Surprising both herself and Sophie, Brielle started to laugh. “I understand,” she said, nodding her head as she raised her hand to cover her mouth from the random bouts of laughter that she was sure would come. “I’m terrible.”
“That’s not what I meant …” Sophie buried her face in her hands, but still kept moving her body to the music.
Brielle nudged Sophie for two reasons: one, to continue to tease her because Brielle was quite new to the action and found that she liked it; and two, to grab Sophie’s attention. When Sophie looked up at her, her arms falling down to her sides, she said, “You’re right. It’s just … I’m used to dancing ballet, jazz, even hip hop—which Megan Cleary forces us to add to our routine— and each has steps. A structure. It’s hard for me to dance without that.”
Sophie smiled. “So you’re like Jane then?” she asked. “You always have some kind of plan?”
This caused Brielle to start laughing again. “God, no,” she said, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I’m organized, but I’m not much of a planner. Actually, now that you mention it, it is kind of funny. Unlike Jane, I don’t need a daily plan, but I do need one for dancing. It’s silly, but a lot of people equate dancing with sex, right? I’ve never had sex so I’m not sure I’d be doing it right which would cause me to get embarrassed and then I wouldn’t be able to relax.”
Now it was Sophie’s turn to laugh. “Oh Brie, sex isn’t all it’s chalked up to be,” she said. “And,” she continued, as though she hadn’t even realized what she had admitted, “there’s no right or wrong way to do it. Think about it. All you have to do is connect. The rest is left up to interpretation. Sort of like dancing. Basically, you move your body to a rhythm, but how you move is your decision. The interpretation is what makes both things fun.” She suddenly cut herself off, blushing once more. “At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”
Sophie avoided Brielle’s eyes. She had already said too much and didn’t want to hamper her physical reputation with one some might misconstrue as slutty. Brielle offered Sophie a knowing smile, letting the red head know that the secret was safe with her.
“Anyway,” Sophie said in a more controlled tone, blinking once, twice, before locking eyes with Brielle, “what I’m saying is that you need to relax when you dance. Come on, come on.” She waved her hands, beckoning Brielle over. “We’ll do it together, okay? Let’s dance.”
For a moment, Brielle merely watched Sophie. How was it so easy for her to immerse herself in the music knowing full-well that guys were watching her body as it claimed rather provocative movement? And yet, she didn’t care. Sophie didn’t care.
After a long moment, Brielle was dancing. Really dancing. Completely on her own accord. Like she had always danced this way. Like dancing this way made her happy.
Laughter interrupted her thoughtless bliss, and then, from beside her, Sophie exclaimed, “Yes! This is what I’m talking about!”
Brielle couldn’t help it; she started laughing again.
“Where do you think Jane is?” Sophie asked after the next song turned out to be a rare alternative number that was rather difficult to dance to. Before Brielle could answer, Sophie changed her mind in wanting to know because her eyes widened and her eyes snapped back to Brielle. “Oh my God, two hot guys at the bar are totally checking us out. Don’t look!” Brielle chuckled at Sophie’s urgency, but complied with her request.
“So what do you want to do then?” Brielle asked. She had never been in this position before and found herself to be more than a little curious as to how to handle it. She wanted to be prepared in case another guy, a guy she happened to like, looked at her the same way these guys were supposedly looking at her now.
Sophie gave her an obvious look, as though the answer was clear and Brielle should have known this. “Duh.” She flipped her red hair over her shoulders and her matching lips curled up into a mischievous smirk. “Keep dancing of course.”
So they did.
8
Jane liked to survey a place she was in so she could get a good feel for it before allowing herself to relax. She scanned the dance floor subtly, located all the entrances and exits, and looked at the people crowding the bar. When she felt as though she could finally relax, she led Sophie and Brielle to a vacant table close to the dance floor where she then strongly suggested erring on the side of caution when it came to drinking and guys. Since Elle was taking longer than usual at the bar, Jane suggested the trio get up and dance.
It was on the dance floor where Jane first spied him. Interestingly enough, he must have noticed her first because when her eyes flitted over his face, he was already looking at her.
Goodness, she had never seen eyes quite like his before. It was like he could see right through the carefully crafted walls she placed around herself. She shivered.
Why couldn’t she look away?
Jane knew she wasn’t good at flirting. She couldn’t say innuendos without blushing. She couldn’t bend over without breaking a straight face. And she never danced with anyone at Ultra, let alone reach out to touch someone in order to reveal her interest in them. As such, she met this stranger’s eyes for the briefest of moments before immediately looking away, feeling her face crimson at the thought of being caught staring at him. Surely, though, she couldn’t have been the only girl staring, yet technically speaking, he had been staring back. That had to count for something, didn’t it?
Jane was too shy to turn her head to the side to find out, and she hated herself for it. It was moments like these when she wished she had more confidence in being coy with guys. It had nothing to do with her looks; she was happy with her appearance and humbly admitted that she knew on a strictly factual basis, she was somewhat attractive. Her confidence in who she was as a person was not lacking either. She was clumsy, laughed too loud at inappropriate times, and probably planned more than an average seventeen year old girl. And it was this knowledge of herself that while she was pretty, she was still a nerd, that caused her to roll her eyes when anyone thought to call her sexy.
To Jane, sexy was a feeling, and unless she was completely lost in the music dancing or on the field playing soccer, Jane didn’t feel sexy. Those games girls played with guys—being playful and sultry and mysterious—were something Jane simply could not do because she would just crack up. Her? Sexy? No way.
Although during this particular instance, Jane wished she believed she was sexy, wanting nothing more than to smile, walk up to him, and whisper something witty in his ear.
Which was just silly, since she was only seventeen and he looked, at the very least, eighteen. He was holding some sort of drink—probably liquor judging from the amber color—which piqued Jane’s interest only because guys her age tended to prefer beer, maybe tequila. This guy seemed better than that, more sophisticated.
Okay, Jane needed to stop analyzing this guy she barely caught a glimpse of. Instead, she turned her attention back to her two companions. Sophie was already deeply infatuated with the music, her eyes closed, her body moving sensuously. She had many male admirers, Jane could tell, but she didn’t seem to even notice. Brielle, on the other hand, was holding back. Her movements were stiff and her eyes kept darting around the room, almost as though she was worried she’d get caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing.
Jane felt her lips tug up into a smile. She leaned forward toward Brielle, and said, “Relax, Brie! You’re at a nightclub. You’re a dancer! Dance like you mean it! Like no one’s watching!”
Brielle smiled a small smile. For the umpteenth time, she turned pink, but Jane saw her visibly relax, at least a little.
“Where’s Elle?” Sophie asked once the song changed and she was temporarily released from the music’s spell.
Jane couldn’t help but glance back at the bar. “I don’t know …” She looked back at Sophie and Brielle. “I’m going to go check on her. You guys stay here.”
Jane turned and made her way through the crowd with h
oned skill and speed. One of Jane’s hidden talents was darting through crowds quickly without so much as brushing people as she passed them.
Once she got closer to the bar, she immediately recognized Elle’s loose, flowing blonde curls, but her friend had yet to notice her. In fact, the more Jane studied the scene, the more she realized that Elle seemed to be in a heated discussion with the new, tall bartender. Before Jane could intervene, to help Elle in some way, someone placed a hand on the small of her back. Instinctively, Jane tensed, prepared to slip out of the person’s grasp as easily as she slipped through the crowd. Upon turning her head to see the audacious person who had the nerve to touch her without so much as asking her permission, she faltered.
It was him. It was the stranger with those curious eyes.
Goodness, he was more handsome than she had thought he was. He had a square-shaped face with well-defined facial features—especially those high cheekbones—and a striking appearance. To be honest, he would have been too pretty to attract Jane had it not been for those eyes. They were a sky blue mixed with a pale green, and once again, she found that her entire being was paralyzed. She couldn’t even read his mind if she wanted to; she was that entranced. He had faint freckles on the bridge of his nose and full, red lips that did look rather soft …
He hadn’t caught her staring at his lips, had he?
Okay, she needed to focus. Not on those eyes of course, not if she wanted to survive the night.
Hair!
He had hair! And what hair! Thick, dark chestnut hair that framed his face that looked nearly as soft as his lips that caused Jane to be suddenly afflicted with the uncontrollable desire to run her fingers through—
Why was he looking at her like he was waiting for something?
Oh God, had he asked her a question?
“I’m sorry,” she said, hating to shout over the music because she thought her voice sounded rather obnoxious when she yelled, unless of course she was on a soccer field. “What was that?”
He smiled at her glancing up at the chandelier before looking back at her. Had her heart, quite literally, skipped a beat at the sight of his smile? He was taller than she was, probably about six feet with a lean body. His shoulders weren’t as broad as she would have liked—she did tend to favor rough-around-the-edges alpha-male types—but those eyes, those eyes!
The tall, dark, and handsome stranger leaned toward her so his lips were quite close to her ear and Jane could feel his hot breath on her skin. Where had those goose bumps come from? Jane was certain she wasn’t cold. “I’d like to buy you a drink,” he said in a warm, caramel-drippy voice that seemed to only enhance Jane’s non-temperature related goose bumps.
9
Sophie would never get her rum and coke. In fact, after a half an hour after their arrival, Sophie, Brielle, and Jane were being led out of the club by Elle, who was nothing short of furious. So upset, the blonde girl probably wouldn’t have noticed Jane’s abrupt stop at the coat check to get her bag if Brielle hadn’t physically stopped her. Another minute and they were outside. The line in front of the club had only grown and Sophie felt her lips push into a pout; she had been looking forward to dancing long into the night.
The cold distracted her from her regret. She was suddenly glad Jane told her to bring her jacket and comfortable shoes. Now that she was no longer dancing, she could feel her heels pinch into her skin.
Once the girls were warm and at ease, the foursome began the trek—the long, lighted path, as was insisted by Jane—back to the academy. Along the way, Elle did nothing to censor herself as she relayed the reason why they were leaving in the first place. Apparently, the bar tender and nightclub owner, Aiden Miller, was rude to Elle by refusing to sell her alcohol, calling her a snob, and telling her that her parents forgot about her on the island. That she wasn’t important enough to pay attention to except to send her to some boarding school on the island. When Elle ended her tirade, the three agreed at the audacity of Aiden Miller, that he deserved the slap Elle gave him—surprisingly, it was Jane who remained silent while Brielle verbally agreed with it—and that though she planned to return to Ultra the following weekend, she would avoid him if he was there. That is, if the four weren’t banned from the place. Elle had slapped the owner, after all.
They reached the campus twenty minutes later and Jane insisted they walk Brielle to her dorm, Elle telling the brunette she could return the dress tomorrow. By the time the remaining trio got to Ignis Hall, Sophie only had time to change into the pajamas Jane lent her before collapsing in her bed and falling asleep.
It was Jane who woke her the next morning.
“I figured you’d want breakfast,” was Jane’s explanation.
Sophie borrowed another outfit from Jane: a worn-in pair of jeans and a loose purple sweater. And after the three were ready, they headed to the Dining Hall for breakfast.
Sundays were the slowest days for the kitchen except dinner; since it was technically a school night, students chose to eat at the academy rather than risk missing the ten o’clock curfew. Sunday mornings found the Hall practically empty, thanks to the desire to sleep in and attending church deemed as more important than AckPec food. Even so, once Sophie and her friends entered, all eyes—however few there might be—were on her, following her as she took her seat.
“I don’t get it,” Sophie whispered to her friends. “Why is everyone staring?”
“I’m not totally sure,” Jane said in the same soft voice, “but I think people are starting to realize you’re a physical.”
“Great,” Sophie said flatly.
Breakfast was dismal. Sophie’s eyes were focused primarily on her food due to her discomfort under the Hall’s stare. Elle was uncharacteristically silent, picking at her food rather than eating it. Sophie wasn’t sure if her sudden melancholy was due to what happened last night at Ultra or if it was because she missed her ex-boyfriend. Interestingly enough, Sophie couldn’t spot Brielle at the Aqua table; she was probably sleeping in, something Sophie wished she had opted to do rather than eat food and be gawked at like she was some kind of animal in a zoo.
Breakfast wasn’t over fast enough, but as the three proceeded to head back to their dorm, they were intercepted by none other than Will. He was looking as grumpy as ever, but was somehow still painfully attractive. He was wearing another plaid shirt—this one red—over a white wife beater with fitted jeans, that same distracting belt buckle, those worn out motorcycle boots, and his leather jacket. His hair was as disheveled as ever, his face occupied by whiskers and sideburns.
“Come on, kid,” he said in his gravelly voice. “You’re coming with me.”
Sophie’s heart started pounding. She glanced over at Elle and Jane. He didn’t know they went to Ultra last night, did he? They hadn’t broken curfew so they hadn’t done anything wrong, right?
He took in the look on her face and rolled his hazel eyes. “We have to get you clothes and a uniform,” he said. Sophie could tell he was already frustrated with her. “Come on. I don’t have all day.”
“Fine,” Sophie said and then turned back to her friends. Elle was smirking and Jane was rather unsuccessfully trying to camouflage her sniggering into coughs. Sophie shot them a dry smile. “I guess I’ll see you later.”
With that, Sophie followed Will out of the Ack Building and around to the garage. As with the Dining Hall, Sophie felt students who happened to be out and about staring at her. She turned redder than she ever thought was possible.
“Can they tell what I am?” she asked Will, interrupting him. She didn’t even know he had been talking.
Will followed her gaze, and once the students realized Will was looking at them, they immediately looked away. “No,” he said. “But they know that you aren’t like them.” He stopped talking for a moment, and she realized that he was trying to put what was on his mind into words. “I’ll get into it later on when we start our lessons, but a mental can tell a mental, a shifter can tell a shifter, and I’m ass
uming a physical can tell a physical.” He glanced down at her. “Do you feel someone like you here?”
Sophie wasn’t sure how to feel if someone like her was there, but decided to allow her body to relax, trying to feel something. Even she knew it was futile. Ethan had said that physicals were rare, that she was the third one of her kind that he knew of. As such, she wouldn’t feel anything no matter how hard she tried. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel,” she remarked after another moment.
“You’ll know,” he replied. “I can’t explain it. It’s like love. When you feel it, you can’t explain it, but you’ll know.”
Sophie grinned mischievously. “Are you comparing it to love because you’ve had personal experience?” she asked, perking her brows.
Before he could respond, the pair was interrupted. “Will, it’s good to see you back.” The red head turned to get a look at the person who spoke, and for some unknown reason, felt herself shift with discomfort. The woman was one of the most beautiful women Sophie had ever seen in her life, which explained her sudden discomfort. Her blonde hair was chopped short to her chin, teased in a rocker-chic style, her pale green eyes clashing with her tan face. Her smile was blindingly white, her lips naturally rosy, and her body was nothing short of perfection. She was an inch shorter than Sophie, but somehow she still had ridiculously long legs. Sophie suddenly felt very insecure about herself even though she was quite content with the way she looked.
She could feel Will’s body tense beside her and she wondered why. This woman radiated sereneness and beauty; even though Sophie wanted to hate her, she found that couldn’t. In anything, she wanted this woman to like her.
The blonde also appeared to be an instructor. Her matching sweats were from Victoria’s Secret’s Pink line and on her feet were Rainbow flip flops. Not only was she gorgeous, but she knew exactly how to dress herself.
The Stranger Trilogy Box Set Page 7