Fatal

by T. A. Brock

  Cori liked going there now. It felt like she belonged there, but not in a creepy, foreshadowing-of-death kind of way. She especially liked it because it meant getting to know Grayson a little bit better. Thanks to their graveyard rendezvous, she knew he adored indie music; he found horror movies to be hilarious and not in the least bit frightening; he loved the rain—or water, period; his favorite food was beef—he failed to specify further, just beef. She’d learned he was adopted by a couple but he didn’t refer to them as mom and dad.

  “They’re more like my siblings. They were too young to be parents.”

  Too bad. She’d much rather think of Raina as his mother figure than accept that she was his non-blood related sister.

  “So why’d they adopt?”

  He shrugged, reaching to wipe a dew drop from a nearby leaf. “I was in a bad place. I’d just lost my family. I was…sick. Experiencing symptoms I didn’t know how to deal with.”

  “What happened to your family?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t remember.”

  “Anything?”

  He shook his head.

  “But you could find out. Don’t you wonder?”

  “I guess. Sometimes.”

  “We could look online. Where are they from?”

  He shook his head. “No, Cori. I’d rather not know.”

  “But—”

  “No. I have a new family now, and I can’t be dragging anybody else into this…life.”

  She understood what he was saying.

  He’d laid his jacket on the ground for her to sit on so she wouldn’t get wet. She fingered the zipper just for something to do.

  “It’s bad enough I brought you into it.”

  She tried not to let his words hurt her. She knew deep down that their time was limited, even if she chose to ignore it most of the time. He’d never been clear about what disease he suffered—but she was certain they didn’t have forever.

  And she knew about his regrets. She didn’t want to be his biggest regret. She wanted to be his greatest decision. Or even his good choice.

  “Don’t do that,” she whispered. “Don’t regret me.”

  His gaze caught hers, and she could see it all. The war between whatever he thought was right and wrong. The pain of whatever he kept from her, of time missing from the back of his life. But most of all, remorse. Not a single ounce of hope or joy.

  It wasn’t right. She might end up being his biggest regret, but she’d at least be the regret that made him happy.

  She dropped the zipper and scooted closer to the edge of the rock ledge where he’d perched. Like a magnet to metal, he inched closer to her as well until they were face to face, chest to chest. Her fingers gently traced the shadows above his cheeks. They matched the shadows in his eyes. Except the ones in his eyes had names. Guilt and fear were mixed with deep longing.

  “I don’t like what I see here,” she whispered.

  His eyes flared brown. He licked his lips. “You don’t?”

  Slowly, she shook her head. “So every time you look at me like that, like we’re bad or wrong, I’m going to do something to remind you it isn’t true. To remind you what we have is good. That you’re not making a mistake. That you are good. That you shouldn’t look at me like I’m part of that Y in the road and you took the wrong way.”

  He took a sharp breath. She let her lips come so close to his but never fully touching. Her hands trailed to his chest and planted there.

  “I’m going to do this.” She took a deep breath…

  And shoved as hard as she could. He tumbled from the rock ledge and into the water with a splash and a curse.

  She jumped to her feet, laughter pealing even though she’d covered her mouth with her hands.

  The water was swift but not deep, so Grayson was already climbing out, shock still firmly on his face. Which made her laugh harder. A hold-your-belly kind of laugh.

  His mouth twitched, one side struggling not to grin. “You think you’re funny?”

  She nodded. Yes. Definitely. More giggles escaped.

  He took a step toward her, his eyes narrowing. “Maybe I’ll throw you in since it’s so funny.”

  She gasped. “You wouldn’t!”

  He tilted his head to one side. “You better run.”

  Oh crap. “Grayson, no.”

  He lunged for her, but she squealed and ran. She didn’t watch where she was going as she raced down the path that led back to the main part of the cemetery with him hot on her heels. He’d catch her any minute, but her only goal was to be far enough away from the water.

  “I’m going to catch you, shrimp.” His voice wasn’t very far behind. “And when I do, you’re going in the river.”

  She giggled, ran faster. The tree line just ahead was thinning. Almost there. But when she broke through into the clearing, it was at the very back of the cemetery where no graves had been dug yet. She’d taken the wrong path and there was nowhere to go. There was Grayson mere steps behind her and the wrought iron fence in front of her. She ran for it even knowing she was trapped. But at least the river was still a good trek through the trees.

  She slammed against it, exhilaration erupting in the form of laughter. Gripping the bars, she peeked over her shoulder just in time to see him rush up behind her.

  He held the bars, caging her in. “Gotcha,” he breathed against the back of her neck. His breath tickled, forcing another giggle from her.

  She turned in his arms and he swooped down to kiss her, his mouth first rough and playful, then growing soft, sweet. She shivered when he pressed his wet clothes against her in retaliation, but it was worth it because when he pulled back to stare at her, his eyes had changed. They danced. It was slow and tentative, like they were just getting used to the feeling, like they didn’t want to step too far away from the wall of misery they leaned upon, but still. Mission accomplished.

  Her grin widened. He traced it with a finger. “I like what I see here,” he said, mimicking her earlier words. “I want it to stay like that. I don’t want to be the reason it goes away.”

  This was what made Grayson special. He cared more about whether he was hurting the people he was closest to than about himself dying. The problem was he thought the solution was avoiding meaningful relationships. It was the reason he’d avoided her. The reason he didn’t want to find his family.

  He was wrong.

  But she’d done enough for today. Enough trying to prove him wrong. At least they’d had fun.

  And besides, if she pushed too much it might just make him pull away again.

  Even though the truth of it was that he was good and special, Grayson hated himself. Cori could see it in his movements, in the way he hesitated sometimes when he touched her, as if he would contaminate her. She could hear it in the way his words were clipped any time she complimented him or spoke fondly of their time together. It was as if he thought he was dirty. A leper, who should be warning, “Unclean!”

  She couldn’t understand it, why he would feel like this. But until he opened up, she’d have to do her best to make him see otherwise. Or throw him in the river again.

  Grayson and Cori spent their lunchtimes together. Just as she’d assumed, her friends had gotten used to him. Well, it wasn’t so much that they’d gotten used to him, they’d just learned to ignore him, and really, he seemed fine with that. In fact, he made it easy for them since he didn’t talk during lunch.

  At all.

  At first Cori had been nervous about it. There had been awkward attempts by Peg to engage him in conversation and once in while she would randomly try it again, but basically things just seemed to go smoother if they all talked around him instead of at him. Since there was no talking with him.

  That’s not to say he didn’t communicate. He did. Plenty.

  He communicated his barely-hanging-on-by-a-thread tolerance for Aiken by glaring at appropriate times. Like when Aiken had offered to drive Cori to an EPO meeting or when he sat next to her on the bench. Eve
ntually, Aiken had started pulling a chair up to sit at the end of the long table.

  And of course, Grayson communicated with Cori. Sometimes that meant excessive PDA, but she didn’t mind.

  Sometimes when he’d fidget and look around as if he was about to get up and run away, his eyes would settle on her. He’d take her hand and hold it—and she would let him. There were times when he would squeeze her fingers and it seemed like he was asking some kind of question: Is this okay? Am I all right? Are you all right? She would always smile and squeeze his fingers back. Still, he looked so uncertain at times.

  On the occasion that she would ask him a question, he would look directly in her eyes and in a low voice, answer as simply as possible. This, also, she was okay with.

  Sometimes, without realizing it, she would lean into him or her hand would land on his leg, his arm. He always responded as if no one else was around, wrapping his arms around her. Little things like that made her feel special even if it got her some weird looks.

  It was a complex sort of relationship, but it was working. And Cori was glad because for the first time since her father’s death, she felt…okay. Better than okay. She wanted to cling to this feeling—and Grayson—for as long as it would last.

  April was half over before Peg started talking about the dance.

  After they’d finished lunch Cori noticed her nervously pecking at the table with her canary yellow nails. “So, the Earth Dance is the twenty-eighth. It’s a Saturday. All of you are going, right?” she asked without looking up from the wood-grained veneer.

  “Earth Dance?” Cori questioned. What dance was Peg talking about? Why was she just now hearing about it when it was only three weeks away?

  Peg shrugged a shoulder. “It’s a big fundraiser to benefit EPO. I thought I told you about it?”

  No, she most definitely had not told her about it. Cori would have remembered.

  “Anyway,” Peg continued. “You have to come. It’s the biggest dance of the year, even bigger than prom, and it’s held outside, so it’s totally awesome. We hire a DJ and go all out for the lights and stuff. Say you’ll be there.”

  Cori shook her head. Dancing was not her thing. Not anymore. “I can’t. I don’t have a dress or anything.”

  Peg stared up at her, almost stricken, before recovering. “That’s okay. We can go shopping for one. It’ll be fun.”

  Cori crinkled her nose. “Really, Peg, I don’t think—”

  Peg squeezed her eyes closed. “No! Don’t do this to me. I’ll have to go with Rex again. Alone.”

  Rex hmmphed. “What makes you think I’m going?”

  Peg turned her gaze to him aghast. “You have to! I can’t go alone, alone.”

  Cori peeked at Aiken. He was picking at the label on his water bottle. “Aiken, what about you? Are you going?” Cori asked him.

  Something flickered in his eyes before he flashed her a wicked grin. “Why? Are you asking for a reason? You need a date?”

  Grayson stiffened beside her, but Cori just replied by giving Aiken a sarcastic smile. “No, Aiken. I was just wondering what Peg’s other options are, that’s all.”

  The mockery left his face and his eyes bolted away to peer out the window. Strange reaction.

  Rex cleared his throat. “Look, Peg, I’m not one to dabble in rumors…” Peg rolled her eyes. “But there is one I’ve heard lately that warrants a second look.”

  “Oh, really,” she said, unconvinced. “And what might that be?”

  Rex jerked his head to the left indicating another table. “Rumor has it Caleb Thorten has, shall we say, the ‘hots’ for you. I believe he wishes to ask you to this dance you’re so concerned about.”

  The words were barely out when Aiken’s water bottle came down hard on the table top, making everyone except Grayson jump. “Sorry,” he gritted out and then pretended to be interested in his fingernails.

  After a moment, attention returned to Rex.

  “That’s just not true, Rex,” Peg was saying. “I mean, he dated Brittany Messer last year.” She shook her head. “He’s not interested in me.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” Rex mused. “I mean, he has been staring at you for the last twenty-five minutes.”

  “What?” Peg ducked her head.

  “I swear,” Rex said, crossing his heart for emphasis. “See for yourself.”

  Peg shifted a bit to peek over Cori’s shoulder and then immediately ducked her head again, putting her hand to her forehead in a nervous gesture. “Oh. Wow,” she said.

  “Told you,” Rex muttered.

  Cori glanced over her shoulder and grinned. “Which one, the blue shirt?”

  Peg nodded.

  “He’s cute, Peg. You like him?”

  A smile played at her lips. “I don’t know. I hardly know him. I mean, yeah, he’s cute. Do you think—”

  The sharp crackle of plastic being crushed in a strong fist interrupted her. Aiken had done it. Cori could swear she’d never seen him like this: his jaw was clenched as tight as a vice, his lips were pressed together so they were a nearly-white line, his forehead had enough creases to make him look like one of those wrinkled up dogs, and his eyes were nearly invisible because of his brows. He very nearly looked like someone else. A far cry from the happy-go-lucky Aiken they were used to. Come to think of it, he hadn’t been himself lately. He’d been…edgy.

  Clearly shocked, no one said anything. They just stared. Until some kind of twilight zone took over.

  Abruptly, Grayson held out his water to Aiken. “Here man, you need a drink?”

  At first Cori thought he was joking. But Grayson didn’t really joke—especially not with Aiken.

  A kind gesture?

  Sweet of him. Strange of him.

  Even stranger, Aiken snatched the bottle from Grayson’s hands and downed it in one huge gulp before crushing that one too and tossing it aside. Still, he seemed different. In fact, Cori thought he looked ill. And were his eyes turning sickly?

  “Aiken, are you all right? Do you need to see the nurse or something?” she asked him.

  He squeezed his eyes shut but didn’t answer.

  Grayson answered for him. “He’s okay. He just needs some space. Why don’t you go get a drink, dude.” Grayson was obviously trying to be light, but Cori heard the rigidness in his voice.

  Aiken shoved his chair back from the table and took off toward the exit. They all stared after him. Cori noticed he was walking funny, sort of hunched over and stiff. And slow. It seemed familiar to her. Where had she seen that before?

  Grayson cleared his throat. “He’s fine,” he said. And he wasn’t just talking to her this time; he was addressing the three of them.

  When Cori looked at her friends, she was surprised to see Peg staring open-mouthed at Grayson and Rex glaring at him.

  “Well, whatdaya know. He speaks,” Rex said in a hard voice that Cori wasn’t familiar with.

  “Of course I speak,” Grayson laughed.

  At that point, Cori had to turn and stare at him too. Something wasn’t right here. He was acting funny.

  “Hmm,” Rex continued. “Could have fooled me. I thought you were just here to glare at Aiken and loom possessively over our girl, Cori.”

  Grayson’s jaw ticked and he ran his tongue across his front teeth. “I do not loom.”

  “You most certainly do,” countered Rex. “In fact, I believe you gave the term its definition.”

  “Rex!” Cori said, completely surprised at his scathing tone.

  “I do apologize, doll. I simply can’t believe you put up with him.”

  Cori glanced at Peg who was dumbstruck. She wanted to tell Rex exactly why she put up with Grayson, why she put up with each and every one of them. How dare he judge something he knew nothing about? She wanted to tell him that things weren’t as they seemed with her and Grayson and that it was none of his business. But she couldn’t say all that with Grayson sitting right next to her.

  “It’s the same reason
I put up with all of you,” she finally said. “Because I like him.”

  With that she got up from the table too, aiming for the exit. She assumed Grayson would follow her and he did. But he didn’t say anything until they were standing by her locker.

  “Are you okay?”

  She leaned against the cold metal and let its chill sink into her anger-heated skin. “Yeah, fine.”

  He was silent for a bit. “If you want, I can stop eating lunch with you. Just say the word and it’s done.”

  She peered at him. There wasn’t much emotion in his features, but she could tell he wanted her to be happy. “No, I don’t want that. I like how things are.” She truly did. She had no idea what had caused Rex’s outburst. But whatever it was, it wasn’t her problem. And it wasn’t Grayson’s.

  He nodded once. “Okay.”

  Cori reached for his hand and coiled their fingers together. His expression didn’t change much, but she was learning to decipher the minute things, like the lines around his mouth easing or the ever so slight lift of his brow.

  “You never answered Peg about the dance,” he said in a flat, unassuming tone.

  Cori frowned. “Yes, I did.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Uh, well, I meant to. Answer’s no.”

  Grayson came closer, looming, she realized. Looming in a good way. Cori decided she rather liked looming if he was the one doing it.

  “If I asked you would you say no?” His question caught her off guard and even though she hated the idea of going to a dance, the fact that he would ask her sent a warmth through her body.

  “I don’t know,” she said, because she really didn’t know the answer. “Ask me and find out.”

  He took some of her hair between his fingers, so gentle. He stared at it, seeming perplexed. He’d done this several times in the past, and it always made her self-conscious. Was there something wrong with it?

  When he looked into her eyes again, her heart started a rhythm that wasn’t a simple pitter-patter.

  “Cori, will you let me take you to the Earth Dance? It would make me incredibly…happy.”

  The way he said it struck a chord in her chest. Where she might have said no before, she now found herself wanting to say yes. Not because anything had changed with regard to her wanting to go, but because she realized that this might be the only chance they would ever have to go to a dance together.