A Beautiful Dark (6 page)

Ian studied me as though he didn’t know who I was anymore. Dan clapped, in his amused, disinterested way. “Brilliantly deduced, Holmes.”

“Thank you, Watson.” Cassie beamed. “So which one is it? I have the dirt on both of them, so it doesn’t really matter, to be honest.”

“I hate to break it to you, Holmes,” I said to Cassie, “but you’re wrong this time.” I unwrapped my sandwich, noisily, and took an insanely large bite. With my mouth full, I said, “They just happen to be in all of my classes. No crush.” I swallowed hard. “If you ask me, they’re actually a little creepy.”

At that moment, Asher walked by, a small group of sophomore girls surrounding him like a swarm of bees. As he passed, he caught my eye and shot me a half grin. I felt the incriminating blush deepen and looked down at my sandwich. My appetite had deserted me, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to force any more food in my mouth in order to fool Cassie.

“Right.” Dan rolled his eyes. “Totally creepy.”

“Well,” Cassie continued, “I’m going to give you all the details anyway. That one over there is Asher. He and his cousin Devin, the blond one, just transferred this term from Whitehall Academy, that private school in Denver that burned down last semester. You know Emily Redwood, in my art class? She’s friends with Alison Coles, whose mom is on the admissions board, and apparently they both had perfect scores on their entrance exams. The story is that they were so freaked out by the fire that their family moved them out to River Springs to clear their minds. You can totally tell, too. They have that haunted look.” I followed her eyes to where Devin was sitting in the corner, scowling into a book, an untouched slice of pizza on the tray in front of him. She raised an eyebrow at me. “I bet he’s locking all the pain away deep inside. So tortured. You should go for the other one.”

“How come no cute girls ever transfer here?” Dan mumbled.

Cassie frowned. “Don’t be a pig. We’re talking about Skye.”

“Could have fooled me.”

Cassie smacked him on the arm.

“Whichever one you do like,” she said, “how about you save me the other one, because the guys at this school are hopeless.” She glared at Dan, picked up her tray, and marched off.

Dan shrugged and took a bite of pizza. “So,” he said with his mouth full, “what’s the real story?”

I sighed. “I have absolutely no idea.”

“Yeah,” he said, shaking his head as he watched Cassie walk away. “Tell me about it.”

Chapter 6

T
he rest of the week passed entirely within my own head. When anyone spoke to me, I had to force myself out of a fog before I could respond—and even then, I’m not sure I was making any sense at all.

I couldn’t seem to shake off the feeling that Asher and Devin were trouble, and that their particular brand of trouble was directed specifically at me. I vowed to avoid them as much as possible. It’s not like it was easy, though. It seemed that everywhere I went, Devin was lurking behind a locker or Asher was bumping into me in the stairwell. It almost seemed as though they were following me, but what could I do? I couldn’t exactly accuse them of it—how conceited would that have sounded? But still, I ran into them too often for me to believe it was just coincidence.

When Friday night finally arrived, I was more than ready for a little distraction. The Bean was reopening. Cassie and Dan were meeting me there.

When I walked through the door, the smell of coffee instantly put me in a better mood. A local singer-songwriter sat at a piano on the stage, singing something soft and sweet. The place was packed. I saw Ian behind the coffee bar and saluted him in what I hoped was a strictly platonic way. He waved back. Things had been a little awkward between us since Cassie had sold me out at lunch, and I felt like I needed to go out of my way to make things okay between us.

I searched the dimly lit room. Every table and seating area was occupied. I finally spotted Cassie and Dan on a sofa, nodding their heads in time to the music. Cassie’s vintage leather shoulder bag and gray peacoat were flung across the armchair beside them.

I headed to the bar to grab a latte. Ian was now occupied at the other end, serving two freshman girls, so I waited around and fiddled with the sweetener packets. Suddenly Asher was leaning on the counter next to me, blocking my view of Ian. I jerked back slightly and found myself looking into his eyes.

“See, I figured if I stood between you and your latte, you couldn’t ignore me anymore,” he said cheerfully.

“I haven’t been ignoring you,” I said casually, widening my eyes in an innocent “Who, me?” kind of way. “And who said I’m getting a latte? I could be getting anything. An iced tea, for all you know.”

“Skye,” Asher said, grinning. “I’m not an idiot.” He glanced at my hat and puffer jacket. “An iced tea? At least a latte is in the right seasonal ballpark.”

“I never said you were an idiot,” I said quietly.

“Yeah? Then do you honestly expect me to believe that every time I tried to talk to you this week, you legitimately had something pressing to do in the opposite direction?”

I couldn’t exactly argue with that.

We stood there for a moment, looking at each other, at an impasse. I wasn’t sure how it happened—maybe because of the people crowding the counter—but somehow it was like he was almost curled around me. I could feel the heat his body generated being absorbed by mine. I imagined how it might feel to be snuggled up against him on a snowy afternoon. Suddenly I was way too warm, like I’d been at the party Saturday. I could only hope that my eyes weren’t turning silver. He didn’t strike me as someone who would accept my flimsy explanation as easily as Ian had.

“What happened at your old school?” I finally broke the silence, needing the distraction as much as anything. “Cassie said it burned down.”

Asher’s face clouded over. “Something like that.”

“How can it be something
like
that? Either it is or it isn’t.”

“Skye Parker, when are you going to stop looking at the world in black and white?” Suddenly Asher stopped, like he’d just heard himself say something stupid. His eyes seemed to get darker as we stood there. “It’s complicated.”

“Okay,” I said, confused. “Never mind.”

He scuffed a foot against the recently replaced floor. “Things can change really quickly. You’re not always ready for it.”

“What are you talking about?” I said, propping an elbow on the counter. “Are you a Magic Eight Ball now?”

He looked up from his shoes and gave me a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” he said. “That was weird. I was just talking about moving here. It’s all just really . . . I don’t know, different, I guess. Lots to figure out.” He picked up a complimentary mint from a small bowl on the counter, studied it as though it held the answer to all life’s dilemmas, then popped it into his mouth.

If I kissed him right now, he’d taste like mint
, I thought—and then immediately wished I hadn’t. I watched the shape of his lips move, drawing upward into a small grin. When I looked back up, I realized he’d caught me staring. I looked back down at the sweetener packets.

“It’ll get easier,” I said. “It takes time, but it happens.”

“Haven’t you lived here your whole life?”

Something he apparently didn’t know about me. I found comfort in that.

“Yeah, but change doesn’t always involve moving.”

“Look,” he said. “What are we doing here anyway?”

“Here in the coffee shop or here in the universe?”

“Cute, Skye. Here in the coffee shop. Want to go to a movie?
Storm Enemy
is still showing. I have a thing for bad disaster movies.”

“What? Now?” I asked, taken off guard both by his suggestion and the fact that he’d tapped into the one movie I’d been dying to see. I was back to wondering how he knew so much about me. It could have just been coincidence, but I’d watched too many police dramas to believe in coincidence. The girl who believed in coincidence almost always ended up dead.

He smiled, the playfulness returning. “Yes, now.”

“I’m . . .” Was he asking me out? On an official date? “Um, I’m actually here to meet my friends,” I said, pointing to the sofa in the back. Why did this feel so awkward? It was the truth, but it felt like I was making up an excuse somehow.

He looked past me. “About that. I don’t really think she’s going to notice if you’re not there.”

I twisted around. Cassie and Dan were still sitting next to each other on the couch, but their head nodding had evolved into a battle of dance moves.

“Here you go, Skye. One latte.”

I spun back around to find that Ian had set a steaming mug in front of me. He was eyeing Asher as though he expected him to steal the silverware—or start another fight. I couldn’t blame him.

“She didn’t even order,” Asher pointed out. “She could have wanted an iced tea.”

“I’ve known her for years. I know what she likes.” I could almost hear Ian adding,
“And it’s not you.”

“Thanks, Ian.” I started digging around in my bag for my money.

“On the house,” Ian said at the same time that Asher said, “I’ve got it,” and tossed a ten dollar bill onto the counter.

Ian didn’t move. He just stared at Asher, who held his gaze. Confrontation made me uneasy. This was like something from the nature channel: wolves trying to mark their territory. Finally Ian picked up the crumpled bill and begrudgingly made change.

Well, I’d never asked to be marked.

I picked up my latte. “Thanks. I’ll see you both around.” I glanced at Asher. “Sorry about the movie.”

That broke the spell. Asher opened his mouth as if he was going to say more, but then he closed it again. A look passed across his face. Disappointment? Indifference? I couldn’t tell. “No worries,” he said. “Sure. Another time.”

And then before I could say anything else, he turned quickly and wove his way through the crowd, without so much as a backward glance at me.

“I don’t trust that guy,” Ian said. “You don’t seriously like him, do you?”

I have no idea
, I thought. I wasn’t sure what I felt toward Asher. Confusion mostly.

“No,” I said firmly, turning around to face Ian. “He’s new. I was the first person he met at school so he sort of imprinted on me. Like a baby duck.”

I was trying to get him to smile. It didn’t work.

“Look,” I continued, “he doesn’t really know anyone—”

He shot me a pointed look, and I sighed a little. He was right. There were all those sophomore girls at lunch. “I was being friendly. That’s all.”

Why did I feel the need to justify myself?

“Just watch out,” he warned before heading off to see to a customer.

I turned and came up short. Cassie was watching me from her spot on the couch next to Dan.

As I walked over, she dragged her jacket and bag off the chair next to them and onto the floor.

“Is it hot in here?” she asked, fanning herself.

“Kindly shut up,” I replied.

“So is Asher
The One
? Does that mean I get Devin? You know I like them emotionally unavailable.” She rubbed her hands together like an evil villain. “It’s more of a challenge.”

“There’s nothing to choose, Cass. You can have them both. Seriously. I’m not interested. Plus, he’s weirdly mysterious.”

“So he’s hot
and
enigmatic,” Cassie purred. “So far I’m not seeing the bad in this. I wonder what dark secrets he’s hiding behind those gorgeous eyes.”

“That he’s a serial dater,” Dan offered.

Cassie looked at him. “Seriously, Dan? That’s the best you can come up with?”

“I just don’t understand all the interest in the guy. Girls latch on to him like he’s Velcro.”

“Jealous?” she prodded.

Dan scowled. “No.”

“I like the music tonight,” I said, trying to steer us back to less volatile ground.

“Oh, yeah,” Cassie said. “Stella is awesome. She writes all her own songs.”

The music stopped, and everyone clapped.

“Thanks,” Stella said into the microphone. “I’m going to take fifteen.”

“Oh, good,” Cassie said, hopping to her feet. “I want to talk with her about her music. Get some tips. Come on, Dan. Pretend I’m Velcro.”

Laughing, he got up and took her hand as they weaved through the crowd.

“Watch our stuff, will you?” Cassie asked. “And save our seats. We won’t be long.”

“Sure,” I said, knowing she’d be gone the full fifteen. Once she started talking music with another musician, she lost all track of time.

I leaned my head back, closed my eyes, and sipped my latte, trying to expel the stress of the week with each quiet breath. Devin had looked so calm in class the other day, his posture straight, his face so tranquil. I shifted now to reach the same pose, straightening my back and relaxing the muscles in my face. For a minute or two, it seemed to be working. I let my shoulders drop. Maybe I needed to look into yoga. Then the old leather of the couch creaked, and I felt a knee brush against mine as someone sat down next to me. “Sorry,” I said, opening my eyes. “That seat’s—”

I froze at the sight of Devin sitting there. What was I all of a sudden, the Welcome Wagon?

“How’s your couples counseling going?” I asked casually.

“My what?” He looked confused.

“Your fight with Asher?”

His face clouded over. “Oh,” he said. “That.”

“I take it not that well?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” he said, looking away. I took that as a signal that our conversation was over, so I closed my eyes again. I felt mildly snubbed. Cassie could chase him away in order to reclaim her seat. Or flirt with him. Whatever she wanted to do.

“I’m sorry,” he said beside me.

“What?” I opened my eyes, surprised.

“You shouldn’t worry about Asher and me.” He appeared almost apologetic, and something inside me softened a little. “It’s been like this all our lives. Listen,” he said, shifting a little on the couch to face me. “I feel like we haven’t gotten off to the best start. I usually like to kick things off with a fight to break the ice, but I guess this time it didn’t work, huh?”