney not in the middle of a sentence?" I grumble.

  Ivy chuckles and says, "That's true. She does talk a lot."

  "A lot is an understatement."

  When Ivy laughs again, it strikes me that I'm not reacting to her at all. Hearing her voice certainly awakens something in me, but it isn't my hunger. For once, it's easy and fun to talk to Ivy. That realization makes me happier than I’ve been since meeting her.

  "So," Ivy says, "I'm guessing you subjected yourself to calling Laney to get my number for a particular reason. Did you want help with your math, or was there something else?"

  I can't answer right away. Trying to figure out whether she actually sounds hopeful that I’m not just calling about math homework takes all my mental power. Tired as I am, I can't figure it out.

  "Yeah, I need help with my calc again."

  "Oh." It's only one word, but this time I'm sure I can hear her disappointment. An eager to please side of me I haven't seen in a while suddenly rears to life.

  "I was thinking that since it's kind of late in the afternoon we could get together to study, and then maybe after that we could get something to eat. As a thanks for helping me." I grimace at my last line. I wanted to make sure she knew I wasn’t just calling for school, and then I ruined my invitation by making it sound like I was only offering to be polite. As I'm berating myself, I realize Ivy hasn't said anything.

  "Uh, Ivy?" I ask.

  She's silent for a few more seconds before speaking. "If I help you with your homework, I want something in return."

  Her demand catches me off guard, but I manage to respond. "Dinner isn’t good enough?”

  “Dinner’s good,” Ivy says, “but I want one other thing. I want to ask you a question, one you have to answer.”

  Dread spreads through me like a disease. She must have dozens of questions, none of which I can answer. She’s been nothing but pleasant to me despite the way I’ve treated her. I should have seen this coming. Of course she was just biding her time to figure out what is behind my bizarre behavior. Ivy offered up the exchange lightly, but I know she means it. If I don’t answer a question, she won’t meet me today. She’ll be safer if I refuse.

  That thought makes me cringe. I’m putting her in so much danger just to satisfy my selfish desires. Ivy has yet to say she knows how dangerous I am, but I’ve given her enough evidence that it has to be a foregone conclusion by now. She knows she’s taking a big risk, and all she wants in return is one answer. That’s a fair trade, isn’t it?

  “One question?” I finally ask.

  Ivy hesitates. “Just one for now. One study date, one answer.”

  Date, I like the sound of that word no matter how much I shouldn’t. I’m about to agree to her conditions when I stop to think about the possible ramifications. What if she asks me how I was able to bruise her arm just by grabbing
it?

  “There are some questions I can’t answer, Ivy.”

  “Okay,” she says after a moment, “I’ll let you choose which of my questions you want to answer. How does that sound?”

  Hoping at least one of her questions will be as harmless as what my favorite color is, I say, “Deal.”

  “Great,” Ivy says happily. “When and where should we meet?”

  I hadn’t actually thought that far ahead. I scramble to come up with an option that is safe enough. “Do you know the park a couple blocks down from the high school?”

  “Sure, I pass it on my way to school every day.”

  “Let’s meet there. There won’t be many nice days like this left soon.” Plus, there will be a lot of people there with us. It’s out in the open, which helps, and I can leave easily if I need to.

  “The park sounds good. What time?”

  “How soon can you get there?” I ask without thinking.

  I expect her to laugh or tease me, but instead she says, “Fifteen minutes.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. “See you in fifteen, then.”

  “See you soon.”

  Ivy sounds pleased as she says goodbye. I stuff my cell phone back in my pocket, pleased as well. It’s a feeling that fades quickly, though. On the phone, it was easy to talk to Ivy and agree to her strange demands. Face to face, it won’t be like that. I’ll be fighting myself every minute. It will be torture, and I just agreed to it willingly. Why couldn’t I have just settled for talking to her on the phone?

  Shaking my head, I gather up my books and head out to my truck. I know I’m about to walk into a potential disaster. Knowing doesn’t stop me from being excited. The whole way to the park, I fight the kind of stupid grin I despise seeing on Laney every time she starts blathering on about one thing or another. I try to talk myself out of doing this. I remind myself what could happen over and over again, but every time I almost turn around, the sound of Ivy’s voice filters back into my mind. Her laugh is worse than my hunger. I think I would do anything to hear it again.

  When I reach the park, I scan the parking lot for Ivy’s car. This isn’t the only parking lot for the large park, but this is the one closest to her house. I don’t see her car anywhere, so I get out and wait on a bench where I’ll be able to see her pull in. I don’t have to wait long. Less than five minutes later, I spot her green sedan pulling into the lot. I wait impatiently for her to park and make her way over to me. Equal parts bliss and agony sweep through me at the sight of her. Ivy smiles as she draws near, but pulls up short of actually reaching me.

  “You must live close by,” Ivy says, “I thought I was going to beat you here.”

  “I’m only about a mile away.” I stand up and tighten my grip on my backpack strap when she takes a step toward me. This was such a bad idea.

  “So, where do you want to sit?” Ivy asks.

  I glance around the park, looking for somewhere with people, lots of people. Crowds always pose the danger of containing someone my hunger will want, but I feel confident that no one will be as big of a lure as Ivy. I spot a cluster of benches near the pavilion in the center of the park. I gesture toward it, making Ivy raise an eyebrow at me.

  “Are you sure the noise won’t bother you?” she asks, looking at the band performing in the pavilion.

  “No, it’ll be fine. I usually listen to music when I do homework anyway.”

  Ivy shrugs and turns toward the sultry salsa beat. She isn’t actually dancing, but I swear her hips roll in time with the music. She’s a good ten feet away from me when she turns back to find me staring at her. A smirk that hints she knows exactly what I was staring at lights her features. A blush threatens to spread over mine, but I force it away. Doing my best to ignore my embarrassment, I hurry to catch up with her. My hunger growls and roils inside of me, worsening with each step, but as I get closer to her I can smell her perfume and see the details of her face more clearly. Opposite desires slam into each other and keep them in a precarious balance.

  The picnic tables appear in front of us just in time. I swerve to the opposite side and sit down. Ivy doesn’t say anything about my choice of seating, sitting down across from me with a neutral expression. It isn’t nearly far enough away, but I focus on my feelings for her and hope they prove stronger than my hunger. “Okay,” she says, “what are you having trouble with?”

  That’s a pretty long list. Ivy only wants to know about the math, though. Opening my book and turning it so we can both see, I point at one of the problems I got stuck on last night. “I’m not sure what I did wrong here. I thought I followed all the steps, but I keep messing up.”

  Ivy’s finger touches down next to the problem, and I yank my finger back quickly. I can see the muscles in her arm tense momentarily before relaxing. “Show me what you did, and I’ll tell you where you went wrong.”

  “All right.” I grab my notebook out of my bag and hand it over to her. She spends a few minutes going over my work before spinning the notebook back around so I can see. Going through the problem, she shows me what I did, and what I should have done. I try really hard to pay attention to everything she says. If her finger wasn’t so distracting, it would be a lot easier. Thoughts about math keep getting interrupted by thoughts of how easy it would be to crush the delicate bone in her pointer finger, or my mind wondering how it would feel to have that same finger run over my skin.

  “This is why you’re having such a hard time with math,” Ivy says, her voice suddenly much too close to me.

  My eyes flit up and widen when they come right up to hers, less than a foot away. She’s leaning forward over the table with one hand raised as if she was trying to get my attention. “What?” I ask as I lean back from her.

  “You’re not paying any attention to what I’m saying. You’re never going to figure it out if you don’t listen.” There is an odd mix of annoyance and amusement in her expression. It scrunches her nose and makes her look even more irresistible than usual. Only knowing that if I actually touched her, it wouldn’t be the soft caress I want it to be keeps me from reaching out to her.

  “Sorry, I got distracted.”

  Her lips twist up into a teasing smile. “By what?”

  “By…” I can’t think of anything to say that won’t embarrass me. Opting for a diversion, I say, “Maybe if you explain it again, I’ll understand.”

  The way Ivy’s eyes narrow slightly tells me she knows I’m dodging her question, but the smile still lingering on her lips softens the accusation. She shakes her head and looks back down at the book for a moment before looking back up at me. “Okay, I’ll try again, but…”

  Rather than finishing her sentence, she stands up and walks around the table. Even though I want more than anything to be near her, I panic. Ivy stops a few feet away from me.

  “Do you mind?” she asks. “I flunked reading upside down in grade school.”

  Yes, I mind. Go back to your own side! Whatever you do, don’t sit down next to me. “Sure, go ahead,” I hear myself say.

  Ivy smiles and starts to sit down. It isn’t until she is right next to me that I see how quickly she’s breathing, how her fingers are shaking. No part of her is touching me, but the pure delicacy that she is spreads out around her and sinks into my pores. My hands ball into fists as I curse my disobedient mouth for telling her she could sit down. Without looking at me, Ivy starts explaining the problem again. I focus every spec of my mental power on her words. I’m so focused on figuring out the steps that there is very little room for anything else. Slowly, torturously, I tamp my hunger down enough that I can somewhat focus on the numbers in front of me.

  “Now take the reciprocal, and…” Ivy says a long while later.

  I look at the fraction and wait for the rest of her instructions. Several seconds of silence pass before I risk looking over at her. It makes me smile to see her head bobbing lightly and her fingers tapping a slow beat on the tabletop. Her lips are mo
ving ever so slightly, mouthing the lyrics of the song playing in the background.

  “Now who’s the one getting distracted?”

  Ivy jumps in surprise. When she looks over at me, she laughs easily. “Sorry. I love this song.”

  I look over my shoulder at the trio on stage. Young, dressed in casual jeans and t-shirts, with instruments that look far from new, they belt out the lyrics with passion. “You know this group?”

  “No, but I know the song. It’s by one of my favorite bands.”

  Listening, I realize this song is nothing like the energetic music that was playing when we first got here. I’m not sure if this band has rather eclectic tastes, or I didn’t notice the bands switching. The slow beat flows through the air, its mellow lyrics settling around me. I feel some of the tension from holding back my hunger dissipate from my shoulders. It’s not much, but it helps.

  “You like it?” Ivy asks.

  I nod, too wrapped up in the song to really answer.

  “Wanna take a break?” she asks.

  I nod again and say, “A break sounds good.”

  Ivy stands up first and waits for me to join her. We leave the table and calculus behind and walk over to the pavilion. There isn’t a huge crowd, but there are at least thirty people seated randomly around the grass in front of the band. As I edge closer, I keep my senses keen for anyone who will spike my hunger. There is a faint pull from one of the distant listeners, but they aren’t close enough to be a real problem.

  Needing the buffer of warm bodies around me, I wander into the center of the group and sit down. Ivy sits down next to me, closer than she was at the table. I want to stay near her, but I scurry to the side, needing relief from her presence more than anything else.

  A few feet apart, her nearness is dulled enough by the others that it doesn’t show in my body language, but not enough that I’m not still fighting off urges to see her writhing in pain. My fingers dig into the soft grass in an effort to keep them from doing something they shouldn’t. I look over at Ivy to gauge her reaction to me moving away. She’s already looking at me, smiling softly. Her gaze only stays for a few seconds before turning back to the band. The way her smile electrifies my skin lasts a lot longer.

  We listen to song after song, not touching, not speaking. A few are more upbeat than the first, but most carry the soothing tempo that tone down my hunger. I quickly decide that I need to download this band’s albums and have them with me as often as possible. I’m wondering if I can download it on my phone before I have to make good on my promise of dinner when I feel Ivy move.

  It isn’t just her body moving closer, but her energy. Like the taste of her on my tongue, I swear I can feel the energy of her life force when she gets near me. It is a strange experience, one I’ve never had before. Suddenly, her energy tilts toward me as Ivy’s head touches lightly against my shoulder. It comes on too quickly for me to jump out of the way. It seeps into me, stealing my breath, and latching onto my hunger more intensely than ever before.

  My hunger drinks her in and begs for more as my head is furiously screaming at me to get away from her. I can’t respond to either for a moment. I am paralyzed by having so much of her at once. My fingers pull free of the grass, fully intent on finding her body and causing the most exquisite damage possible.

  My hand brushes against her shoulder as it seeks out her neck. My vision dims as my hunger begins to take over. A few more inches, and her breath will be cut off. The decent into suffocation will inspire fear, fear that will escalate and spike as the pain begins. My breathing becomes fast and heavy in anticipation.

  The sharp piercing bark of a loose dog breaks through my focus only a brief second before it barrels right across mine and Ivy’s legs, its tail slapping me in the face as it passes. As if waking up from a nightmare, I suck in a panicked breath and scramble away from Ivy. My chest constricts at the thought of what I almost did. My whole body is quivering as I stare back at her.

  The sadness and frustration in her eyes eats at me, but there is no way I can get that close to her again. Forcing myself to pretend my calm has returned, I settle back on the grass several feet away from her and turn my full attention back to the band. Seconds, minutes pass without a word spoken between us.

  Slowly, my hunger fades back to a manageable level. I think my fear of hurting her is mainly responsible for that, because my desire to hurt her hasn’t changed in the least. I don’t know how long it takes before I feel in control enough to partially relax. That’s when my promise to answer a question creeps back into my mind. As we sit on the grass and listen to a cover band play Ivy’s favorite songs, fear settles into my mind. I have no idea what she will ask me. What I do know, though, is that I am quickly losing my will to resist giving her any answer she wants.