Love Storm (3 page)

"So how's Eva been?" I stabbed at an attempt to make conversation, choosing my words carefully.

"Eva," Winter said. "She's all anyone ever asks me about, anyway." Her mood had suddenly shifted. She now looked slightly removed, not at all her usual self.

"What do you mean?" I asked casually, tearing the crust from his pizza and starting on it first.

She stared out into space for a moment before returning her gaze to my face. She looked startled to see me sitting there, eating my pizza calmly. "I eat my pizza like that too," she said, giving me an odd look.

I shrugged.

"Eva," Winter frowned, looking down at her half-eaten sandwich. She was quiet for a moment. "Zack," she started, pulling away from the subject, "Why were you stalking Eva?"

I stared at her for a moment. Took in her completely innocent question, her imploring eyes, the way she had cocked her head slightly out of curiosity as she had asked the question, all in one glance, and I laughed. I just couldn't help myself.

"What's so funny?" she frowned, as I continued to chuckle. "That's the second time someone has laughed at me in a very short period of time, something, I can assure you, which does not happen very often."

I smirked. "Contrary to popular belief, I really am not a serial killer who takes a sadistic pleasure in stalking and scaring my victims before I torture them to death. I think that was the phrase." Sure enough, the words had the desired effect.

"Oh boy," she muttered. "You have a super good memory, I'll give you that. You heard?" Winter said, a faint blush rising to her cheeks.

"Yes," I said, grinning. "And I wasn't stalking Eva." I then proceeded to rattle off all the reasons I just so happened to be where Eva was when Winter had seen me. It was just that my classes were right there, or that I always waited for Brock Davis at such and such place, or that my schedule just so happened to be very near hers. I didn't say that sometimes I took the long way to class, just to see Eva in the hall, walking along with Winter.
Those two are inseparable, I swear,
I thought to myself as Winter mulled this explanation over.

The truth was, I harbored an odd fascinated with the best friend of the girl sitting across from me. I couldn't say what it was. It had begun about the week before school had started. I had seen Eva
twice in those last few days of freedom – the first time had been at the library. She had been sitting with Winter, and the two friends had been wrapping up their summer homework with an air of resentment. I had watched them for a while, my eyes drawn to the taller, blonde haired girl who seemed oddly familiar. Winter I remembered vaguely from middle school – 6th grade woodshop class; she had spilled fire-engine red paint all over my project on accident.

The second time I had seen Eva had been at the supermarket. She was again with Winter, who was looking slightly hassled as she pulled along a very reluctant looking, tall blonde guy (
her boyfriend, perhaps?
I had wondered). I had heard Winter call to her, "Eva," and I was suddenly able to place a name with that pretty blonde. There was a strange resemblance between Eva and that tall guy Winter had been dragging down the canned foods aisle. Apparently, Eva and Winter were good friends. When school started, I had found myself searching the halls for a certain someone I couldn't quite place my finger on… and now I had worked out a whole schedule so that I could see as much of her as possible.

It was indeed very odd, especially for me…and unfortunately, Winter had noticed that I had been "stalking" Eva. It wasn't stalking, really. Was it an infatuation? I dismissed
that
thought as soon as it entered my head. No, for it to be an infatuation, I would have to be at least somewhat romantically interested in Eva… and I wasn't. Not really.

Okay, so maybe I was. A little.

"So you weren't stalking Eva," said Winter.

"No," I lied, biting off the tip of my pizza.

We were silent for a while, each eating our food in quiet contemplation.

"Do you want to go walk outside?" Winter finally asked.

I smirked and arched an eyebrow provocatively, knowing already what her reaction would be.

"Oh, shut up, you know what I mean," Winter scowled, reaching over and pushing my shoulder gently.

"That hurt," I said, clapping a hand to my shoulder and looking at her mournfully.

She looked surprised for a moment, then laughed, her expression clearing. "Are you coming with or not?"

I considered the invitation for a moment. "Alright." Perhaps I would finally get my chance.

-
Winter-

Why was he suddenly hanging out with me, anyway? And
why
had I asked him if he wanted to go for a walk? There were only fifteen minutes left of lunch break. These questions kept running through my head, an endless commentary. Had I finally lost my sanity? Most likely.

We were strolling around the perimeter of Branner High at the moment, crossing the large lawn behind the school. There weren't very many people out here – only a few trying to find peace and quiet away from the noisy cafeteria. I observed Zack out of the corner of my eye.

He was a little cute. Annoying, aggravating, irritating, a pain in the butt, mostly, but also a little bit good-looking. I wished he wasn't. It would have made it that teensy bit easier to dislike him.

Zack had to be a head taller than me, but his height was not intimidating. He was of lean build, and walked with this perpetually casual, nonchalant air, with his hands deep in his pockets. He was graceful, too, in a very calm, natural way.

I glanced at his golden eyes. They weren't the only part of him that was attractive to girls, I was slowly beginning to realize. His hair was dark chocolate curls that looked so soft I
almost
wished I could run my fingers through them. He skin was lightly tan, and he had a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of his nose. No wonder it wasn't hard for him to find girlfriends.

"So," I began, pulling myself out of my thoughts, and looking away from him. "Are you going to tell me why you decided to eat lunch with me this week? And forget about the game, I
know
the game."

"Are we back in, then?" Zack asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Possibly."

"Great. The time out was rather boring, but I can't say it wasn't insightful."

I gave him a weird look. "What are you
smoking
?" I demanded.

He grinned. "Nothing too expensive," he winked.

"Thought so," I muttered. "The cheap stuff kills faster."

He laughed.

"So are you going to tell me?" I asked. "No wait, scratch that – I
demand
that you tell me."

"Oh, you're pushy," Zack said teasingly.

I rolled my eyes. "Just answer the question."

He looked at me thoughtfully. "What would you say if I told you I just wanted to talk to you?"

I gave him a Look. "I'm sincerely hoping that's not the best you can do. The Zackary Crownes of the world do not come up to the Winter Bruins of the world simply to 'talk.' There must always be a reason, a greater agenda, a hidden meaning, if you will," I said, looking at him suspiciously. "Zackary Crownes do not talk to people that they find unworthy of their time. I'm sure they have better things to be doing."

"Well, you
do
have us figured out then." He gave me a wink, which sparked an ember of frustration.

"Tell me!" I nearly yelled. "This is going to drive me crazy," I muttered. "If you don't tell me why, I'm going to start making assumptions, never a good thing."

He looked interested. "Tell me the assumptions you might make, and perhaps I'll enlighten you."

I looked at him, exasperated. That had been the last trick I had prepared for this round. Oh well. I might as well see where this would lead. "Well," I said, kicking a stone in my path, "Perhaps you figured that you and Brock usually sit together, and me and Eva usually sit together, and since Brock and Eva are gone, that you would come sit with me and annoy me a bit, just to get a rise out of me."

He nodded. "Possibly," he said. "That sounds pretty reasonable."

I glared at him. "You're not supposed to be
agreeing
with me, Zack," I said. "Okay, next one. Umm… Oh! How about this? But this is the egotist one, so –"

"I'm not sure I want to hear this," Zack said, looking rather alarmed.

"No, you
should
hear this," I said with a wicked grin, wanting to see his reaction. "You are secretly infatuated with me, completely obsessed. You decided it would be romantic to come sit with me at lunch, chat me up, and try to get my number by the end of the week!" I smirked triumphantly at his theatrically horrified expression. I hadn't made the suggestion because I thought it was possible – in fact, this was the most improbable assumption I could have made. It was more to see his appalled reaction, and I was greatly rewarded.

"Next one, please," he said. "I think I'm going to puke." He made a motion of gagging.

"Hmm, perhaps you didn't want to get my number because you liked me… Maybe, you had a bet with someone… That you had to get the number of a girl who had never had a boyfriend before." I cast him a glance, pretending to debate the possibility of this option.

"You've never had a boyfriend before?" Zack asked, looking extremely surprised.

I paused. Oops; wait. That wasn't supposed to come out. "What's it to you?" I sniffed, trying to look supremely unconcerned.

"What about that guy?" Zack frowned.

"What guy?" I asked.

"That guy… I saw you and Eva at the supermarket the week before school started. You were also with this guy," he explained with a helpless shrug of one elegant shoulder.

I looked at him blankly. I went to the supermarket all the time now; I assisted in the task of grocery shopping for the whole Westley household.

And what guy was he going on about?

"You know," he said, holding one hand up about his head in a gesture of measuring height. "Tall, about my height – blonde? I was pretty sure he was your boyfriend or something."

I racked my brains. Did I know anyone of that description?

"Oh!" I said. "Tristan." I almost laughed. How had he mistaken Tristan for my boyfriend?

"Tristan," Zack tried out the name. "That sounds familiar."

"He's Eva's older brother," I said.

Zack looked at me with a strange, mixed expression on his face I couldn't quite place. "You're going out with your best friend's older brother?"

"No!" I said, eyes wide, taken aback. "Why would I go out with Tristan?"

He gave me another strange look then waved it off. "Forget it," he muttered. "Keep the hypotheses coming."

"No," I said, checking the time on my silver watch. "It's time to get to class."

"Why don't I put one last idea in your head before we go our separate ways?" Zack said.

"Alright," I said, narrowing my eyes at him. "Humor me."

We stopped walking, and Zack stepped up closer to me.

"What if," he began. My eyes locked on his. All I could concentrate on was the way his intense, golden eyes were looking at me in a way that completely unsettled me and left my nerves off-balance. He leaned closer.

"What if," he started again, "I really liked Eva, and decided this week's lunch would be a good opportunity to talk to you and see if you could help me out? What if I think Eva has to be the most gorgeous girl I've ever met?"

I stared into his eyes, keeping my expression neutral. '
What if?
' What if he was playing games with me right now?

I hated my inability to make quick decisions in situations such as these. What was I supposed to say back to him? The answer would probably come to me two hours later, as it usually did.

"Why would I want to set you up with Eva?" I asked skeptically.

Zack shrugged, moving out of my personal space now, his eyes never leaving mine. I nearly breathed a sigh of relief. "I don't know. Maybe you're a charitable person?"

"I'm not going to help you," I said decidedly. "If you want to pursue her, do it yourself like all her other admirers. I'm not encouraging it though. I knew you had to have some hidden agenda in sitting with me at lunch," I said, though not in an accusatory way. "She has enough going on in her life right now, so I wouldn't try for it, if I were you." I walked away, feeling his curious gaze burning into my back.

Chapter Four: Prisoner Extraordinaire

Tristan clutched his head, tightening his hands around fistfuls of hair.