Of Poseidon (9 page)

He shrugs. “It surprised me, too.”

I raise a BS brow. “Why would you argue about the date anyway? You could Google it all over the place and get the same answer.”

“True. You could look it up on the World Wide Web. Ever wonder whose web it is, exactly?”

“What?”

“What I mean is, have you ever considered that you only know the facts they
want
you to know?” I shake my head. “Nope. Not falling for it. You’re trying to distract me. What were we really arguing about?”

“What do you think we were arguing about?”

“Stop that. You’re answering my questions with questions.”

-1—

He’s pretty stinking good at it, too. I’m kind of impressed with 0—

myself for catching it, especially with a concussion.

+1—

• 68

68 •

105-48341_ch01_1P.indd 68

8/23/11 3:44 PM

He seems impressed, too. “Are you sure you don’t remember?

Your mind seems to be working fi ne to me.”

“You know what? Just forget it. What ever it was, I forgive you. Give me my backpack so I can go back to the offi ce. We’re about to get busted anyway, just standing here.”

“If you really do forgive me, then you wouldn’t still be going to the offi

ce.” He tightens his hold on the strap of my backpack.

“Ohmysweetgoodness, Galen, why are we even having this conversation? You don’t even know me. What do you care if I change my schedule?” I know I’m being rude. The guy off ered to carry my things and walk me to class. And depending on which version of the story I believe, he either asked me out on Monday already, or he did it indirectly a few seconds ago. None of it makes any sense. Why me? Without any eff ort, I can think of at least ten girls who beat me out in looks, personality, and darker foundation. And Galen could pull any of them.

“What, you don’t have a question for my question?” I ask after a few seconds.

“It just seems silly for you to change your schedule over a disagreement about when the
Titanic
—” I throw my hands up at him. “Don’t you see how weird this is for me?”

“I’m trying to, Emma. I really am. But I think you’ve had a rough couple of weeks, and it’s taking a toll on you. You said every time you’re around me something bad happens. But you can’t really know for sure that’s true, unless you spend more time with me. You should at least acknowledge that.”

—-1

Something is wrong with me. Those cafeteria doors must

—0

—+1

• 69

69 •

105-48341_ch01_1P.indd 69

8/23/11 3:44 PM

have really worked me over. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be pushing Galen away like this. Not with him pleading, not with the way he’s leaning toward me, not with the way he smells. “See? You’re taking it personally, when there’s really nothing personal about it,” I whisper.

“It’s personal to me, Emma. It’s true, I don’t know you well.

But there are some things I do know about you. And I’d like to know more.”

A glass full of ice water wouldn’t cool my cheeks. “The only thing you know about me is that I’m life threatening in fl ip-fl ops.”

That I won’t meet his eyes obviously bothers him, because he lifts my chin with the crook of his fi nger. “That’s not all I know,” he says. “I know your biggest secret.” This time, unlike at the beach, I don’t swat his hand away.

The electric current in my feet prove that we’re really standing so close to each other that our toes touch. “I don’t have any secrets,” I say, mesmerized.

He nods. “I fi nally fi gured that out. That you don’t actually know about your secret.”

“You’re not making any sense.” Or I just can’t concentrate because I accidentally looked at his lips.
Maybe he did talk me into
swimming. . . .

The door to the front offi

ce swings open, and Galen grabs

my arm and ushers me around the corner. He continues to drag me down the hall, toward world history.

-1—

“That’s it?” I say, exasperated. “You’re just going to leave it 0—

at that?”

+1—

• 70

70 •

105-48341_ch01_1P.indd 70

8/23/11 3:44 PM

He stops us in front of the door. “That depends on you,” he says. “Come with me to the beach after school, and I’ll tell you.” He reaches for the knob, but I grab his hand. “Tell me what?

I already told you that I don’t have any secrets. And I don’t swim.”

He grins and opens the door. “There’s plenty to do at the beach besides swim.” Then he pulls me by the hand so close I think he’s going to kiss me. Instead, he whispers in my ear, “I’ll tell you where your eye color comes from.” As I gasp, he puts a gentle hand on the small of my back and propels me into the classroom. Then he ditches me.

—-1

—0

—+1

• 71

71 •

105-48341_ch01_1P.indd 71

8/23/11 3:44 PM

8

THE FINAL bell rings and students leak from every crevice of the redbrick building. Bus brakes hiss in the distance and the lower classmen corral into the bus ramp, bottlenecking to board.

The ju niors and se niors herd to the parking lot in a steady stream, which seems to coagulate around Galen and his not- so-modest car. He leans against the trunk, nodding to the males admiring the vehicle and avoiding eye contact with the females admiring something else.

The wave of students turns into a traffi

c jam. The obliga-

tory honking becomes less frequent as cars packed with human adolescents migrate to the highway. Behind him, Galen hears someone on a skateboard make the acquaintance of asphalt and the accompanying groan of pain.

-1—

He glances at the car parked beside his.
Where is she?

0—

When she appears at the double doors, the air between

+1—

• 72

72 •

105-48341_ch01_1P.indd 72

8/23/11 3:44 PM

them seems to crackle with energy. She locks eyes with him.

Disappointed when she doesn’t smile, he pushes away from the car, reaching her before she can take ten steps. “Let me carry your pack. You look tired. Are you okay?”

Emma doesn’t fi ght about the backpack this time. Instead, she hands it over and pulls all her white hair to the side. “Just have a headache. And wow. You skipped an entire day of school after you
fought
with me about changing my schedule.” He grins. “I didn’t think about it like that. I just knew you wouldn’t concentrate on class if I stayed. You’d be bothering me all day about your secret, and you’ve missed enough school already.”

“Thanks, Dad,” she says, rolling her eyes. When they reach their cars, he throws her bag into the backseat of his convertible.

“What are you doing?” she says.

“I thought we made plans for the beach.”

She crosses her arms. “You made plans. Then you left.” He crosses his arms, too. “You agreed to it Monday, before you hit your head.”

“Yep, you keep saying that.”

Without thinking, he takes her hand into his. Emma’s eyes widen— she’s as surprised as he is.
What am I doing?
“Fine, so you don’t remember me asking you. But I’m asking now. Will you please come to the beach with me?”

She tugs her hand free, glancing at a few kids passing by who shield their whispers behind a yellow folder. “What does the beach have to do with my eyes? And why are you wearing

—-1

contacts on yours?”

—0

—+1

• 73

73 •

105-48341_ch01_1P.indd 73

8/23/11 3:44 PM

“Rach— Uh, my
mom
says they’ll help me blend in better.

She says the color would just draw attention to me.” Emma snorts. “Oh, she’s defi nitely right. Blue eyes make you look so much more
average.
In fact, I almost didn’t notice you standing there.”

“That hurts my feelings, Emma.” He grins.

She giggles.

He says, “I’d consider forgiving you— if you come with me to the beach.”

She sighs. “I can’t go with you, Galen.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Honestly, Emma, I don’t know how much more rejection I can take,” he blurts. In fact, he doesn’t remember
ever
being rejected, except by Emma. Of course, that could be due to the fact that he’s a royal. Or maybe it’s because he doesn’t spend a lot of time with his kind anyway, let alone the females. Actually, he doesn’t spend a lot of time with anyone except Rachel. And Rachel would give him her beating heart if he asked for it.

“I’m sorry. It’s not about you this time. Well, actually, it kind of is. My mom . . . well, she thinks we’re dating.” Her cheeks— and those lips— deepen to red.

“Dating?”
What is dating, again?
He tries to remember what Rachel told him. . . . She said it’s easy to remember because it’s almost the same as . . .
what is the rhyme for it?
And then he remembers. “It’s easy to remember, because dating rhymes with mating, and they’re almost the same,” she’d said. He blinks at Emma.

-1—

“Your mom thinks we’re ma— Uh, dating?”

0—

She nods, biting her lip.

+1—

• 7

4

74 •

105-48341_ch01_1P.indd 74

8/23/11 3:44 PM

For reasons he can’t explain, this pleases him. He leans against the passenger door of her car. “Oh. Well. What does it matter if she thinks that?”

“I told her we weren’t dating, though. Just this morning.

Going to the beach with you makes me look like a liar.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t understand. If you told her we weren’t dating, then why does she think we are?” She relaxes against his driver- side door. “Well, this is all actually your fault, not mine.”

“I’m obviously not asking the right questions—”

“The way you acted toward me when I hit my head, Galen.

Some people saw that. And they told my mom. She thinks I’ve been hiding you from her, keeping you a secret. Because she thinks we’ve been . . . we’ve been . . .”

“Dating?” he off ers. He can’t understand why she’d have a diffi

cult time discussing dating, if it means what he thinks it does— spending time with one human more than others to see if he or she would be a good mate.

The Syrena do the same, only they call it sifting— and sifting doesn’t take near as long as dating. A Syrena can sift out a mate within a few days. He’d laughed when Rachel said some humans date for years.
So indecisive.
Then an echo of Toraf’s voice whispers to him, calling him a hypocrite.
You’re twenty years old. Why haven’t
you sifted for a mate?
But that doesn’t make him indecisive. He just hasn’t had
time
to sift and keep his responsibility watching the humans. If it weren’t for that, he’d already be settled down. How can Toraf think Emma’s the reason he hasn’t sifted yet? Up until

—-1

three weeks ago, he didn’t even know she existed.

—0

—+1

• 75

75 •

105-48341_ch01_1P.indd 75

8/23/11 3:44 PM

Emma nods, then shakes her head. “Dating, yes. But she thinks we’re, uh,
more
than dating.”

“Oh,” he says, thoughtful. Then he grins. “
Oh
.” The reason her lips are turning his favorite color is because Emma’s mom thinks they’ve been dating
and
mating. The blush extends down her neck and disappears into her T-shirt. He should probably say something to make her feel more comfortable. But teasing her seems so much more fun. “Well then, the least she could do is give us some privacy—”

“Ohmysweetgoodness!” She snatches her backpack from the seat and marches around her car to the driver’s side. Before she can get the door unlocked, he plucks the key from her fi ngers and tucks it into his jeans’ pocket. She moves to retrieve it, but stops when she realizes where she’s about to go fi shing.

He’s never seen her this red. He laughs. “Calm down, Emma.

I’m just kidding. Don’t leave.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not funny. You should have seen her this morning. She almost cried. My mom doesn’t cry.” She crosses her arms again but relaxes against her door.

“She
cried
hair? That’s pretty insulting.” She cracks a tiny grin. “Yeah, it’s an insult to
me
. She thinks I would . . . would . . .”

“More than date me?”

She nods.

He steps toward her and puts his hand beside her on the car, leaning in. A live current seems to shinny up his spine.
What

-1—

are you doing?
“But she should know that you don’t even think of 0—

me like that. That it would never even cross your mind,” he

+1—

• 76

76 •

105-48341_ch01_1P.indd 76

8/23/11 3:44 PM

murmurs. She looks away, satisfying his unspoken question— it
has
crossed her mind. The same way it crosses his. How often?

Does she feel the voltage between them, too?
Who cares, idiot? She
belongs to Grom. Or are you going to let a few sparks keep you from uniting
the kingdoms?