True Intentions

by Lisa Kuehne

  Then from the corner of my eye, I see Sara staring with her mouth unintentionally wide open and her eyes wide like she just saw a ghost.

  "Hi Sara, how was your spring break?" I ask innocently as she walks up to us.

  Sam drops his arms down to his side, all too soon for my liking.

  "Good, but I think it wasn't as good as yours," she says with a mischievous smile.

  Sam jumps in, reading my mind.

  "Hi Sara," he says and then pretends to look down the hall behind her. "I'll be right back, Ava. I see someone I need to chat with."

  He quickly kisses my hand and heads down the hall. Sara immediately looks at me as if I'm now an alien.

  "Do you need me to ask you what the hell, or are you going to explain?" she demands, not waiting until Sam is out of hearing range.

  "I don't even know where to start," I whisper. I'm being honest.

  "Start with explaining what happened during spring break that caused you to go from avoiding Sam Perry like he had a venereal disease to looking like you two are a couple?"

  "Actually, we are sort of a couple," I love hearing the words come out of my mouth.

  "Are you seriously joking?"

  "No."

  "Oh my God!" Sara screams, smacking her hands against her thighs. "I think I need to sit down."

  "It's not that big of a deal."

  "Not a big deal . . . . Not a big deal! You're hooking up with Sam Perry and it's not a big deal!"

  "I'm not really hooking up with him," I add, trying not to let my disappointment show through. Unfortunately, that's the truth.

  "Whatever . . . . I can totally tell. You're with him."

  "Sara, we've been talking over spring break. I guess we're dating. But, seriously, it's not what you're thinking."

  "What I'm thinking? Believe me. You don't wanna know what I'm thinking," she giggles. "I'm just in shock. You hated his guts two weeks ago."

  "I didn't hate him. I just didn't understand him, that's all."

  "So now that you understand him, I want every single detail!" She grabs my shoulders with her hands, almost shaking me. It reminds me of a shark attack.

  Apparently, I'm the seal.

  I shake my head, implying okay. At this point, I'm afraid to tell her no.

  She smiles and waits for the scoop.

  "I wish I had tons of details to tell."

  "I totally saw the way he looks at you. You have enough to share!"

  I laugh and play with my hair, twirling strands between my fingers.

  Did he really look at me in that way? I never noticed.

  I look over at her desperate-for-gossip expression and know I have to give her something . . . . It's cruel to deny her at least that much.

  "Sara, it's beyond my wild dreams," I admit, whispering in her ear. I pause and then continue more loudly. "He is so totally awesome. I don't know how to explain."

  To my surprise, I notice him making his way through the crowd, heading toward us.

  "I will try to explain more, later," I promise as I nudge her.

  "You better," she demands. Then she lands a punch to my shoulder.

  Before I can respond, she starts walking down the hall.

  * * * * *

  The rest of my day is similar; everyone glares at me as though I've crossed over to the dark side.

  If they only knew . . . .

  Jack has been the most interesting. He sits quietly, staring Sam up and down during lunch like a father might when his daughter's date comes to pick her up.

  Although Jack didn't actually say saying anything, he continued giving Sam some sort of 'male challenge' the entire lunch hour. It was like watching the Discovery Channel. I waited patiently for one of the male bucks to strike first. I never realized how territorial males are, no matter what species.

  Sam was graceful during the ordeal, but I could sense he was getting irritated with Jack's attitude. I was stuck watching them, unable—more like unwilling—to get involved with their male dominance behavior.

  I silently prayed for the lunch hour to end before someone lost their temper.

  Luckily, lunch did end, but a new challenge began.

  While dumping our trays into the trash cans, Sara breaks the awkwardness with an announcement.

  "Jack asked me to prom the Friday before spring break." She's blushing and nervously tapping the ground with her shoe. It's adorable to see her so excited.

  "Congratulations!" I exclaim, hugging her tightly.

  "Are you two planning on going?" She asks. She isn't looking at me, only at Sam!

  OMG. What is she doing?

  "I wouldn't let Ava miss it for the world." Sam winks.

  I freeze.

  Prom? Is he clinically insane?

  "Then we should go together!" Sara says in a squeaky voice that reminds me of a three-year-old getting presents.

  I 'm too nauseated at the whole idea of prom to register her together comment.

  Prom? What the heck is Sam thinking?

  I didn't have a chance to ask him what planet he is living on. I'm not about to let him drag me to our prom—or any dance. As we walk toward our classrooms, he squeezes my hand and whispers in my ear, "See you after school."

  He blends into the crowd of students, leaving me outside my class staring in disbelief.

  The rest of my afternoon is a complete blur. I can't take my mind off the prom comment. Although I'd be going to prom with the most breathtaking guy in this world, it doesn't relieve my anxiety.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine – May 1st

  I wake up to rain pattering gently on my windowpane. Last night was the first time in quite a while Sam didn't spent the night. Yet, I can still smell his scent lingering on my pillow. Since returning from Chicago, it has become his usual habit to crawl in through my window each night as soon as I get ready for bed. How could I not feel entirely safe in his presence?

  Even though I love having him sleep here, this arrangement is not just for my benefit. He needs to stay away from his home since it will be the first place Satan and his followers look for him. It's an unspoken certainty: if they find Sam, he'll be killed.

  Over the last few weeks, I've been learning how to use my influence. According to Sam, I still have a lot to learn. I'm only able to cause a feeling of happiness to some people when they're angry. Still, that's really comes in handy with Mom. Sam ensures me there is much more I will be able to do— in time.

  Snuggling with him is a comfort I'm becoming too accustomed to. Even with him next to me every night, I've remained pure, as he calls it, despite wanting more. We've learned to be careful, watching how far we let our physical contact go so we won't get too tempted. I guess I'm content with just kissing . . . for now.

  Last evening was unusual. Sam sensed something was wrong and had a strange feeling something was brewing. He wanted to check with his family and make sure everything was okay. I was reluctant to let him go, but I had to trust his instinct.

  Now, as I lie in bed, the rain doesn't seem like it will let up this Saturday morning. I can smell the freshness of the air through my open window. I left the window open a crack just in case. It must have stormed most of the night.

  I frown.

  I'd hoped Sam would make it back before morning.

  My mom is gone. She is taking Grandma to a local nursery to pick plants for her homegrown garden. My grandfather is out fishing with some buddies.

  I hear my stomach growl as loud as the stereo system I normally play in my bedroom. I walk down the steps, still hearing the roar from my gut. I was too nervous thinking about Sam last night to eat dinner. That was despite my mom making one of my favorites—homemade pizza.

  I creep down our stairs slowly, feeling the old house's cold hardwood creaking beneath my bare feet. I'm dressed only in shorts and a tight, tunic T-shirt, but the house seems cooler than usual. I stop at the laundry room and grab a hooded sweatshirt. The distinct scent of lavender and chamomile fills my nostrils. I smile as I think
about how much I love our fabric softener. I pull a sweatshirt from the folded laundry on top of the dryer and head toward the kitchen smelling my shirt the entire way.

  Cereal sounds good, I tell myself when I notice a box of Mini Wheats on the counter.

  I open the small cabinet we use as a pantry, and the knob wobbles like it will come off. Our kitchen needs a remodel. Mom wasn't joking. The older, wooden cabinets are painted a shade of white that has faded into a dirty cream color. The countertops resemble butcher blocks, but in cheap laminate instead of real wood. The baby blue walls have also faded from years of wear. Obviously, the knobs aren't in great shape either.

  Several pieces of mail from Friday are on the counter. Mostly bills and catalogs addressed to my mom. I immediately recognize Mallory's handwriting on a medium-sized, manila envelope with Ava O'Brian listed as the addressee. I haven't had much contact with Mallory since returning home a few weeks ago. We've emailed and texted here and there, but I haven't been completely honest. I haven't grown the balls to confess my relationship with Sam .

  I rip open the envelope. A letter and another, smaller, sealed envelope are enclosed in the padded packet.

  I decide to read her letter first.

  Ava,

  Hey girl! Hope all is going well in California. I have missed you so much since your visit.

  It was great to see you, but also reminded me how much I miss you now that I can't see you all the time. My parents and Kara send their love.

  I am not sure if Sam has spilled the beans, but we have been talking nonstop since your visit. I am ashamed to admit, but I fell totally in love with him from the moment I saw him and we ended up kissing when we were alone on Sunday. You were at the church at the time. It fueled some chemistry between us, and we ended up being intimate one night after everyone went to bed. It was so unbelievably awesome . . . . I can't believe I am no longer a virgin. I wanted to tell you right away, but Sam begged me not to. He said you would get mad that he hooked up with your friend. I didn't understand at the time, but now everything makes sense.

  Sam recently confessed to me that he is your Mr. Mysterious and not your cousin. He said he does care for you, but couldn't help falling in love with me. I hope he has been honest with you. I enclosed a picture of us together with the other pictures I took during your stay. I am sorry that we connected when you two were getting to know each other. I would have never let that happen if I knew at the time.

  Please forgive me!

  Love you always and forever,

  Mallory

  Pain-filled tears fall from my eyes, splashing onto her letter and smearing the last few lines.

  Is this real?

  Am I that stupid?

  The thought of her and Sam being together feels more sickening than my encounter with Walter. Sam lying to me and using my friend boils my blood hotter than I ever imagined. I stare down at my hands. I'm shaking. A bitter taste fills the back of my mouth as my stomach starts to roll over and over.

  He couldn't do that.

  Sam loves me.

  Doesn't he?

  I lean against the butcher block counter, too nauseated and dizzy to move. The more I think about the last few months, the more I question where the real truth lies. If Sam hooked up with Mallory, then nothing he has ever said can be trusted.

  Not one single thing!

  I feel my face harden as I think about all the times he's told me he loved me.

  I know I need to remain clearheaded to face him.

  But, how can I?

  I lift my trembling hands to my chest. My heart hurts like it has been ripped out.

  I glance at the other sealed envelope.

  These must be the pictures.

  I inhale with a quiver going down my spine.

  It's now or never, I tell myself while I stare blankly at the envelope.

  I need to see the proof. I flip the envelope over and tear it open, hearing the paper rip as it separates from the adhesive. I take a deep breath. I'm walking on an emotional high wire.

  I'm unable to speak. Hell, I can't even think straight. This is incomprehensible.

  I quickly flip through the pictures. The only ones I care to see are Sam and Mal—

  together. I find what I'm looking for about halfway through. It's an intimate moment with Mallory straddling Sam. It is pretty obvious their tongues were deep inside each other's mouth.

  I stop and look away.

  I've seen enough.

  It doesn't take long for hatred to fill my veins.

  It's obvious Mallory is telling the truth. I frown at my memory of the trip and remember how Sam suddenly became distant. He had been coming in my room each night to watch me sleep, but then he stopped. It's hard to watch me sleep from Mallory's bedroom!

  Lies.

  I have undeniable evidence in my hands.

  How can I believe anything he said about loving me? How do you love someone and hook up with their best friend?!

  All lies.

  I want to confront him, to ask why, but it doesn't really matter. It's over. Nothing will ever be the same between us.

  I throw the letter and pictures on the counter and head to the stairs. Hot, disabling tears blur my vision as I stomp upstairs to my room. I'm more livid now than I've ever been.

  How one day can change everything . . . .

  As soon as I enter my bedroom, I immediately close the window. The last thing I need is for Sam to stop by. I curl up in bed and cry until I fall into a deep sleep.

  * * * * *

  In my slumber, I dream of Aiden. We're at the beach on a hot, summer day burying each other in the sand.

  Aiden covers me up to my neck.

  I smile until the sand starts to feel heavy against my chest like I am being crushed. I can't catch my breath. I call out for help. I feel claustrophobic. I beg Aiden to assist me. The weight of the sand against my ribs is crushing my lungs, making it almost impossible to breathe.

  Aiden cocks his head to one side and watches me struggle.

  I see two small horns growing out the top of his head, resembling antlers. I suddenly forget I'm suffocating in sand. Aiden has turned into the devil.

  I scream in shock and jerk awake. Sam is next to me in bed.

  "Are you okay? It's close to noon." he says, his voice too calm and collected for my liking. I hurdle off my bed in record speed.

  "What are you doing here? How did you get in my house?"

  I prefer to bait him into a lie, but I'm unable to maintain enough composure.

  He must think I'm coming out of a nightmare. Rather, I'm waking up to face one.

  "Ava, what's wrong? It's only a dream. It is not real," he reassures me, holding out his hand.

  "Not Real! Not real!" Don't you tell me what's real, Samuel Perry." I have never addressed him by his full name before. I sound more like his mother than his girlfriend .

  . . . Ex-girlfriend.

  Sam's jaw flexes, but he doesn't respond to my comment.

  I'm beyond disgruntled.

  Sam moves quickly off the bed. I can now see what he meant by being able to win the Olympics. He clearly could outrun anything I would like to throw at him.

  I stare at his anxious expression, rolling my eyes.

  "Have you lost it? What is going on?"

  He has no idea I'm on to him.

  "That's a great question," I say, my voice cold. I throw open my bedroom door and stomp downstairs fueled by my anger. I reach the kitchen as fast as my mortal legs will carry me and grab Mallory's letter from the countertop. I throw it in his direction.

  Sam has followed me all the way to the kitchen and easily catches the envelope in midair.

  I say nothing. I wait while he reads, biting my lip. I taste blood from clenching my teeth against my lip so hard. I don't care.

  He crushes the letter into a small ball. He stands absolutely still, gazing directly at the picture.

  I hear the sharp gasp as he exhales.

  He shakes his h
ead, placing the pictures down on the counter. "It's not what you think. You don't understand." He mashes his lips together, defensively.

  He's about to continue his explanation, but I hastily interrupt him—adding my two cents.

  "There is nothing you can possibly say that will justify in my mind why you kissed my best friend. Nothing . . . ."

  His voice chills me all the way to my beating heart.

  "Fine!" His tone is inhumanly cold, without an ounce of empathy. And then he turns around and faces the kitchen window. His eyes are the same black I saw the day when he was smashing in Walter's skull.

  I wonder if Mallory is now in danger.

  I fight back the tears. My pulse is the only sound I hear. So strong and fast, it drowns out every other noise in the house. I look down, afraid to look into his eyes.

  I had been fascinated by his mysterious charm since the moment I met him.

  Now, I feel foolish for ever allowing myself to fall so hard.

  "I will let thou be," he promises.

  I've never heard him speak that way.

  In my mind, he still looks like an angel—so beautiful, enchanting, and elegant.

  But I know for certain now, he's poisonous. I was right when I made that Venus flytrap comment in Chicago.

  Silence lingers.

  Sam doesn't turn around nor does he speak as he heads toward the door. He walks out of my kitchen and my life without another word.

  Chapter Thirty - Pain

  Sam sits in his Audi, the leather cool against his burning skin. He is distraught after his interaction with Ava. What can he say?

  "Fine" had been his genius response. He looks at his own eyes in the rearview mirror in disbelief.

  Could this really be happening?

  She said there was nothing that would justify him kissing her best friend. She was right . . . .

  It hadn't made any sense to him at the time—why Mallory would ask for a kiss as blackmail. But he fell for it, never questioning her intentions. How could he have been so naïve? The hatred he feels toward Mallory now is so intense; it's beyond any human emotion he has confronted in over two hundred years.

  Such intensity . . . .

  Why hadn't he seen it before?

  It finally makes sense. Lucifer got to Mallory. She was just another pawn in Lucifer's game of chess—perfect for pulling Ava and him apart. Lucifer did it with ease, never lifting a finger.