Zander looked absolutely nothing like Micah. He was tall and lean with broad shoulders and slender hips and his simple gray t-shirt fit him perfectly. He folded his hands in front of him on the counter, drawing my eyes to the warm olive skin stretched across his long muscular arms.
Those faded blue jeans hugged him in all the right places, and the tattered edges of his pant-legs scraped across the top of a simple pair of black work boots. When he slipped his hat off and set it on his knee, his dark hair to fell into his face.
Oh. My. God.
“Um, it’s fine,” I managed, thankful he hadn’t caught me staring. “No problem.”
“Oh good. My bike has been calling to me all winter, so I figured I take her out for a quick ride. You know, come a little early, maybe grab a bite, or just hang out a little?” He rubbed the back of his neck, and then scooped his chocolate brown hair behind his ear. It looked incredibly soft, as it slid right back down against his face. How was it possible for a guy this hot to sound nervous?
“Actually, I was just getting ready to text you,” I said, mentally shaking myself.
“Oh?” Zander said, turning in his seat.
“Yeah. Turns out, we are closing early anyway.” I was trying to downplay my excitement, but I could see his jet-black motorcycle through the small section of glass in the front door. “I just need to grab my stuff and then we can go, if you want?”
“Well, in that case,” Zander said rising to his feet. “Your chariot awaits.”
Zander had to be at least six-two, maybe taller. At five-feet-eight inches, tall guys were sort of a novelty to me. His coppery brown eyes fixed me from beneath thick, dark lashes as his tongue flicked across his lips. They quirked up in a mischievous grin— a crooked smile made my insides do funny things.
Stop staring at his mouth.
“Shall we?” Zander held his hand out to me and helped me to my feet.
In just under ten minutes, I managed a quick sink bath (because I’d rather smell like cheap potpourri, than French-fries and sweat), fixed my hair and reapplied some much-needed deodorant. My stomach fluttered rapidly against my ribs as I pushed open the doors. I was so nervous that I barely noticed the sweltering heat. Zander smiled at me as I approached, and slid his hat around so it faced backwards.
“There you are,” he laughed. “I was starting to think I had scared you off.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” I said, doing a halfway decent job of sounding confident, “but I don’t scare easy.
“Huh. Good to know.” He smirked.
That smile was seriously dangerous.
My face flushed, but I convinced myself it was just the record-setting spring heat wave that had snuck up on me. I was already sweating, which sucked, considering all of the work I had done to not smell. I shifted my eyes to the eerie orange glow of the skyline above the houses across the street. It was after eight-thirty. It should have been almost dark by now.
“Weird right?” Zander followed my line of sight. “You usually only see colors like that at sunrise.”
“Yeah, it is pretty weird.” I shrugged, dismissing the uneasy feeling that was brewing in the pit of my stomach.
“Hell, I’m not complaining. It’s perfect riding weather, and this old girl has been feeling a bit neglected.” Zander smiled and motioned me over.
I didn’t know much about motorcycles, but Zander’s was gorgeous. It was sleek and contemporary, without a lot of extras like saddlebags or that weird leather fringe that always reminded me of bad 80’s fashion. The bike was just simple, elegant even. The Harley insignia was etched in matte black against the glossy black tank. It was perfectly balanced by the slick chrome of the wide-set handlebars and spoke-style rims.
The black leather that ran the length of the seat was smooth and supple; an invitation to ride, if ever there was one. On the back of the seat, there was a small chrome eagle pressed into the gap between two rows of leather stitching. Below the eagle was the number ninety-nine, embroidered in the silver thread.
“Wow,” I stammered. “It’s beautiful.”
Zander just smiled and offered me a plain black helmet. “Ready?”
“Okay.” I took a deep breath, took out my hair tie, and reached for the helmet. “Let’s do this.”
The clunky helmet was much heavier than it looked and my hands fumbled as I awkwardly lowered it onto my head. I struggled, nearly dropping it on myself, and wrestled to get it on properly. I even managed to pull my own hair, in the process.
“Come here, before you hurt yourself,” Zander laughed, grabbing one of my hands and pulling me closer. “Hold still, Liv.”
The muscles in his chest flexed as he grabbed either side of the bulky headgear and carefully shifted it into position. He bit his bottom lip in concentration as he fastened the chinstrap. His face was unbearably close to mine, and I couldn’t help but stare. Zander’s eyes met mine as he slid his middle finger gently across my brow, tucking the loose hairs back into the helmet.
“Better?” he asked, brushing the pad of his thumb across my cheek.
Whoa.
My heart jumped into my throat, rendering me speechless. I simply nodded and watched as he climbed gracefully onto the bike. He glanced over his shoulder and patted the seat behind him.
“Hop on, beautiful,” Zander smiled, and I gingerly slid in behind him.
Zander laughed softly as he pulled my arms around his waist, and told me to hold on tight. Again I nodded, smiling nervously as I settled into the warm leather seat behind him. The engine revved to life, rumbling beneath us, and I was suddenly very aware of my body.
My thighs rested snuggly against the outside of Zander’s hips. My chest was pressed firmly against his back. The tight muscles in his shoulders flexed against my face as he maneuvered us to the edge of the road. Before I could convince myself this was a bad idea, he lifted his feet off the ground and we took off.
My hair blew behind me, peeking from beneath the helmet and whipping against my bare back and around the straps of my backpack. The muscles in my arms tensed involuntarily as we surged forward. I felt Zander’s stomach shake with laughter.
He took it slowly at first, carefully gliding around corners, and sticking to the slower roads. After a while, my shoulders relaxed, and my arms felt more at ease around his waist. We stopped for a few minutes on the levee, marveling at the bright orange sky glowing off the water.
“You ever wonder what it’s like?” I asked as we watched a huge flock of ducks take off from the glassy surface of the water. “Flying, I mean.”
“Wanna find out?” He smiled mischievously over his shoulder at me, revved the throttle, and we took off.
Chapter 6
A Moment of Peace
“That...was...awesome!” I shrieked.
I stumbled, clumsily, from the back of Zander’s bike and grabbed him in a quick hug. Zander wrapped his arm around my waist without hesitation and twirled me in a circle. His chest shook with laughter and he gently lowered me to my feet.
“Glad you liked it, Liv,” He said. “Anytime you want to go for a ride, you just say the word and I'm there.”
One hand still rested lightly against my hip, as the other brushed a stray hair from my face. Whoa. My pocket vibrated, and I stepped away from him like I had been caught committing a crime. I shook the wayward thoughts from my head and checked my phone. The screen blinked a few times, then shut down on its own.
“Stupid iPhone,” I muttered, holding the power button down until it finally flashed back to life. My inbox contained six increasingly-pissy text messages from Riley.
Love you. Don't be mad. It will be worth it, promise. (7:15 pm)
Can’t wait. This is gonna be epic! <3 Ry (7:18 pm)
Get here early if U can, and wear extra deodorant. It’s soooooo hot! (7:23 pm)
Y R U not texting me back? Zander get ahold of U? Is he picking you up? (8:16 pm)
I called the Windmill. Ur weird boss said U already left? Text me A
SAP (8:49 pm)
Ok. Seriously? W T F R U Liv!? (9:17pm)
“I suppose we should get up there,” I said, finally texting Riley back.
Sorry Ry. Here. Come let us in.
“Right, of course,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. He slid his hat back on and looked around nervously.
“Riley’s on her way,” I blurted, shuffling my feet against the sidewalk. I smiled awkwardly and then quickly glanced away. A second later, I heard the door click open.
“Jesus, finally,” yelled Riley, sticking her head out.
“You must be Riley?” Zander smirked at her. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“I’m sure,” Riley said, tapping her foot impatiently. “I don’t suppose you heard how much I hate being kept waiting?”
“Nice to see you too, Ry,” I said, shaking my head, as Zander and I approached the doors.
“I have been texting you all night. Where the hell have you been?” She grumbled at me but held her hand up, cutting me off before I could respond. “You know what, it doesn’t even matter. Let’s just go. The news says Icarus is more than two hours ahead of schedule. It’s going to happen, like, any minute!”
I took extra care not to trip over my own feet as we followed Riley through the gym. Just past the locker room doors she broke into a run. Zander and I followed blindly in her wake, trailing after the echo of her footfalls. While I had a general idea where the door to the roof was, I was not entirely sure I could find it in the dark. I picked up the pace, with Zander following close at my heels.
The silence of the empty gymnasium was surprisingly disorienting. Without the noise, the crowds and the usual chaos, it felt haunted. One set of bleachers was still extended from the game that night. Zander and I skirted around them, trying to keep pace with Riley. The hollow thump of our boots against the polished floor bounced back eerily from the concrete walls. The faint glow of the exit sign threw menacing shadows across the floor.
“Come on, you two,” Riley popped her head back through the doorway, before disappearing back into the stairwell.
I stepped into the dark and groped blindly for the metal railing. The door clicked behind me as it closed and Zander slipped into the stairwell. I could hear the faint shuffle of Riley’s ballet flats as she dashed up the concrete stairs ahead. I envied her sure-footedness, as I aimlessly searched out the step in front of me.
It was slow going, but Zander and I finally rounded the corner together and headed for the second flight of stairs. I had just gotten my rhythm down, when my toe caught the edge a step and sent me hurtling, face first, toward the concrete. My hands shot out in front of me, bracing for impact, just as a strong arm encircled my waist. It halted me just inches from a serious face-plant.
“I’ve got you.” Zander’s warm breath skated across my neck.
The shock from my fall and the warmth of his skin against mine left me feeling breathless and shaky. His hand slid to my hip, steadying me as I slowly regained my balance. When I was upright, my back rested against the hard muscles of his chest, and I felt his heart beating against my shoulder. The sensation set my skin ablaze with goose flesh.
“Are you okay, Liv?” Zander asked. The loose hairs that had escaped my ponytail tickled at my chin as he spoke.
“Yeah…I think I’m good.” I was going for nonchalant. Not sure I pulled it off.
Zander’s hand stayed at my waist and we continued our dark climb. Eventually, we saw an orange light glowing ahead and picked up our pace, eager to escape confines of the stairs. When we reached the top, we shoved our way through the old metal door and out onto the flat roof.
At the far side of the rooftop, Micah and Riley leaned against the wall staring up at the sky. Aside from our usual little group, the first person to grab my attention was Falisha Robinson. Falisha was a very pretty, extremely popular, FHS cheerleader. She was still wearing her skimpy red and black rah-rah get-up from tonight’s game, which made her look even more out of place. I was surprised to see her until I saw Zack Swanson standing just a few feet away.
Zack was quite an athlete in his own right, but according to Riley, he was also a closet nerd. He had been to more than a few of these star-gazer things, though few people knew. Zack’s presence on that rooftop clarified Falisha’s. The two of them were the proverbial light switch relationship of the senior class. Where they on, or were they off — together or not? No one ever really knew for sure. Either way, it was kind of exhausting to watch.
A couple I didn't recognize, were busy making out against the wall by the door. I could tell she was blond, but her face was hidden behind the broad shoulders of her very tall boyfriend. The guy wore a Fulton Steamers Football cap. The school had gifted them to every player on the team when they made it to state last year.
A few steps later, I saw my frienemy, Tara. Her blond hair and make-up were done to perfection in preparation of any potential photo ops. After all, what could be more important than making her presence known on yet another page of the yearbook? As soon as she saw me, she shot me a nasty look. Then her eyes landed on Zander and she took him in from boot to brow. The look she gave me said she clearly thought he was out of my league. I fought the temptation to flip her off, and settled for rolling my eyes.
“How about there?” I gestured to an open spot along the far railing, a few feet from Micah and Riley.
“Lead on,” Zander shrugged, glancing down at me. His easy smile had my legs wobbling and made me wonder what he was thinking.
Mike and Andy Meyers, the only identical twins in our school, had parked themselves, and their ratty old lawn chairs, in the center of the roof. They passed an old thermos back and forth between them as they elbowed each other and pointed at people. They made no effort to conceal their jeering, and whispered and laughed just a little too loudly.
Mike and Andy were a year behind me in school. I didn’t know them very well, but so far, I was not impressed. Drunken disorderliness aside, they were blatantly badgering Jake Toler and I had zero patience for bullies. Thanks to his medical condition, my little brother had faced more than his share of taunting and teasing, and it had always infuriated me. I shot them both a warning glare, as Zander and I passed by.
Jake was a nice kid, but he was just too smart for the likes of Fulton. He was a high expectation fish, in a low expectation pond. According to Riley, he skipped the eighth grade and went straight from seventh grade to being a freshman. That was two years ago, which explained how he was so adept at shrugging off the taunting directed at him.
Jake was not an athlete, but he did most, if not all of, the photography for the school yearbook. Tonight, he was here at Riley’s request, snapping pictures of the participating students and taking video for our first-ever video yearbook (his idea, I am told).
Jake moved closer to the railing, tinkering with the camera he had jerry-rigged to the side of it. He worried at his bottom lip, his face a mask of concentration. Either the camera was more complicated than it looked or he was putting a lot of effort into ignoring the booze brothers as they barked out insults from their crappy old lawn chairs.
“Jakey-jakey-spanks-the-snakey,” sang Mike. “Hey bro, maybe we should send the little guy back to Kindergarten where he belongs.”
“He’d have better luck with the chicks there, that’s for damn sure,” Andy added. Both of them laughed, but Jake just shook his head and went back to setting his camera.
“Hey, Princess Toler-muffins,” Mike slurred. “Where’s your, your um, little princessy crown thing?”
“It’s called a tiara, dude,” Andy laughed, elbowing his brother.
“Yeah,” Mike agreed. “Where’s your tiara?”
“Where’s your ass-hat,” Jake muttered under his breath.
“What did you just say, bitch?” Mike tried, unsuccessfully, to rise from his tilted seat.
He leaned too far forward and flopped back down onto his chair, collapsing the back legs. The two of them erupted into a fit
of obnoxious laughter. Thanks to Mike’s failed dismount, the twins lost interest in Jake for the moment, focusing instead on the sudden hilarity of their intoxication.
“For Christ’s sake, would you just shut the hell up, you ignorant, double-dipped, drunken, morons,” yelled Riley. “It’s starting!”
All eyes shot upwards. The sky began to roll in on its self, stirring an ominous rust color into the burnt orange that already engulfed the sky. The warm shifting glow reminded me of all the time I had spent staring into a campfire with my family.
The colors draped heavily across the expanse above, moving like molten lava. Great red streaks began slicing trenches through billowing oranges like something had clawed at it, drawing blood. Just above the horizon there was a thick band of dark gray. It lingered there, compressed by the color above. It was mesmerizing.
Zander slid his hand softly into mine and laced our fingers together. The calluses on his palms felt rough, though not unpleasant, against my soft skin. He smiled shyly down at me, the slightest twitch of a grin, and my heart did a little flip. I stared down at our hands, in awe of how well they seemed to fit together. I smiled like an idiot.
Waves of yellow caressed the sky and I followed their path. They seemed to lead me back to Zander’s upturned face. He squeezed my hand gently, his eyes fixed on the sky. A single bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face. It slowed when it reached the light stubble on the side of his jaw, then disappeared beneath it.
“Are you getting this, Jake?” Riley yelled.
I watched with rapt fascination as the colors began to swirl together. They swam around each other, swirling around a center point. A giant flash of white burst directly above us, followed immediately by an enormous clap of thunder. The white-hot blast dissolved what little bit remained of the dwindling fog, as the piercing light expanded outward. It moved in rapidly expanding waves, but the intense light was too bright to stare directly into. I buried my face in the crook of my arm.
Killshot (Icarus Series Book 1) Page 4