by M. Leighton
After the rest of our short conversation and Trace’s subsequent exit from it, I spun toward Lacey. She had just raised her hand to wipe at my lip, as I’d done to her earlier, and my quick adjustment startled her.
“Holy crap!” she exclaimed, grabbing her chest. “You’re such a spazz today!”
I couldn’t help but grin. It was a thousand wonders that spazzing was all I was doing. I’d earned much, much more than that, maybe something along the lines of a nervous breakdown.
Shaking my head in an effort to get my thoughts back on track, I scrambled to formulate some kind of plan, some way around the heated demise of Trace and Brady’s friendship. The only thing I could think of was to instigate something that had a longstanding history of bringing about intense male bonding between my brother and his best friend. The first thing that came to mind was a friendly competition, so I went with it.
Turning from Lacey, I weaved and wiggled my way to the periphery of the room where I stepped up onto the coffee table that had been pushed aside earlier by the two very men that I was trying to protect.
“All right, who thinks they can outdrink the two birthday boys? Longest tap hit wins a…a…” I stammered, not having put nearly enough forethought and planning into my wager. Unfortunately, I panicked and blurted out, “a kiss!”
CHAPTER SIX
As I glanced around the big open room, I saw the heads of both Trace and Brady whip toward me. It was then that what I’d said, what I’d done finally set in. It was then that I felt my cheeks burn with the flames of a thousand candles.
For a moment, all I could think was, Why would anyone want to kiss you, Peyton?
But then, much to my surprise, most of the males in the room started clapping and making all sorts of strange, guy-noises of approval, chanting my name. They shuffled quickly into a line that pointed directly to the keg where it sat in the kitchen.
Suddenly, I felt queasy. I glanced first at Lacey, who was watching me with eyes wide and mouth agape, then I looked up and my gaze collided with Trace’s.
His warm, glittering eyes were guarded, enigmatic. Catching the tiniest bit of movement, my eyes dropped to his mouth. Ever so slightly, Trace’s lips twitched at the corners right before he slapped my brother on the shoulder and began moving through the crowd. As he made his way toward the kitchen, his eyes kept straying to me where I stood, stupefied, on the coffee table at the opposite end of the room.
Once the actual competition began, I silently commended myself for the stroke of genius in initiating it. Trace and Brady were getting along beautifully and my glance at the clock assured me it was well past midnight. Whatever other idiotic things I’d done or said were peanuts in comparison to keeping the peace between them.
I ended up keeping my post atop the coffee table. It provided someone with my stature a bird’s eye view of the festivities in the kitchen, as I could see the keg right through the door.
“All right, who’s next?” Brady asked, scanning the dwindling line of challengers. Nearly every male at the party had participated, none able to best Brady’s time. He even agreed to let them go twice if they felt like they could do better, and many did. But not a single one could outdo Brady.
My brother, the burgeoning alcoholic, I thought snidely. Not for one second, though, did I believe that Brady had a problem. I would never joke about something so serious if I thought he was in danger of losing control.
When no one responded, I saw Trace move away from his position leaning against the bar behind Brady.
“Well if none of you pansies can beat Brady’s time, I guess it’s up to me. Can’t have him kissing his own sister now, can we?” he teased, his eyes finding mine over the heads of the crowd. He winked almost imperceptibly and my stomach did a flip. Was he actually trying to win so he could kiss me? Did he think he could get away with it without making Brady mad that way?
The more I thought of it, the more genius it sounded. Maybe it would work. Maybe Brady would see it as a part of the game and not be upset by it. But if he didn’t…
My blood began to warm at the mere prospect of Trace’s lips on mine, even if it was in a crowded room with my brother and my best friend looking on. With Trace, I’d take whatever I could get.
“I’ll give it a shot,” a deep voice called from behind me.
All eyes, including mine, turned toward the door. Standing just inside it, obviously having only recently arrived, was none other than Adam Queen. My ex.
“Queen! What up, man?” Brady exclaimed happily, motioning him forward.
With a smile, Adam nodded, moving through the crowd to approach my brother where he stood in the kitchen. They’d always gotten along well and Brady had been very upset with me when I’d dumped Adam in the middle of our freshman year. Of course, this guy looked nothing like the first guy I’d ever kissed all those years ago. This Adam was…grown.
The two embraced in one of those manly guy-type hugs, which was nothing more than a couple of fisted thumps to each other’s back for five seconds before they moved apart.
“You back?” Brady asked.
“Just until graduation.”
“Better than not at all, right dude? Besides, that’s the best part.”
For a couple of minutes, as others began to recognize Adam, there was a bit of a reunion. But then Adam’s dark brown eyes found mine where I stood, hovering over every other person in the room. He smiled, a wide smile that spoke of his pleasure at seeing me. I fumbled through returning the gesture, not feeling quite comfortable with his reaction since I’d basically broken his heart. It appeared, however, that Adam was very much over it. He’d grown up—quite nicely, in fact—and had obviously moved past our break-up.
“Looking good, P,” he teased with a nod of his head. He’d always called me “P” as well. In fact, it was during our brief relationship that Brady had begun calling me that, so I couldn’t really be sure Adam hadn’t been the one to start it.
All eyes swung toward me and I blushed furiously. I thought my face would surely burst into flame. How I wasn’t incinerated on the spot was beyond me.
“Omigod, Peyton! Is that Adam Queen?”
Thankfully, Lacey had appeared at my side, providing me with a much needed distraction.
“Yep. None other.”
Mouth slightly agape, her eyes bounced between Adam and me several times before they settled on me.
“What is the matter with you? How could you give that up?”
We both glanced back toward the now-drinking Adam. His hair, though longer, was still the same rich, dark chestnut and his eyes were still the same nearly-black brown. It was the rest of his face, however, that seemed to have settled into a much more pleasing placement. His features seemed to have found the perfect shape and spot, raising him from “meh” to “wow” in the space of three short years.
“Well, partly because ‘that’ didn’t look like that when I gave it up,” I explained. “But seriously, Lace, you remember how obnoxious he was. That was the biggest problem.”
“Well, he doesn’t look that obnoxious anymore,” Lacey noted as we watched Adam laugh and cut up with the people around him. Charm and charisma practically oozed from his pores.
The crowd erupted just then and lots of back-slapping ensued. And the back most being slapped was Adam’s.
“Well, pull my leg and call me Lucy,” Lacey giggled over the commotion.
“That can’t mean what I think it means.”
She turned to me with a devilish smile on her lips and a mischievous gleam in her eye. “I think you’ve got yourself a winner, Peyton.”
“No!”
Lacey shrugged, unconcerned. “Should’ve thought of the consequences before you offered yourself up like a blue ribbon at the county fair.”
While it’s true that I hadn’t given my rash announcement a second’s thought, I’d begun to hope that Trace would win and the whole thing would turn out to be a dream come true. But, as was the case with most everything i
n life, my plan had backfired. Horribly.
“You know I don’t think, Lacey! Why didn’t you stop me?”
Lacey laughed. “Like I could’ve. First of all, I had no idea you were gonna do something stupid. Secondly, I probably wouldn’t have even if I had known. It’s way too much fun watching you work your way out of these precludaments.”
I assumed Lacey meant predicaments, as precludaments wasn’t even a word. At least not in English. But her terrible vocabulary was the least of my worries. Casting her a quelling sidelong glance, I turned my attention back to the activity in the kitchen. The mood was still light and now the other guys near Adam were pushing him toward the doorway, toward the living room. Toward me.
I watched as Adam made his way closer, his eyes locked on mine, a teasing yet anticipatory light glinting in their dark depths. My mouth went dry. Why, I didn’t know. And it wasn’t the good kind of dry, like I was nervous or anxious. It was a dry born of dread, but I wasn’t sure why. He was more attractive than I’d ever dreamed he could be. He seemed much more pleasant than he ever had. And yet, there was something I couldn’t quite put my finger on that gave me pause. Maybe it was my feelings for Trace.
Just then, as if reading my mind and my level of discomfort, I heard Trace speak up from the bowels of the kitchen.
“Not so fast, Queen!”
For the space of a single second, a hush fell across the room as Adam turned to look back at Trace. I saw Trace step up to the keg and grab the black hose from Brady, causing the other guys in the room to yell and whistle their support of the thrown gauntlet.
Trace held Adam’s eyes as Adam made his way back to the kitchen. I glanced to Brady and saw a small frown pucker the skin between his brows, but otherwise, he seemed to have no problem with Trace’s challenge. I sent up a silent prayer that he would just think it was friendly competition and nothing more.
As Trace signaled Brady to start the stopwatch, he began drinking, never taking his eyes from Adam. The longer he drank, the rowdier the small party crowd became. Soon, everyone was chanting Trace’s name, even Lacey where she stood to my right. And me. I was rooting for Trace, too, despite my best intentions to appear unaffected by him.
When he’d surpassed Adam’s time, Brady raised his hand to indicate as much. In unison, the group began counting the number of seconds Trace continued to drink. Although I saw his eyes water, I knew that Trace was putting as much distance as he could between himself and any other challengers. My heart swelled with a strange blend of pleasure and pride, mainly because I knew why he was doing it, for whom. Although on this day Trace had yet to make any declarations and we had yet to share that insane moment out on the deck, I knew the connection was still there. I could feel it in him as if those things had already happened, which in a convoluted way, they had.
It almost made me dizzy to think about the way events had unraveled, some only once, some twice. I was very anxious to go back to living each day only once. This freakish perversion of déjà vu sucked!
Finally, Trace pulled the tap away from his mouth. He put the back of his hand over his lips as if smothering a burp (which he probably was), but behind it, I could see them curve into a satisfied smile. His eyes crinkled at the corners and flickered up to me for just an instant before he turned his attention to my brother.
“Looks like the best man won,” he gloated teasingly. “Now, let me show you how this is done, guys.”
With a determined gleam in his eye, Trace didn’t wait for anyone’s permission or encouragement. Without a moment’s hesitation, he walked calmly out of the kitchen, through the living room and straight to where I stood. I was mesmerized and completely paralyzed by the fact that he was coming for me, coming to me.
Trace stopped in front of me, his glowing amber eyes looking warmly into mine where I stood at nearly his height on top of the coffee table. He didn’t lift me down or ask me to step down, he simply grinned, slipped one arm around my waist and one hand into the hair at the back of my skull, exerting just enough pressure to tilt my head to the side.
His face was so close, I could almost feel his lips, as if they already touched mine. Almost. But almost wasn’t enough. I craved the contact like I craved life. I harbored an unbearable, unquenchable thirst for Trace, for his tongue in my mouth, for his body pressed tightly to mine.
Yet I was to be disappointed one more time. And again, by my brother’s interruption.
“Dude, you can’t be serious!” Brady called angrily, his voice much closer to us than I expected to hear it.
I jerked back from Trace, although not by much, as his big hand still cupped the back of my head, preventing me from going too far. I glanced guiltily past him to my brother, who stood right behind Trace, his face mottled with fury.
“Brady, your timing is terrible!” I quipped. “Whatever happened to ‘to the victor goes the spoils’?” I asked in a calmly teasing manner, trying my best to project a nonchalance about the kiss that I didn’t feel. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to make my brother and everyone else in the room disappear so that Trace and I could continue what we’d twice now started. But Brady wasn’t having any of that.
“Shut up, Peyton! He’s my best friend. And you’re my sister. You don’t joke about stuff like that. Not cool!”
Reluctantly, I pushed gently against Trace and, obligingly, he released me and stepped back.
“All right, psycho! You’ve made your point. No kissing. Got it. Now, can we get back to having some birthday fun?”
Brady’s lips were still tight with anger and I saw him glance at Trace as if he wanted to say something. But he didn’t. I could see that in this version of the previous night, his anger, his new nature was not going to get the better of him. The insult had not been as severe, at least in Brady’s mind. And that was all that mattered because the goal was still accomplished. The friendship between Brady and Trace was still preserved and that was all I wanted. I knew how important their alliance would be. No, I didn’t know specifics yet, but I knew deep down that their role—their joint role—in what lay ahead would be integral.
“Yeah, but no kissing,” Brady declared, still obviously prickling.
For a few seconds, I felt my panic melting away. But then the rowdy crew of partygoers began to chant Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! They weren’t satisfied with the results of the competition. And I was at a loss as how to provide them what they wanted without it causing more friction.
But then, God bless her, my zany, impulsive best friend stepped up to save the day without even knowing it.
“Move it, Peyton,” Lacey said, nudging me off the coffee table so she could step up onto it and replace me. Reflexively, Trace backed up even further, inadvertently allowing Lacey perfect access to my brother, which she took full advantage of by grabbing the front of his shirt and hauling him toward her.
Brady, like pretty much everyone else in attendance, was taken by surprise. He stumbled toward Lacey and then she, without a second’s hesitation, planted her lips on his in a sizzling kiss.
It would’ve been a cute tension breaker had it stopped after a few seconds. But it didn’t. Instead, Lacey turned her face to the side, wrapped her arms around Brady’s neck and went after it for all she was worth. The crowd responded accordingly, whistling and shouting encouragement.
It was plain to see that Brady wasn’t unaffected either. His arms wound around her waist and he pulled her body in even closer to his.
While I appreciated her salvaging my entire plan-gone-awry, all I could think about was whether or not Lacey was going to hurt my brother. I watched her back for any sign of the bizarre plumage that had appeared that afternoon and was exceedingly grateful when I still hadn’t seen any by the time the kiss ended.
Although I was definitely relieved, I couldn’t help but feel a bit worried that, if something more than friendly started up between them, my brother’s life would be in danger. Of course, considering that he was a vampire, Lacey’s would be, too. Only nei
ther of them knew it.
Thankfully, the rest of the night played out smoothly. No one tried to kill anyone else, no new enemies were made, no new creatures were revealed. All in all, it seemed that I’d successfully managed to change what had happened. For the better. Well, except for the incredible encounters between Trace and me and him coming clean about his feelings. Those didn’t happen either, and those were practically the only things I wanted to have repeated. But I knew that they were a small sacrifice in order to keep things peaceful between Trace and my brother. Their alliance took priority.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It had been just over a week since the party, since I’d lived the same night twice. Aside from the blessed lack of hunger surges from my brother and my best friend, the most noteworthy thing seemed to be the soul-deep ache that I had for Trace, an ache that wouldn’t go away no matter what I did. It wouldn’t leave my mind no matter what I thought of. It wouldn’t leave my heart no matter how much I wished it. It was as though I craved him on some spiritual level that was impervious to rational thought or conscious decision. It far surpassed any feelings I’d harbored for him all these years and it was threatening to consume me.
It didn’t help that he was avoiding me. I knew he was. He would see me and purposely turn in the other direction. I would catch him watching me, almost longingly, in the cafeteria, but when our eyes would meet, he would avert his eyes after only a few seconds.
I had no idea what he was feeling, but I could tell by the tiny frown he wore almost constantly that it was affecting him, too. He was even beginning to look a little worn, physically.
Neither of us did anything about it. We couldn’t. Our hands were tied. And I was miserable.
Other than that, nothing out of the ordinary happened that week. Of all the things I might’ve expected after such strange and amazing events, peaceful serenity was not even on the list. And yet that’s what I got—a completely normal, average, run-of-the-mill, quiet week.
And then came the following Monday.