Inception (The Marked Book 1)

by Bianca Scardoni

  Dang it. “Right. Chemistry. That’s what I meant.”

  I grabbed Trace by his sleeve and shuffled us away from their accusing eyes before any other comments could be made. He looked down at me with questioning eyebrows though he didn’t say anything as I towed him along.

  “Here’s the thing,” I said as soon as we were in front of his locker and out of earshot. “I know we’re supposed to be staying out of each other’s business and all, but you have to admit it’s kind of hard to do when you throw yourself off my second-story balcony in the middle of the night and then disappear without a trace.”

  His dimples ignited. He was laughing at my unintended pun.

  “You know what I mean.” The second bell rang, but I hardly cared. “First I thought you were dead, then I thought I was losing my mind and just imagined the whole night, like it was all part of some convoluted fantasy I was having.” I flattened my back against the locker next to his, exhausted by the incessant questioning of my own sanity.

  “Fantasy, eh?”

  My cheeks warmed at the sound of his husky voice. What the heck was wrong with me? Stay focused, dammit. “Just tell me I didn’t imagine it.”

  “You didn’t imagine it.” He shut his locker door.

  “How did you do it?”

  He thought about it for a moment and then stepped out in front of me so that we were standing face to face. Everyone around us faded into the background as he leaned his body into mine and rested his forearm against the locker beside my ear, like he was going to lean in and whisper something, only his lips never made it to my ear.

  “You want a play-by-play?” he asked, his molten eyes never leaving mine.

  Whoa, gummy legs. I grabbed the locker behind me to brace myself. “I-I want to know what you are.”

  “What I am is late for class.”

  “That’s not what I…” I trailed off when his eyes dropped down to my mouth, sending whatever was left of my concentration to hell. I finished off the sentence with an inaudible squeak.

  A freaking squeak.

  “Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” he said as he pushed off the locker and started down the hall.

  I let the air expunge from my lungs as I tried to bury the electric charge racing through my body just then. Fortunately for me, it simmered right down the second I noticed Taylor and the others were still standing by my locker, gawking at us with various degrees of astonishment on their faces.

  Well, that’s just perfect, and I forgot the dang book too. I darted off to catch up with him before he reached them.

  “I need your chemistry book,” I whispered, anxious and still visibly flustered by our exchange. “I told them you borrowed it. They’ll know I was lying if I show up empty handed.”

  “That’s too bad,” he whispered back, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Because I don’t take chemistry.”

  Taylor was already waiting for me at my locker when I got there at lunch. I still hadn’t been able to figure out how she consistently managed to get out of class ahead of everyone else and was just about to ask her to spill her trade secrets when I noticed my locker behind her.

  “How did you do it?” I asked excitedly, giddy at the sight of my slander-free locker.

  “Wasn’t me, babe,” she said, glancing back at the empty canvas. “It must have been Caleb.”

  It looked great, good as new. You couldn’t even tell anything had been written there before. I wondered when he had the time to do it. He must have come between classes.

  “I bet Nikki was all torn up to see it gone.”

  I laughed. “You still think she did it?”

  “Well, let’s see,” she said, pressing her pink fingernail to her lips. “Was it mean, vindictive and catty? Check, check, check. Sounds like Nikki to me.”

  I shook my head knowing she was probably right.

  “Anyway, enough about Nikki. We can plot her takedown later,” she said, re-applying her lip-gloss sans mirror. “We have more important matters to discuss right now.”

  “Such as?” I stuffed my books back into my locker.

  “Such as you and Trace—” She held up her hand to silence me when I began to protest. “And don’t even try to deny it, I have eyes. I could practically see the fireworks shooting out of your head this morning. I want to know what’s going on with you two and don’t spare any of the dirty details!” Her eyes were twinkling like two brilliant slate-blue stars.

  “There’s nothing going on. We’re barely even friends.”

  “Come on, I’ve seen the way you guys look at each other. You don’t look at someone that way and feel nothing.”

  My cheeks flushed. “I don’t look at him in any kind of way.”

  “Um, yeah you do,” she said emphatically. “And he looks at you the same way. At first I thought it was just some kind of forbidden fruit thing, but I’m starting to think there’s more to it. It’s like there’s this pull between the two of you, but you’re both too stubborn to admit that you’re into each other. It’s kind of delicious to watch.”

  “I’m not into him,” I lied, knowing the truth was slightly more complicated than that. “I mean, obviously, I find him good looking, he’s a good looking guy—”

  “He’s an Adonis.”

  “—But there’s more to liking someone than just being attracted to them, isn’t there? And none of that even matters if the feelings aren’t mutual, and I happen to know for a fact that he doesn’t like me, nor does he want anything to do with me. He said so himself.”

  “You’re probably right,” she said, though I knew it was a loaded statement. “I’m sure that’s the reason he got into it with those two guys from Easton that night at the game...you know, because he doesn’t like you.” She tweaked her eyebrows the way she does when she’s spilling a secret. “I know when I don’t like someone, I definitely make it a point to defend their honor whenever I can,” she added, every word rich with sarcasm.

  Defend their honor? I shut my locker door and turned to face her. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about Trace beating up those guys from Easton because of some inappropriate comments they supposedly made about you,” she squawked, beaming as she let the cat out of the bag. “Inappropriate sexual comments.”

  “What?” My eyes grew wild. “There’s no way that’s true.”

  “Oh it’s true!” she insisted. “You can lie to yourself all you want but boys don’t beat up other boys over girls they don’t like. It’s like, sacrilegious.”

  “I don’t know where you’re getting this from but I don’t believe it for a minute.”

  I couldn’t believe it. It just didn’t make sense.

  Okay, sure, I was willing to admit Trace and I shared a few bond-worthy moments, some prolonged stares, maybe even some kind of hormone-induced attraction that sometimes got the better of me, but that’s where it ended. Trace did not like me. He was unavailable, complicated, and up until yesterday, I was pretty sure he hated me.

  “Ask Benjamin if you don’t believe me. He’s the one who told me the whole story this morning. He wouldn’t lie.”

  “What story?” asked a familiar voice.

  Taylor screamed at the sight of Trace. Like an actual balls out scream. My eyes swelled to the size of two Ping-Pong balls as I shot her a way-to-go look.

  “Oh, hey, Trace. Uh...” She let out a phony laugh soaked in tension. “You should seriously think about wearing a cow bell or something, you scared the bejeezus out of me! So who’s hungry? I know I am,” she announced, backing away, still laughing, and then bolted for the cafeteria.

  Smooth, Taylor. Really freaking smooth.

  “What was that about?” asked Trace, looking down at me, his eyebrows pulled in suspicion.

  I shrugged, backing up a step. “She gets a little high-strung if she goes without food for too long. It’s like a low blood sugar thing.” I had no idea what I was talking about.

  “Okay.” I wasn’t sure if he boug
ht it or just didn’t care either way. It looked like he wanted to say something else but decided against it. He dropped his eyes and turned to leave.

  “Where are you going?” I asked. “Cafeteria’s this way.”

  “I know.” His dimples made a minor appearance.

  “Aren’t you coming?”

  “Not today.” I could hear him fidgeting with his car keys.

  “You’re not eating lunch?” It came out a tad over dramatic, like the way you might respond if he had just declared he was an alien who didn’t need oxygen. Like, what do you mean you don’t breathe air?

  I couldn’t help but notice he looked a little on edge too—nervous even. But nervous about what?

  I took a step towards him, my curiosity getting the better of me. “Are you going off school grounds to eat?”

  He shook his head and threw a quick glance over his shoulder. “I just have this thing to do,” he answered without actually answering the question. He was definitely hiding something. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

  “What thing?” I probed, following him down the hall now. “Is this like that thing you did last night?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said over his shoulder. “Just drop it.” His tone was sharp—a definite warning.

  “I’m talking about the aerial disappearing act you—”

  He was in my face before I could finish the sentence, leaving only a whisper of air between us. His jaw set in an angry line and his eyes tapered, letting me know I’d pushed it too far. He was just about to say something when we both caught sight of a freshman girl walking by us, watching us curiously.

  He cupped his hand around my elbow and pulled me into a nearby empty classroom, slamming the door shut behind us.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he growled, closing the distance between us. “You can’t talk like that around here.”

  I took a step back and bumped into a desk. “I didn’t see her. I thought we were alone,” I said as I crossed and then uncrossed my arms like a nervous tick. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Obviously.”

  My eyes narrowed. “This is all your fault anyway. If you would have just answered my question this morning, I wouldn’t have had to ask it again.”

  “Did that look like the time or place to you?”

  “Then when is? My bedroom in the middle of the night?” I wasn’t sure why but my cheeks flushed just then.

  He let out a tired breath and glanced down at his silver watch before meeting my eyes again. “Alright, fine. What do you want to know?”

  “Huh?” I hadn’t expected him to concede.

  “You have sixty seconds, make it count.”

  My mind went blank.

  I must have rehearsed a hundred and one different questions since the day I met him and suddenly, when it counted, I couldn’t think of a single one to ask. This was my one chance and I was about to blow it.

  And then it happened. In a haze of panic, I blurted out the one thing I really didn’t want to talk about. “Did you beat up those guys from Easton because of me?”

  His head jerked back as if stunned by the question. And he wasn’t the only one. Of all the questions I could have asked him, this is what I went with? What the heck was I thinking? I wholly blamed Taylor for this—for putting it in my head to begin with.

  “Is that what you think?” he asked in a mocking tone, though the way he crossed his arms over his chest told me he wasn’t as relaxed as he wanted me to believe.

  “That’s not an answer,” I pointed out.

  “No, I didn’t beat up anyone over you.” He flexed his jaw muscle and then muttered, “Not really.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “Not really?”

  “I just didn’t like the way they were talking, that’s all.”

  “The way they were talking about me?”

  “They might have mentioned you. I don’t remember.”

  He could plead the fifth all he wanted, I wasn’t buying his nonchalance or sudden amnesia for a minute. “Right, well, you might want to be more careful next time. You’re giving people the wrong impression.”

  He took a step towards me, his shoes clipping the tips of mine. “And what impression would that be?”

  “You know, the impression that you...like...someone.”

  “You think I like you?” He placed his hands on the desk behind me and leaned in closer, barricading me inside the space.

  A surge of heat rushed through me. “I didn’t say that.”

  “Then what are you saying?”

  What am I saying? “I’m saying that other people might get the wrong impression, you know, other people that aren’t me.” Other people like Taylor, I thought, though I refused to throw her under the bus to prove my point. “I personally couldn’t care less whether you like me or not.” Okay, so that wasn’t entirely the truth but surprisingly, my voice didn’t falter when I said it.

  His eyes drifted down to my lips. “I don’t like you.”

  “Good,” I said, flustered. “I don’t like you either.”

  “Good.” His cobalt eyes—hooded by thick, dark lashes—were still staring down at my mouth.

  I suddenly felt lightheaded, like my knees might give out at any moment. The way he was looking at me, at my lips, like he wanted to kiss me. It was making my head spin.

  “Stop that.”

  His eyes climbed back up to mine. “Stop what?”

  The door crashed open behind us. “Dammit, Trace, I’ve been waiting outside for you since the bell!”

  I couldn’t see who the voice belonged to but she sounded really familiar. And annoyed.

  “I’ll be right there, give me a minute,” answered Trace without stepping away from me or taking his eyes off me.

  “Fine! Hurry up. I mean it.”

  Unable to resist, I peered over his shoulder just in time to catch a glimpse of Morgan’s red hair leaving the classroom.

  Wait, Morgan? What the heck was he doing with Morgan? And how did she know we were in here?

  He was still staring at me when I turned back to him.

  “Where are you going with Morgan?”

  “Time’s up,” he said, ignoring my question. He pulled his hands off the desk and stepped back, taking all the heat with him. I instantly felt the loss.

  “I still have questions.”

  “I told you to make it count.” He crossed his arms though his mouth hinted at a smile.

  “Can we meet up later?”

  He stared back at me strangely.

  It was hard to decipher what was flickering through his eyes though I was already preparing myself for a battle, certain that he was going to turn me down. And then, just like that, his expression changed—relaxed. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” I nearly fell off the desk. “Really?”

  “After school…if you want.”

  “I want.” I definitely want.

  22. THIRD WHEEL

  My heart picked up its thrum as soon as I spotted Trace standing by his locker after school. This type of reaction was happening more and more lately, like I’d developed some sort of heart arrhythmia every time I got too close to him. Or him to me. I told myself they were just palpitations, like a stress response, probably caused by my aversion to his mood swings.

  “Ready to go?” I asked.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “About that,” he said, staring into his locker. “I don’t think—”

  “Don’t even try to get out of it. You said we could talk. We’re talking.” I wasn’t about to make this an option for him.

  He didn’t answer.

  “That is, unless you want me following you around school every day asking you questions?” I shrugged innocently. “Who knows, maybe that’s exactly what you want.”

  He shot me an irritated look like he knew what I was up to. “I’ll meet you in the parking lot in five.”

  “Great,” I faked a smile. “See you then.”
<
br />   I decided to detour through the athletics complex on my way to the parking lot so that I could thank Caleb in person for helping me out with the locker situation. I knew that he had off-ice hockey training after school so I figured the fitness center was the best place to start looking.

  “Are you lost or something?” asked a tall senior with short brown hair and matching eyes. He walked up from behind me and was carrying a hand towel slung over his shoulder.

  “I’m looking for Caleb Owens,” I said as I peeked inside the fitness center, hoping to spot him training with the rest of his team. They seemed to be in the middle of some sort of group discussion.

  “I think he’s still in the locker room.” He gestured over his shoulder and smiled. “I can go get him for you.”

  “That’s alright, thanks. I’ll just wait for him over there,” I said, and ambled off in the direction of the changing rooms. I mean really, how long could it take for a guy to change his clothes?

  I leaned my back against the wall, fully intent on waiting for him outside in the hallway. That is, until I heard the muffled whispers of two distinct voices coming from the other side of the door—a male and female. Voices that I was almost certain belonged to Caleb and Nikki.

  Truthfully, it was none of my business why Caleb and Nikki were hanging out together in the boy’s locker room, and I should have turned around and booked it, but somehow, I just couldn’t get my feet to obey. Maybe she was talking about me, or plotting her next assault against me, all of which were perfectly valid reasons why I had the right to know what was going on behind that door.

  At least that’s what I kept telling myself when I cracked open the door and peered in through the slit.

  It took every ounce of restraint I had not to burst out screaming as I watched Nikki fist her hands into Caleb’s shirt and push him back against the locker door like some rabid dog in heat before sealing her mouth against his in a kiss. And not just any kiss, a hands-all-over-your-body-tongue-in-each-other’s-mouth kiss that made me want to wash my eyes out with bleach.

  What the hell. Nikki and Caleb? How? When? I couldn’t think of a single time I saw them talking to each other, let alone give out signals that they were into each other. And what about Trace? How could she be that crazy possessive about him one minute and then be out here making out with his friend the next?