by Nicole Grane
* * *
I found Antonio in the weight room looking incredibly hot in a tight fitting t-shirt and sweats—the creep. If he thought his good looks were going to get him out of this, he was sadly mistaken. I was going to give him a piece of my mind. I hardened my expression.
“Good, you got my note,” he smiled angelically.
I tossed my gym clothes to the floor. Damn! I forgot to brush my hair.
“I see you’ve already dressed.” He eyed my sweats and frumpy t-shirt I’d been wearing for the past two days and smiled.
I pictured at the very least seven different ways I could wipe that smirk off his face. His smile broadened. No doubt Antonio now had a mental picture of just how I’d planned to wipe that smirk off his face. All seven images I’m sure played flawlessly over in his mind. The element of surprise would never be mine.
“Humph.” He could at least act like he was nervous.
“Oh, I am.” He grinned at my death like stare. My eyes narrowed.
“We need to start working on basic combat maneuvers.”
“Today? You couldn’t have waited until Monday?” I had my hands on my hips, looking extremely put out. Not to mention un-attractively pasty. But who cared. I was moving on. I was with Roland now . . . I think?
Antonio’s cool look was momentarily shaken. “I’ve increased your training to seven days a week—”
“Seven days a week? But that’s going to ruin my whole social life.”
“If you hope to pass finals . . . there’s no other way. Your . . . ‘social life’ will have to wait.” He stifled a satisfying grin.
I sucked in my cheeks. This just completed the weekend from hell I’d been having. Not only did I have to train while sick, but I also had a rigorous seven-day a week butt-kicking to look forward to.
“You can’t be serious.” I searched his expression, desperately seeking humor. There was none.
“I am. Now stand here and try to block me.”
Try? I was going to knock him on his ass! Not only did he not care that I was still sick, but he expected me to spar with him? Seven days a week? He was so going down!
Antonio’s leg came around and swiped under my feet—knocking me on my butt before I could finish my inner rant.
“You weren’t even trying!”
“I wasn’t ready!” I yelled.
“Then let’s try again. This time, why don’t you spend more time defending yourself instead of plotting my demise.” There was an arrogant look about him, which was very un-Antonio like. Or was it? Maybe he’d just been pretending to be nice? Whatever, It was his turn to eat mat.
I braced myself. There was no way he was going to do that—
Boom!
I was starting to become familiar with the ceiling in the gym. We’d gone over the same move a half a dozen times now, and each time I’d ended up on my back, staring at the same light fixture. How in the world had someone managed to paint the word “HI” on the ceiling?
“Again!” Antonio shouted, bringing me out of my quiet place. He wasn’t even breaking a sweat. I honestly didn’t know why he’d kept doing the same move over and over? I obviously wasn’t getting it!
“That’s why we’re doing it over and over. And we’ll keep doing it until you do get it,” he added sharply.
“What’s your problem?” I snapped, as I rose to my feet.
“What are you talking about?” He had the nerve to look meek.
“I mean, what’s this really about?” I held my arms out, motioning to the training room. “Why are you pushing me so hard?”
“I told you. You need extra practice. It’s nothing more than that.”
“Really?” Now, I may not know a lot about the way guys think, but I believe it’s safe to assume, that when a guy hauls your sick butt out of bed and says it’s because you need “extra training” that can’t wait . . . he’s probably full of crap.
I was just about ready to call the bullshit card when Antonio dropped to the floor, and swung his leg around, taking me out with one swipe. Again! Only this time I landed on my stomach.
I tried to flip around fast, my legs getting tangled up with his. I reached out, blocking his arms from restraining me. Somehow, I found myself on top of him, straddling him awkwardly. I could feel the hot burn of flush, branding my face. I’d never been in such a position with a boy before. I didn’t know if it was embarrassment, or excitement I felt? I did know that being this close to Roland would not stir such an emotion inside me. Damn if I wasn’t confused. And why was Antonio looking at me as if I was his next breath?
Antonio’s hands were on my waist, gripping it tightly. His eyes smoldered like the embers in a fire, bright and beautiful. “Focus!” he growled below me, his expression hardening. For a moment I thought he was scolding himself.
With skilled precision, he’d gripped my wrists with one hand, and held the side of my neck with the other. I couldn’t break free. A small flame rose inside me. I felt mad all of a sudden. I mean really mad. His hold was firm—too firm. It freaked me out. I’d never been restrained like this, and I didn’t like it.
Antonio flipped me onto my back, and just like that, our roles were reversed. He was straddling me now. My wrists were slammed against the mat, the weight of his body pressing hard against them. He’d won!
Antonio was leaning over me, his face inches from mine. His brown hair, now tussled, hung loosely around his face. His breathing was loud and uneven like my own. But his wasn’t due to exerting himself. There was a hunger in his eyes as he watched me struggle beneath him. His gaze settled on my lips.
He wanted to kiss me; I knew it! It was just like on the track field, only now Antonio looked as if he wanted this kiss even more. No matter how much he tried to hide it, here, close like this, his body touching mine, the desire was unmistakable. I’d seen it in movies a hundred times.
Now, this could have been considered intimate if it weren’t for the sudden “gotcha” look on Antonio’s face. Was he toying with me? My eyes narrowed. Rage emanated from every fiber of my being. Embarrassment claimed me once again. Why did he have to keep making me think he liked me? I growled mentally. Game over. I didn’t care how much I wanted to kiss this guy. I wanted him off me and I wanted him off now!
Antonio flew back. His body crashing into a nearby wall with such force, his eyes crossed for a moment before he slid down it, landing on the floor in a dazed heap.
I stared at him in disbelief as I scrambled to my feet. I held my hands as they shook. I wasn’t sure I could even speak. “Did I . . . do . . . that?” The words came out broken.
Antonio rose to his feet, rubbing the back of his head as he walked back over to me.
I backed away from him. Afraid I might hurt him again.
“I want you to do it again,” he commanded lightly.
“What? No! Get away from me!” I shrugged away from his outstretched arms.
“Evie.”
“I mean it, Antonio. Stay away from me. I don’t want to hurt you.” I meant it. I’d been mad at him for playing with me, but there had to be something seriously wrong with me. Either I just imagined that I threw Antonio across the room with my mind, or I really did. Either way, I was cracking up.
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Evie.” He spoke with such certainty, I almost believed him—almost. Did he just miss me throwing him across the room at warp speed?
He grinned, no doubt having heard my thoughts. Antonio turned his attention to a punching bag that lay in a corner across the room. My eyes followed. Without warning, Antonio had the bag flying at me.
Too shocked to move, I stood there. Waiting for the bag to collide with me and knock me into next week. It stopped short, dropping with a thud at my feet.
No. Freaking. Way! “That did not just happen.” I’d done small things like setting off the sprinklers, or tripping that busboy so he’d dump that plate of spaghetti on Stacy. I could even magic little items around me. But thrusting an object that heavy ac
ross the room at full speed and stopping it instantaneously? I’d never seen anything like it—not even me stopping that book mid-air, when Stacy had flung it at me.
“It’s the same idea,” Antonio promised. “Now, send it back.”
I stared at Antonio as if he’d spoke in a different language. “Did you just ask me to send it back?”
“I know you can do it. You’re stronger than you think.” A look of excitement claimed him.
I thought about that. “Even if I could, why would I want to? What’s the point?”
“Being able to move heavy objects with your mind has its advantages; especially in the Underworld.”
“Like I’ll ever be going there,” I pointed out sharply.
Antonio’s excitement slipped from his face.
Why was he looking at me like that? And why did I have the sickened feeling that Antonio knew something I didn’t? “Right?” My voice cracked. “Why would I ever be going there?”
He smiled. Not the dreamy, Antonio smile that made me want to eat him up for dessert, but a sympathetic smile. One that said: you poor thing, if you only knew. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply anything. We’ll pick up on this again tomorrow.” He started walking away.
I stood there, looking after him. He didn’t mean to “imply anything?” Was he kidding? This had nothing to do with finals. There was something going on and Antonio was going to tell me. One way or another, I was going to find out what he was hiding.
“But not today, Darling,” He shouted over his shoulder, still walking away.
I hated that he eavesdropped on my personal conversations in my head. I hated it even more that he knew something I didn’t.
I glowered at the punching bag that lay still at my feet. With little more thought than I used to collapse Stacy’s desk, I lifted the bag and hurtled it over Antonio’s head, stopping him short. He spun around; his eyes were as wide with surprise as mine.
“What else do you need me to do?” I breathed, afraid to doubt him now—I’d just hurled a punching bag through the air using my mind after all! If there was even the slightest chance Antonio was right, that I was going into the Underworld, I wanted to be prepared.