Rival (7 page)

His friend hangs out for a few minutes,
chatting about school. And glancing curiously at me all the
while.

"What was up with that?" I ask in a low
voice after his friend departs.

"Hasn't seen me on too many dates," he
says, chomping into his pizza again.

I raise my brow at him.

He swallows his bite and sets the slice
on the plate. "I've been waiting for you."

And while I'm dumbfounded with shock,
he leans forward and pecks me on the lips.

12 - Brett

I pull my bike into Emily's drive and
kick it off. The sudden silence is heavy, oppressive.

I can't believe I'm going to tell her
about my condition. Only my parents and doctors know. I'm a little
scared she'll see me differently. Feel sorry for me.

"Come inside," she says, and takes my
hand.

We're almost to the side door we
entered last Sunday when I pull back against her.

She turns with a question on her lips,
but I cover her mouth with mine in a searing kiss.

Just in case.

Last time, our first kiss, she'd been
surprised by what happened even though she had initiated it. I
could tell.

This time she meets me in the kiss as
an equal. It's a little like sparring with her. One moment I'm in
control of the kiss and considering deepening it, then she's got me
pinned to the mats when she gently nips my bottom lip with her
teeth.

My shock at the move jolts me out of
the kiss. I back up, panting like an idiot, looking down on her. A
light flicks on, illuminating her face in the darkness.

She looks up to the second story
window.

"Mom," she mouths, and pulls me by the
hand again.

We aren't exactly sneaking inside, but
I don't want an audience for what I've got to say. She seems to be
on the same wavelength, leading me further across the downstairs
than I’d seen the other day.

We're in a dark hallway somewhere in
the maze of the first floor, and I'm contemplating stopping for
another kiss when she pulls me through a doorway and closes the
door behind us.

Before I can get any ideas, she flips
on the light.

I freeze in surprise.

It's got to be the biggest training
room I've ever been in. I step forward onto padded floors, like the
dojo. In the middle of the room, I turn a circle, taking it all
in.

There are racks of weapons on the
walls. Swords, throwing stars, wicked-looking knives, staffs,
spears, even some weapons I don't know the names for. They seem
pretty deadly.

"This is incredible," I tell
her.

"It was my dad's. We trained together
here."

When I look back at her, she's got both
arms wrapped around her waist like she's holding onto
herself.

I can't stop myself from going to her,
but I don't try to embrace her. Instead, I touch her elbow with one
hand.

"You still miss him like
crazy."

She nods.

"Have you ever thought about speaking
out against drunk driving? I mean, the person who hit
him—"

"It wasn't a car accident." She meets
my gaze, eyes widening. "I mean—"

Her eyes dart around the room like a
cornered animal. She opens her mouth, like she wants to explain
what she just said, and then closes it again. It’s too late—she’s
told me the truth. She can’t back out of it now.

I just wait, watching her. I remember
those guys who attacked her in that parking garage, and suddenly,
I’m a little afraid for her.

"It was... the same kind of people who
attacked us Sunday."

It’s too unreal to believe. But how can
I not believe it? The ramifications send me reeling. Is she in
danger right now?

"My dad had been fighting his whole
life. But he was attacked by a...gang..." She stumbles over the
word. "And they killed him."

I can't stop myself. I pull her to me.
She rests her cheek against my shoulder.

She isn't tearing up or anything—I
wouldn't expect her to—but the emotion is in her voice when she
speaks. "I really want to honor his memory. By fighting—" She cuts
herself off, and there's that sense of secrecy again. "You know,
the competitions, and other...things."

Things like fighting the monsters that
attacked us.

"But my mom..."

"She doesn't get it." I can see that.
If Emily's mom knew what killed her husband, I'm guessing she's
worried Emily might try to take revenge or something. And having
her daughter put herself in danger... The very thought of it makes
the pizza in my stomach start to revolt. Even if she is a kick-butt
fighter.

"That's why it bothered me so much that
you threw the fight," she says into my shoulder. "I have to fight
for everything, and you just gave up."

I've still got my arms around her, but
I can feel the distance she's trying to put between us. I hold
on.

"I didn't throw the match."

"I know you did." She wriggles, pinches
me in the side trying to get me to let go of her. I hold on tight,
and she gives up fighting. With a sigh, she says, "I felt it during
that last sixty seconds. You let me win."

I swear, she is the only girl I know
who would consider that an insult.

I'm humbled that Emily has shared what
she has with me. It's not everything, because she hasn’t come clean
about those guys who attacked us. And there as something…not right
about them. But I'm guessing it's more than she's told anyone
else.

And now it's my turn.

I rest my chin on the crown
of her head. "I have juvenile arthritis. Actually, they only call
it
juvenile
before you're sixteen. I guess it's just arthritis
now."

She's not exactly snuggling into my
chest, but she doesn’t seem to want to get away, either. She’s
standing very close and very still. My arms remain around her
back.

"Really?"

"Yeah." Part of me wishes I could see
her face, see what she's feeling about my revelation, but I keep
her right where she is.

"It's not exactly something to tell a
girl you're trying to impress,” I say. “I was diagnosed when I was
fifteen, and when we had that big match, the doctors were still
adjusting my pain meds to keep it manageable."

Her head moves slightly. She presses
her chin into my shoulder. "Is it... chronic? Like, are you in pain
right now?"

"Most of the time, I'm a level two. If
I have a flare up, the pain can go to an eight or nine. And it's
never going to go away."

"That's why you were limping around on
Monday."

"Yeah. You weren't supposed to notice."
I squeeze her waist to show I'm joking.

"Why do you do martial arts? Doesn't it
make it worse?"

I shake my head. "It’s actually part of
my management plan. Practice helps with the pain, improves my
flexibility. It was the adrenaline spike and crash that did me in
Sunday night, and I was still recovering Monday."

“
Hmm,” she says, and the
noise vibrates through my chest cavity.

I gather up all my courage and drop my
arms from around her waist. I step back slightly and meet her gaze.
"So you don't...think I'm a wimp now?"

Her eyes narrow as she considers
me.

"Or a grandpa? Most of the people who
visit my same doctors are in their seventies and
eighties."

Her eyes spark with humor. She advances
on me, but I block her with my hands in front of me.

She grabs both and laces our fingers
together, all ten of them. "Brett, there is nothing grandpa-like
about you."

I wrinkle my nose.

She pulls my hands around behind her
lower back again. Because her hands are trapped in mine, the
movement pulls her shoulders back and makes her lean slightly
backwards. Open to me. Vulnerable to me.

But unlike when I dipped her in that
silly dance move, this time she doesn't move away.

"And there is nothing wimpy about you
either,” she says. “I can't believe I didn't notice before, but you
have to be one of the strongest guys I know."

Sweet talker.

I lean forward and kiss her, and she
meets me, untangling our hands. Her hands come to rest on my
biceps, and I flex for her, making her smile in the kiss, an
interesting sensation.

The newfound intimacy between us is
amazing. We've both opened up and shared secrets.

But...

She still has a major one, because she
hasn’t explained about those guys who attacked her, who killed her
father.

And I still have a major one,
too.

I'm more in love with Emily Santos than
ever.

13 - Emily

U coming to watch if I make
the finals?

My text to Erick goes into cyberspace,
and I flop back onto my bed, eyes overlaying the afterimage from
the lit screen onto the darkness of my bedroom.

I can't keep the goofy smile off my
face.

Me and Brett.

Brett and me.

A couple.

“
A couple of what?” my dad
would joke, if he were still alive.

We haven't even made anything official,
other than he wants to take me out again. Nothing has been resolved
with my mom and the fact that I’m going to Chase, or with Erick's
situation with the cops.

But I know Brett and I are
solid.

I can't believe he's been dealing with
this condition for three years, and no one has noticed. He's
popular, has a ton of friends. But no one knows about his
arthritis.

I feel like such a jerk that I've
treated him so badly, but he doesn't hold a grudge.

Still grounded,
comes Erick's return text.

Will u be @
party?

I don't think I can face my mom's
torture session without my best friend.

Probably. Dad doesn't want
to face Aunt Bea's wrath.

I snicker, because he's joking about my
mom, but it's true.

What's going to
happen?
I text back.

?

What does that mean? He doesn't
understand my question, or doesn't know the answer?

But his next text comes
quickly.
If Lou can't make the case
disappear, I might have to go away.

What?
Erick can't be sent away.

We’ve only seen each other twice since
the attack on Sunday. He’s been under house-arrest. During one of
those times, he told me that Uncle Felix thought the vamps must
have seen us at the mall and taken the opportunity to attack. Uncle
F doesn’t think it was pre-meditated.

When Chasers hunt, we’re super-careful
not to get caught. Human investigations just get in the way, and
normal people don’t know about vampires—don’t want to
know.

The vamps attacked first, and we had no
choice but to dispatch them. And no chance for Erick to get
away.

If my cousin is charged, he could end
up in prison. I don’t think my uncle will let that happen. He’d
send Erick off to another Chaser family instead. We need every
sword we can get in this war.

But I can’t imagine life without my
best friend.

On the other hand, bringing the family
under scrutiny is a big no-no. If the vamp population figures out
where we live, the danger to someone like my mom, who has no
training and would be an easy target, is extreme.

There's a knock on my bedroom door, and
I shove the phone under my pillow. The last thing I need is my mom
discovering how close I came to biting it in that vamp
fight.

"Honey? You asleep?"

"Not yet. Come in."

Light from the hall spills in with her.
She sits on the end of my bed. "I saw you come in with that boy.
Did you have fun on your date?"

“
Yeah.”

She probably thinks if I get caught up
in a relationship, I'll forget about fighting. But she doesn't get
that Brett knows me better than she does.

"Are you ready for your party
tomorrow?"

"I guess." Ready for it to be
over.

"I picked up your dress," she says, and
I cringe, waiting for a criticism.

"It wasn't floor-length, like I
asked."

My hand clenches beneath the
covers.

"But the color is perfect for your
complexion. And I think it will suit just fine."

Really? "Oh. Good."

She brushes my hair back from my
temple. Starts to say something. Holds back. There's an awkward
silence.

I wish again that my dad were here. He
made things easier between us. Helped us understand each
other.