A Demon's Kiss (Young Adult Romance) (6 page)

This sucked.

I spent the rest of the day in a deep, dark cloud. That’s probably why I didn’t pay more attention to Izzie. I could tell something was bothering her, but I didn’t really press her and Izzie needs to be pressed.

“What’s the matter?” I asked during lunch. She kept clutching her stomach, something she does when she’s upset. It’s like she has an ulcer or something.

“Nothing.” She tried to manage a sympathetic smile. “How are you and Gage?”

And of course, that was an open invitation to groan about Gage. Not that I could. That wound was too deep to actually talk about. All I could do was quietly bleed. Suffer alone.

But wasn’t I
always
alone?

I tried to act as though it didn’t bother me that Gage and I weren’t friends anymore. I knew no one was actually buying it, least of all Izzie. Everyone knew me too well for that. But it made me feel better anyway. So, I did it. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

So, during lunch, though I didn’t actually speak about Gage, I was inwardly howling, and therefore, didn’t pay enough attention to my best friend.

I didn’t find out what Izzie’s problem was until that night at Posh. And then it was Logan that brought it to my attention.

CHAPTER 6

How it went was this: I was at work and Logan showed up. I was surprised to see him, as he hadn’t come in since the night he bought figment-of-his-imagination, “Sister Dear,” that red dress (which by the way, I gave back. I was going to take it to his house and leave it on his doorstep, but I didn’t know where he lived. I tried looking up his address in the phone book. That didn’t work. There were too many Ryans and I didn’t know his dad’s name or anything like that).

So, I asked Izzie about it. But she didn’t know where he lived either, so I asked Summer ‘cause she knows everything about every hot guy at our school. She has long conversations about them with her friends every night from around four to ten.

“Logan Ryan?” She bit her lip, looking bewildered. “No. I don’t know where he lives.”

She seemed as surprised as me.

“Hmmm,” she said thoughtfully, like how could this be?

“Why do you want to know where he lives anyway?” she asked. “Are you going to start stalking him?”

Summer has no clue about me. I don’t stalk guys I like, I
avoid
guys I like. Duh!

I wondered what she’d say if she knew Logan asked me out. Or that he tried to kiss me. Or that he bought me a dress. She’d probably die of bewilderment.

I decided to save Beth the funeral bill. “I was just wondering,” I said.

Summer smirked. “You’ve finally given up on Gage? Hallelujah!” Her smile twisted. “But Logan Ryan? Give it up.”

The phone rang and Summer scrambled to get it. Immediately, she started blathering. “Oh, you’re kidding!”

I rolled my eyes, ready to leave. But then I heard her say, “Hey, do you know where Logan Ryan lives?”

I froze. Waiting.

But apparently, whoever Summer was talking to didn’t know either.

It was kind of weird. Why didn’t anyone know anything about Logan?

Finally, I gave up on taking the dress to his house. I just tossed it on the passenger seat of his car the next day at school. (He left his car unlocked. Psycho!) At the last moment, I wrote him a quick note, stuffing it inside the box. It said, “Thanks. But no thanks.”

I knew that was kind of harsh, especially because he had been so nice. I mean, I
loved
the dress. But how would Chloe feel if she found out? These days I was all too aware of the girlfriend’s side of things. Chalk it up to Seth’s knife in my back. It gave me a new perspective. A whole new level of empathy.

***

When Logan came into Posh, I was surprised to see him. I hadn’t actually talked to him since the library-kiss thing. Sometimes, I’d see him around school. And he was always staring. It was kind of as though
he
was stalking
me
. (Summer would never believe it.) But he didn’t do it all spooky like or anything. He would smile at me—a smile that would’ve melted my heart like butter if I wasn’t so wrapped up in my Gage misery. (And the knowledge that Logan had a girlfriend.)

But tonight Logan wasn’t smiling.

 
“Take your break,” he told me.

I gave him my “drop-dead” look, and went on inventorying the new shipment of tops we’d gotten today. They were kind of hideous. But they’d probably be all over school by next Wednesday. Neat-o.

Logan didn’t go away. He didn’t leave. He simply said, “We need to talk.”

The way he said it made my stomach knot a little. He wasn’t being his normal, friendly, flirty self. He was being demanding. What was up with that? It had me nervous and biting my thumbnail. I lost all of my rebelliousness in one swoop.

“I’ll be right back,” I told him without asking any questions. Something about his voice told me he wasn’t fooling around and that I wasn’t going to like what he had to say.

I had mixed emotions as I asked Jade if I could take my break. On the one hand, I was anxious to find out what Logan had to tell me. On the other, I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know.

“Sure,” Jade said. “Take your break.” She was practically shoving me out the door. I guess she’d been checking Logan out while we were talking. I guess she liked what she saw. “Who
is
that guy? He’s gorgeous.”

I sighed. “His name’s Logan. I’ll tell you about him later.”

I followed Logan out of the store and into the food court. He had me sit at a table and offered to buy me a coke.

“No thanks,” I told him. I’d chewed my thumbnail down to the point it was sore. “What is it?”

“You’re friends with Izzie Webber, right?”

“Izzie?” I furrowed my brow.
Oh no
. “Yeah, why?”

“She hit a car this morning—my dad’s. She backed up into it, then drove off. That’s called a hit and run.”

I cringed, remembering how upset Izzie had been at lunch. She was probably being tortured with guilt. All the while, I’d inwardly moaned about Gage. Poor Izzie.

I bit on my lip. “So, what does this have to do with me?”

Logan shrugged. “Nothing, I guess. I just thought you might like to know before I tell my dad.”

I chewed on my lip some more. The way he was acting—all formal and business-like—I knew he had some sort of “plan.”

I set my jaw. “What do you want?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Well, my dad’s BMW is pretty messed up …”

Great, he wanted something big. I’d kind of already figured that out, but it was like he was driving it in. My stomach clenched, waiting to hear what horrible thing he had planned.

I said it again, “What do you want?” Then I added, “I don’t have money.”

“No,” he shook his head slightly. “I don’t want money.”

I ran my hands through my hair in frustration. I could hear two little girls sitting at the table next to us, fighting over a toy they got with their meal. I glanced over at them, not really seeing them, just needing to look away. I clenched my teeth. “Then what do you want?”

He stared into my eyes, waiting for me to look at him. “What do you
think
I want?”

Whoa. My stomach dropped, totally shaken by his words and what they seemed to imply.

Suddenly I felt like I couldn’t breathe. My entire body was swimming in a pool of sweat. I licked my lips, trying to give them moisture so I could talk.

“This is blackmail?” The crazy words caught in my throat. “Like, for …”

I couldn’t say the word. It was too crazy. Suddenly, it was like I was in a made-for-TV movie. A bad one, cuz stuff like this didn’t really happen. Not in real life. Not in high school. Not
my
high school.

“Relax. I’m not talking about sex,” Logan said with a smirk. “I’m talking about the school dance thing coming up …”

Relief! Finally, I was able to breathe again, though now I felt kind of stupid. “And you want to go with Izzie?”

“No.” He shook his head slightly. “Not with Izzie.”

I took a deep breath. “Then who?”

He smiled a little, arching his eyebrows. “You know who.”

“Why are you doing this? Why didn’t you just ask me to the stupid dance?”

“Would you have come with me?” When I didn’t answer, he did it for me. “No, you wouldn’t have. Will you come with me now, though?”

I stared down at the table.

“Probably,” he said. “Probably you will. That’s why.”

I glared up at him, not really believing this was happening. I was being
blackmailed
for a date? By Logan Ryan? It was crazy. He wasn’t a dork or anything. He was cute and popular. He didn’t need to blackmail girls for dates. This was messed up. He had to be wanting more than a date.

“So, this is blackmail?” I asked just to make sure I understood. “You’re blackmailing me?”

“I guess you could call it that,” he said. “But I’d call it more like...an arrangement.”

“And your girlfriend won’t mind this
arrangement
?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said impatiently. “Me and Chloe—we’re not like that.”

“You have an arrangement with her too?”

Logan smiled wryly. “Believe it or not, some girls don’t need an excuse to let me be with them.”

“Then why don’t you just be with them?” I asked. “And leave me alone?”

“Because you don’t want me to,” he said. “Come on, face it, you’re as attracted to me as I am to you.”

“You’re wrong,” I told him through clenched teeth. “Maybe, I
was
attracted to you. Maybe. But if you’re serious about this …”

 
“Look, I am. I’m serious. But you don’t have to do this,” Logan said. “We can just forget it. I’ll tell my dad and he’ll call the police. They can deal with it. I just thought maybe you’d want to help out your friend.”

Logan got up. “Just think about it, okay? It’s up to you.”

He started to walk away, but I stopped him. “That’s really all it is?—the dance? And if I go with you, you’ll really forget about the accident?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I will.” He sat back down across from me. “So do we have a deal?”

CHAPTER
7

Whoa, no bad dreams
, that was my first conscious thought when I woke this morning. In fact, I hadn’t dreamed at all. Very cool.

My second thought was: I’m being blackmailed for a date. That was beyond bizarre. Any girl at school would kill to go to the dance with Logan. So why blackmail me? Why me at all? Had I grown giant boobs or something? I got out of bed and peered into the mirror, scrutinizing. No boobs. No thick, bouncy hair. No nothing special.

“I don’t get it,” I mumbled.

Summer rolled over with a yawn. “Talking to yourself again?” She laughed at my blank expression. “You’re so weird.”

She always says that. I guess it’s true. Not too many people can make a door slam without actually touching it. But then, Summer didn’t know I could do that.

“Who are you going to the dance with?” I asked.

Summer made a face. “Shane Walters.” She shrugged, yawning again. “He was the only guy that asked.”

Things had been sort of rough on Summer lately. Her ex-boyfriend, Justin, disappeared. No one has seen him since the beginning of the school year. I say,
Good Riddance
. Justin was bad news and he treated Summer like crap. But for some reason Summer really liked him. I guess ‘cause he treated her like crap.

I gazed back into the mirror, mesmerized with wonder. Why was Logan so interested in me?

Summer yawned again. “Why are suddenly so interested in the mirror?” Her jaw dropped, the answer seeming to dawn on her. “Did someone ask you to the dance?” It sounded as though the thought was pretty hard for her to choke down.

“Uh …”

I couldn’t tell her about Logan. Summer and I—we’re not like normal sisters. Or even normal half-sisters. We barely ever speak. Except when she needs to tell me to get off the phone, or that I’m weird. Oh yeah, or that I ought to move up to the attic. Things like that. What I mean is, we don’t have sisterly heart-to-hearts. So, I couldn’t tell her I was being blackmailed. She wouldn’t believe me anyway. If I told her Logan Ryan was bribing me for a date, she would sign me up for the loony bin.

“No. No one’s asked me.” That was the truth; it wasn’t a lie. Logan didn’t
ask
me. He was
making
me.

Summer yawned again. “Then why are you suddenly so interested in the mirror? Usually you hulk around as though you don’t have a clue mirrors even exist.”

Yeah. Thanks.

I got back into bed. It was Saturday. What was I doing up?

Summer seemed to be wide-awake now, though. “I heard Gage yelled at you at Pikes the other day.”

“No big deal,” I lied. Then I faked a snore. I knew she wouldn’t buy that I was actually sleeping, but hoped maybe she’d get the hint—I didn’t want to talk anymore.

But of course, no such luck. “Gage seems really into Addison,” she said.

Duh!

This was weird. Summer was actually taking an interest in my life? “They’ve been going together for a long time,” she blathered. “I mean, he usually goes through girls like Kleenex. But not Addison.”

I snored again.

***

This afternoon, I went to
an art exhibit with Izzie. She’s majorly into art. And dark, scary things. It’s weird we’re friends. I avoid dark scary things like the plague; dark scary things scare me. But not Izzie. She strives for it. You should see her room. It’s frightening. I don’t spend much time there, especially not at night. I mean, we don’t have sleepovers or anything. But you know, that’s ‘cause of my nightly screams too.

Anyway, the art exhibit was creepy. I’m not even going to go into it. ‘Cause thinking about it makes me kind of sick. But, of course, Izzie thought the exhibit was amazing. And she is an art major, so...whatever.

When I got home from the art exhibit there was a message for me to call Mrs. Michaels—Gage’s Mom. It took me a long while to actually call though. I was nervous. What did she want? What if Gage answered?

I kind of thought about pretending I didn’t get the message. But in the end, that seemed too slimy. I liked Mrs. Michaels. I wasn’t in a fight with
her
. Only what if she begged me to forgive Gage?...What if she said he cries in his room every night?—talks about me in his sleep?

I leapt for the phone and quickly dialed her number. I soon learned she hadn’t called begging me to forgive her son. She called begging me to baby-sit her daughter.

“I’m sorry to ask you on such short notice,” she said, explaining that her husband had to stay an extra night in Las Vegas, and he wanted her to fly up there. “But I need someone to watch Sara, and Gage’s gone camping for the weekend.”

Like I said, I really liked Mrs. Michaels. A lot. So, I wanted to help her. I did. But I didn’t want Gage to find out I was so pathetic that I didn’t have anything better to do on a Saturday night than sit around and watch his little sister. I was tempted to tell Mrs. Michaels, “I couldn’t possibly. I have a huge date.” Then hopefully, eventually, she would trickle that information on to Gage.

But that was lame. So, I said, “Sure. I’ll watch Sara for you.”

Except for the Gage part, I was glad to do it. It was nice getting to help Mrs. Michaels for a change. She helped me out tons when I was growing up. Besides, I like Sara. She’s cute.

***

Tonight, once we’d had about our ten-thousandth tea party, I sent Sara off to bed. Then I crept into Gage’s room and closed the door. I put on old CDs that reminded me of “us.” And I looked through his closet. Fondled his clothes. I just needed the closeness. To be close to him.

I took out one of his sweaters and put it on. It was warm, comforting. Just cuz, I took out another and stuffed a pillow inside.

“Hello Gage,” I told it.

“Don’t crowd me,” it growled.

 
Feeling this was slightly demented, I quickly took the pillow out and moved on to Gage’s drawers. His top ones held socks, briefs and t-shirts. I undressed and put on his underwear and socks. I looked in the mirror. Posed.

I’m psychotic
, I told myself. But I didn’t take them off. I put on his Avenge Sevenfold t-shirt, and a ratty pair of sweats. The sweats were enormous on me, but they were comfortable. And I felt comforted...a little.

Don’t crowd me
. Why’d he say that?

In his top drawer, stuck to the bottom, was an old picture-strip of him and me taken at a photo booth. Finding it, I was going to cry, tears were welling, only Sara came in, catching me staring at it.

She rubbed her eyes. “I can’t sleep.”

I quickly shoved the strip back into Gage’s drawer and clicked off the CD player. “Sorry. Was I being too loud?”

“No. I just can’t sleep.” But she looked tired. I got the feeling she was scared. I remembered back when I was a kid. I didn’t trust my babysitters to be able to protect me at night. I used to lie in my bed frightened until Daddy and Beth came home.

“How about we pop some popcorn and have a slumber party?” I offered.

She giggled at the idea, shining up the room with her smile. “Okay!”

***

In the middle of the night I woke, startled. Someone was in the room! I rubbed my eyes trying to focus—there was definitely someone moving around. Only …was I dreaming? It was so dark, but the form—it had a slight … glow. I rubbed my eyes again—rubbed and rubbed, then took another peek. It was Gage. He had the door ajar so the light from the hallway slightly lit the room—and lit him. He looked … beautiful. Otherworldly.

I watched him for a moment, trying to make myself wake-up. He was going through his bottom drawer, looking for something.

“Gage?”

He stopped rummaging and turned to me. “Hey Michaela,” he whispered. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“What time is it?” I asked, rubbing my eyes sleepily.

“I don’t know, around two. Look, go back to sleep,” he said gently. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”

It was weird he didn’t ask what I was doing here—in his bed. Probably he figured out the babysitting part. That explained why I was in his
house
—but his bed? His parent’s had a king size bed. And his family room couch was a hide-away.

Then another thought struck me: Did he notice I’m wearing his clothes?! I pulled the covers up higher around me. But then, I noticed the popcorn all over his bed. Sara and I had our slumber-party-thing here. We watched Jurassic Park in his bed, while we munched on popcorn. But during the movie we both zonked out.

“Sorry about the popcorn,” I said meekly.

He shook his head, like
don’t worry about it
. “Looks like Sara had fun.” He stared at me a moment, then asked, “Do you want me to put her in her bed?”

I bit my lip, still weirded out he didn’t ask why I was in his bed instead of his parent’s king size. But maybe he understood. Understood, I was mad at him—couldn’t forgive him—but I missed him.

 
While Gage carried Sara off to her bed, I started shoveling handfuls of popcorn out of his sheets and back into the bowl. But when he returned, I quickly threw the covers back over me, so he couldn’t see I was wearing his clothes.

“I thought you went camping for the weekend,” I told him.

“Yeah. We got rained out, though.” He stared at me, looking as though he was going to say something important, but then he didn’t. Instead he was conversational, “I had to get some dry clothes. Mom flew to Las Vegas, huh?”

I nodded.

We stared at each other in silence. He didn’t call me to apologize anymore—not since our fight in front of my locker. He didn’t pass me notes anymore either. Maybe he gave up on our friendship. Maybe he decided it wasn’t worth the headache. Maybe that’s why he didn’t apologize now—while I was trapped in his bed. Instead he just looked like...I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t read how he looked. But he didn’t look like Gage. Not
my
Gage. Not his friendly, happy self. And that made me sad. And lonely.

Don’t crowd me
—why’d he say that?

“Well, I’m going to go,” he said at last, his voice sounding strained.

I watched him walk out of the room, out of my life. I was bleeding all over the floor.