“Hayden?”
His jaw tightened. “I have a few.”
“Oh, God, you don’t drink blood do you?”
“No.” He almost laughed. “But there are other traits.”
“Like, what?” I pictured him with black, luminescent bat wings like Adrian, only not as scary.
“Uhhh.” He shook his head. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”
I scrutinized his face. “You don’t wanna tell me.”
“Am I turning here?” His voice became cross as he nodded to the left.
I glanced at the upcoming turnoff. “Yeah.”
As the Silverado rumbled into the parking lot, he drove straight up to the front doors. “Looks like a hotel more than an apartment building,” he remarked.
“I’m just going to ask you again Monday,” I said, pulling up on the door handle. It was clear he’d purposely altered the subject. “Or I’ll call you tomorrow.”
He growled, nails digging into his face as he starred out his window. “Goodnight, Rose.”
I was bugged by the fact he refused to look at me. Grabbing my clutch and wig off the floor, I huffed a, “Goodnight,” before slamming the truck door and marching across the patio.
Once the apartment’s glass doors shut behind me, I peeked over my shoulder. The Silverado was out of sight. Gone already. I frowned while shaking my head, promising myself the sudden twinge of disappointment I felt was only from my question not getting answered.
There was a jumble of texts and missed calls from Chanel on my phone. Flopping down on the bed, I punched into voicemail, waiting to see how many messages I had.
“Rosalia Ridgewood!” Chanel’s voice yelled through the line. “Oh. My. God! Derek just told me you left with some guy described exactly like Hayden! Holy crap, seriously Rose! If you liked him, you should’ve just told me instead of—”
I hit the seven button, erasing the message. I was so ready to call her and tell her to stick it, tell her this was the last straw. I was grinding my teeth by the time the second voicemail came up.
“Hey, Rose… It’s me again.” Her tone had calmed, even sounded likely of guilt. “I… I’m sorry about that last voicemail. I didn’t mean to get so mad… Anyway, I’ll be leaving here shortly. Call me when you get this.” The line died.
I rolled my eyes, waiting for voicemail three.
“Hey… It’s me for a third time.” She sounded even guiltier. Maybe even close to tears. “Um, I’m just leaving the V and V. I found my keys in the car. You still haven’t called. I’m worried that maybe Hayden stole you after all. Call me soon, ok? Again… I’m really sorry.”
I hung up and dropped the phone in my lap, lolling my head over the edge of the bed. Good Lord, she was frustrating! Not to mention I knew if I didn’t talk to her she’d probably freak out and call dad—worse, mom—and get them all riled.
Fingers digging into my scalp, I picked up the phone and dialed a text message, deciding that would avoid any straight communication.
I’m fine. I’m home.
I almost added, shoo, or, back off, but I just couldn’t do it. It was physically painful sometimes, knowing I couldn’t intentionally hurt someone—not that that was a bad thing necessarily. There were just so many occasions when I wished I had the guts to say what I was really thinking, stand up for myself. Be aggressive, as the cheerleaders often screamed at the top of their lungs during football games.
I pulled a pillow under my head while staring at the ceiling. Tonight had been so strange. So not anything I’d expected. I never thought a trip to the Viper and Vixen would change the flow of so many things in my head, my life. I was still awe-stricken and coming up with questions on legends and unresolved mysteries.
What was and wasn’t connected to the not-so-imaginary fey?
The memories of Rachel returned as I laid there. I closed my eyes and saw us playing games with our Barbies and unicorns, making up adventures and wearing princess costumes that grandma had made for us out of sparkly satin cloth. Memories surfaced of dancing in the backyard howling at the moon and raiding mom’s jewelry box and playing treasure hunt with her diamonds and how she yelled at us when we lost her golden ring. I couldn’t believe how far away all of that seemed, like a whole other lifetime. Worse, I couldn’t believe how long I’d blocked it all out.
Silent tears streamed my cheeks again. Stupid tears. I fell asleep with a wet face and a damp pillow, plus more mythical dreams of silver-eyed people and Rachel and fey and vampires.
And Hayden…
I slinked into school late again, knowing it was the last place I wanted to be that Monday morning. Paul wasn’t even working in attendance to cheer me up, still out with food poisoning—according to Mrs. Holland. As I walked down the hall, I realized I should’ve been really disappointed that I didn’t get to see Paul, like I’d been on Halloween. But as I crossed the cafeteria to the side doors, I wasn’t upset. A little let down, but the feeling was already passing.
What does that mean? I entered the F wing, still wondering as I got into the culinary arts room.
As PE rolled around, I waited to get swarmed by Chanel. Swarmed, ended up being an almost perfect way of putting it, too. I was lucky to escape her in the locker room, but by the time role call ended and we were moved into the upper gym, she’d found me.
She approached slowly during floor stretches, almost like a stray cat, so unsure. “Hey,” she greeted, smiling meekly.
“Hey.” My tone was flat. I couldn’t find the strength to smile back.
She sat crisscross a few feet in front of me. “You… you never called back,” she whispered.
I pulled one leg in and reached for my left foot. “I sent you a text.”
She looked down at her pink tennis shoes. “I know, but I was hoping you’d call.” Picking at her laces, her smile turned seductive. “So… you and Hayden, huh?”
I had to bite my lip to keep from snapping. She was so oblivious. I didn’t want to talk to her about this subject or this weekend, and my thoughts of Hayden were messy enough right now. I hadn’t replied to any of her texts or calls—was that not enough of a hint that I needed space?
“Chanel,” I said calmly, sitting up to meet her gaze. “I’m feeling a little invaded and a little tired. I need some space to myself right now. Ok?”
She instantly looked dejected. I tried very hard to not let it faze me. “Oh… ok. Yeah. Of course.” She nodded, trying to act like she understood. “Um, does that mean you’re not eating lunch with us today?”
“I’m going out for lunch,” I said, neutral as possible.
She was all doe-eyed again. Gah! Curse the fact that I still felt like a mean, bratty friend. “Ok.” She forced a very fake smile and got off the floor.
With that, I watched the stray cat slink away and join a pair of tiny-framed redheads from last year’s math class. Then I got to endure an hour of her stares, making me lose concentration to where I just kept out of the basketball players’ ways. I couldn’t make one decent pass or a single slam dunk.
By the time Cheyenne and I arrived at a downtown coffee shop for lunch, I was a pale, sweaty, irritated mess. “Ok, so what exactly are you and Chanel in a riot over now?” Cheyenne lifted her caramel macchiato to her lips. “Something happened over Halloween, I take it?”
I swallowed a mouthful of scone, then sipped my peppermint mocha. “Can you keep a secret?” I whispered.
“Mm-hmm.” She stole a piece of my scone.
“… Chanel smuggled us into the Viper and Vixen for Trent.”
She froze. It was a good twenty seconds before she reacted. “Damn, I wasn’t expecting that one.” She tossed the pastry piece in her mouth. “Wow, no wonder you’re pissed. What happened?”
“Well, besides the fact that I think I’ve scarred myself for life?” I tried not to think of the numerous half naked people making out and pole dancing. “She basically forgot I was there.”
I spilled the rest of the story, beginning
to end about how she ignored me again and I went to the bar by myself. Near the end, I growled so loudly the people behind Cheyenne got up and moved. “Grrr! I’m sick of it, Cheyenne!” I exclaimed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m sick of it! And usually I handle her little immaturities with ease, but lately it’s… it’s too much for my already splitting mental state.”
Cheyenne nodded, seeming very serene and therapist-like. “She has gotten to be a bit out of hand since Mr. Popular started noticing her,” she agreed. “What happened after that?”
“She wouldn’t stop trying to apologize.” I purposely left out the part where I ran into fairy king, human-hunter Adrian who nearly made me into dinner. I didn’t mention going to Hayden’s apartment, either. “I hitched a ride home with a friend that was there.”
She took a couple more sips of macchiato. “Maybe you should talk to her. Tell her she’s being a crappy friend.”
“I can’t do that.” I would slap mom’s boyfriend before telling Chanel she was a crappy friend. “At least, I can’t say it like that. But it’s like, all she wants to talk about is new gossip, her and Trent, or harass me about—” I cut off.
“About?” Cheyenne waited.
I chewed my lip, dropping my gaze to the floor. “She kind of picks at this thing with… me and Hayden.”
Silence. Cheyenne had straightened out of her slouch. “And?” She was surprised, interested in the sudden subject change. “What’s this thing with you and Hayden?”
“No, it’s nothing.” The reply came out of my mouth automatically, so I backtracked. “I mean… I don’t know.”
More silence. I twirled my coffee cup, breaking out in goose bumps at the memory of Adrian picking at his Bacardi Glass… right when Hayden showed up to get rid of him, back him off.
To protect me.
“This doesn’t sound like your usual nothing,” Cheyenne pointed out.
I absently stirred my drink as thoughts of those silvery blue eyes consumed me. “Well it is nothing… I think.” She raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “I mean, we’ve sort of become friends lately, of a sort. Since camp. But it doesn’t mean anything like I like him or something.”
“Uh-huh.” She stole another bite-size piece of scone. “Are you sure about that?”
I stopped drink-stirring. Another memory shot up from under the grass: this morning, how I reacted when Paul was missing. Or should I say how I didn’t react?
“Well, yeah, I’m pretty sure…” I let the sentence hang a second. “But, I have thought more about Hayden today than Paul—not in like a lovey way, but just about him. And Paul was gone today, but I wasn’t really disappointed.”
Cheyenne’s eyes grew wide. She bit her lips together.
“Oh no,” I whispered. “You don’t think I…?”
“I don’t know, Rose,” she giggled. “It sort of sounds like maybe you might after all. I mean, usually you always miss Paul when he’s not here—even if you don’t get to see him more than once in a day.”
“Oh crap.” My voice was brittle. “That’s true.”
“And when he’s gone you always tell me first thing when you notice. You didn’t say anything today.”
Two strikes. I sunk in my seat. “Oh no…”
Silence. We stared with bullfrog eyes at each other.
“But you know it could just be the stress from Chanel,” she said suddenly with a shrug. “I know I forget to tell people things when I’m all wired. And the V and V is definitely enough to upset your delicate brainwaves.”
“That’s… that’s also true.” Yeah. Chanel had taken up the other half of my brain this morning, and the night at the V and V was—as already stated—quite insane. Paul could’ve easily gotten shoved aside with such trauma.
“And you know, I’m sure Paul will be back on your mind later. You can’t always think about him twenty-four seven, anyway.” She nodded.
I nodded with her. “That’s all true.” Yeah. There were obviously more things for a senior to think about in life besides boys. There was school and graduating, picking a college and job-searching. There was my mother’s upcoming wedding and whether or not I was moving out of dad’s house in the next year or two. There was winter break to be planned now and holidays such as Christmas and New Years. Life was full of things to think about!
But I realized, as I sat there, I wasn’t thinking about any of that. In fact, none of those things were clouding my mind much at all. It was just boys. Boys, boys, boys. Well, one particular boy—and that boy was not my sweet office assistant.
I jerked my head up. “But what if Paul doesn’t come back to mind? What if it’s… Hayden only?”
“I don’t know, Rosie.” She shrugged, trying not to smile. “You’ll just have to wait and see what happens. If you’re still thinking about him tonight, then…”
“Yeah.” I stared off into space, paranoid. No, Paul would come back. He would! I don’t even know what I was worrying for. He always came back at some point, some time.
I think…
*
The conversation at lunch freaked me out so much I went home instead of heading to the shop as I’d originally planned. I was not in any way falling for Hayden. Not, not, not! Yet, I found myself too chicken to go see him. Just in case.
“Stop it!” I told myself as I left school grounds. “Stop it, stop it, stop it! You are not crushing on him!” Looking in the rear view mirror, I met my reflection with a glare. “Paul is not getting replaced! You can’t let that happen!” Paul and I were so close to the first date! Friday would’ve been it—me, him and Halloween. Just because it didn’t work out then, next time it would happen.
Home did not bring me the serenity I’d hoped. I found my head even more preoccupied with Hayden than ever. I could see him at the Viper and Vixen again, standing there behind me like an incoming stone wall, the wall that would block creepy stalker Adrian from eating me alive. Hayden was literally the reason I woke up today, the reason I was still living and breathing.
Taking a few deep breaths while doing the dishes, I remembered him talking as he revealed the faerie realm to me, how he seemed to really trust me with his secrets. I pictured him sitting there so suddenly, directly in front of me on the floor in his apartment. And after all weekend, I could still feel his fingers against my hand. Had Paul ever touched me? Why didn’t I ever remember our hands making contact? There must’ve been a time since he was always handing me my tardy slips, and that time he’d picked my book off the floor at the mall.
I wrestled a long, painful hour at home with myself, trying to demolish the affectionate emotions I realized I was feeling after all. Once the dishwasher was going, I tidied the bathroom and even vacuumed the living room—something I usually made dad do since it was his predominant living space. I lounged on the bed with the stereo on high, changed into shorts and a hoodie, hopped on the computer, made myself a sandwich.
But by four-thirty, I realized I couldn’t stand it anymore.
Some strange force of nature had me jumping in my car and driving to the shop.
I arrived and parked a couple spaces down from the big black Silverado, attempting to tip-toe through the back, but saw there was no need for sneaking; none of the guys were in sight. I entered the shop and saw Greg moving some old jerseys to the clearance rack, marking price tags down. Joe and Dad were out showing customers some new vehicles. Preston and Race were probably taking a late lunch or break.
And Hayden was behind the counter. Just as I’d—unfortunately—hoped.
I stood there a second, watching him work at the computer. He was wearing a blue hat today, one that was almost the exact same shade as his eyes. He’d traded in his brown fleece jacket for a black one, and he had silver bands wrapped around two fingers on each hand.
“Are you going to stand there all day?” He spoke, and at first I thought he was talking to someone on the phone, maybe a customer. Then I realized there was no phone attached to his ear.
It was me he was addressing.
Blood rushed to my cheeks. I straightened up, gliding forward. “What are you doing?”
He tapped in something on the keyboard. He was a quick typer, the kind that didn’t look at his fingers like Race tended to. “Your dad’s low on some parts. I’m ordering new ones before he’s completely out.”
“Oh. Cool.” I pulled up a stool to the front counter, rotating my body to face him.
“So.” He glanced over his shoulder. “How was school?”
I shrugged. “It went, you know, average.” I was actually (stupidly) flattered he’d asked, knowing I’d nearly bit his head off for asking last time. “Ok, so it went kind of crappy. But it was no big deal.”
“Uh-huh.” His fingers zipped over the keyboard. Not one misspelling on the screen. “How’d lunch with Cheyenne go?”
I went still. “What?”
“Didn’t you go to lunch with Cheyenne?”
“How did you know that? Is that one of your… other traits?” I whispered, not sure how wise it would be to say the word faerie in public.
He flashed a perfect grin, scribbling something out on a piece of loose scratch paper. “You’re catching on faster than I expected.”
“You always seem to know everything.” I crossed my arms, not liking that fact. Dear God, if he’d heard our conversation.
“Not everything.” His smiled faded. “Only certain things.”
“So… do you, like, read minds?” I asked fearfully. “How do you do it?”
“Even you should know a mind is too complex to read.” He shrugged. “Sometimes I just… know. Like a sixth sense or second sight or something. I’ll see an image of that person and their surroundings. Of course, it doesn’t happen all the time, and some people I can’t pick anything off of. When I can, it’s usually more effective when I’m focusing on that someone… like I heard you coming before you even hit the back door today.”
“Really?” I set my elbows on the counter, listening like an engrossed preschooler at story time. “That’s so unfair. I wish I could do that.”
He frowned. “One of the few decent traits Adrian gave me, I guess.”
A Taste of Silver Page 18