Speak (Witches & Warlocks Book 1)

by R. M. Webb

  What do you like?

  Favorite color?

  Favorite band?

  Favorite place to vacation?

  I realize that I don’t have many answers to his questions. I’ve spent my whole life going with the flow, worrying so much about what everyone else likes that I haven’t taken the time to form opinions at all.

  What color do I like? I like them all.

  Favorite place to vacation? Gosh, take me anywhere.

  Luke won’t settle for those answers. He digs and he presses until we discover that I like blue best of all and can’t wait to get to the beach for the first time. Becca loves gold and wants to go skiing. Carter likes black and wants to go to New York City.

  “And what about you?” I ask Luke. “What’s your favorite color?”

  He looks into my eyes and smiles. “Typically I’d say red, but tonight I think it’s blue upon blue upon blue.” I realize he’s talking about the color of my eyes and blush ferociously. “Ahhh,” he laughs, “there’s the red I love so much.”

  We laugh and drink. I drink way more than I normally would but somehow that doesn’t freak me out. This is the first time in my life that I’ve been comfortable in a group of people and the first time in my life that losing just a little bit of control over myself doesn’t make me extra nervous. I can’t help but study Luke. He’s huge, yet manages this almost serpentine grace, each movement calculated and controlled and muscular. It’s, I don’t know, thick like syrup if that makes any sense at all. I’m just one step passed drunk and I’m laughing just a little too loud. It makes me cringe. I should slow down on the booze.

  “I’ve never seen you like this, Zoe!” Becca’s talking even louder than I’ve been laughing and her cheeks are flushed. Like way flushed. She’s looking like maybe she’s a few more steps passed drunk than I am. “I’ll tell you, Luke, whatever magic you’re using on her is working.” There’s something funny in the way she emphasizes her words and Carter’s eyes go as hard as rocks. Becca covers her mouth and giggles.

  With a roll of his eyes and swig of his beer, Carter drags attention off Becca. “I’ll tell ya,” he says in his strange nasally drawl, “I went into the bathroom today, thinking I only had to piss, but it turned out I needed to, uhhh … do more.” He waves his hands and makes a face that says ‘you know what I’m saying.’ “The first thing that pops into my head is ‘shit, I have to shit and I don’t have my phone with me.’” He bursts into laughter and Becca follows suit. He is so not her type. Is she having some weird nervous breakdown rebellion thing ‘cause her parents are in the middle of a divorce? I almost hope so because that would explain Carter.

  Although Carter came hand in hand with Luke, so maybe I shouldn’t wish him away too hard.

  Speaking of Luke, he leans in close, close enough for me to smell his delicious manliness, and whispers in my ear. “Carter’s an ass. Grab your drink. Come play pool with me.”

  I’ve had plenty to drink, but I don’t say so. I swoop up my beer with one hand while Luke takes my other hand. Maybe Becca was right. Maybe Luke is working some kind of magic on me. That’d explain the rush of whatever it is that I feel rolling its way up my arm from his hand. Like if you imagined fog rolling in, you know, like in all those horror movies? Where the fog is thick and full of foreboding, and it billows onto the scene in huge undulating waves? It’s like that, only without all the ominous music.

  God, I’m weird.

  First tigers, now magic fog? Why can’t I just be like everyone else? I know that sounds self-deprecating, and it is, but it also kind of makes me laugh. Like being weird is just some silly little personality quirk and not a full on disability. It’s kind of a nice change of pace.

  We arrive at an open pool table and I find a place to put my drink. “I’m way not good at pool,” I warn.

  “That’s ok. I just wanted to get you alone.”

  When I say I’m no good at pool, I totally mean it. I’ve played, like, once, and actually managed to pop the cue ball off the table more than I managed to hit any of the other balls. I explain as much to Luke and he sets about teaching me how to play, wrapping his warm body around mine as I take aim, adjusting my grip, helping me line up the shot. There’s so many points of contact between us, and his voice sounds so strong and meaningful as he whispers instructions in my ear. As much as it’s a tacky cliché from every movie ever, that doesn’t change the fact that I like the way it feels when it’s happening to me.

  After a while, I get the hang of pool. It’s kind of like darts in that I have to see the lines and angles of my shot, plan where I want things to go and set the course in motion, but it’s so much more complex. With darts, it’s just one projectile, sent in one direction. With pool, I’m bouncing balls off walls and each other and even the slightest change in the angle of my cue changes the reaction of the balls. I think I could grow to love this game.

  Luke is full of compliments and information and he has no qualms at all about teasing me when I mess up. Normally, the teasing would tie me up in nervous knots, totally paralyze me with self-doubt. For some reason, coming from Luke, the silly little jabs are just that. Silly. I smile. He makes me laugh. I’m actually laughing at myself. This whole night is wonderfully weird. It’s like there’s a whole new Zoe.

  I wonder if Becca’s watching. I peek at our booth as I line up a shot with Luke’s help. (He’s leaning over me, his body pressing into mine, his hands on my arm and shoulder, whispering instructions into my ear.) Conversation seems to have turned rather intense over there. Becca’s wearing her angry face and Carter’s hands are jabbing the air as he bites off words in her direction. Maybe she’s busy figuring out he’s really not her kind of guy.

  I take my shot and barely notice if I manage to get any balls into any of the pockets. I kind of feel like I should go rescue Becca because Lord knows she’s done enough rescuing of me over the years. If our positions were swapped, I’d be begging for her to show up and get me the hell outta there. As if she could feel me looking at her, she glances my way and catches me staring. I smile big and wave her over, making sure Carter has a chance to see the invitation as well.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” I say as I turn to face Luke, “but it looks like things weren’t going so well over there.”

  I think he said he didn’t mind. I’m really not sure. I couldn’t hear what he was saying over all the shock. And the fear. And the total rush of ‘oh shit now what’ nerves flooding my system. And maybe the tiger stands and roars and something crazy like that. But I’m not really sure because all I can see is Noah.

  Chapter 9

  He’s standing just a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest, this awful look of, oh I don’t know. Betrayal. Sadness. Anger. Hurt. All this awfulness brought on by looking at me. All this awfulness because of me. He shakes his head and turns away as Luke comes up and wraps his arm around my shoulders.

  What in the world am I going to do? How am I going to handle this? Does it matter how I handle this? I mean, Noah’s supposed to be bad news bears and it’s not like we’re dating exclusively or anything like that. Hell, he didn’t even ask me for my phone number the one time we accidentally ended up hanging out. We’re doing this at my speed, right? So, maybe my speed means that I get to play the field. Maybe it means that I can hang out with anyone I want to hang out with.

  So, then why do I feel like I’m being a major creep? Why do I feel about as small as a mouse and as ugly as a rat? A wet rat that’s been hanging out in sewers and garbage dumps? I offer Noah a weak smile and he turns away and the tiger thumps her tail and snarls in frustration.

  “What’s up, Zoe?” asks Luke. “You ok? That guy been a problem for you?”

  The weird, oozing, purple fog rolling towards my heart feeling is back and the tiger is pacing and panting and my pulse is skyrocketing. Noah glances my way and his blue upon blue eyes just like mine ignite a golden explosion of pressure in my chest and it’s like all the comfort and safety I’d felt fo
r the first half of the night had been borrowed because I’m suddenly locked behind the obstacle in my throat and in my heart and in my head. I can’t speak and if I tried everything I said would be wrong and maybe I’m just overthinking everything.

  Luke unwinds his arm from my shoulders, like a boa constrictor retreating back into the trees. “Zoe?”

  “Did you lose her?” Becca kind of stumbles into me, tripping over her high heels. “You’ve gotta come back, babe. ‘Member? We can’t hear all the things you think you’re saying out loud.” She’s slurring like crazy. I’m not all that steady on my feet either and I seriously regret all the drinks I’ve let myself have.

  “Sorry,” I say and I mean it. Sorry for that awful look on Noah’s face. Sorry for making Luke think I’m anything close to normal. Sorry for letting Becca down, “Let’s play some pool.” I think I managed to hide the tsunami of an upset stomach that’s churning away inside me.

  Becca lurches towards the pool table and then abruptly changes her direction. “Know what? I gotta pee.” Wow. That’s blunt for her. Maybe drunk Becca totally works with Carter. I watch her stumble off to the bathroom before I turn back to find the guys setting up the table. Noah is nowhere to be seen and I’m just as happy not to see that look on his face again as I am disappointed not to actually see his face again. Luke and Carter are kind of muttering to each other, deep in some kind of conversation I don’t think I’m meant to see.

  Ugh. Whatever. I need a time out. This is over the top way too much for me.

  “I’m going to head to the bathroom as well.”

  Luke hits me with his super sexy beast man smile and I sigh a little despite myself. “Hurry back.”

  I don’t know if Luke saying that was corny or awesome and I’m way too confused to even begin to decide how I feel about that statement. Flannigan’s has never been so busy and I think I say excuse me at least a hundred times and reroute around people who won’t budge. It’s like I’ve gone invisible again and after an evening’s worth of being seen, it feels horrible. After what feels like a year of shuffling around people, I make it to the hallway that leads to the bathroom. I stop before I turn the corner because I’m pretty sure I hear Becca.

  “I thought I told you to stay away from her.” That’s definitely Becca and she’s sounding definitely not drunk.

  “So, what are you, her keeper?” And that’s Noah. I press myself tight against the wall. What in the world is this?

  “Actually, I am.” Becca sounds haughty and pompous and not at all like her sparkly little self. “I’ve been her guardian her whole life — appointed by people way more powerful than you.”

  “You and I both know she doesn’t deserve what’s happening to her.”

  “You have no idea what she is.” It would have been nice to hear something other than venom in Becca’s voice.

  “The real tragedy is that she has no idea what she is.”

  What the hell? I shuffle a little closer and I swear I hear them both gasp and turn towards me.

  “She’s here,” they whisper in unison. How did they know? What’s happening? If only I could think even kind of clearly right now. Becca’s heels come clicking towards me, the rhythm off beat and syncopated as if she’s staggering. There’s no way I want her to find me eavesdropping, not after that, although maybe she already knows I heard. This whole thing is hard enough to figure out without the too many drinks floating around in my system, making my thoughts all murky. And now I’m feeling draggy, tired, worn thin to the bone. I push off the wall and round the corner toward the bathroom and run straight into Becca.

  “You so do not want to go down there,” she says, her words slurring again.

  I don’t know what to say so I say the first thing that comes to my mind. “I don’t feel so good.” It’s the truth. The conversation I just overheard is mixing with the alcohol and that’s all jumbling up with this sudden exhaustion and my stomach is lurching under the onslaught of adrenaline.

  The tiger nudges me down the hallway towards Noah but I definitely don’t want to run into him. I have no idea what I’d say. My indecision paralyzes me until Becca grabs my arm and tugs me towards her. “Babe.” She hisses the word into my face, a heavy whisper dipped in beer breath. “Noah’s down there. You don’t want to go down there now.”

  She pulls me back towards the pool table and I let her. If I ever had any fight in me whatsoever, it’s gone. Caput. I’m Zoe, Becca’s doormat, ready to bend to her every will. No, that’s not fair. Becca looks out for me. Or at least I thought she looked out for me. I thought she was my seeing-eye dog, but maybe she’s more like my guard dog.

  “Oh, no!” Luke even manages to make concern sound sexy. “What’s wrong?” He tucks me into his arm and some of the exhaustion melts away, like he leeches it from my body with his.

  “I just saved her from a near tragic run-in at the bathrooms. The last guy Zoe hung out with is a bit of an ass.”

  No, he’s not. Apparently Becca’s the ass. Apparently I am something that I’m not allowed to know about and she’s been appointed my keeper by someone who’s very powerful. I don’t even … I can’t …

  I want to go home.

  My senses have decided that now is the time for me to have to deal with even more information and I’m seeing and hearing and feeling everything. Strange look between Carter and Becca, Luke’s heart beating in his chest, the rough skin on his hand tickling my shoulder, people laughing, plates clinking, TV’s yammering, pool balls colliding, drinks slamming into tables, waitresses in their tight little uniforms swarming the joint like ants …

  “I need to get out of here.” I say it as I think it and I mean it with everything that I am. I can’t handle all this. There’s too much to process and I’d stretched myself to my very limit this evening before I happened to overhear the weirdest conversation between my so-called best friend and the guy I really thought I wanted to know better.

  Becca looks mortified and Carter just scowls. “I’ve had way too much to drink to drive.” She says it like an accusation.

  “That’s fine.” I’m nudging my way towards the door, pulling out from under Luke’s arm. When I say it’s fine, I really mean it’s fine because let me tell you, I don’t think I want any alone time with Becca right now. I don’t know what I’d say or how I’d say it or… well, let’s be real. I know what I’ll say. Nothing.

  ‘Cause I’m Zoe Tate and I can’t speak.

  Becca’s protesting and Carter’s scowling and Luke looks uncomfortable. “Really. You, know me. I like to walk anyway. I had a great time, I think it all just got to me.” I’m babbling excuses, tossing anything at Becca that’ll make sense because the last thing I need is for her to know that I heard what she said to Noah.

  “Well at least let me walk you home.” Of course Luke wants to walk me home. It’s just that kind of day. Or night. Or whatever. The kind of day where you get all dressed up and pretend to be something that you’re not only to find out that you actually are something you’re not. I don’t have it in me to fight, so I just nod my acquiescence and we head outside. He’s gonna have to deal with me being quiet though, because the noise in my head is too loud to talk over.

  Which he actually does. He even manages to respect my space, no clingy arm wrapping around me, no trying to hold my hand so I have to wonder about that strange purple creeping fog feeling, he just walks beside me, studies the people we pass, and smiles at me when he catches my eye. This whole night is weird. I take that back, things have been weird since Noah stopped at our table all those weeks ago. Becca’s insistence that he’s no good despite my evening with him that proved that he is in fact, very good. Becca claiming to know anyone that looks like Carter well enough to want to go out on a double date. Becca claiming to be my guardian, Noah acting like that means something wrong, and apparently I am something. And it’s a tragedy that I don’t know.

  I sigh and Luke looks my way. “You gonna be ok?”

  I nod and smile and fo
r some reason, I feel like I’m the one who needs to make him feel better. As far as he knows, he was out on a date with some chick who just had a nervous breakdown or something. When I’m feeling uncertain, contact makes me feel better, so I reach out and thread my fingers through his.

  “You’re really sweet, you know,” he says, leaning down and speaking softly.

  I think what he means is weird. I’m really weird. But it’s cool of him not to be so blunt about it. The quiet of the evening is really nice after the super loud energy of Flannigan’s and I’m so not ready to break it. I lean my head into his shoulder and we walk the rest of the way to my apartment door like that. I haven’t said one word and Luke hasn’t pressed me. He’s let me be silent. No more questions, no more forcing me out of my shell. It’s just us, hand in hand under the night sky, the summer breeze dancing like silk scarves around my bare arms.

  I probably should have told him he’s really sweet, too. ‘Cause he actually is. Outside of the bombshell of a conversation I’d overheard, it’d been a really good night. A groundbreaking night actually, and all because of Luke’s strangely comforting presence and his insistence that I join in the conversation and participate instead of observe.

  I’m so out of my depth. Let’s forget for a second that Noah seems to think he knows more about me than I know about myself. And let’s forget that he seems to know more about Becca than I do and that I think she doesn’t want me around him because of it. Let’s get rid of all of that because that adds a layer of complexity that I can’t process just yet.

  Let’s just realize that a week ago, I was walking up to my front door with Noah, totally infatuated, hoping beyond hope that he’d kiss me. And now, just a week later, I’m walking up to my front door with Luke. Two weeks. Two guys. I don’t know how to be this person. I might as well have been dropped into someone else’s story because this sure as hell isn’t mine.

  I lead Luke up to my front door and don’t have it in me to kiss him. My insides are all knotted up and I think one more bit of emotion will be enough to make me explode. There’s not a single thing I could say that doesn’t sound stupid or overused or just plain old wrong.