Gravity (The Eclipse Series, Book 1 of 2)

by M. Leighton

  Looking down at my body, I saw dozens of wispy red threads emerge from the center of my being and move like curls of smoke across the space between us. They danced delicately in the air, as if swayed by the wind. Only there wasn’t any wind. The night was perfectly still around us, as if the earth itself had stopped its rotation to stare in wonder at what was transpiring on the deck behind my house.

  Mesmerized by the tendrils of smoke, I followed them as they wound their way lazily toward Trace. It was then that I noticed the wisps streaming from his body. They were similar to mine, only thick and black, easily winding their gossamer fingers around my threads and pulling them toward him.

  As the strange essences comingled and intertwined, as Trace inadvertently drew me further toward himself, I felt the inexplicable and overwhelming urge to run to him, not to resist. I felt compelled to close the distance between us and touch him. Anywhere. Everywhere.

  My lips ached to feel the brush of his. My body trembled with the need to feel his arms wrapped around me. My heart throbbed with the desire to be held close to him, to feel his strength and comfort permeating my very skin.

  Although I’d admittedly had a crush on him for what seemed like an eternity, I had never felt such an intense desire to be close to him, to be part of him. I felt it as profoundly and as instinctively as I felt the need to breathe.

  The muscles in my legs bunched as if preparing to take me closer to Trace, but before I could move, he took a step toward me. And then another. And another. He drifted forward, as if he was aware of nothing in the world other than me, other than finding his way to me. I wondered if he felt the same yearning to be close to me as I felt to be close to him, a burning need that eclipsed everything else just as the earth had eclipsed the moon.

  When he was only inches from me, our eyes locked, clicking together so tightly that it seemed as though no force on the planet could tear them apart. From the corner of my eye, I saw his hand rise toward my face as if he meant to touch me. But before he could, all hell broke loose.

  CHAPTER TWO

  A loud crash sounded behind Trace. With reflexes so fast I could barely track them, he spun away from me, putting his back to my chest and stretching his arms out as if he was prepared to shield me from whatever was coming. The protective gesture was not lost on me, although I was a bit surprised by it. He’d never shown such instincts toward me before.

  Because my mind was consumed with thoughts of Trace’s odd behavior, I missed seeing Brady making his way toward us until he was already on the deck. He launched himself across the aged boards and grabbed Trace by the front of his shirt to wrestle him away from me. At first I thought it was simply more of their typical guy-type roughhousing, but once I got a glimpse of Brady’s face, I realized that this was no laughing matter. He looked livid.

  “If you ever come near her again, I’ll kill you with my bare hands,” Brady growled at Trace as he tried ineffectively to throw his larger opponent to the ground.

  “You can’t keep her under you thumb forever, Brady. You can’t keep her from falling in love. You can’t keep her from me. No one can,” Trace responded, sounding much more calm and rational than my brother did.

  Intense pleasure over his words battled with deepening confusion and rising concern, and the emotions ebbed and flowed dynamically inside me.

  Brady let out a primal snarl as he rallied and, with one sharp yank, managed to unbalance Trace causing him to lose his footing. When Trace went down beneath Brady, my heart lurched inside my chest and I rushed to the grappling duo.

  “Brady, stop it!” I cried frantically. “What is wrong with you? He’s your best friend.”

  “Not anymore,” Brady ground out, his teeth visibly gritted behind his curled upper lip.

  Straddling Trace, Brady straightened and leaned back. I’d seen enough of their horseplay to know what was coming next. He was going to hit Trace, only this time he wasn’t joking around. He was all too serious.

  Although I doubted that Brady could actually hurt Trace very badly, the mere thought of him attempting it made me feel like a crazy person. With little effort on my part, my focus zeroed in on Brady and my entire life seemed to center around one single thought: I have to stop him.

  As if taken over by another force, my body was in motion before I could even think about what I was going to do. Unfortunately, I launched myself at Brady just as he drew back his fist to punch Trace. In the strong grip of inertia, I couldn’t stop myself in time to avoid Brady’s elbow before it slammed into the side of my head, causing an explosion of light behind my eyes. Pain rocketed through my skull and the wind left my lungs in a whoosh as I landed on the deck with a dull thud.

  My head swam dizzily and my vision blurred for several seconds as I tried to get my bearings and shake off the effects of the blow. I saw the two shapes before me shift quickly as Trace let out a furious howl that sent a chill of trepidation down my spine.

  I could make out that they were struggling, but I couldn’t tell who was who, couldn’t make out who had the upper hand. It wasn’t until I heard choking sounds as the backdrop for Trace’s crystal-clear words that I realized who’d come out on top.

  It was Trace. His voice was clear because he was in control. The choking sounds were my brother’s because Trace was strangling him.

  “If you ever lay a hand on her again, I’ll tear out your heart,” Trace spat vehemently.

  He obviously held Brady so tightly Brady couldn’t respond, as all I heard was sputtering and wet, gurgling gasps. A different kind of compulsion flooded my body at that point. It was a primal urge to protect my family, to put blood above all else. It warred with my newly intense feelings for Trace and his wellbeing, leaving me in a confused, crumpled heap on the deck.

  “Trace, no! Please don’t hurt him,” I managed to eke out, my head throbbing uncomfortably with each syllable.

  Even through my squinted eyes, I saw Trace immediately release Brady and stand to his feet. Brady slumped to one side, his hand going to this throat, where I assumed he massaged the tender flesh. I still couldn’t make out that much detail.

  Trace turned toward me, but before he could take a single step closer, Brady croaked, “I meant it, Trace. Stay away from her.”

  I felt conflicted as I looked between the two of them. Loyalty toward Brady, stronger than any I’d ever felt for him before, welled up inside me. But so did the strange new connection with Trace. As I tried to focus, my eyes shifting from one to the other, I’d never felt more miserable. It was almost as if something inside me assured me that the struggle in that moment was a foreshadowing, a foreshadowing of an impossible choice that I would one day be forced to make. The mere thought of it at that point was too much to bear, so, resolutely, I fought my way to my feet and did the only thing I could do.

  “Brady, you need to calm down,” I said, doing my best to keep my eyes trained on him, mainly so that I could avoid Trace’s pointed stare. It was then that I noticed the unnatural quiet behind the music and the crowd of my peers that had assembled on the deck and at every door and window that overlooked it. I raised my voice to address them all. “Everyone else needs to leave. The party’s over.”

  With that, I turned and made a valiant effort at an independent and dignified exit. I made it as far as three steps past Trace and then the world took a dip, tilting as I headed right into another free-fall toward the deck. However, this time, before I landed, strong arms caught me and cradled me against a broad chest. If I hadn’t been able to see at all, I would’ve known beyond the shadow of a doubt who was holding me. I felt it in the peace that suffused my entire body and mind. I felt it in the thrill of excitement that increased my heart rate. I felt it as if I’d seen the hand of destiny sprinkling pixie dust over my head, over my life. I felt it and I just knew.

  I didn’t complain, didn’t struggle. For one thing, I knew that I needed some assistance. Brady had really rung my bell with that elbow to the head. Secondly, and what felt much more import
ant, was the fact that I desperately wanted to be in Trace’s arms, possibly more than ever before, which was quite a bit. In fact, I couldn’t think of a single place on the face of the planet that I’d rather be than in his arms, no matter where we were located geographically.

  The only thing that marred the perfect moment was thoughts of my brother and how he would react if he saw Trace carrying me. I couldn’t help but wonder to myself how, in the space of a couple hours, things could have changed so much. How could my brother and his best friend in the world be so at odds? And over me, no less. How could my crush have turned so devastatingly serious, so quickly? How could the guy who’d only flirted innocently with me for four years suddenly be ready to fight his best friend for the right just to touch me?

  The whole night had taken on a surreal quality. It was like looking out at the night through foggy glass. I had a head full of questions and not a single answer. I could only hope that things would look differently, clearer and less confusing in the morning.

  Hushed voices made an interesting backdrop for our trek through the living room. I could only imagine the stunned stares and half-open mouths that followed us as Trace carried me to my bedroom. I was too addled to be embarrassed, although it did make me slightly uncomfortable to have all those eyes on me, eyes that I could feel watching me. But at that moment, with Trace’s heart beating against mine, I wasn’t overly concerned with much of anything.

  When he reached my bedroom door, he bent slightly to turn the knob and push the panel open, and then he proceeded to carry me inside. When he kicked the door shut behind us, the peace I’d felt in his arms was instantly replaced by something alert and alive and highly anticipatory. It immediately burned away the haze I’d felt from Brady’s elbow.

  The increased tempo of Trace’s heart thumped against my ribs, keeping almost perfect time with mine. I thought it odd that a guy like Trace—smart, funny, gorgeous, popular—who had dated a whole slew of beautiful girls, could possibly be excited over carrying me into my bedroom. It was then that it occurred to me that he might be concerned about Brady finding out and attacking him again. His racing heart might not have anything to do with me, and that spawned an entirely different reaction in me.

  “You didn’t have to do this, Trace. Especially after the way Brady reacted. Honestly, I have no idea what got into him.”

  “I’m not worried about Brady right now,” he answered softly.

  Something in his voice drew my eyes to his face. He had stopped in the center of the room, still holding me tightly in his arms, and was looking down at me.

  “Do you know that I’ve been dreaming about kissing you for four years?” he asked quietly.

  My heart reacted to his question immediately, my pulse fluttering erratically. My mind, however, reasoned that I’d surely misunderstood what he’d said, that he couldn’t possibly mean what I thought he meant. But then when I considered the way he was looking at me, it gave more credence to what my heart believed. And it sent me soaring.

  When I finally found my voice, it was low and coarse.

  “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

  “Out of respect for Brady. I knew how he would feel about it.”

  I couldn’t help but feel a little deflated. Nothing, including my brother’s preferences, would’ve kept me from Trace if I had thought for one second that he was interested in me. But for Trace, his best friend’s feelings trumped his interest in me, which could only mean that Trace’s feelings were nowhere near as strong as mine.

  “To be honest, I’ve always hoped it would go away. I’ve tried to stop thinking about you. Your brother was a friend to me when I needed one most. He helped me with things that you probably know nothing about.”

  His revelation was news to me. I had no idea that their friendship had that much depth. And Trace was right—there were apparently many things that Brady never told me about their relationship. It was with a sinking feeling that I realized there was probably no way I’d ever be able to compete with that, to come between that.

  “Brady is a good guy,” I said weakly. How could I argue with Trace’s desire to will away his feelings for me out of loyalty to his friend? It was such a noble cause, I wasn’t sure I’d even want to come between them.

  Only I did. Desperately, I did. I wanted him to want me more than anything, more than anyone. Beyond reason and rational thought, I wanted him to want me—the way I wanted him.

  “Yes, he is. But I can’t put him first anymore. Not over my feelings for you. Something happened tonight. Something changed. I can’t be without you, Peyton. I… I… I just can’t,” he finally said.

  I felt like I might explode, like the weak shell of my body, the weak shell of flesh and bone wrapped around my heart was incapable of containing my happiness, happiness over something as simple as words. I schooled my features so that the smile that beamed in my heart wouldn’t show. I didn’t want him to think that I was pleased that he’d lost his battle, even though I very much was.

  Trace’s eyes searched mine and I found myself sinking into the tranquility of the amber pools. I was so consumed, I had no idea he’d been awaiting some kind of response from me until he spoke.

  “Please tell me you feel something for me, too,” he pleaded.

  A thousand things came to mind: every time he’d touched me and I’d carried the feeling with me for days afterward; every time he’d laughed at something I’d said; every time he’d smiled at me across the cafeteria; every time he’d been the only one to know an answer in chemistry class; every time he’d made a touchdown; every time I’d seen him hold another girl’s hand; every time I’d died a little bit when I’d seen him kissing someone else at a party; every night I’d gone to sleep with his eyes watching me from the back of my mind. Yeah, I think it was fair to say that I had some feelings for him.

  Only I didn’t say that. I looked up into the eyes that had haunted me for what seemed like an eternity and I looked at the lips that I knew would fit mine to absolute perfection, and I froze. For some reason, all I could think about was my brother, of betraying him and how he would feel about me making such an admission to Trace. Although I had no idea what had transpired to cause their falling out, I could feel the importance of it from Brady’s perspective. I don’t know how I could, but I did. It boiled in my veins like Brady had planted it there. I only wished, at that very moment, that it could find its way to my heart and put out the miserable flames of intense need and desire that burned there, because they burned for the object of Brady’s upset—Trace.

  “Trace, I…”

  He watched me intently as I struggled for something to say. He seemed to be hanging on the words I’d use to finish the sentence. Meanwhile, I was absolutely dumbfounded. I was overcome with some strange new loyalty to my brother, one that had arisen so quickly and so intensely that it was getting in the way of my dream.

  I wanted to tell Trace that I had loved him since first I’d seen him, since first he’d smiled at me and said my name. I wanted to tell him that I’d rather die than be away from him. I wanted to beg him to kiss me. I wanted to beg him not to go.

  But I didn’t.

  I said nothing. No words would come out, as if something beyond my control held my tongue. I felt like screaming and crying, but couldn’t do either. I was nearly paralyzed, and I was helpless to do anything about it.

  With a sad yet accepting nod, Trace carried me to the bed and gently deposited me in the center of it. He pulled his hands out from beneath me with an excruciating slowness. With every centimeter he withdrew from me, the tearing in my chest worsened, becoming a widespread agony that I thought might kill me.

  Eyes never leaving mine, he straightened and stood looking down at me for what felt like hours before he spoke.

  “I won’t give up on you.” He said it quietly, but with a conviction that resonated in the deepest part of my soul, as if he and he alone were able to touch a piece of me that no one else could even fathom.

&n
bsp; Again, I said nothing. It didn’t matter how much I wanted to. I was unable to form the words that would express what I was feeling. I was at a total loss.

  I managed a nod, which he returned along with a disappointed smile. With that, I watched him turn reluctantly toward the door and open it. He paused for another moment, turning only his head to the side so I could hear him. In profile, I saw his lips move.

  “Happy birthday,” he whispered and then he disappeared into the hallway.

  When the door shut behind him, it seemed as though the dull sound sliced through my heart more efficiently than any scalpel could. For one confused instant, I actually looked down at my chest to make sure I wasn’t bleeding, it hurt so profoundly. I opened my mouth to cry out to him, but no sound emerged. It was as if the universe itself refused to let me say the words that would bring Trace back, no matter how much I wanted exactly that.

  I wondered absently how I could know with a certainty that I couldn’t live without Trace. I wondered how, in such a short time, someone could become like the air to me. I had no answers or explanations, but I knew it was true nonetheless. I couldn’t live without him and he was like the air to me.

  I don’t know how long I lay on the bed, aching over the loss of Trace, but it seemed like a thousand years had passed when Brady came to my door.

  He knocked softly and then called quietly, “You awake, P?”

  For a moment, I thought of not answering him, of just lying in misery for the rest of the night, until I could figure out what had gone wrong, what freakish things had happened out on the deck. But, alas, I found that I couldn’t. As much as my tongue refused to work with Trace, it refused not to work with Brady.

  “I’m awake,” I admitted, almost without thought.

  He pushed the door open and ambled bemusedly over to the bed and perched on the end.