I smiled and shook my head. “Nope. You may not have thought of clothes, but I did. Remember, I keep some extra in my backpack, in the car. Ever since the day of the big rain, when I got soaked getting here from class.”
Michael laughed, relaxing. “Oh, yeah. Well...good. Want me to run down and get it?”
“Nope. You can just bring it up tomorrow. Can I borrow one of your t-shirts to sleep in?”
Eyebrows raised, Michael shot me a leering grin. “Why, of course you can. Let’s see... I know I have a nice short one in here somewhere. “
“Michael!” I swatted at his arm. “Behave!”
After that, we both fell into our regular easy rhythm. I ducked into the bathroom and changed into an oversized tee and a pair of sweats that I had to roll up a few times. We sat on the sofa and watched some old Buffy the Vampire Slayer episodes with a bowl of popcorn between us. It felt good, normal and just right.
When I began to nod off, Michael switched off the television and leaned over to kiss me lightly. “Hey, sleepyhead. You ready for bed?”
At those words, of course, I was wide awake. “I guess so,” I stammered. “I mean, sure.”
Michael skimmed his fingers over my cheek. “Tas. Come on. This is me. If you’re uncomfortable, just tell me. I’ll sleep out here, and you can have the whole bed to yourself. I didn’t suggest this because I’m trying to force you into anything. You know that, right?”
Of course I did. I took a deep breath. “Yeah. I know. I’ve just never slept with anyone in the same room. Even with my parents, when we were traveling, they got a separate room. I’m not sure what it’s like.” I shrugged. “Maybe I snore. Or talk in my sleep.”
He laughed and stood, stretching. “If you do, I promise not to say anything. It’s not going to be any different than when we stretch out at the lake after a picnic. Or nap on the beach.”
But of course it was different. We weren’t outside, where no matter how isolated our little spot was, there was always a chance of someone walking by. We weren’t on a crowded beach. We were alone, in a bed.
I didn’t have a toothbrush, so I used my finger and toothpaste and lots of mouthwash. I took off my makeup as well as I could and used Michael’s comb on my hair. It wasn’t like he had never seen me without makeup or with my hair a windblown mess, but somehow this, too, was different tonight.
Michael was already in bed when I emerged. He was on his stomach, propped up on his elbows, messing with his iPod.
“What are you doing?” I asked, perching on the edge of the mattress.
He shot me a quick grin. “Setting up some music for us. I thought it might be easier for you.” At my questioning look, he added, “Don’t you always sleep with music playing? You told me you do. To help keep out...thoughts.”
“You remember that?” I had told Michael how I managed sleeping right after we met, the day we sat on the beach at Lancer Park and I shared with him every secret about my unusual gift.
He leaned over to plug the iPod into the blaster on the nightstand. “Of course. I remember everything about you.”
Tears threatened again, and I couldn’t speak as a wave of pure love overwhelmed me. I climbed up into the bed, kneeling next to Michael. Touching his face, I whispered, “You are so amazing. I don’t deserve you.”
Something flittered across his eyes, and even before I heard his thoughts, I knew what it was. Believing that Michael was too good for me had played a part in our breakup.
Leaning down to kiss him, I added, “But I’m keeping you just the same.”
He pulled me down on top of him into a deeper kiss, holding my head captive. I felt his heart pounding beneath my own, and I relaxed until I couldn’t tell his thoughts from my own.
I startled out of my reverie when I felt Michael’s fingers skim lightly under my borrowed t-shirt over the bare skin of my back. For a moment, I didn’t breathe. I had to concentrate on keeping everything inside me, everything I was feeling, from exploding into a burst of power I wasn’t sure I could control. And then, slowly and reluctantly, he pulled his hand back and smoothed the shirt down. He shifted a little, laying me down gently on the pillow next to him.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured against my ear. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just...” He smiled into my eyes, hovering over me again. “I love you. I can’t wait until we can be together. Really together. I know it’s the right thing to wait.” He fell back with a cross between a groan and a sigh. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, after all.”
I found his hand and squeezed it. “It’s fine. I’m not upset. I wasn’t sure I could keep control though. It’s still so hard sometimes. Like tonight at the party. Before I know it, glass is flying. I was worried just now about fire.”
Michael cocked an eyebrow at me. “Fire?”
“Yeah.” I swallowed hard, trying to think of a good way to explain this. “Umm...fire casting is sort of emotionally connected. It’s easier to do when I’m feeling very intense. I was afraid if we’d gone too much farther, I might have accidentally ignited. And not in a good way.”
“You cast fire last spring? Using...feelings?” I heard everything Michael didn’t say out loud.
“Fear or anger work well.” I chose what I said with care, not answering questions he didn’t ask. “It’s a good protective skill to have.” An image of Marica standing just beyond the flames she’d cast around my car flashed into my mind, and I shuddered.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Michael scooped me into his arms, holding me closer. “Don’t worry. We don’t have to talk about it.” He reached over me to switch off the bedside light, and in the darkness, I felt his lips on my forehead as he settled me against the comfort of his chest.
“Go to sleep. I’ll be right here. I love you, Tasmyn.”
I knew he did. But if his troubled dreams were any clue, we did have to talk about it. And I wasn’t looking forward to doing that.
“Hey.”
I shrugged away from the hand on my shoulder, not willing to open my eyes yet. Sleep was blissful, warm and comfortable.
“Tas...come on. Wake up.”
I blinked up into Michael’s face and struggled to remember again where I was and why. The sun was streaming in a nearby window, and I saw that Michael was dressed, his hair still damp from the shower.
“Hi.” I snuggled back into the afghan.
“What are you doing out here?” There was no condemnation in his voice, only curiosity and concern.
I stretched, buying some time before I replied. I knew I had to be honest, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to have this conversation right now.
“You were dreaming really loudly,” I said at last. “It woke me up, and I came out here so I didn’t bother you.”
“Oh.” Michael sat down next to me. “Sorry about that. I don’t remember what I dreamed last night. And I didn’t even think about you being able to hear that kind of thing.”
I lifted a shoulder. “I didn’t either. It’s never really happened before.” I pushed up to sit in the corner of the couch and fiddled with the holes in the afghan. “Michael, you were dreaming about me. With...Rafe.”
I felt his pain again before he answered me. “Sorry.” The word was terse and clipped.
“I don’t want you to be sorry. I’m just trying to be honest. You were upset, and that’s what woke me up.”
Michael shook his head. “It must have been us talking about fire and spells last night before we went to sleep. It’s not like I think about that—about him, I mean. And you.”
“Michael, I want you to know. It wasn’t like that, like you dreamed. We didn’t--” How did I say this? And if he didn’t remember the dream, should I even bother?
I took a deep breath and tried again. “What you were dreaming about—it never happened. I just want you to know, in case you were wondering.”
Michael took my hand, tracing circles around the knuckles. “I’m trying not to think about it. I know it wasn’t you. You were being ma
nipulated, used—I understand that.”
I squirmed a little. “But it was me. No matter what circumstances...I let it happen. Aline and I talked about this yesterday. Maybe you’re not being hard enough on me about this. And maybe I’m letting you.”
Michael was shaking his head before I finished talking. “Tas, we don’t need to talk about this. It’s over. What happened is in the past. We’re moving on.” He swept the hair away from my face. “Maybe I should be the one apologizing. I didn’t have anyone messing with my mind, and I spent a lot of time with Cathryn.”
“Did you kiss Cathryn?’ I asked, my voice so low I wasn’t sure he heard me.
Michael flinched only slightly. “No. I never...we only talked.”
“Then you have nothing to be sorry about. Michael, I love that you’ve been so understanding and quick to forgive me. But I want to make sure you realize I do need to be forgiven. I did bad things.”
He was silent, but I heard what he was thinking, and I smothered a sigh. “Not as bad as that. Not what you’re imagining. Or dreaming.” I struggled to figure out the best way to explain it all to him. “When Rafe took me out that first time, I was miserable. I didn’t want to be there. But then it was a huge relief to be able to be open with someone, with anyone.”
Michael scowled. “When did I ever make you feel like you couldn’t tell me everything?”
“Never.” I reached up and tried to smooth the frown from his forehead. “You never did. But I knew you wouldn’t like what I was doing, just like my parents would have flipped out. It was easier to believe that you were close-minded than that I was doing something wrong.”
He heaved a sigh. I knew he still didn’t get it, but he wasn’t going to push me. “Okay. So you could tell Rafe stuff you couldn’t tell me.”
“It was just that I knew he wouldn’t tell me I was wrong. At least, I thought he wouldn’t. By the end...he was mad at me almost all the time, because of what I was doing with Marica. At one point, he said he knew how you felt, always worrying about me.”
Michael was struggling. He was trying to understand, but he didn’t really want to know any of this. He passed a hand over his face.
“I know I should be grateful to him. I mean, he kept you alive and relatively safe when I wasn’t there. He stood by you when Amber got hurt. But I gotta say, it’s not easy. I just want to...I don’t know, pound his face in.”
I bit my lip. “It’s me you should be mad at, Michael. That’s what I’m trying to say. It would be easy just to let Rafe and Marica take the blame for what happened. But those were my choices, my bad decisions. I want you to know that I’m sorry, and that I don’t take your forgiveness for granted. I want us to go on from here on solid ground. Not with you wondering how far things went between Rafe and me, not with me afraid you’re all of a sudden going to decide that what I did was too much for you to handle.”
Michael pulled me closer. “Never. I promise you, Tas, there is nothing we can’t get past. You’re right. We have to be open about all of this. But don’t ever think I’m going to change my mind. Anything, anything at all, we’ll get through together.”
Mondays were my favorite days for classes. I had European history, Intro to English Lit and Humanities, all before lunch, and then the entire afternoon off. I stepped out of the shade of the brick buildings and blinked in the relentless sunshine.
“Tasmyn, hi.”
I knew the voice before I turned. Cathryn Whitmore stood just a few feet away, preternaturally still. Her white blonde hair was sleeked back into a low ponytail, and she wore a short straight skirt and ruffled white blouse. Apparently the heat didn’t affect her at all. I fleetingly wondered if maybe she was a vampire. It fit.
She raised one perfect eyebrow and smirked at me. I suddenly remembered my suspicions about her and had the sinking feeling that she was hearing everything I was thinking. Talk about the shoe being on the other foot.
“Tasmyn, I was hoping you would have lunch with me this afternoon. Are you free?”
A million and one excuses flew through my mind, but since I was fairly sure she already knew the truth—I had no plans at all—I only nodded. It seemed pointless to play games and ask her why she wanted to eat with me. But my new cautious nature prodded me just in time.
“I need to call Michael, though. I always do, after class.”
Cathryn spread her hands in a be-my-guest gesture, and I pulled out my phone. Seconds later, I heard his voice on the other end.
“Hey, gorgeous! How was your morning?”
“It was good. How about yours?”
“Ah, not bad. Quiz in math kind of kicked my butt. Are you heading to lunch or the library?”
I glanced at Cathryn, still standing in the same place, watching me in amusement. “Actually, neither. I-I ran into Cathryn, and she asked me to have lunch with her.”
Michael didn’t answer right away, but when he did I heard his surprise. “Really? Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“I think it’s fine. You know where I am and who I’m with.” I met Cathryn’s gaze with my own steady eyes. “I’ll call you after and check in, okay?”
“Yeah. Listen—be careful, right?”
“Of course,” I smiled. “I love you. See you at dinner.”
I dropped the phone back into my pocket and turned to Cathryn. “So, where do you want to eat? Dining hall or the grill?”
She made a little face and shuddered. “Neither. I don’t have to eat on campus anymore. My car’s over here, and there’s a sweet little café in town. Have you tried it?”
I shook my head as I followed her down the sidewalk and into the parking lot to a light blue convertible. My eyes widened.
Cathryn laughed. “Do you like my baby? Daddy bought her for me when I graduated from high school. 2005 Thunderbird. He offered me a BMW for college graduation, but I’m too attached to this one.” She hit a button on her key ring and gestured to the door. “Go ahead, it’s open now.”
I climbed in, immediately surrounded by the scent that was a mixture of leather and a light floral perfume. Cathryn started up the car and pulled smoothly from the lot.
We didn’t speak as she drove, and every time I tried to gingerly probe her thoughts, I got the same painful static I had since the first time we’d met.
The café was on the main street of town. There was an empty spot in front of it, and Cathryn pulled in easily. She led me to table away from the few other diners.
“They’ll be by in a few moments with menus. I suggest the lemon orzo soup and the tomato basil panini. Just excellent.”
It had been a long time since I had felt this awkward and out of my element. There was something about Cathryn’s easy grace that made me feel as though my arms and legs were both too long for me. I tried to avoid her eyes and sit up straight, suddenly conscious of my posture.
Cathryn laughed. “Really, Tasmyn, try to relax. There’s no need to feel so uncomfortable. I don’t bite.”
I glanced at her, thinking that I had no guarantees of that. She only laughed again and rolled her eyes.
The promised menus arrived, and I ordered the soup and sandwich without much thought. I was too anxious to be hungry.
When the waitress left, Cathryn leaned toward me. “Tasmyn, I’m glad we have this chance to talk. I feel like I know you, because Michael has talked—and thought—about you so much.”
I gaped at her in alarm. What did she know about me? What had Michael thought? I swallowed hard and glanced down. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Come on, Tas. Let’s not waste my time and yours playing games. I’ll lay it on the table. I know what you can do, and you’ve guessed the same about me.”
I tried to do anything I could think of to block her from my mind. I didn’t trust her enough to confirm anything, and I didn’t know what her endgame was.
“We could actually sit here and have a conversation without speaking, you know, but I don’t think you trust me enough yet. So I’
ll do this the old-fashioned way.” She leaned forward and dropped her voice slightly.
“I’m not here to make you uncomfortable or to confront you. I’ve been asked to offer you an opportunity.”
Now every one of my defensive senses was tingling. “An opportunity? No, thanks. I’ve had my fill of those kind of ‘opportunities’.”
Cathryn waved a perfectly manicured hand in front of her face. “Tasmyn, I’m not Nell Massler, and I’m certainly not Marica Lacusta.”
My mouth dropped open before I could stop it. My heart pounded; she knew so much. It frightened me.
“How do you know about them?” I whispered.
“Some of it from Michael’s thoughts, some from just plain research. Don’t worry, Tas. I am very discreet. Your secrets are safe with me.” She quirked an eyebrow at me, somehow undermining her own words.
“I don’t trust easily.”
“Of course you don’t. I wouldn’t either, not after the way you were raised and the things you’ve been through recently. But I’m not asking you to trust me. I’m merely presenting you with an option.”
The waitress arrived with our soup, and I sat back in my chair. While Cathryn was distracted, chatting with our server, I zeroed in on her mind once more, using all the energy and tricks Marica had taught me to break through her wall. She winced slightly, just once, and then she smiled. The waitress moved away from our table, and Cathryn shook her head.
“It’s no use, Tasmyn. I’ve been well-trained, and I know how to keep people like you out of my head. I can teach you how to do it. If you decide to join us, that is.”
I picked up my soup spoon and tried the lemon orzo. Cathryn was right; it was delicious. “Who is exactly is ‘us’? Are you part of some secret superhero group?”
Cathryn laughed, tossing her head back. “No, not quite. Not that mysterious.” She reached into her shiny brown crocodile bag and pulling out an ecru card, she slid it across the table to me.
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