“I wanted you to have a chance to explain it,” Milo said to me. “You know more about what goes on than I do. I don’t share your gift.”
My knee stung, so I pressed the washcloth against it as I looked at Milo and then at Dana. And I shook my head. “I don’t know what goes on. I just know that I’ve never been able to hear anyone’s thoughts before, but I can hear Milo’s.”
“And he can hear yours too?” Dana said. She looked pissed that Milo had waited to tell her about it—and equally amazed that it was even possible to pull off what we had done. “That’s freaking… Wow. I mean, that’s something.”
I frowned. “I think I have to work harder, maybe practice more, because I tried to get into Calvin’s head too, and I couldn’t. For some reason, it only works with Milo.”
Milo was hovering, and I knew—even without reading his mind—that I wasn’t scrubbing at my knee with sufficient force. But as I lifted the washcloth to look beneath it, it was red with blood.
“The fact that it could work at all with a normie,” Dana said, “is pretty unbelievable.” She held out her hand to me. “May I?”
Milo took the opportunity to take the washcloth from me and rinse it in the sink, as I grasped Dana’s hand and…
Nothing.
The silence was broken only by Calvin’s heavy sigh of weary long-suffering, and I shot him a warning look. This was not the Ouija board trick, and I knew exactly how to get him to believe us.
“I got nothing,” Dana finally said, letting go of me.
Milo was there with the rinsed-out washcloth, and I took it from him again.
“There’s soap on it,” he said, which of course made it sting even more.
“Turn on the water,” I told him, “and then go out of the room with Calvin and let him whisper something to you, and then come back in and…” I looked at Cal. “Milo and I will do our not-Ouija-board trick, and I’ll tell you what you said.”
Calvin gazed at me. “Turn on the water—and sing,” he countered. “Loudly.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine.”
Dana watched as the water went on, and Milo followed Calvin out into the Williams’s family room. She shut the door behind them, turning to look at me as, from the other room, Calvin shouted, “Sing,” adding, “Loudly!”
I sang the first song that popped into my head, which was, oddly, an old nursery rhyme that my mother used to sing to me when I was little. “Ring around the rosie, a pocket full of posies. Ashes, ashes, we all fall down!”
Dana was looking at me as if I’d grown a second head. But instead of berating me for being remarkably uncool, she said, “You do know that song is about catching the plague or some kind of violently awful disease and dying, right?”
I didn’t know what to say to that, but then I didn’t have to say anything, because Cal and Milo came back into the bathroom.
And Milo was going to come over and touch me, which made my heart beat harder—one, because I was an idiot, and two, because the last thing I wanted him to do was to get hit by a slew of uncontrolled and giddy I’m crushing on you thoughts. Or—God forbid—have him catch a whiff of that dream I’d had about him last night.
The one where he’d given me that Hollywood-blockbuster-worthy kiss.
So I braced myself, forcing a smile as I held out my hand in much the same way Dana had held her hand out for me. But Milo was still all about cleaning out my knee, and instead of taking my hand, he knelt next to me and took the washcloth.
He looked up, watching me through thick-lashed eyes, and placed a hand around the back of my calf to steady me. I inhaled at the sudden, abrupt contact. But then I laughed, because the words that he’d thought at me were… “Beam me up, Scotty?” I repeated.
“Holy shit,” Calvin said.
Dana looked confused. I guess she didn’t watch much ancient cult TV. “What does—”
“It’s from Star Trek,” Calvin said. “Captain Kirk actually never says it in the show, but it’s… Never mind.”
“Are you satisfied?” I asked him.
“I am,” Dana said. “It’s freaking impressive to be able to establish a telepathic connection with a normie…? I’ve heard it’s been done with two Greater-Thans, but…”
She kept going with her explanation, but I didn’t hear her, because Milo was thinking at me, things like This is gonna hurt. I’m so sorry, but I gotta get the dirt out. …and skin is so soft, lips were even softer… Don’t think about that, don’t think about that, don’t think about—
He pressed down with the washcloth on part of the scrape that still contained grit and dirt, and a tiny sound of pain escaped from me—I couldn’t help it. He looked up at me, his eyes filled with apology, and right at that moment, I must’ve lost what little control over my subconscious that I had, and I flashed—in brilliant and vivid Technicolor—into a memory (eidetic, of course) of part of last night’s dream.
The part where I was kissing Milo.
He pulled his hand away from my leg—fast—as if I’d burned him.
“Oh my God,” I said aloud, because we were no longer connected. “I’m so sorry!”
“No, no, that was my fault,” he countered, even as he scrambled farther away from me, nearly leaping to his feet. “I had this…crazy dream last night, and I’m so sorry.”
He’d turned away to rinse off the washcloth in the sink. He was focusing intently on the task. And he was turning red.
He had a dream last night?
I took a step toward him and, in a moment of impulsive courage, grabbed his shoulder, because God knows I wasn’t going to ask this question out loud in front of Dana. You had a dream about…me?
He looked up at me, his expression one of desperate embarrassment, and I felt more than heard his reply. He was unable to form a coherent thought other than God, I’m so sorry.
But I saw, without a doubt, that somehow, someway, we’d had the same dream last night. The exact same dream.
Oh God, I asked him, did I make you kiss me?
And Milo looked mortified, which made me feel even more mortified. But I kept my hand on his shoulder as he gazed at me and…
Sky, you didn’t make me do anything.
I sighed. And I studied his face. But you remember it? Last night, with the fog and the—
…highway, he finished for me. And that silly hospital gown you were wearing. Why were you wearing that thing?
“Holy crap!” And I must have said that out loud, because Dana and Calvin both said “What?” at the same time.
“Do you want to tell them or should I?” I asked Milo as I took my hand off his shoulder.
But Milo touched my arm and silently said, It was just a dream. You don’t have to say anything that will make you uncomfortable.
He let go of me and I took a deep breath. “I had another dream about Sasha last night,” I told Dana and Calvin, “and Milo had the same dream.”
“You’re dream projecting,” Dana said, and it was more of a statement than a question.
“I’m not sure what it is that I’m doing,” I said.
“Dream projecting is when a telepath is so powerful that her unconscious essentially forces her dreams on anyone who might be susceptible.” Dana looked from me to Milo and back.
“So it was my dream,” I concluded, unable to meet Milo’s eyes. I forced my dreams on him?
“And therefore, it contained psychic elements,” Dana concluded. “How many times has it happened?”
“Just once,” I replied.
“Five, er,” Milo blurted at the same time. I glanced over at him, confused. “I mean, I’m not sure.” He looked absolutely horrified. “I’ve had several with… Skylar has entered a few of my dreams before. Two or three. Or five.” He cleared his throat. “Five total. Give or take.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Dana said, h
er eyes glinting. “So Miles, you’ve had a total of five dreams in which Skylar was present, but Sky, you only remember one, which happened last night?”
Milo nodded miserably. I stared at him, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes. So I turned to Dana. “That’s correct.”
Dana stood and rolled up the sleeves of her fitted white T-shirt, creating an impromptu tank top. “Okay. I’m only going to say this once. And Milo knows it already, so more shame on him than on you, Sky.” She sniffed. “Nature loathes a vacuum. And I. Loathe. Secrets.”
Milo studied the contents of the bathroom’s medicine cabinet, pulling out a box of gauze pads and medical tape.
“And when I think about things that I loathe, I get angry,” Dana continued. “And you don’t want to see me angry. Believe me.”
Calvin giggled a little bit. He couldn’t help it. It’s what he did when he was profoundly uncomfortable.
“Scooter, something you wanna share with the group?”
“No, ma’am,” he said quickly, and used massive amounts of effort to force the corners of his mouth down.
Then there was an extremely awkward silence that lasted far too long.
Milo alone was busy—opening a paper-wrapped gauze pad and digging back through the cabinet to find some antibacterial gel.
But then Calvin raised his hand and said, “I’ve had dreams with Sky in them before…but that doesn’t mean that she planted those images in my brain, right? I mean, I also have a say in what I dream about, right?”
“That’s right,” Dana said.
“You have dreams about me?” I asked Calvin.
“Usually they’re nightmares,” he replied. “Like the recurring one where you show up at my house with bedhead and dragon breath and I have to hide under the covers until you go away.”
“Lovely,” I said as Milo finally turned back to me with the gooed-up gauze pad and tape. I reached to take it from him, to apply the bandage myself. That way he wouldn’t have to touch me again. Although, if I could force my dreams on him while we both slept, he was kind of doomed. I could smell his embarrassment mixed in with his ever-present vanilla, but I suspected that what he was really feeling was enormous embarrassment for me. And I felt my face heat.
“What about you, Milo?” Dana said, ignoring Calvin’s joke. “What are your dreams about?” And there was something challenging about the way that Dana was staring Milo down as she asked him.
Milo glanced at me. “Well, they’re all pretty vague. Except for the last one that I had…so I’m guessing the others don’t really matter. Especially since Skylar doesn’t remember them.”
“Come on,” Dana said, clearly irritated.
“He’s right,” I said before Milo had a chance to respond. “He’s never been in any of my other dreams—psychic or regular. It would be a waste of time dissecting every one of his.”
“All right, Madam Freud,” Dana said snootily, but she moved the discussion forward. “Then at least tell me the details about the dream that you imposed on Milo.”
I didn’t like the way she’d phrased that, and I must’ve looked pained, because Milo shot me an apologetic look as he mouthed an “It’s okay.”
I told her the dream in detail. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t one hundred percent detailed. I left out the whole make-out session, but everything else was accurate and thorough—down to the types of leaves I’d noticed on the trees. Deciduous leaves on decidedly non-indigenous trees.
“I noticed them too,” Milo said.
Dana looked pleased, for once. “Okay, this is good,” she said. She turned to Milo. “Do you think you could identify the type of leaves if you saw them in a picture?”
“Definitely,” Milo said.
I nodded too. They’d had a very distinct shape.
“Cool. Let’s get on that quick,” Dana decided. “Calvin, can Milo use your computer to do that research?”
“Of course,” Calvin said, leading the way out of the bathroom and over to the table where his Internet computer was set up. “But aside from our little science project, what’s the next step here?”
Dana blew out a frustrated breath as she followed him. “I’d say Plan B is all about figuring out why Skylar gets whiffs of the sewage deal around our good friend Quarterback McDouche with the stupid car, so…”
“I love you,” Calvin mentioned.
Dana rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Boyfriend. But we need to get into his potentially smelly-ass house.”
Milo and I were engaged in an awkward little dance to leave the bathroom, each motioning for the other to go first. This was not a battle I could win, so I gave up and went out the door.
“He’s having a party tomorrow,” Cal replied. “A sunset luau on the beach—whatever that means. Skylar scored all of us an invitation because Garrett totally wants to do her.”
Milo tugged at a cuticle with his teeth before reaching into his jeans pocket and pulling out his pack of gum.
“What time does this fabulous shindig start?” Dana asked.
“Five thirty,” Calvin said.
“How…early bird,” Dana said. “But we can use that to our advantage if we come up cold. There are a lot of places in Coconut Key to search.”
She looked from Milo to Calvin to me. And I knew she was talking about the club scene. I still didn’t know—even with a fake ID—how Calvin and I would ever get into an over-twenty-one hotspot.
“We’ll meet—right here—tomorrow at five,” Dana continued. And then she smiled as if she could read my mind. “Don’t worry about what to wear. I’ll bring clothes. For both of you.”
“Oh, boy,” Calvin deadpanned. “I can’t wait.”
Dana snapped her fingers. “Bubble Gum,” she said. “You’re with me for some serious discussion and then a little training. Riding the Bus 201, followed by Storing Calories 202. Let’s do it. Let’s move.”
I jumped to follow her—and tripped over my own backpack that I’d left in the middle of Calvin’s very hard marble tile floor. I braced myself for my second skinned knee of the day, but I didn’t hit the ground.
Because Milo leaped forward and saved me.
He caught my arm and kept me from going full horizontal, instead slamming me hard against the broad expanse of his very solid chest.
And an image coursed through me with the precise rhythm of a heartbeat, filling my brain and sending heat waves into the core of my body.
Milo, his hands traveling up my waist, my own hands dug into the thick of his gorgeous hair, his lips brushing mine as our tongues touched…
“Oh my God!” I said, and jumped back away from him.
“Shit!” Milo exclaimed, and I realized it was the first time I’d ever heard him swear. But he immediately apologized. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
And there we were, staring at each other, wide-eyed and both breathing hard.
“What’s going on?” Dana asked, glaring at us.
“Nothing,” we both said quickly. Except I was still waiting for my heart to stop thumping in my chest.
Dana stared us both down for another moment before finally dismissing Cal and Milo. “Come on,” she said to me. “Let’s go.”
I didn’t look back, but I could feel Milo’s eyes on my back as I followed his girlfriend out of Calvin’s house and into the humid heat of the late afternoon.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Pizza Extravaganza was almost entirely empty, so Dana and I gravitated toward the window booth.
I watched Dana as she slid into her seat. Every move she made was smooth, almost stealthy. Even doing something as mundane as finding a table at a pizza place had the charismatic strategy of a cat burglar.
No wonder she was Milo’s girlfriend.
I tugged self-consciously at Kim Riley’s gym shorts as I sat down, feeling hopelessly unsexy compared to Dana and her s
leek leather pants.
“So what did you need to talk to me about?” I asked politely. I had some things that I wanted to talk about—like the distinct possibility that Sasha was still alive—but I wanted to wait until Dana had said her part. And I was fervently hoping that her part didn’t include a hands off my boyfriend, bitch speech.
I swallowed hard, thinking about the incredibly R-rated vision I’d had of Milo and me just a few minutes ago. Had Dana sensed it?
I wasn’t a boyfriend thief! And yet I couldn’t not notice how my pulse rate picked up when Milo was near. Ugh. I needed to get a grip, and fast. He was Dana’s. She surely loved him—how could she not? So, game over. Or at least that’s how it should go—unless Dana was wrong and the Internet was right, and I was spiraling into some sort of G-T-power-induced moral abyss, slowly but surely moving toward a monstrous humanity-free zone where I truly didn’t care about ridiculous conventions like boyfriends and love and the difference between right and wrong and oh my God….
Dana took her sunglasses off, and then crossed her hands on top of the table as she looked at me. “We need to get even more serious about your training,” she announced.
“I know,” I said, dropping my eyes to the surface of the table to hide my relief. This was something I wanted to talk about.
But Dana couldn’t smell emotions the way I could, and she read my body language as discouragement. “Hey.” She knocked on the table in front of me until I looked up to meet her gaze, and her usually icy eyes were filled with kindness and empathy. “I’m not putting you down. You’re doing awesome. I just think that if we talked a little bit more about strategy and coping mechanisms, you’d get more done—and maybe even avoid the unpleasant side effects.”
I didn’t say a word.
Dana decided my silence was an invitation to clarify. “I’m talking about your reaction to what happened today with Edmund, not to mention your professional-grade puking.”
I smiled at that. “Thank you so much for reminding me.”
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