He traced his knuckles along my cheek. “Let it go, Nara.”
“But—”
Ethan cupped my jaw with both hands, his gaze focused on mine. “We have other things we need to do.”
The screeching fears in my head instantly shushed to mere whispers. I was surprised that he’d talked me down, but I suddenly felt less worried. “Like what?”
“Like heading over to the CVU’s library to get research books for our History paper. Can you go after practice?”
At least we’d be together and I could keep an eye on him. “Yeah, can you pick me up around five-fifteen at my house?”
He started to speak when a loud rapping hammered on his window, startling us. An old woman in a floral housecoat stood scowling, her white hair bound in spongy pink curlers as she pointed her broom’s handle toward the glass like a spear. “Find somewhere else to do the nasty or I’m calling the police.”
As we drove away, Ethan shook his head and chuckled. “Do you feel dirty? Or is it just me?”
At the end of the day, I was pulling my backpack out of my locker, when Lainey brushed past, zipping down the hall at breakneck pace. She came to a sliding halt in front of a locker and spun the combination with swift precision. My heart ramped, hammering hard and fast and I suddenly felt lightheaded. I’d forgotten that Lainey’s locker was right next to Ethan’s old locker. She’d been sharing Jared’s for a while now.
I closed my locker, panic clawing my chest. Ethan wasn’t the only one. Lainey was in danger too. Why had I listened to him about staying out of it? Because he touched you on purpose to calm you down. I had no idea he could be so sneaky.
This was all my fault and I needed to fix it. But without my dreams, I didn’t know when something was going to happen. And now that Ethan knew about Fate, I was afraid he might not warn me. What I needed was the element of surprise, something Fate wouldn’t be expecting from me. Then maybe it would leave Lainey and Ethan alone.
Lainey had just pulled her soccer bag out of the locker and was about to close the door. I couldn’t stand by and wait for her to get hurt.
“Lainey,” I called before she could walk away.
Tugging the bag’s strap onto her shoulder, she waited for me to approach. “Hey, girl. How’s your Gran?”
I smiled. “Chipper as ever. So, um, I’m doing this skit for the Central Virginia Animal Shelter. Can you be a stand-in for a sec?”
She shrugged. “Sure.”
I surveyed the hall, floor and ceiling, then spoke in a clear voice, “I know you’re here, lurking” Static popped in my jacket with my small movements. The sensation sent fear jolting through me, but I keep my face composed. “I want you to back off. No more accidents.”
“Am I supposed to be responding?” Lainey stage-whispered, her gaze darting around furtively.
I shook my head. My back was so tense, a light breeze could’ve snapped my spine.
She gave me a “thumbs up”. “Love the fierceness.”
“Fierceness is required,” I said, still scanning.
“Oh, I get it! ‘No more accidents.’ Your skit’s about ‘tough love’ dog training, right?”
The frigid air had dissipated and my body began to relax. I laughed at her interpretation. “Uh, yeah, that’s it. Thanks for being my guinea pig.”
“Don’t you mean thanks for being your ‘dog’?” She smiled, then continued, “The only critique I have on your performance is: Turn those fierce eyes on the dog. You looked everywhere but at me.”
I cleared my throat so I wouldn’t laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”
“No problem. You know I’d only let a close friend treat me like her bitch.”
I smiled at the reminder that I’d said something similar to her. “See you at practice.”
Exhaling a heavy breath, I waved after her and hoped my preemptive strike with Fate had worked.
After practice, I checked voicemails when I got home and had a message from Gran.
“Inara.” She sounded muffled and raspy, like she was talking into the phone with her hand over the mouthpiece so no one would hear. “You’re brilliant! Clara has been hounding me, trying to find out who my secret admirer is.” She snickered, then continued, “I even told her that’s where I was, drinking it up and seeing my man. I feel like such a floozy. Haven’t had this much fun in years! Well, I need to get ready for game night. Just wanted to say thank you. Come see me sooner than a few months, young lady.” And with that final dig, she hung up.
Smiling fondly, I erased the message, then sat down to eat a small bowl of strawberry oatmeal. I’d just finished eating when I saw Ethan standing at my front door, raising his hand to knock.
I glanced at the microwave clock in confusion. It was almost five and I was still grubby from soccer practice. “You’re early. What’s up?” I said as I opened the door.
Stepping inside, he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “I thought we could get an earlier start.”
His shoulders were stiff and the muscle in his jaw popped in and out. I knew that look. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. I just wanted to give you something.” Ethan pulled his hand from his pocket, then slid a small pair of rimless sunglasses with light peach-colored lenses on my face. “Perfect,” he said, nodding his approval.
“Thank you,” I said quietly, touched by the gift.
A small smile lifted the corners of his lips and he slid his fingers down my hair. “Now you don’t have to hide behind dark shades any more. At least not from me.”
All I could do was stare. So maybe the sunglasses collection on my car dash looked a little over-the-top, but other girls bought shoes or purses. “I don’t hide behind my glasses.”
“Yeah, you do, because you always take your glasses off as soon as you get in your car.”
I shrugged and his eyebrow shot up. “That’s usually when most people put them on, Nara.”
Oh, duh. When my powers first appeared in elementary school, I’d been worried that my gaze would give away the fact I knew stuff I shouldn’t have known, at least not ahead of time. Sunglasses had been my answer. Over the years, my obsession faded, turning into a kind of hobby. I touched the edge of my new shades. “They’re perfect. I love them.”
Looking pleased, Ethan stepped close and dropped a kiss on my sweat-dried forehead. “No more secrets between us.”
Guilt twisted my stomach. Ethan would flip if he knew about my experiment in the hall today. “Eww,” I said, backing up. “I’m all gross.”
“She tastes like chicken.” He winked, then swiped his tongue hungrily across his lips.
Even though he was joking around, my heart fluttered. “Let me get a quick shower and then we’ll go.”
After my shower, I towel-dried my hair and had just slipped into a pair of worn jeans and a pullover sweater, when I heard my Irish music tape playing and the sound of wood tapping against wood, rapping to the beat in perfect rhythm.
Opening my bathroom door, I stared at Ethan in amazement.
When I was little I’d helped my father sand the intricately carved headboard he’d created for my bed frame. While the wooden headboard dried from the layers of stain he’d applied, he said to me, “As a reward for your help, I’ll make anything you want next. Just name it.” I’d clapped my hands and excitedly asked,” Can you please make me a musical instrument?”
Dad’s answer had been Jack-the-jolly-jigger.
“Since you can’t read music, Jack here will be your instrument,” Dad said as he held up the long stick with a wooden man attached on the end. Jack had jointed arms, legs and knees that swiveled, swung and bent with the slightest movement of the stick.
My dad sat in a chair with a long, thin piece of wood three inches wide underneath him. Holding Jack so his legs hovered on the end of the flexible “plank”, Dad nodded to an old tape player he’d set on the table. “Turn the music on and I’ll show you how Jack works.”
I was doubtful, but pushed
the play button. When the folk music began to play, Dad hit the board between his legs and as the wood vibrated and bounced, he lifted Jack up and down with the stick, making the ends of Jack’s feet tap the board to the beat of the music.
Dad had made it look so easy. Which I found, it wasn’t. I was little, but I was determined. After six months, I’d graduated to an Irish tape I’d found at a neighborhood garage sale. I’d hoped the Celtic drums would help me find the right beat so I could get the hang of Jack (instead of wanting to strangle the wooden jigger). But I never could get the right balance between tapping the board and lifting Jack’s feet up and down.
I only remembered a couple pre-Dad-leaving events with my father. Helping him sand the headboard was one and Jack-the-jolly-jigger was the other. I hadn’t tried to play Jack and the old tape in years. Yet, Ethan sat there on my desk chair, making Jack tap out difficult steps on the bouncing board in perfect cadence to the Irish music.
“I can’t believe you’re making Jack dance a jig,” I finally said.
Glancing up, Ethan smiled. “I hope you don’t mind. This is great. I’ve never seen one of these before.”
Never seen one? How could he play it so easily then? Trying not to feel totally inept, I clasped my comb tight and walked into the room, confessing, “I’ve never been able to get him to dance like that.”
Ethan tapped the board a couple times and Jack’s loose legs clicked out a beat. “It kind of drew my attention so I picked it up. Once I started messing and playing with ways to turn it, make it jump and such, the rest came to me. It’s not that hard to learn. Want me to show you?”
“Yeah,” I said, swallowing my pride that he’d figured out in mere minutes what I never could.
Ethan hopped up and held the board for me to sit on it. Once I was settled in the chair, he knelt beside me and said, “You hit the board and I’ll hold the guy.”
While the music played on, I tapped and Ethan made Jack dance. I watched him flick his wrist and tried to track how he moved the wooden man.
When a new song started, Ethan handed me the stick. “Your turn. I’ll tap the board and you hold Jack.”
Nodding, I took the stick and tried to mimic Ethan’s earlier movements as he tapped the board. I did better than I had in the past, but nowhere near the smooth sounds Ethan had tapped out.
“It’s all about timing,” Ethan said, reaching for my stick hand.
His hand was warm and my heart ramped when his fingers folded completely around mine. I loved being close to him like this, sharing something fun. “Watch. It’s like this,” he said in a patient voice.
After several more tries, with Ethan guiding my hand and tapping the board, I was able to make Jack dance to the beat. Laughing as Jack’s arms spun and he kicked up a fun jig, I said, “You have no idea how many times I’ve tried to make this stupid toy dance.”
The tape ended and silence filled the room. Ethan’s blue eyes locked with mine. “Well, now you can. Whenever you want.”
I smiled. “Thanks for the pointers.”
Once I’d moved Jack, the board, and my dad’s old tape recorder back against the wall, Ethan asked, “When am I going to meet your mom?”
When I turned, he was sitting on my bed, holding my hot pink throw pillow (the only project I’d finished, since I could complete it in one day). “Maybe you’ll get lucky and she’ll come home early one day.” Whoa, that had sounded more sarcastic than I’d meant. Clearing my throat, I grabbed my wide-toothed comb from my desktop. “I’d like to meet Samson, too,” I said as I sat down beside him, then ran the comb through my damp hair.
“He’d like you.” Tossing the pillow, Ethan tugged the comb from my hand and twirled his finger in a circle, telling me to turn around.
Facing away from him, I leaned on my hands and tilted my head back, closing my eyes as he combed the tangles from my hair. “That feels so good,” I sighed, enjoying every single stroke. “I could sit here all day.”
Ethan’s fingers replaced the comb, making me tingle all over. I hmm’d my approval, loving the intimacy of his fingers sliding through my hair instead of the hard plastic.
When his lips pressed against the small scar near my hairline, my heart leapt and every muscle in my body tensed. My eyes flew open and I stared at him upside down as he peered down at me.
“Did you get this scar playing soccer?” he asked, his hands cupping my face.
I’d always been a little self-conscious about the scar, but when Ethan asked, I only heard curiosity, not disgust. “I don’t remember really. I was little when it happened.”
His thumbs stroked my cheekbones as he kissed my scar again, and then pressed his lips to the space between my eyes before kissing the tip of my nose. Every touch, every movement was slow, tender…reverent. My heart raced when his warm lips met mine, his plump lower lip pulling gently on my upper one.
My fingers crushed the bedspread as I pushed on the bed, kissing him back. When he slid his mouth to my jaw, I quickly turned and faced him, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders. Ethan grasped my waist and tugged me close, murmuring my name.
As his lips pressed against mine, every part of me centered on him. I slid my hand across his jaw, enjoying the sensation of his five-o-clock scruff scratching my palms as he lowered us to the bed. I dug my fingers into his neck, pulling him close. Ethan pressed against my mouth, rolling me underneath him with a swift fierceness that made every nerve ending under my skin jump and tingle. The electric feeling had nothing to do with the unending static that permeated my sheets and covers.
“You even taste like sunshine.” Static popped as he nipped at my bottom lip. Ethan jumped and when I started to apologize, he pressed his lips to mine once more. This kiss was harder and edged with a rough intensity.
Blood pumped through my veins. I savored the feel of his chest and weight crushing me, the slide of his hand along the curve of my butt. When his grip on my thigh tightened and he pulled my leg around his hip, locking us together perfectly, excitement thrummed through me.
Ethan paused, his body tensing. “Did you hear the garage door?”
I glanced at my clock. Five-twenty-five glowed back at me. “Crap. Of all times…that’s my mom.” I jumped up and straightened my sweater. “A couple times a month she leaves early to do grocery shopping.” Waving him on, I said, “Go wait in the living room. I’ll be right out.”
As I finger-combed my messy hair, I heard the rumble of voices in the kitchen. My lips looked slightly swollen and my cheeks were rosier than normal, so I quickly brushed on some powder and dabbed on lip gloss. Hopefully the makeup would explain my perky look.
I paused in the kitchen doorway when I saw Ethan helping Mom with the grocery bags from the garage. “Hi, Mom, I see you met Ethan.”
Mom set two bags on the counter and glanced at Ethan, who was carrying a couple bags. “Yes, I did. He says you two are working on a History paper together.”
“I really hope you got some more dryer sheets. The last ones you bought were awful.” I grabbed one of the bags from Ethan. “Yeah, we’re doing a paper on Superstitions and War and plan to check out CVU’s library for resource material.”
Mom heaved a sigh. “I guess I’ll just save you leftovers.”
I paused pulling out the new box of dryer sheets. “You were going to cook?”
She cast an embarrassed glance toward Ethan. “My cooking’s not that bad, Inara.”
“I meant…you usually bring dinner home or order out. Were you going to make spaghetti?”
“Yes.”
I glanced at Ethan, silently seeking his understanding.
When he nodded, I smiled. “Then Ethan and I will make the salad. We’ll head to the library later.”
After dinner, while Ethan was in the bathroom, Mom took the pan I’d just dried and put it away. Turning, she held her hand out for the cookie sheet I was almost done drying and said in a casual tone, “That’s an interesting tattoo your friend has.”
Nothing with my mom was casual, yet I was surprised she’d seen Ethan’s tattoo. Then I remembered he’d pushed up his sleeves to help wash the dishes. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t looked while I had a chance. He’d kept his sleeves down at the shelter—we all did—to protect against scratches. “What tattoo?” I said innocently, handing her the cookie sheet.
Mom visibly relaxed. “You haven’t seen it?” She slid the pan into the cupboard and glanced my way. “He has a dragon tattoo on his arm. I’m not much for body art, but that one was tastefully done with the dark outline and muted coloring. I just hope he doesn’t have them all over his body.”
Was she fishing about my sex life by asking about the tattoo? Mom never asked direct questions about personal stuff. I stiffened, resenting it. It’s not like she was around enough to know one way or the other. Regardless, I was glad I was already on the pill to regulate my period. That way she wouldn’t do something embarrassing like make a doctor appointment for me with the excuse it was time for my annual exam. “A dragon tattoo, huh? That’s kind of interesting.”
We heard Ethan coming back down the hall and she leaned close, whispering, “I like him. He seems like a nice boy.”
Her approval made me happy and my earlier resentment faded. I beamed as I swiped the towel inside the salad bowl. “He’s great. I’m glad you like him.”
Clasping the wooden bowl I handed her, she murmured, “Just don’t let him break your heart.”
Chapter Sixteen
“That makes six,” I said, tucking the thick history book into my backpack.
As I started to heave my nearly full backpack onto my shoulder, Ethan grasped the strap and took it from me, hoisting it onto his shoulder instead. “Six is probably enough.”
“Oh, no. You insisted on looking up all twelve. We’ve gone through ten. Might as well check out the last two.”
“We started later than we’d planned.” Ethan shrugged. “I think a half dozen will do it.”
Brightest Kind of Darkness Page 18