Ethereal (2 page)

“This way!” Her voice rises up over the noise.

We walk into a well-lit expanse devoid of the sensory pollution of the entry. It looks like your average bowling alley with lanes lining the two opposing walls of the colossal structure—thick with the scent of popcorn. A giant square of a cashier’s station sits to our right with a wall of shoes behind it. Every now and again you hear a set of pins knock over followed by a gasp or a scream. Not too many patrons, but then it is a Thursday afternoon in August. I suppose even the village shut-ins take a vacation now and again.

“Bree.” A male voice spikes from behind.

We turn in unison. A pair of guys around our age make their way over, both tall, one with gold hair that matches my own, and one with hair the color pitch. It’s the blonde that gets my attention. It feels as though the entire room has lost its light, harnessed its beauty and shifted its lust filled focus just on the two of us. I bask in his perfection, straight Roman nose, sharp almond eyes, broad chest, wide shoulders.
  

My mouth falls open stupidly, and I can feel the drool pooling beneath my tongue.

“Guys, this is Skyla. She’s moving into Chloe’s old house.” She shrugs as though it were unexpected. “Skyla, these are the knuckleheads I work with, Logan and Gage.” She extends her hands over them as though they were prizes.

Logan. Immediately I’m lost in his trance, like he’s cast a spell on me and I can’t look away. It’s simultaneously the most comfortable and frightening feeling in the world.
You’re gorgeous
, I want to say. Instead, Something far more normal and garbled escapes my lips in the form of hello.

 
“Skyla? Gage Oliver.” He takes up my hand. He has severe dimples on either side of his lips that ignite when he smiles. His eyes are the purest color blue I think I’ve ever seen—the color of a cobalt sea off in some unknowable part of the world. He’s gorgeous and I’m perplexed that standing before me are two of the best looking guys quite possibly on the planet. Normally I would have been ripe to worship at his feet, but it’s the Adonis to his left that has me spellbound.

“You have a very unique name. It’s beautiful.” The Adonis takes my hand away from Gage and brings it to his lips with smile. “
Logan
Oliver.” He emphasizes his first name.

“Oh, so you’re brothers?” It comes out doubtful. They look nothing alike. Or maybe they’re step? Mothers marrying morons
is
on the rise.

“Cousins.” Logan ticks his head towards Gage. “I live with them. My parents are both deceased.”

The sharp sting of reality rattles me out of my lust struck stupor.

“Oh. I’m sorry. My dad died too.” It’s only when I look down that I notice he’s still holding my hand, cradling it soft between both of his. The awkwardness of the situation comes to light and he gently replaces my hand next to my waist.

“Sorry.” He gives an open pensive stare. It feels as though he’s bearing right through me—like he sees me, but too much. I feel naked under his watchful supervision and it sends an errant shudder up my spine.

We reconfigure at a nearby table with Brielle next to me, and by process of elimination Logan across from her.

“So you’re a junior?” Gage rasps his knuckles across the table. He’s fixed on me with those blue, piercing orbs. His eyes roam all over me freely and with great intensity.

“Yup.” I bob my head. “And you guys?”

“We’re
all
juniors!” Brielle shakes my arm as though it were the most exciting news in the world.

When she touches me, I can hear her thoughts. It’s an odd gift I don’t bother utilizing too often. I think my mother is onto me because she bolts like a cat out of water if I dare let a hug linger. I need to have flesh contact, and I don’t make it a practice of abusing my gift.

I bet they’re both already in love with her. All that perfect hair, and what color are those eyes anyway? Crystal clear? Really, I hate how beautiful she is.

Her lips twist with discontent before she removes her fingers.

She hates my beauty. The thought of it brings a slight curve to my lips.

“So tell me about Chloe.” I ask no one in particular.

A stunned silence fills up the tiny space around us.

Logan’s face darkens. His eyes flare with an emotion I can’t quite identify, something akin to anger.

Chloe may be dead, but it’s clear her name still holds a great deal of power.

Chapter Three

Cult of personality

Turns out Chloe was the subject of much lust at Paragon High—cheerleader, all around American girl, dated both Logan and Gage on and off—been dead a good nine months.

I blink up at the canopy above my bed. My mother had the movers replicate my old bedroom under her strict delegation of authority. She dreams of us falling in love with this rat-trap, playing the piano and singing by a roaring fire. I think she needs an entire family transplant for something of that moronic magnitude to happen.

A slight smile plays on my lips. Already I don’t want to leave. Already I’m in love with this haunted, arid Island.

I dreamed of Logan. Logan on the beach, Logan at the movies, his hands racing up and down my body—crying out my name on a long lonely stretch of highway.
  

A horn goes off in a series of short staccato beeps down in front of the house. I glance over at the alarm—nine on the button. Brielle’s already managed to convince me to join the cheerleading team. Since Chloe died they’ve yet to fill the void. The horn goes off again as I round my legs over the bed. I ignore her impatient honking and head into the shower.

When I get out, Brielle’s seated on my bed Indian style messing around with her phone. “Morning sunshine.” She doesn’t bother looking up.

“So Gage or Logan, which one’s yours?” I try and sound cheerful like I might be joking, but I’m digging for the truth, we both know it.

I towel dry my hair in a fury like it’s no big deal, like I didn’t whisper I love you to him in my dreams.

“Which one do you think?” She cocks her head to the side. It comes out almost a dare.

It couldn’t be Logan. What we shared was practically electric.

“Gage?”

Her affect flattens. She pulls her lips to the side. “Neither.”

“Oh.” I let my towel fall to the ground and pick up my hairbrush from off the desk. “Which one are you hoping for?” I can spot a crush a mile away. If she says neither I’m going to hold her down by the wrists until I hear the truth stream through her mind.
 

“I don’t know. I’ve known them all my life—kind of find them boring. I like fresh meat. Undiscovered terrain.” Her eyes squint hard from the explosion of joy on her face as she points in the direction of Drake’s room.

“Oh dear God, no.” In a way it’s a good thing because there won’t be any weirdness between us,
ever
. Let the record show I will never challenge her for Drake’s affection.

“What? He’s cute.”

“It’s like you’re cursing.” My hands rise instinctively over my ears.

“Anyway, they’re not seeing anybody. And when I went to work last night it was obvious they were already warring over you. Guess they like fresh meat too.” She tosses her phone onto the mattress.
 

Fresh meat. Good thing I’m partial to carnivores.

 
                                                       
***

West Paragon High sits landlocked around a fleet of tall brick businesses, and it remains an unfortunate distance from the miles of sandy shore. Another fog filled afternoon is here to greet us, and I welcome it as it kisses my face, caresses my arms and legs as we cut through it with our haste. We’re a good forty minutes late to practice because of my ‘hygiene habit’ as Brielle put it so delicately.

On the ride over, she informed me of the
triune
goddesses
who run the team and apparently the school with their wicked charm of which no one can stand and yet everybody secretly wants to be a part of. Sounds like your typical power bitches.

“Michelle Miller, Emily Morgan, Lexy Bakova.” Brielle gives a knowing look when introducing them. They have that ripped from the pages of an expensive magazine look written all over them. The set of matching scowls must be their signature mark.

“Nice to meet you.” I manufacture a smile.

“Natalie Coleman, Kate Winston.” Brielle concludes the introductions with a set of homelier girls with bright friendly faces.

It’s uncomfortably quiet, save for a few shy hellos from the last two. The trio of wickedness glares over at me with a special brand of callousness I’ve yet to encounter. A horrible sense of vulnerability washes over me, and suddenly I’m self conscious of everything right down to my breathing.

“Hey!” A booming voice calls from the side.

With lightning quick strides Logan appears next to me, swooping his arm across my shoulder.

“Trying out for the team?” He’s sporting a half-shirt, worn out grey sweats and has a football helmet tucked under his arm.

“Yeah. I think so.” I don’t tell him I’m in. That they’ll give me Chloe’s spot if I want it. I don’t want to see his amber eyes ignite like that again. He’s far more attractive than he was yesterday, and I’m not entirely sure how that can be possible. “Morning.” I say as though magically we were the only two people on the field.

“Morning.” He counters. His brows narrow in on me, and for the first time I see his eyes light up, wide like beautiful flames as he smiles. Animal eyes.

 
I keep staring and I’m gonna have a really big problem right here, right now
. I hear him say.

I want to laugh at the thought. I blink back my surprise. I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks, an embarrassing shade of scarlet. I think I’m in love.

His eyes widen with pleasure.

Love?
He looks right at me as he thinks it.

This time it’s my eyes widening—with horror. I jump free from his grasp. My lungs expand and retract at a quickened rate.

Shit! He heard me! I heard him and he heard me.

Judging by the shocked expression on his face. He didn’t expect it either.

Chapter Four

Listen

I watch mesmerized as the trees appear and disappear in and out of the fog as Brielle races down the road. Mom was so tired, there was hardly any fight left in her when I asked if I could go to a party with Bree tonight. Mom’s only concession was that I let Drake tag along. She wants him to get acclimated before school starts. She and Tad are afraid he’ll have a hard time fitting in. Most likely he won’t fit in anyway, primates usually don’t do well at public school. But I pay the piper and issue Drake a get-out-of-the-house free card.

“Ellis Harrison is sort of a dick.” Brielle says turning down the music in her bright red Jeep.

Earlier she informed both my mother and I that he came from old money and lived in one of the biggest homes in the gated portion of town known as Paragon Estates.

She recites his name to the tower guard who lazily punches in a code. The wooden arm swings up as we glide on down a mysterious winding path. You can feel the affluence just driving past the sprawling homes, each one more extravagant than the last, hiding behind the neatly trimmed bushes that nestle their borders. We follow a white bridal fence for what feels like miles as the giant eucalyptus shag their leaves into the wind. The sky glows a light purple. Even through the damp thick air you can see the crystal expanse of stars glinting above like shards of ice.

She pulls in a long stone-paved driveway that widens until it reaches a monolithic estate lit up like a jewel. A giant chandelier glitters out the second story window just above two glass doors adorned with wrought iron. The whole place has a Spanish villa feel, equip with an enormous three-tiered fountain in the middle of the circular driveway that sits surrounded by stone lions. It’s illuminated with a pale blue glow, and it occurs to me while gazing at it dreamily, that I could never get used to living in a place as fantastic as this. I’d have to wear ball gowns to bed and pearls to breakfast. Hell, I’d probably have to eat pearls for breakfast.