Manipulation (Shadows) (7 page)

“A little.”

“I’ll tell him I wasn’t feeling good and called around until I found someone to pick me up from school.” I shrug. It’s plausible.

“That’ll work?”

I start buttoning my shirt. “I don’t think it’ll be a problem. Really, Chase, would it be that horrible to be seen with me?”

Please say no, please say you want to take me out, take me to dinner. No one would think it was weird. Our families are friends. Please.

“In this situation?” He looks around.

I open my mouth to argue that he’s dressed and I’m dressed but decide against it.

We walk up the hallway, Dad’s still on the phone in his room. I can barely hear his voice carry.

We stand in front of the elevator. “It was nice to see you.”

“Nice to see you.” He kisses my cheek.

“Really?” I raise an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

His mouth meets mine, but it’s not like it was when we were headed inside—he’s pulling away, not pushing toward. There’s a huge difference. I go from feeling like a queen to feeling like dirt in about fifteen minutes. Why would something so simple do that to me? Maybe I am a high-maintenance pain.

“You’re amazing, Princess.” He steps backward into the elevator and disappears behind the sliding doors.

Now what? Is it him that’s different? Me? What do I do with this? I’ve done so much for him and now… Now I feel like total crap. I’m all hollowed out and empty. Another feeling I don’t want to think about. Or have.

I step back in the house and my thoughts are interrupted by Dad’s voice. And like I normally do, I stop to listen.

“But they’re still in Seattle, is that right?” A pause. “And then they’ll be in Maine when Senator Michaels was told it would be Jersey? And
then
headed my direction you
think
?” Another pause. “Well thinking isn’t good enough! We need more specifics before they start moving!”

I suck in a breath.
That
I might have been able to hear from my room.

“I’ve got Senator Michaels flying this way any day and wondering why the hell we can’t pinpoint a future location yet! And he’s refusing to do anything about the situation while everyone’s still near Seattle. Landon’s a rare talent, and I will not have him squeezing out of this! One of your jobs is to make sure a shield doesn’t end up with another talent. I’m still trying to figure out how this happened in the first place—especially since I know Senator Michaels gav
e your office a heads-up on the situation
.”

What’s going on? This seems pretty drastic for recruitment for Dad’s firm, but who knows. You’d think he’d use words like “skilled” or “educated” instead of “talented”, but Dad’s always been big on trusting his gut. Maybe that’s what this is about.

“I need pictures. I need people. I need ideas. Look, we all know I have a handle on at least one, maybe two, I can’t tell with the second yet… The least you can do is to keep up with something so major that I can pick it up from here so we’re ready when they arrive!”

Wow. Whatever’s going on must be serious.

“How many of the other Middlemen have you contacted? Because if we don’t have locations from the Insighters, someone’s not doing their job.”

Right. Senator Michaels does this with Dad. This is business I’
d guess he never does at work—t
oo many people at his office to overhear. I rarely understand any of it, but maybe one day it’ll all click, and I will. There’s shadow people and his Middlemen and it all sounds so stealthy and like little boys who never gave up their secret code rings.

“I want results by tomorrow. If you can’t handle it, I will.”

Silence. That’s a sure sign that it’s time for me to run for my room. My door closes just as I hear Dad walk through the living room. That was way too close. At least it gives me something other than Chase to think about—even though I don’t have the slightest idea what’s going on.

TEN

Dean

I drop my pack as I come in from school and sit to sketch something other than Addie. I told Katy I was busy and don’t want to explain I’m somehow not busy anymore. Hopefully she’s spending more time with Jesse. Keep her occupied.

Why am I surprised Addie cancelled? I shouldn’t be. Of course she’d call and cancel. But I was surprised last night, and it sucks this afternoon because we were supposed to be together. Instead she’s doing something with someone else, and I shouldn’t care.

I flip through the sketches I did of her yesterday, and now she’s all I want to draw. I flip to the one where I colored her eyes.

“Wow, Dean. She’s amazing.” Jeannette peers over my shoulder.

I jump in my chair. “You can’t sneak up on me like that.”

“I came in the front door. It’s not my fault you didn’t hear me,” she teases. Jeannette reaches out her hand as I walk to the kitchen, and I hand her the book because she always wants to see my new stuff. She looks at the drawing more carefully.

The kitchen feels smaller than normal and like it has less air.

And then the question comes that I know is coming. “Who is she?”

“No one.” I try to look really concentrated while buttering toast.

“Really?” She looks from me and then back to the picture. When her eyes try to meet mine again, I’m looking at the picture. “Yeah, no ones have a nasty habit of turning into
someones
pretty quickly.”

I take a bite of my toast and dig in the fridge for something to drink. It’s better than facing the idea that Addie is definitely someone. As impossible as it may seem
, she’s heading there swiftly—a
t least on my end.

My toast is dry and nothing sounds good to drink. Jeannette gives me back my book, but I don’t want it anymore. I have two chapters left in
The Great Gatsby
, and it needs to be read by tomorrow. The phone rings and I jump again. I’ve got to get a hold of myself, I’m acting like a girl. Jeannette looks at me as she picks it up.

Okay.
The Great Gatsby.
I’m good. Deep breaths.

“Dean, it’s for you.” She walks toward me with the phone. “I’m guessing someone with blue eyes?” she whispers.

I take a deep breath in. “Hello?”

“Dean.” Addison breathes out. Like my name as a sigh, but a nice one.

“Yep.”

“I’m glad I caught you at home.” But then she doesn’t elaborate.

“Did your afternoon not go as planned?”
I’m an ass for really hoping that it didn’t.

“Planned?” She pauses for a moment. “I guess but… Whatever. Can we have a redo, tomorrow?”

“Uh…” I don’t want her to think I’m too anxious. Though, I have no idea why not. Wouldn’t it be better if she knew I wanted to see her? Actually, that’s putting myself way out there. Best not.

“I’m sorry.” She sighs. “I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“No, no. Tomorrow’s great. Do you want to come my direction, or should I head yours?”
So much for playing it cool.

“How do you know I don’t live up the street? You know, just past the corner?” I love the tease in her voice.

“Which main road can you see out your window right now?”

“I’d rather not answer.”

“That’s what I thought.” I can feel my smile spreading. “Whatever you want, Addie.”

“Hmmm, I like the sound of that.” She laughs her tinkling laugh.

“Great. So I’ve started something now, haven’t I?” I tease.

“Nah. How about we just meet at Starbucks again? Try for a second time? And I promise to be there but I don’t get out of school until almost three, and I’ll need to change out of my uniform first.”

“Wait. You wear a uniform to school?” It’s both kinda hot and intimidating.

She sighs. “One of the perks of the view I have out my window. Can we not talk about that?”

“Sorry.” And I’m a bit surprised by her again, because isn’t she the kind of girl who’s supposed to be showing off her location and school and designer labels?

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be snippy, I just…” I hear her sniff. Is she crying? Trying not to cry?

“I’m guessing your day wasn’t at all as planned. Sorry, Addie.” But if it was because of the guy, am I really sorry? Probably not.

“See you tomorrow.” And her end clicks.

What is this we’ve started? That we’re starting? I’m sorta going crazy wanting to sit with her and make her feel better. I barely know the girl. If I put all the time we’ve spent together in one place, it wouldn’t be much. A few hours? So, what’s the draw? Something I can’t explain? Or an attraction from a talent we both share that
neither
of us can explain?

“Katy! Great to see you!” Jeannette’s voice pulls me out of my Addie-stupor.

“Hey, Jeannette!” Katy’s voice is exuberant, as always.

“Dean,” Jeannette starts. “Katy’s here.”

“I’m right here, practically in the same room.” Our apartment is so small that nothing happens in here without everyone knowing about it. Nothing. It’s made more than one awkward moment.

“Thought you were busy today?” Katy sits in the chair next to me.

“Fell through.” I pull my feet up to sit cross-legged. There may be only room enough for three chairs in here, but they’re all big chairs.

“With the hot girl again?”

“This one?” Jeannette holds up the picture.

“Whoa, Dean. That’s amazing.” Katy’s wide eyes go from the sketch to my face.

“Can both of you leave it alone?” Something in the tone of my voice changes their wide eyes and wide smiles.

“Sorry.” Jeannette hands over my book and walks the two steps back into the kitchen.

“So, is it a really real something? Or Dean after another hot girl something?” Katy leans toward me.

“I…” But how do I explain this?

“Wow, Dean. Nice.” Katy’s hand rubs my arm.

“I didn’t answer.” How do girls do this?

“The look on your face was answer enough, weirdo.” She holds out her hand for the book. “How many did you do of her?”

“I wanted to work on our stuff but…” But I couldn’t because she’s the only damn thing I see.

“This is like a first for you, isn’t it?”

“I’ve drawn you,” I point out.

“Not like this.” She shakes her head.

The blue eyes jump off the page at me again. If I can tell anyone, I can tell Katy. She sees through me anyway. “No. Not like this.”

“Well, I don’t want to super-stalk Jesse, even though he swears he doesn’t mind, so you have to come with me.” She puts her hands together in pleading and gives me one of her famous begging, puppy-eyed faces.

“I have to finish.” I hold up
The Great Gatsby
.

“Oh bullshit.” She takes my book. “You’re almost done. You’re coming with me. I need moral support.” She drops the book in her chair as she stands up. I wonder how she manages to wear three shirts and show little bits of all of them.

I let her drag me up.

“And you do, too,” she says.

“Do what?” I ask.

“Need moral support.” She pulls me to the door.

“Real men don’t need moral support,” I say, which earns me a slap to the gut.

“Will you be back in time for dinner?” Jeannette asks as she rummages in the fridge.

“No!” Katy and I reply in unison. She’s had enough meals here to know she’s definitely doing me a favor.

ELEVEN

Addison

I can’t stop tapping my stupid foot. Why-oh-why did I get excited about Chase wanting to see me? And why wasn’t it enough? And how didn’t I see it? I can feel myself start to panic again and my cheeks heating up. I’m not going to cry over Chase. I take a breath. Nothing bad has happened between us.

Yet.

That little voice in my head is really starting to get annoying. All that deep thinking. Thinking like, Why doesn’t he try harder to spend time with me? Why doesn’t he come over to see my parents so we can see each other? Why wasn’t he more shocked when I got arrested? Or more disappointed on the times I didn’t make it? Why does Caitlyn come up? Would it be that crazy to take me to dinner while he’s in town? Why do I keep thinking about deep brown eyes?

I’m at our Starbucks earlier than I think I’ll make it. Our Starbucks. Okay, I need to cut that out. Dean isn’t here yet. I take the corner table. Someone’s left a newspaper here so I flip through, looking for something interesting. Whoa, stop. Chase’s face. Next to Caitlyn’s. Under an engagement announcement.

It washes through me over and over. Pushing nothing but awfulness through me. I’ve never felt so dirty and horrible and completely run into the ground my whole life. I’m a horrible person. I’m stupid, stupid, stupid for believing him. The whole time part of me knowing that we weren’t going anywhere. And the whole time wishing for it so bad. And then there’s that last part of me who always knew he was too good. That I’d never measure up next to someone like him.

“You’re shaking.” Dean sits across from me. His eyebrows are pulled together under his dark hair.

I slide the paper toward him. My mouth opens a few times, but I know if I say anything, I’ll start to cry and I really, really don’t want to cry. I can feel my lip tremble so I suck it into my mouth and hope that Dean doesn’t need me to tell him what’s going on.

He doesn’t need to know which announcement it is. The fact that everyone on the damn stupid page is getting married should be enough. No wonder Chase was in such a hurry yesterday. He needed to get back to his fiancé. How could I be so stupid?

“I—” I start. I take another breath in. “I should have come to see you yesterday instead.” I make a weak attempt at a smile, but I’m sure it comes out pathetic.

“Sorry.” He reaches out to touch my hand with his.
Sorry
. I feel it from him again.

I don’t know if it makes things better or worse. “Okay, this really isn’t fair to you. I’ll head for home and see you at our next class.” I start to stand up.

“Hey, Addie. I don’t mind. You want a distraction?” His voice is smooth and low. Comforting.

“Anything.” I let our eyes meet and neither of us speaks for a moment. It’s like his eyes send these tingles through me, weaving their way around and drawing me to him. Did anything Chase ever do make me feel this? I don’t think so. Maybe just in the beginning. Is that what this is between Dean and I? A beginning?

“A walk maybe? There’s a really bizarre guy who a friend of mine is dating just up the street who owns a music shop? Or—”

“Could we just go to your place? So we could talk?” I blink a few times and have to wipe a tear away. In front of Dean. Guys hate girls who cry. This sucks. The emptied, hollow feeling just continues to grow. The picture of Chase and Caitlyn flashes through my head over and over.

He brings a hand to his mouth and rubs his chin a few times, obviously uncomfortable with bringing me there.

“Please? I mean, I could always make you.” I touch his arm. Offer to take me to your house.

He looks at me in mock irritation. “You know I can feel you doing that, right?”

I shrug.

“Alright. But be aware right now, that the whole apartment we live in, is probably the size of your closet, and there’s four of us.” He raises a brow and looks so uncertain.

I stand up. Feeling heavy, but a little lighter. I’m about to see a piece of Dean he’s unsure about showing me. It’s vain and silly, but there’s an amount of satisfaction in that. I really can be incurably selfish and horrible. It would almost seem okay if I did it on purpose, but I don’t do it on purpose. What does that say about me? That probably goes on the growing list of things I don’t want to think about.

We walk out of the coffee shop together. Dean puts his arm around me, and I don’t even think about it until I’m resting against him. He’s not holding me like a girlfriend, more like supporting me as a friend. Right?

Then I can feel his thoughts creeping in. I’m curious. I forget we have this connection of this thing that we can do, but I relax into it and listen. What am I doing? She’s going to hate my place. Why do I feel this way about her?

What? “What way about me?” I stop.

“What?” He slants to face me.

Right. He didn’t say anything. Not out loud. “Never mind.”

“Oh, nice. So you can hear what I’m thinking?” His hand slides off me.

“I guess, but you seem to be able to stop me from making you do things. I don’t seem to possess that. I send you an action and you can ignore it.” Which is really, really annoying. And. And, makes me completely and totally vulnerable. Not on my list of favorite feelings. We’re standing on the sidewalk, just staring at one another.

“Well I can’t sneak in and hear your thoughts, so I think we’re even.” His mouth pulls into a crooked frown as he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and we walk in silence for a few moments.

“Do you think we could talk? I mean, without saying anything?” He stops, holding his hand out for me to take.

“Not today.” I shake my head. Way too vulnerable. The day when the guy you gave your virginity to, the guy you’ve lived your life for, for the past… Ugh. I can feel the tears trying to break free again. Leave it alone. I do not need to cry in front of Dean. Again.

“Wanna go somewhere else? Change your mind yet?” He looks hopeful as we start walking again.

“Nope.” I need a really good distraction.

“Alright then.” He opens a door to our left.

Already? He’s practically on top of the Starbucks. Almost. I look up the brick wall. I would not have guessed this building was apartments. I don’t know what I would have guessed it was.

“We’re here?”

“We’re here. And,” he looks at my feet, “you wore appropriate footwear.”

I smile. “Adidas. The noise, right?”

“It’s kinda awesome you even noticed that.” He looks down. “Oh. The elevator here is not to be trusted, but we’re only on the third floor.”

“Okay.” I’m standing in a hallway of graying, white walls. I follow Dean not wanting to let on that I’m actually nervous here. I mean, the place isn’t a dive or anything—I don’t think—but I know I’ve never visited anyone in a building that looked so old? Is that the right word? Worn? Used?

I follow him up three flights of stairs and into a narrow hallway making me wonder how people get furniture through here.

“This is me.” He uses his key on two locks and opens the door, gesturing with his hand for me to go inside.

I step in and nearly run into a wall that’s a huge black guy. And my heart stops. I step back and bump into Dean.

“I’m Ben.” He reaches his hand out for me to shake. His smile is wide. At least I didn’t offend him. We shake hands, but I’m still sort of in shock.

“Sorry, this is Ben, my roommate,” Dean explains.

“I thought you had foster parents?” I ask.

“We do. And Ben and I share a room.”

“Oh.” He has a roommate? In an apartment that might fit into my room?

“Could you tell Bill and Jeannette my homework’s done, and I’ll be back before nine?” Ben waves as he steps out.

“Sure.” Dean nods.

I’m standing in something that looks like both a tiny hallway and a kitchen. There are three huge chairs in the space beyond and plants everywhere. There’s more clutter in this one room than in our whole house, but it doesn’t feel messy. It feels warm, lived in. I breathe in. The smell is… Well, it smells like dinner but no one’s cooking. Our house only smells like food for the few minutes we’re eating it.

“See? I knew this was a bad idea. You’re freaking out a little right now, aren’t you?” Dean’s standing in what I’d guess is the living room, and I’m still by the door.

“Sorry, no. But it’s a good distraction.” I smile and he smiles back, maybe starting to relax a bit.

I step inside. “Should I take off my shoes?”

“Uh…” His smile gets wider. “No. You’re fine.”

“So, now what?”

“You’re the one who wanted to come here,” he reminds me.

“Oh, right. Then I guess you should show me your room.” I love the look on his face—part hope, part uncertainty.

“O-kay.” He adds a bit of dramatic reluctance to his voice. “Come on then.” He reaches out and takes my hand.

This is something I’d look forward to with anyone else who made me feel like Dean does, but with him there’s a whole different edge to it. I’m no longer the one with an advantage.

Come with me.
His thought is easy. But is he making me do it as well? I’m not sure. We’re two steps into the hallway, and I pull my hand away.

He stops. “What? I’m sorry. I mean, I didn’t…”

“Don’t manipulate me like that, okay?” I fold my arms, tucking my hands close to my sides.

“Like what?” He sounds honestly baffled.

It only appeases me a little. “Like that. Like telling me to follow you.”

We’re in his tight hallway. Too close. So close I can almost feel his breath on my face. And it’s nice, lifting the weight from me, and making me want to be closer. Also sending a fresh wave of nerves through me.

“You asked me first, and I didn’t mean to. Maybe you just picked up on my thoughts.” He leans against the wall, but still looks too tense.

“I don’t know.” But it comes out all weird because I’m kind of breathless in this small space with him. It’s too much. Too intense. “Your room?” Anything would be better than the stuffiness of the hall.

He reaches behind him, opens a door and steps backward inside.

“Wow.” It’s so small. I mean, his room is bigger than my closet, but it’s
so small
. A tired blue dresser sits on one side. A wooden bunkbed is on the other side. And the far wall is plastered with the most amazing drawings I’ve ever seen. I don’t see Dean, just pictures, filled with a crazy amount of
depth and emotion.

They cover the whole wall around a small window. I start at the top, not wanting to miss anything. There are a lot with a spiky haired girl—a heroine of some sort done in anime style, and then drawings of people that look real. Something a lot of people would pay good money for. “Who did these?” I turn to face him.

“They’re mine.”

My mouth drops open.
Drops
. “How has this never come up?”

He shrugs.

“You cannot shrug this off, Dean. This is amazing.” I know no one who’s into graphic novels, but I sneak one sometimes. He has such a unique edge.

“I’m home!” A man’s voice calls.

“That would be Bill,” Dean starts to explain. “He’s like my dad. Only he doesn’t feel like my dad.”

“Okay.” I don’t understand at all, but only because I have no experience. “Like my Uncle Mac.” I do have experience.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I guess he feels more like an uncle.”

“Dean, are you in here?” A round face with
a smooth, shiny head
peers into the open door. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you have company. I’m Bill.”

“This is Addison.” Dean gives me a smile.

“Now I see why you had to do the eyes blue.” Bill’s staring at me.

“What?” I glance at Dean. “Eyes blue for what?” What is he talking about? I hate feeling left out of something.

“Sorry.” Bill steps back. “I’m going to start dinner. You’re welcome to stay, Addison, if you like.”

“Um, thanks.” I look between he and Dean a few times. Bill disappears. “What’s he talking about?”

Dean’s using a hand to rub his eyes. “This is absolutely going to scare you away from me forever.”

“Did you sleep with me for two years, promising me something more and get engaged before trying to have sex with me again?” I swallow, a little in disbelief that it all came out.

“Oh shit, Addie.” He steps toward me. “I can’t imagine anyone doing that to you. I—”

I put my hand up between us when I realize he’s stepping in to give me a hug. “As much as a hug sounds really nice right now, you’re too intense, Dean.” There’s too much emotion in everything we do. “And anyway, you were going to tell me about blue eyes?”