A Demon's Kiss (Young Adult Romance) (2 page)

“Yeah. Okay.” He stepped back. “I’m going. But obviously I didn’t just notice you at school. You know about Lauren and Chloe, and probably every other girl I’ve dated.” He grinned. “You noticed me too.”

Busted.

Only I walked away, acting as though I didn’t hear him, or didn’t care. Still, even then I could feel his eyes linger on me, but I listened to my brain. I kept going. I didn’t turn around.

CHAPTER 2

“That guy’s a pest, huh?”

My heart:
THUMP! THUMP!

“Geez, Gage, don’t sneak up on me like that!” I growled.

Not that he’d really “snuck up.” He was just standing there and I hadn’t noticed. But I’m a nervous spaz. Unexpected voices send me through the roof. He should have
a-hummed
or something. I about had a heart attack, my second for the night.

I bit my lip, trying not to stare at him. He looked good. He’d gotten a haircut.

“Anyway, what guy?” I tugged on the hem of my dress again. Now
Gage
was giving my legs an appreciative glance. It was nice, of course—thrilling in fact, since normally he didn’t seem to even realize I was a girl. But his attention was unexpected—and disconcerting.

What was I thinking wearing something so short? Some girls are comfortable exhibiting the fact that they actually have legs. Not me...apparently.

Gage didn’t seem to notice my discomfort. He went on with the conversation as though he admired my legs on a daily basis—which was
so
not the case.

“Logan,” he said.

I looked up from my paperwork. “You saw that?”

Gage’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Yeah. I saw you blow him off.” Then he said it again, “The guy’s a pest, huh?”

“Not really.” I stared down at my work. “He’s kinda cute.”

“Huh?”

I shrugged. “He’s cute.”

Gage looked confused. “Then why didn’t you go out with him? Why’d you blow him off like that?”

There wasn’t really an explanation. Not one that I wanted to go into with Gage, anyway. He had this boy-girl attraction stuff down. Things like unexpected attention didn’t faze him—it was part of his everyday life. Like breathing.

 
“I was just playing hard to get,” I lied. “He’ll come back, right?”

Gage rubbed his stubbled chin, still looking confused. “I don’t know. Maybe.” Then he added, “You really like him?”

Just to be me, I shrugged. As I said, I enjoy messing with people’s minds. Not usually Gage’s, but geez...sometimes he could be dense. Like, when it came to girls having crushes on him. He seriously had no idea what he did to my heart.

“Anyway, what are you doing here?” I asked, changing the subject, trying to. “Shouldn’t you be closing up?”

“Yeah.” Gage still looked perplexed by the Logan thing—probably because Gage, himself, had never thought of me as a girl, capable of actual girl thoughts. The concept was foreign to him. “I was wondering if you need a ride home—your car’s still not working, right?”

“Right. But I was gonna call Izzie.”

Gage furrowed his brow. “Why? What’s with you lately? I can give you a ride.”

I bit my lip, still staring down at my paperwork. “Are you giving Addison a ride?”

Through the corner of my eye, I saw Gage set his jaw. “No. Addison got off at eight. But what difference does that make? I could’ve given you both a ride, couldn’t I?”

“I don’t know.” I sighed. “Look, why don’t you ask her, okay?”

Gage put his hands over my paperwork. “What are you talking about?”

I refused to look at him. Instead, I threw up my hands. “Have this conversation with your girlfriend, okay? Not me.” I wasn’t planning on telling him this. I was trying to just quietly back off. But suddenly I found myself leaking like a sieve. “She told me to leave you alone—give the two of you space. So that’s what I’m doing, okay?”

“She what?”

I blew the bangs out of my eyes, or tried to, but really they weren’t there. It was just a habit I had when I was frustrated. “Addison told me to back off. She said I ‘cling to you.’ She said you ‘feel sorry’ for me.”

“What?” Gage looked mad. He sounded even madder. It was weird though, because he never gets mad, ever. His lips narrowed into a tight line. “Why would I feel sorry for you?”

Why? Because I’m pathetic, that’s why. But I didn’t tell him that. No way.

Addison thought I was trying to come between them. Was that true? No, not really. Did I hate her? Yes. Did I want them to break up? Definitely, yes. But was I trying to come between them? No. I didn’t want them to break up because of me. No way. As blind as it proved him to be, Gage really liked Addison. If I somehow came between them—as if I could—then Gage would hate me. And I couldn’t take that.

“Look, I don’t know,” I told him. “That’s what she said. You need to talk about this with her—not me.”

“Trust me, I will.” Gage stuck his hands in his front pockets. “Do you want a ride?”

I looked up at the ceiling, then back at him. Screw Addison. I nodded. “Sure.”

He stared at me a moment, his anger fading. Gone. “You look different.”

“It’s the dress,” I told him. I didn’t go on to tell him it was expensive, though, or that I got a discount on it, although I really, really wanted to. I wanted to blurt out everything about the dress and about me fluffing up my hair and using hairspray. I wanted to babble on and on because I felt flustered by the way he was gazing at me.

Instead, I tried to sound casual. “I’ll meet you at your car when I’m done.”

***

When I got home from work there was a note from Beth waiting for me on the kitchen table.
Summer and I are catching a movie. Pizza’s in the fridge. Love Mom.

Love
Mom
? I raised an eyebrows, staring at the word. Not the Love, the Mom. Seeing it made my stomach feel funny.

I didn’t call Beth mom. Ever. Not even when I was a kid. She wasn’t
my
mom. She was Summer’s mom. But, secretly, I liked to think of her as my mom.
Pretend
she was.

But she wasn’t.

The thing was, I didn’t remember my mom. At all. I didn’t have one single memory of her—not one. I should have though. Really it seemed I should. She died when I was seven. Other people remembered things from when they were seven. They said they did. But not me. I couldn’t remember one thing before I came to live with Beth and Summer. Not one single thing. It was like I had a memory block, or...something.

Maybe it was my own fault. I was sort of afraid of my mom—afraid to try to remember her. I think my mom was scary. I think she was a witch. Actually, in my heart I knew she was. It was more than just because I’d heard my father and Beth talk about her sometimes—back when I was young—when they thought I was asleep. Also, it was because I had powers—magic powers. I think I got them from her. And they were scary. When I used them, there was always a horrible payback, a scary, terrifying payback. So, I never used my powers. Or tried not to use them. Ever.

I zapped a slice of pizza in the microwave and downed a Coke. Then I slipped out of my “magic” dress and into a pair of comfortable jeans. It was only then that I noticed the long box on my bed. It was unwrapped. Summer had obviously opened it already. Grrrr! She did that all the time, opened my unnerving gifts.

They were always left on our front porch, anonymously. When they first started coming, a couple months ago, they creeped me out, big time. I was getting used to them now, though. Sort of. A little bit. Still, seeing the box made my stomach heave a little.

I read the card,
To Michaela
. That was all the cards ever said.

Gingerly, I lifted the lid to the box: roses. They were red and fragrant. I could smell them, even though I didn’t try.

I bit my lip, torn between wanting to stuff them in the garbage—put them out by the curb, as far away from me as possible—and wanting to give them to Mrs. Henshell, the old lady across the street. I’d seen her as I was getting out of Gage’s car tonight. She was talking to her cat. Not in a crazy way, in an
I’m very old and lonely
way. Seeing her always made me sad. Someday I’d be old. And I was pretty weird. Would I end up all alone too, talking to a cat?

I could put the roses on
her
porch. Do it anonymously, like weird-o guy. The act would turn out different for Mrs. Henshell, though. She wouldn’t be creeped out and close all her shades, be a spaz whenever someone came up from behind. She would smile and put the roses in water, in a special vase. She would be grateful.

I didn’t do anything—yet. I put the lid back on the roses, tried to forget about them, not get all shaky like usual. Instead, I decided to leave. Get out of my dark, spooky house.

I glanced in the mirror and shook out my hair, trying to get it all fluffy again. Then I trotted over to Gage’s. I was only slightly scared when Mrs. Henshall’s cat leaped out from our bushes. I mean, I didn’t actually die of a heart attack. I just came close.

When I got to Gage’s, his mom smiled warmly when she saw it was me at the door. What can I say, she likes me. She was on the phone, but mouthed, “Hi Michaela,” gesturing me to come inside.

She put her hand over the receiver. “He’s in the basement,” she said aloud.

I tiptoed downstairs, trying to sneak up on Gage, but he caught me out of the corner of his eye. “I was hoping you would come.” He put down his guitar. “I was afraid you wouldn’t. You’ve been...distant.”

I sat on his bed, not wanting to get into this discussion. Addison was a wench and I could have wailed about her all night, but I didn’t want to talk about her. I didn’t want to talk at all, really. Sometimes words were hard for me. I just wanted to be near Gage. And play.

I picked up his Gibson and tuned it. I was working on a song by Metallica. I almost had it down.

Gage and I—we both play the guitar. Forever, we’d get together and jam. We’d been doing it since the fifth grade. Tonight started out the same as all the rest. Gage was helping me play,
One
. And I was finally getting the solo. But then...

He leaned in close to me.

At first I thought he was going to get gunk off my face—somehow I always end up with gunk. But then, his hands didn’t do what I expected. Before I knew what was happening, they were holding me gently. They were in my hair. And Gage, his pink, soft lips—lips that kept me up nights, wishing and wanting and yearning—were doing what I’d always dreamed. They pressed against mine, gentle and tender.

GAGE KISSED ME!!! And I have to say, it was the softest, sweetest, most incredible kiss I’d ever experienced in my whole, entire life.

I don’t know what brought it on—the dress thing from earlier, maybe. Maybe it just kept him thinking of me that way—as an actual girl. Or maybe my hair was still kind of fluffy and sexy looking. Or maybe... Who knows?

When we pulled away, we were both breathless—and terrified. I mean, we’d crossed a line. We had never, ever kissed before. Ever. We weren’t like that. We were tight, yeah, the best of buds. But only buds. Sure, I wanted more. Dreamed of more. But I had never, ever expected more. And from the terrified look on Gage’s face, neither had he.

“Sorry.” He looked like he truly, truly meant it.

“No, uh, that’s okay.” My mouth started talking a mile a minute while my brain was stuck in—huh? “Um, it’s super late,” I mumbled, hunting for my shoes. “I should go.”

He jumped to his feet, not trying to dissuade me from leaving. “I’ll walk you.”

So, we walked the three houses to my home in silence. But before I went inside, he gently backed me up against my front door, and kissed me again.