He nodded, looking away for a second. “Yeah, but it was different that it was you. I mean, you’re not like most girls. You seem … cautious. I like that.”
Hmm. That’s what I had liked about him too.
Not exactly “romantic.”
But it was kind of like we were kindred spirits. Maybe he’d had a traumatic relationship in the past as well. Maybe that’s why he was so hesitant with girls—he was haunted and traumatized by his last relationship.
Just like me.
Kindred, hesitant, wounded spirits.
Brought together by my awesome smile … and Sage.
CHAPTER 8
Okay, so. After that magical encounter with North, where all it took was my awesome smile to nab him, we started “dating.”
We’ve been doing it a while now—“dating.”
It’s not as scary as I first imagined, as North seems just as hesitant to get all physical as me. So, it’s nice. We’re going slow.
Super slow.
Frustratingly slow.
I mean, I’m glad we’re going slow, of course. But come on. I’d hooked him to get over Sage, and that isn’t working out. At all. My feelings for Sage are getting stronger, if anything. Certainly not weaker. Now I constantly have steamy dreams about him. With us kissing all hot and passionate—in his bed. It’s quite unnerving.
And hot.
And seems totally real.
It has me all breathless and panting. And … yearning.
Big time.
So UGH!!!
North gives me a light kiss after he walks me to my English class (yes, he walks me to all my classes—he’s the perfect boyfriend.) All the popular girls always stare at us holding hands and being a happy couple and scrunch up their brows, like why did he go for her instead of … me? (I don’t know popular girls, I really don’t.) (But ha!!!)
This time though, at the classroom door when North kisses me, all light and friendly like he does, I grab his collar and deepen the kiss.
I would not be able to do such a bold move if he were more aggressive, but since he’s super, super passive, it makes it easier for me to be aggressive. (Also, we’ve been dating for over a month now—so, I’m feeling much more relaxed around him, and not all flinching and worried about him pouncing.) (He’s so not going to pounce.) Also, I need to get over my steamy thoughts of Sage. So, yeah. I totally attack.
After going all stiff with astonishment, and gasping with shock in my mouth, North recuperates the kiss, and we have this moment of total inappropriate PDA.
When North finally pulls away, all red-faced and breathless, he’s starry-eyed. He smiles at me, looking somewhat astonished. “Well … that was unexpected,” he says with a little laugh.
“Well, maybe you should expect it,” I tell him.
“Oh-kay,” he says, not sounding opposed to the idea. At all. He grins, “Okay, well I guess I should go to my next class—if I can actually get there without falling over.”
I tease, “The kiss was that good, huh?”
He nods slowly, his fingers lightly tracing his lips with wonder. “It really was,” he murmurs.
Warmth gushes through me from his words. And stare. Also, I’m super proud of myself. I did it! I kissed a boy—long and hard. For real! Not just in my dreams!
Once I turn away from North, there’s Sage, watching me.
He’s in the class with me. But I hadn’t really thought about that when I grabbed North and kissed him. I’d just been fed up with my hot passionate dreams of Sage. But I hadn’t meant for him to see me kiss North. I just … needed to kiss North. A for-real kiss … like the kisses I have with Sage in my dreams.
For a moment, Sage and my eyes meet and lock. His brow rises as I just stare at him, my heart pounding wild.
I scurry to my seat, but his eyes stay on me. The way he’s watching me has me on fire. Because it reminds me of my steamy dreams staring him—his eyes hungry and his mouth hot and demanding, filled with pure passion. Mmmm. I’m going to fall out of my chair.
I lay my head on my desk and don’t look at him for the rest of class. Because, well, if I do, I’ll explode.
Instantly, I get a text. I groan, ‘cause it’s from Sage. “That was some kiss, sis.”
I swallow, then text, “Um, yeah.”
He writes back: “Like out of your dreams?”
My body goes up in flames.
Gasp! How does he know about my dreams???
I peek at him, questioningly. He’s still watching me. His lips turn up, just slightly. He texts: “You talk in your sleep.”
Another round of heat rips through me. I face-plant my desk. Oh my gosh!! Shoot me! Shoot me NOW.
He knows about my dreams??? I gulp. How much does he know?—does he know they’re about him?
While I’m dying of humiliation, I get another text. Just hearing it, I wince. And moan.
I cover my eyes with my flaming palms, then hesitantly peek at the message through the slits between my fingers.
Then I do a slight little sigh of relief. Because the text isn’t from Sage this time. It’s from North. “Made it to class safely,” he informs me.
The text is sweet, teasingly letting me know he didn’t fall over from my awesome, yet shocking kiss. It’s cute!!
I quickly text Sage, “Pardon, but I just got a flirty text from my boyfriend … who by the way, is the only person I dream about.”
“Lucky boyfriend.”
Tingles scatter through my body.
I bring my palms to my flaming cheeks, staring at his message, wishing sooo bad my heart didn’t get so freaky pound-y over his obviously playful/teasing words. But no. My heart is beating like a frickin’ jack-hammer.
I quickly text, “What exactly do I say in these dreams you eavesdrop on?”
When he doesn’t respond, I give him a tiny peek.
He’s still watching me. His lips quirk. He slowly texts, “If you don’t know, maybe it’s for the best.” He adds teasingly: “Probably better for everyone involved.”
Heart-spasm.
I quickly text, “Who’s ‘involved’????”
He just grins.
Oh. My. Gosh!!!!
I squirm all through class. When it’s finally over I attack him. (Well, not like in my dreams.) I attack him with questions. They spew out of my mouth, “Really? I talk in my sleep? What do I say? Come on, Sage! What do I say?”
He laughs. “Relax. You’re basically undecipherable.” He grins, “Just a lot of dreamy satisfied moaning, and the word ‘more.’ You say that a lot—‘more, more.’”
Heat rips through my body.
My eyelids squeeze shut. I groan, loudly. “Please tell me you’re lying.”
“I’m not.” He places a warm hand on my shoulder and says with a teasing grin, “Give North my congratulations. He’s obviously thawed the Ice-queen.”
Then he strolls away, and I watch him go, drawing out a HUGE sigh of relief.
He thinks I’m dreaming about North. Like, any normal girl would do—dream about their boyfriend … not their brother.
CHAPTER 9
Saturday morning, I’m dressed all cute, waiting at the den window for North—my boyfriend. (!!!)
I still love getting to mention that—that North is my boyfriend. That I, the Ice-Queen, have a boyfriend—and it’s North. Who no other girl was able to get.
He’s taking me out to breakfast and then we’re going ice-skating.
I’m so excited!
I haven’t ice-skated forever.
Only … he’s late. Very, very late.
Sage eyes me clinging to the front window.
He grins sympathetically, “Dream-boy late?”
“Yes,” I sigh.
He scans my outfit and lifts an eyebrow, “Dancing in a show?”
He’s obviously talking about my frilly outfit. (I like to dress for occasions.) I have an awesome ice-skating outfit on, with a flirty little skirt—it’s probably over-kill for our local skatin
g rink, but I don’t care. I love it!
“We’re going ice-skating,” I inform him, doing a little curtsy. “But first we’re going out to breakfast.”
He raises his eyebrows again. “You do a lot of breakfasts.”
“And movies,” I add. “But yes, we do a lot of breakfasts. I love breakfasts.”
He grins. “You always did.”
A jet of warmth shoots through me.
Yeah, I always loved breakfasts.
When we were little, our family would go to The Pancake House every Saturday. We stopped doing that once Sage left. But back then, it had been our ritual. I’d always order the buttermilk pancakes, and Sage would order the French toast, then we’d share with each other.
My heart twists.
A lot of joy had left our house when Sage left.
He’d been my light, and when he went away everything turned dark.
Sage clears his throat. “Sorry,” he says with a weak smile. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
I blurt out, completely out of the blue, “I bawled when you left.”
Sage squints, then raises his brow, like go on.
I swallow. “You were glad to go back to your mom.”
He shakes his head slightly. “I wasn’t. I wanted to stay. But … she was my mom.”
I swallow again, then choke out, “I missed you so much.”
His jaw muscles tick. He stares up at the ceiling a moment. Then back into my eyes. “Look, I cried too, okay? You think I wanted to leave? You guys were like a family to me. A real family. I swear, Gypsy, I bawled too.”
There’s a huge lump growing in my throat.
Suddenly, I get a text. I’m grateful for the distraction, to be able to look away. ‘Cause otherwise I was going to start bawling. Instead, I stare down at North’s text. He’s not going to be able to make it. His little brother fell out of a tree and North is pretty sure the little guy’s arm is broken. He’s at the hospital with him now.
“Do you want me to meet you there?” I text.
“No, that’s okay. Thanks though,” North replies. “My grandparents are coming. So, it’s going to get … dramatic. No need for witnesses.”
I smile. “Okay. Tell the little guy sorry.”
North texts, “Well, I would … but he’s excited. Never had a cast before. Exciting stuff.”
“Got ya. Tell him congratulations. And, yay!”
When I click off my phone I sigh.
Sage is still watching me. Realizing he’s been gazing at me this whole time makes me feel funny.
The way his eyes are glued to me sends this sparking, tingling sensation skittering through my body.
He murmurs, “For a minute you looked concerned, then happy.” He says softly, “Now you look sad.”
“No. I’m not. It’s just—North’s little brother broke his arm. So … no breakfast.”
“Aw,” Sage says, actually sounding sympathetic. Which is sweet.
Then he stuns me. “Hey, I could take you to breakfast.” He grins slightly at my stunned face. “I know I’m not your moaning dream-guy, but I do like breakfast.”
I swallow, then choke out, “It’s just you’re usually busy on Saturdays,” I clear my throat, “—with girls.”
His lips twitch with amusement. “That usually starts later. But my breakfasts, they’re for you Gypsy. I’m actually jealous since you started running off with that guy every weekend.”
The air whooshes out of me. “Oh.”
He laughs slightly. “Don’t worry, I’ll survive.” He tilts his head, “So you want to go get breakfast?—‘cause my heart really can’t take your sad little frowny face.”
“Um, okay! Where do you want to go?”
“The Pancake House.”
He says it matter-of-factly, like Of course. Where else would we go?
Another jet of warmth shoot through me—straight to my heart. He doesn’t only remember that we used to always go out to breakfast, but he remembers where. I swear, I could cry.
He groans, “Okay, now why do you look sad?”
“No, I’m very happy.”
He squints slightly. “You don’t look happy.”
“That’s because I’m really emotional. But I promise—I’m happy.”
“Well, I’ll take you skating too—since you don’t look happy.”
“Sage, I am.” I grin, slyly, “But you’ll go ice-skating?”
“Okay, well, that makes you look happy.”
His grin is teasing, yet semi-perplexed. “I don’t know why you look so skeptical about it, though. I have a key to the place. I play hockey—everyday. I breathe hockey.”
I nod, trying to get a grip. Yet it still seems incredibly nice. And touches me. Deeply.
He sighs, dramatic and playful. “Okay, now you look all dreamy-eyed. I’m not proposing marriage, Gypsy. It’s just breakfast … and skating. Because you looked sad about your dream-guy cancelling on you, when a second ago you’d looked like a happy little puppy dog—though okay, you look like that again. So, that’s good.”
“You’re a nice guy, Sage,” I whisper.
He draws out a loud breath, but it’s playful again. “Well, I try. But just so we’re clear—we’re not engaged now. It’s just breakfast.”
“—and skating,” I add.
“Right. But no diamond ring.”
I nod. “Or announcements to our wedding?”
“Right. That might freak out our parents.”
“So,” I say breezily, “Just to be clear, when you invited me for breakfast—that wasn’t a marriage proposal?”
He grins slightly. “No. It really wasn’t.”
“Hmmm, this is a little confusing.”
Sage grins, “Get your jacket.”
CHAPTER 10
“So,” I lean over the table at The Pancake House, and smile delightedly, “You miss me at breakfast these days?”
Sage’s eyes twinkle, full of amusement that I maybe took his missing me at breakfast statement a little too seriously.
“Sure,” he says with an entertained grin. “It was our thing—eating breakfast on Saturdays. Then that guy comes along and swoops you off.”
“You helped me get him.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have if I’d known he was going to steal you away like that.”
Just to be clear—half of everything Sage says is only teasing. And the other half is just being nice. So, I really can’t believe a word he says. Still, it’s always nice to hear what he has to say. Good for the ego. (But bad for my heart.) (Because it gets all spazzy, and wanting desperately to believe him.) (And makes me have kooky, though life-like dreams.) (Of us kissing all hot.)
Staring at him now, I have to look away, ‘cause the dreams are crashing down on me, flashing erotic-like through my brain.
Oh, my!
It’s suddenly hot in here!!
“You’re turning red,” Sage says with a perplexed grin. Well, more like a teasing like he’s perplexed grin. ‘Cause really it’s like he knows exactly what’s going through my brain.
“Thinking about dream-guy?” he asks.
“Yes,” I whisper.
He cocks his head slightly, raising an eyebrow. But he doesn’t say anything. After a moment, he clears his throat. “Ready to ice-skate?”
“Yes!” I tell him, happily jumping to my feet.
“You taught me how to ice-skate,” he murmurs.
I freeze.
He tilts his head, “Remember?”
I nod. Finally, I manage to choke out in a small whisper, the words he’d used just today, “And now you breathe hockey.”
He nods slowly. “Hockey’s my life.”
He says it all soft and husky.
The way he’s looking at me—all gentle and warm, it’s too much for my mushy heart. I swear, this moment—everything about it—it makes my knees weak. I have to hold on to the table to keep from toppling over. Or melting into a puddle at his feet.
“Wow,” Sage
says. “You’re really red.”
He grabs my arm gently and teases, “Come on, sis. I think memory-lane is a little too much for you.”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “You’re definitely right.”
CHAPTER 11
Monday in English class, my teacher snaps me out of my daze. “Gypsy, what do you think of Sage’s poem?”
I blink, still in a dazed, confused stupor. I rub at my neck, remembering … stuff. Vaguely.
I always thought I’d been dreaming—about him kissing me. But gasp! It’s not a dream. It’s not! There’s proof on my neck—it’s not a bug bite. It’s a … hickey!!
I murmur out, “I—I think he’s a vampire.”
From across the room, Sage cocks his head at me, but he breathes out a soft laugh.
He raises his eyebrows, a slow smile creeping on his gorgeous lips, looking slightly surprised, but not shocked. Unlike our teacher. Her eyebrows scrunch together. “That’s … interesting. What makes you say that?”
There was nothing about his poem to make me think of vampires … not exactly. It wasn’t his poem. It was his eyes as he read it—since I was able to deeply stare into them to my heart’s desire without him noticing while he read his convoluted, yet seductively beautiful poem. His passion-filled eyes reminded me of my dreams of him. I had another just last night. Only now—suddenly—after hearing his poem, and starring into his eyes—it really, truly doesn’t seem like a dream. Not completely anyway.
Also, well, he said his poem was titled “Tempting,” but then he went on to softly, seductively read about—gasp!—me. Me!!!! Well anyway “Fetching Gypsy” with her “grey, lonely eyes” and “flowing auburn tresses.” And I have grey eyes and auburn hair, and I hide behind fake glasses sometimes … just like “Fetching Gypsy” who wears them to try to “hide away her passion-filled heart.”
As Sage read all that seductive stuff—all quiet and seductive—flashes of my dreams kept flashing through my brain. Sage sucking on my neck, me murmuring “more.”
In my dream/hazy reality, he smiled at that, my begging for more, running his warm hand down my back, through my hair. “I can’t,” he murmured gently, softly. “It’s going to leave a mark.”
When I Fell For You Page 14