Aven's Dream (10 page)

It took a second to realize that I already was skipping class. Something I never did. Because
that
was when people noticed me—at the wrong times. Like teachers only calling on me when I happened to be staring out the window. Or guys on the football team only noticing me because they were psychopathic assholes.

“It’s the lunch hour after this period, and we have a term paper to write, do we not?” Will smiled, all charm again.

“Damn, you’re moody. And how did you know about the paper?”

“I spoke with Mr. Anderson,” he said simply.

I sighed. The thought of returning to Mr. Anderson’s class and seeing Scott—whether he remembered what happened or not—was unnerving, despite Will’s assurances. Before I got a chance to rethink my decision, Will helped me from the desk. Walking from the classroom, I followed him to the exit toward the parking lot.

Outside, pelted by drizzling rain, I stopped. Getting on the back of a motorcycle while my stomach was still doing back flips would inevitably cost me my breakfast and my dignity. Will looked down and smiled at my terrified expression.

“I didn’t take the motorcycle today, if that’s what you were worried about,” he said, answering my unspoken fears.

I melted in relief. Four wheels and metal around us sounded comforting, if less thrilling. I tried to anticipate which car might have been Will’s. Following the sound of chirping, my eyes locked onto an incredibly out-of-place black sedan at the edge of the parking lot. My mouth went dry. What high school student—outside of Laguna Beach or some other rich enclave like the Pacific Palisades—drove a car like this?

I looked more closely. Before our move, my dad had taken me to at least one auto show every year. He was a car nut. He loved Ferrari, Aston Martin, Jaguar, Maserati—to name a few. Eventually, I had picked up a few things by osmosis. For instance, I knew cars like the one we were approaching—an Aston Martin if I was guessing right—probably retailed for more money than my parents had paid for their first house. And that was before options. It looked like Will’s car had all of them.

I blinked and tried to regain my composure as Will opened the door and waited patiently for me to quit gawking and get in. When I looked to the driver’s side, he had already taken his place behind the wheel. The engine purred to life.

“Fasten your seatbelt, please.”

I did as I was told and then said a silent prayer that he would obey the traffic laws from school to my house. I breathed in; the car smelled of new leather and something else. It was Will’s cologne or aftershave, I realized. I wanted to ask him what it was, but—embarrassing.

“Where were you last week?” I asked instead.

He cast me a sidelong glance.

“I had business to attend to.”

“
Business
?” I laughed, suddenly remembering something he had said the night of the party about
owning
a home outside of town.

Will nodded, but didn’t elaborate. It struck me as odd that he would move to a new town by himself in his last year of school, but he was nineteen—a legal adult. A legal adult who drove an Aston Martin and fought crime by night.

We arrived in front of my house in less than half the time it took Sean to cover the same distance, and I was grateful I hadn’t been paying attention to the rate of speed at which we had been traveling. Reaching for the door handle, I jumped when I saw that Will was already standing there with the door open. I sighed again. It was like my brain operated at half-speed in his presence. Will walked me to the door and waited silently while I removed the house key from my pocket.

“I’ll be back with your books,” he called as I stepped through the doorway.

I glanced back, suddenly aware that I had left my bag in History, but he was already halfway down the walk. Darcy came running from upstairs. I patted him on the head and went to let him out in the back yard. Then, assuming I had time before Will returned with my books, I went to my room and turned on the computer before deciding to take a hot shower, hoping I could shake off the sense of dread that lingered from seeing Scott Adams again.

After several minutes beneath the water, I reluctantly got out and wrapped myself in a towel before I noticed that Darcy was waiting at attention in front of the closed bathroom door. Just then, I heard knocking coming from downstairs. Scanning the bathroom, I realized that I hadn’t brought a change of clothes with me, so I wrapped the towel securely around me and ran downstairs with dripping wet hair. On my tiptoes, I could see a tall figure through the frosted glass windows of the front door.

“I’m going to let you in, but you have to keep your eyes closed,” I warned through the door.

I heard Will laugh.

“You promise?” I said sharply.

“You have my word,” he replied, still laughing.

Unlocking the door, I turned the doorknob before racing back up the stairs, clutching my towel. When I reached the landing, I looked back. Will was at the foot of the stairs, his eyes closed, as promised. I could see a hint of a smile on his lips. As soon as I got to my room, I quickly toweled off my hair and threw on a pair of jeans and an old sweater. By the time I returned to the landing, Darcy was sitting beside Will.

Walking downstairs, I saw that my books and my bag—which I had left hanging on my chair in Mr. Anderson’s class—were sitting next to the couch. Will studied me for a moment, and I touched my wet hair self-consciously.

“Would you like something to drink?” Will asked.

“Um … sure?”

It felt incredibly odd for someone to ask me that in my own house, but just then, I realized I was desperately thirsty and
hungry
. It was lunchtime, and I hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast—which was never a good thing for me. I was only moments away from the sort of deranged hunger that made me psychotically angry. I got up to follow Will into the kitchen when he appeared in the doorway balancing a plate of crackers, an apple, and a glass of orange juice.

“Uh …”

When I continued to stare at him, he handed me the juice before setting the apple and crackers on the coffee table and waiting for me to take a seat. He sat down a few feet from me and watched as I drank half the juice and ate three crackers. Finally my head started to clear. Will remained where he was, his liquid blue eyes watching me. I looked at him suspiciously.

“How did you know I was hungry?”

Will tapped his watch.

“It
is
lunchtime.”

“Oh. Are you hungry?” I asked. “I can make you something.”

He shook his head.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

He frowned.

“You seemed on edge.”

“So you got me something to eat?” I asked humorously.

“Yes,” he said, as though it made perfect sense.

Only Sean and my dad knew what I was like when I didn’t eat regularly, and I didn’t think I had had an opportunity to bite Will’s head off in a way that suggested I was dangerously unhinged when I didn’t eat.

“But how could you tell?” I asked.

“I could see it in your eyes.”

“That I was about to become psychotic with hunger?”

He didn’t answer, and silence settled over the house. A million questions swirled in the back of my mind, but I hesitated. This guy was almost weirder than I was.

“Shall we?” Will said, gesturing toward the History textbook sitting on top of the others.

I had completely forgotten about our paper. I stole a glance at the clock on the mantle. School hadn’t ended yet, and I was relieved that my dad wouldn’t be home for several hours.

“Actually, I should take Darcy out. He hasn’t been for a walk today. We can start the paper another time if you don’t want to wait …”

But Will was already standing with my jacket that he had retrieved from Mr. Anderson’s class. He handed it to me when I reached him.

“W
hat were you doing in the park the other night?” I asked curiously.

“I was out for a ride.”

I looked up at Will. Somewhere in his tone I sensed an evasion, but I couldn’t think of why he would lie about something so trivial. As we walked, Will had to slow his pace considerably for me to keep up with him, and he still took one step for every three of mine. His stride was seamless and fluid, and I felt downright awkward beside him. Darcy, acting as a chaperone, trotted between us.

“Do you do that often? Wander random neighborhoods at night?” I asked.

He smiled.

“Some nights more than others.”

From out of nowhere, a cold gust of wind wrapped itself around us, and I shivered, pulling my jacket closer. I shot a surreptitious glance in his direction, studying his absurdly perfect profile—the sculpted features that made the rest of the guys in school look like … well, boys.

Then I remembered. He was nineteen. Which still didn’t explain why he looked like a god among mere mortals. The dark blue of his sweater contrasted with his bright blue eyes to make them even more mesmerizing. I looked down at my faded sweatshirt and jeans. I knew I wasn’t unattractive, but everything about me except my dark red hair was just understated … invisible. Nothing about Will Kincaid was understated.

“What I meant was … That night in the park, the party—I just can’t figure out why you noticed
me
of all people.”

“You might be surprised to find who
has
noticed you, Aven.”

I screwed up my eyebrows at him. His reply implied some sort of significance I couldn’t figure out. His answers just led to more questions. But it wasn’t just the ominous edge his tone had taken that made my breath catch. A tingle ran through my body when he said my name. It sounded different on his lips. I breathed in and tried unsuccessfully to slow my heart.

“Tell me about your family,” I said, attempting to maneuver my questions into more neutral territory.

He didn’t answer right away, and I was surprised. Why would he hesitate over something so harmless?

“I don’t have family. I have an inheritance and companions.”

“What do you mean,
you don’t have family
?”

“They died.”

I looked down and swallowed, feeling like an idiot.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” I said softly.

“It was a long time ago.”

Looking up at him, I found very little emotion on his face. We fell into silence as we walked. Finally, I blurted out the only question I could think of.

“What do you mean by companions?”

It seemed like such an odd term. Not friends, not buddies …
companions
.

“Individuals with whom I spend time.”

I smiled.

“
Friends
you mean?”

“No, companions.”

I lifted my hands in surrender.

“Okay.
Companions
it is. And you moved from the East Coast, right?” I asked, remembering what Mr. Anderson had said the week before.

“I have a home just outside of St. John’s.”

“
You
have
another
home?”

He smiled.

“Yes,
I
have
homes
.”

St. John’s. I couldn’t place the name, not that my knowledge of geography was stellar.

“It’s the provincial capital of Newfoundland and Labrador. In Canada,” he added for clarification. “It’s on the eastern tip of the Avalon Peninsula on the island of Newfoundland.”

“You’re …
Canadian
?”

“An expatriate, really.”

I shook my head.

“Um, okay. But why come here in your last year of school?”

What I was really thinking was:
Why Winters of all places
?

“It was unavoidable.”

“Unavoidable,” I repeated, starting to feel like a parrot.

I pressed my lips together, realizing that the only way to keep Will talking was to keep my questions as impersonal as possible.

“Tell me about St. John’s.”

“It’s the rainiest city in all of Canada,” Will said.

“Rainier than here?”

He nodded.

“Sounds great,” I laughed.

I was suddenly grateful my dad hadn’t taken a teaching position in Washington State. Oregon, I decided, was far enough north for me.

“It also has the most bars per capita of any city in North America,” Will said, still smiling.

“Good to know.”

We walked in silence again before turning back in the direction of my house.

“Am I allowed to meet your father tonight?” Will asked.

I raised my eyebrows in shock.

“You’re joking, right?” I asked, bewildered by his bizarre request.

“We
are
working on a paper together,” Will reminded me. “Don’t you think it would be prudent for him to meet your partner if I’ll be coming to your house in the future? That is unless you would feel more comfortable coming to
my
house.”

His eyes shone with amusement as I thought it over.

“Why don’t you come over Friday night,” I said slowly.

That would give me time to—what exactly? Prepare my dad? Prepare myself?

“It’s a date, then,” Will said, sounding a little too satisfied with himself. “What time would you like me to come over?”

“You know, I don’t get you,” I said, exhaling.

“What is it that you don’t understand?”

“Why you’re
here
of all places. Who you are. What your deal is … I mean, you don’t make any sense!” Will’s eyes narrowed, but I sped on, suddenly unable to control myself. “You’re nineteen, you’re obviously loaded, you could go anywhere, do anything. Instead, you show up here and beat the ever living shit out of a bunch of psychos like you’re … I don’t know what! And you’re following
me
around, which is just …
weird
!”

I stopped, breathless. We had stopped outside my house, and I was practically shouting at my History partner. It began misting again, and glimmering droplets of water in his hair were forming a halo around Will’s face. Without warning, I felt an irrational desire to reach out and trace his perfect features with my fingertips—to convince myself he was real. He was beautiful, perfect, but somehow alien. It wasn’t just that he didn’t belong here with me. Actually, he didn’t belong anywhere with mere mortals.

“We should go inside,” Will said quietly.

Chastened by my outburst, I nodded and turned toward the house. Darcy clattered up the stairs ahead of us. Stepping in front of me, Will unlocked the front door. I shook my head. Had I given him the key? I couldn’t remember. Will could easily make a person crazy, I thought as I followed him inside and sat stiffly on the couch, still embarrassed.

“Have you thought of any topics you’re interested in pursuing?” Will asked pleasantly, as though I hadn’t just unleashed a torrent of wild accusations in his direction.

“I was thinking maybe a juxtaposition between passage of the Fugitive Slave Act and invention of the cotton gin.”

“That sounds manageable,” Will nodded. “We can draw up an outline over the weekend.”

“The weekend?” I looked at him blankly.

“Unless you would prefer I met your father this evening?”

I glared at him as Will smiled his irrationally beautiful smile and stood to leave, apparently satisfied he had outmaneuvered me.

“I’ll see you in class,” he called back, gliding away from me. “Remember, no going anywhere with strangers or wandering dark streets alone …”

He laughed, and I turned from where I was sitting on the couch, about to make a comment, only to find myself alone in the room. It was like talking with a ghost who disappeared and reappeared at will, I thought testily. Gathering my books, I trudged up to my room. But I found it nearly impossible to concentrate on schoolwork. My mind kept drifting back to Will. Each time I thought of him, a rush of adrenaline would make the words in my Health Sciences textbook turn to nonsense, forcing me to start all over again. I was sure I had been reading the same page for at least an hour when I heard my dad’s car pull into the driveway. I hadn’t even thought about what to make for dinner—or how I was going to tell him about Will coming over, which I was sure was going to be  … awkward.

“Aven, you home?” my dad called as he entered the house.

Where else would I be without a car or driver’s license?
I wondered.

“Upstairs!”

Homework would have to wait while I tried to figure out dinner. Darcy stood at the door, waiting to be released from my room so that he could race downstairs to greet my dad. Opening the door, I followed him. My dad was still in the entryway sorting mail. Pecking him on the cheek, I moved toward the kitchen to rifle through the refrigerator for potential dinner items. I scanned the contents, scribbling notes on a list I had left out the day before, which meant that my dad had forgotten to go to the store.

“How does mac and cheese sound?” I called.

“Great. Do you need me to do a grocery run?” he asked, joining me in the kitchen.

“Yeah, I’m adding a few things to the list now. Is there anything you wanted this week?”

“I’ll leave it up to you,” he said, still studying a piece of mail.

There was a reason why my dad wasn’t in charge of meal planning. My mom had always said he would starve if left to his own devices. Since that wasn’t an option for me, dinners that didn’t come with plastic utensils were my responsibility. As I updated the grocery list, I realized that I hadn’t asked Will about his dietary preferences, but since he was coming over on a Friday, I decided he could deal with my pasta sauce.

My dad probably wouldn’t have noticed if I made macaroni and cheese straight out of a box, but the thought of powdered cheese made me gag. From the refrigerator, I pulled out three different types of cheese, broccoli, milk, and butter before going to the pantry to retrieve an onion, dried chives, and a bag of flour. As I grated the cheese, I heard my cell phone ringing upstairs and ran to grab it. It was Sean.

“What’s up?” I asked breathlessly.

“Are you okay?”

I frowned. He sounded uncharacteristically … nervous
. Oops
. I had totally forgotten about my episode in History—
and
that I had skipped Journalism.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just felt a little sick in class.”

“Well, when you didn’t come back …” Sean paused, sounding sheepish. “I sort of thought the new guy had kidnapped you or something. I mean, he had you out of class so fast Anderson didn’t even have a chance to figure out what was going on.”

Obviously my exit from History hadn’t been as subtle as I had hoped for.

“He just drove me home, and we talked a little about the History paper,” I said as casually as possible.

“Oh.”

I felt like a liar, but that
was
what had happened—with a few minor omissions about my crazy behavior.

“Hey, are you up for going to Ford’s this week?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

“Always.”

“You mind if I bring a friend?” When Sean didn’t say anything, I rushed ahead. “Her name’s Lizzie. She’s really nice …”

I could hear Sean exhale, and I wondered if he had thought I was going to invite Will Kincaid. I almost laughed at the thought of Will and Sean in the same vehicle. Like night and day.

“You want me to invite Matt and Jeff?”

“Um ...” I stalled, thinking about having two additional bodies jammed into Sean’s Civic. “Maybe next time?”

“You wanna go Wednesday then?” Sean asked.

“Sure. I’ll ask her tomorrow in fifth.”

“
If
you make it that far,” he teased.

“Ha, ha.”

“All right. I gotta go.”

Throwing the phone on the bed, I sighed when I remembered that tomorrow was Tuesday. Sean had morning band practice, so I would have to take the bus. I still hadn’t made the appointment for my driver’s exam, but another day of the bus would provide ample motivation. My dad had mentioned that one of the professors in his department was looking to sell his car for cheap, but so far our conversation hadn’t progressed to the point where I even knew what type of car it was. Didn’t matter, though. A vehicle of any kind would have to wait until I had a driver’s license.

On my way downstairs, I noticed that my dad had drifted into his office, absorbed in his work, as usual. I set a pot of water on the stove while I grated the rest of the cheese before moving on to chop the onion and broccoli, which I would stir into the cheese sauce. My mind drifted aimlessly across my few encounters with Will as I sniffled against the onion’s fumes.