“What do you mean—our own decisions? You mean to take sides? About joining with Azazel?” I spun the Oreo like a top and glanced at him through my lashes.
He leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing his ankles. “That would be one decision, yes.” He tried to seem relaxed, but I could hear the tension in his voice and see it in the way his neck muscles bunched around his shirt collar.
“And the other is to remain a demi?”
“Yes.” His tone was just a little too sharp and when he put his glass down, it hit the table just a little too hard. Most people wouldn’t have noticed.
“But those are the only two? I mean, we can’t renounce our status, can we, Dad? I can’t walk away from being a demi?”
My eyes were trained on my dad, waiting for an answer and hoping it was one I wanted to hear. I gripped my cookie so hard that it broke and the pieces plopped into my milk. I ignored it.
“Not that I’m aware of. I’ve never heard of it happening before. The only way would be to join with Azazel and transfer your powers to him,” he said, a grim look on his face.
“And that’s what Lily did.” Tears sprung to my eyes.
“I know.”
I sniffed and wiped my tears away with the back of my hand. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying.” I tried to laugh, but it came out as a sob. “I barely know her, and she doesn’t even like me.”
He sat up and leaned toward me in his seat. “It doesn’t matter how well you knew her. She betrayed you. She betrayed the entire group. It’s okay to feel sad and angry about that.”
“Dad? If there were something going on, you’d tell me, right? I mean, if you knew someone was thinking about changing sides, or if they already have, you’d tell me? Because I don’t want to find out like I did with Lily if someone I really care about decides to betray the team.”
He tilted his head to the side and studied my face for a beat. His brows furrowed over his eyes. “Of course I’d tell you, Milayna. Is there something you should tell me?”
“Nope. Everything’s good, Dad.” I stood and grabbed my things before giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I gotta get ready.”
“Oh right, the big game is tonight. Let’s see,” he scratched his eyebrow with his thumb, “we want the Cowboys to win, right?”
I rolled my eyes. “You make the same joke every year. Maybe if you’d stop, we’d actually win a game.”
He made an overly innocent face. “I guess I jinxed you for another year.”
“Thanks for the cookies, even if you did commit petty larceny by taking them. And make no mistake, Mom will press charges if she finds out.”
“Yeah, yeah. When your mom notices they’re gone, we’ll just blame it on Ben.” My dad grinned, and I laughed.
***
Chay picked me up at exactly five o’clock. The game didn’t start until seven.
Chay held the car door open for me, and I slid in. “Why do you want to go so early?” I asked.
“My Uncle Stewart sets up an ice cream truck every year at the game. I help him. You don’t have to help if you don’t want to. I just couldn’t—”
“I’ll help.”
“I’m sure there’ll be a free milkshake in it for ya,” he told me. He looked over and smiled.
“I’d do it even if there wasn’t. I don’t mind helping.”
And you’ll be there. Enough of a reason for me.
“I know you would. You’re a nice person, Milayna.” He shifted the car into drive and maneuvered through the streets of our subdivision.
“Oh, ah, thanks,” I said, feeling my face warm. “You can be nice, too, when you try really hard.”
He laughed and nodded his head. “Yeah. I’ve been told that before.”
“I can believe it.”
The ride to the school was short. It was only a few—silent—minutes later when Chay parked. We walked to the field and found his uncle’s ice cream truck. “Hey, Uncle Stewart, what do you want me to do?” Chay called.
His uncle stuck his head out of the door and smiled. “Hiya, Chay. Hiya, Milayna!”
“Hi, Uncle.” I lifted my hand in a wave.
I dropped my things on the ground next to the truck’s opening. “What can I do to help?”
“You’re helping me? Well, ain’t that sweet of ya!”
“Hello? Your nephew over here is helping, too.” Chay waved his hand in his uncle’s face.
“Yeah, but she’s sweeter than you. C’mon, Milayna, I’ll show you what needs doin’.”
I smiled over my shoulder at Chay and followed Uncle Stewart inside the truck.
Uncle Stewart showed me how to mix the malt base and the ice cream base for the machines. Then I was given the extra hard job of putting out the toppings. I had a suspicion that he was giving me all the easy jobs. Chay was washing down the truck from ceiling to floor, making sure everything sparkled before it opened.
I was filling the cherry container when Chay grabbed my wrist. Two cherries dangled by their stems between my fingertips. He looked in my eyes as he guided my hand to his mouth. He ate the cherries one by one, his soft, full lips brushing against the tips of my fingers, eyes, more green than blue just then, locked on mine.
My wrist burned where he touched it. My eyes were transfixed on him, his mouth, his lips, his tongue. I parted my lips and tried to remember how to breathe normally. Time seemed to slow, and the blood in my veins turned to molten lava. As it made its way languidly through my body, it seared me, burned me from the inside out with an exquisite pain that only his touch could quench.
My heart screamed with pleasure when he reached around my waist and pulled me to him. “Oh,” I gasped. I dropped the cherry stems on the floor and put my hand on his shoulder, stifling a moan at the definition I felt there.
“I just swept that floor,” he murmured with a crooked grin.
I looked down at the floor. “Sorry, I’ll—”
“Milayna.” I looked up at him. His eyes darkened. His hand let go of my wrist and skimmed up my arm and around the back of my neck, gently nudging my head toward him. My lips parted, and I leaned into him. He dipped his head… and I screamed.
I dropped my hands and held my head. The pain was searing. I heard Chay’s uncle run into the truck. He took one look at me and closed the doors and windows.
“She has visions?”
“Yes,” Chay answered. His arms tightened around me. He sounded so far away, the sounds in my head drowning him out.
Football field. Concession stand. Orange rope.
“What do you see, Milayna?” Chay’s voice.
“A concession stand. An orange rope.”
A woman wearing a blue apron. Picking up the rope. No, not a rope. An extension cord.
“It’s an extension cord.” My vision cleared, and I whirled around to the window and tried to unfasten the locks. “How do I open it?” I yelled. Chay reached over, unlatching the window, and I peered out. My gaze searched the growing crowd for the concession stand and the blue-aproned woman in my vision.
A force jerked me backward and slammed me against the back of the truck. I squeezed my eyes closed and watched the vision scroll through my consciousness.
Black rope. No, another extension cord. The wires are exposed. Water.
“She’s going to electrocute herself! We have to find her.” I ran to the door. “Go that way, and I’ll go there. Blue apron and blonde hair in a black hairnet. She’ll be behind a concession stand. Go! Go now!”
I turned when Chay grabbed my arm. “You can’t go by yourself, Milayna.”
I jerked free of his grasp. “This is what I’m supposed to do,” I yelled. “This is why I am what I am! I can’t stand by and let her get hurt… or worse.” I jumped down from the truck and ran into the growing crowd before he could stop me.
“Show the stand. What does the concession stand look like? Show me something to help me find her!” I mumbled to myself, begging
the vision to give me more information. There were so many people and it seemed like the crowd was growing by the second, swallowing me. Keeping me from my purpose.
I looked for the woman’s concession stand, but I didn’t have any distinguishing landmarks to use to help me find it. And there were so many little stands set up that it was a never-ending maze. It was the biggest game of the season next to homecoming. Little buildings and trailers filled the space, selling everything from sweets to foam fingers.
I ran between the vendors, looking left and right for a woman in a blue apron. I was out of breath, struggling to breathe from running and the thought of not finding the woman in time. My lungs burned, and my stomach clenched like someone was wringing it out like a wet dishrag. I doubled over and rested my hands on my knees.
She’s picking up the cord.
I ran around a small cotton candy stand and came face-to-face with the woman, the orange extension cord in her hand.
“Hi,” I panted. I motioned for her to wait a second while I caught my breath. My foot ground the end of the black cord into the dirt, filling the receptacle end with enough dirt to make it unusable. “I’m sorry. I’m so out of breath. I ran over here. My brother is crying for some cotton candy. Are you open?”
“No, sorry. I haven’t gotten the machine hooked up yet. But if you come back in about ten minutes, I should have some ready.”
“Oh, okay. No problem.” With one final twist of my foot, I stepped away. The vision cleared, and the excruciating pain in my stomach eased.
“Darn it,” I heard her say over my shoulder. “I need another cord,” she yelled to someone in the small building.
I smiled. It felt good to help. The feeling was indescribable. I was still smiling when Chay found me and grabbed me by the arm, yanking me toward his uncle’s ice cream truck. I tried to jerk my arm free, and he tightened his grip.
“Let go,” I ground out through clenched teeth. “What the hell’s the matter with you?” I jerked my arm again, but his grip was too tight. His fingers dug into me.
“I’m not letting go until you’re safely in the ice cream truck. You seem to have a problem with running into crowds alone.” Chay’s tone was flat, emotionless.
When we reached the ice cream truck, his uncle took one look at us and warned, “Chay—”
Chay didn’t stop. He jerked me into the truck and slammed the door. “Don’t. Ever. Do. That. Again!” he yelled.
I flinched. “But I had—”
“I could have done it, Milayna, if you would have just waited instead of running into the crowd, putting yourself in danger!”
“Chay,” I started in a calm voice, “you had to check the other side of the field. There’s no way you would have gotten to her in time. I barely got there.”
“You can’t run off by yourself like that! I lost you in the crowd. Anything could have happened to you. Don’t you get that?” He jammed his hand through his hair with a growl of frustration. “You have to be more careful,” he said softly. Gripping my upper arms, he pulled me to him.
I sucked in a breath when he pulled me against him. My eyes didn’t leave his. I was breathing in short, shallow gasps. Chay’s breathing mimicked mine. Moving my arm, Chay let it slip from his grasp. I moved my hand next to his head and hesitated for a few beats, my hand trembling. But the urge to touch him was too strong to deny. My fingers moved slowly over his hair. When he didn’t stop me, I grew bolder and delved my fingers in the dark, silky strands, letting them flow between them before sinking my hand in his hair again.
His hand skated down and rested on my lower back. He let go of my other arm and slid his fingers up, across my shoulder, along the side of my neck, to cup my jaw.
My heart was speeding in my chest. Adrenaline filled my bloodstream… and something else. Alarm? Longing? Arousal? I wasn’t sure. I’d never had feelings that strong for another person before. All I knew was when he touched me, fire burned through me, and I had to remind myself to breathe. I moved my hand to the back of his neck, and I felt more than saw him lean into me. I closed my eyes and lost myself in him—
“Chay, your friends are here,” his uncle yelled from outside.
“Damn it.” He let go of me and brushed by so quickly that I stumbled forward. “Let’s go.”
Wait. What happened? He went from boiling to freezing in a second flat.
I walked out of the truck and looked around. The group, minus Lily, was there.
“See ya, guys. We gotta gear up.” Jake pointed between him and Steven.
“Good luck,” we called.
“Yeah, we’re gonna need it,” Steven muttered.
Uncle Stewart made us all milkshakes, and we went to grab seats. Chay, Jeff, and Drew climbed to the top of the bleachers. Jen, Muriel, and I stared at them.
Jen shook her head. “We don’t do heights.”
“It’s the only way to see everything.” Chay rolled his eyes. He walked down the steps and narrowed his eyes at me.
“What?” I put my straw in my mouth and raised an eyebrow at him.
“You can walk up a flight of stairs and sit on a damn bleacher,” he snapped.
“I could. But I’m not going to.” He glared at me, and I whispered, “What if I have a vision up there? Huh? I don’t imagine falling would help anything.”
He sighed and looked at the bleachers. “Probably not. How about halfway?”
I looked at Jen, and she shrugged. “Okay, halfway.” I brushed past him and plopped on a bench.
We sat behind two students with their dyed black hair, black clothes, and black fingernails. They both had black eyeliner thickly outlining their eyes.
If Azazel’s demi-demons would just dress like that, it would be so much easier to pick them out.
A mother of one of the football players sat behind us. Every time a play was made or a referee called a foul—or whatever they have in football—she’d scream or swear.
For the first half of the game, Jen, Muriel, and I giggled at the people around us. The preppy kids to our right who were more worried about getting their clothes dirty from the bleachers than the actual game. The mother screaming behind us. Drew, Jeff, and Chay yelling at the players—like they could really hear them. They were all infinitely more interesting than the game.
“It’s intermission?” I asked when the teams left the field and the marching band pranced onto the field.
“No.” Chay rolled his eyes. “It’s halftime.”
“Same difference.” I waved my hand in the air. “Let’s go visit your uncle.”
“You want another milkshake, don’t you?” He grinned.
Jeff looked me up and down. “Where do you put them all? Most people would weigh three-hundred pounds if they ate like you.” He was staring at my legs. Chay elbowed him hard in the side and glared at him. Jeff held out his hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry.” He laughed.
I looked between the two and decided I didn’t have enough energy to try to decipher the teenage male brain. “I want to make sure he doesn’t need any help.” I lifted my chin and pursed my lips together, trying not to smile. “My need for a milkshake fix has nothing to do with my visit to the ice cream truck. Much.”
“Sure.” Chay gave me a half grin. “Anyway, he’ll be fine. My cousins will be there helping.”
“I want to check just to be sure.” I stood and started down the bleachers, Chay following me.
“Don’t you trust me?”
I looked at him over my shoulder and winked. “You’re the one who told me I didn’t know who I could trust, Chay.”
He rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Whatever.”
Chay was right. His cousins were there to help, but his uncle gave us ice cream cones for checking on him, so it was worth the trip. Jeff was right. If I hung around Uncle Stewart too much, I was going to gain fifty pounds—all in ice cream.
When halftime was over, Chay decided to spend the rest of the game teaching me the finer points of foo
tball. He pointed at the players running back and forth on the field. I tried to listen and learn all the different plays and rules he explained, but by the time the game was over, I didn’t know any more about how the game was played than when I got there.
But I did know I liked it when Chay leaned his head down to mine, when I felt his breath skim across my cheek as he talked. I liked the warmth of his thigh against mine, and the smell of his cologne swirling in the air when he gestured with his hands and pointed at the players. Yeah, I learned a lot of things, none of which were related to football.
The best thing I learned was that I loved how it felt when he took my hand in his and laced our fingers together. He didn’t ask, and it wasn’t awkward. Chay just picked up my hand, looked at it for a beat, threaded his fingers with mine, and continued explaining the game.
Jen looked at us with a raised eyebrow. I shrugged a shoulder. I had no idea what the hell was going on in his head. But secretly, I relished the feeling that not only was he holding my hand, he also didn’t care who saw.
We were all having a great time, talking, cheering, joking—and for once, our team was winning. It was wonderful until my stomach started to twist. I ignored it.
It’s just all the junk food I ate. It’ll go away. Please, let it go away.
But when my head started to pound and a fine sheen of sweat covered my face, I couldn’t hide it any longer.
“What’s wrong?” Chay whispered in my ear.
“Nothing.” I bit the inside of my check. If Chay hadn’t sensed I was going to have a vision, it must not be anything bad—so I lied.
Not now. Please, please, not now. I’ll just wait it out. I’ll be like a woman in labor and breathe through my pain. Except I don’t know how to do that. Shit! My stomach is on fire.
“A vision?” His mouth was so close to my ear that I felt his lips moving.
“No,” I whispered. It was the only thing I could manage to say in a somewhat normal voice. He still hadn’t sensed my vision. He was just guessing. I could wait him out. A pain shot through me like an arrow. I bent forward and lay on the tops of my thighs, my arms wrapped around my knees.
“But it’s coming.” This time it wasn’t really a question, and his blue-green lasers burned into my eyes.
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