Serial Hottie (26 page)

“I hear stalking redheads is the thing to do on Saturday nights.”

Seth’s voice came from too close behind me. I could feel it on my neck. I whirled around with a start.

Seth mistook my unease to be a reaction to his words, and not the fact that he was almost touching me and we were all alone and the last time we really talked he’d almost kissed me.

“I’m sorry,” he said, throwing his hands out like he was afraid I was going to make a break for the exit. “You’re right. Not funny. I’m sorry.”

I headed toward the couch and when Seth followed like he was going to sit right next to me, I kept walking and plopped down in Mr. Haskins’s armchair. Seth noticed, but didn’t say anything about it.

“I just wanted to see you without Angela around,” he explained, surrendering himself to the big lonely couch. As he grudgingly sank into the cushions he muttered, “She’s really starting to get on my nerves.”

“What did you expect, Seth? You scared the freaking crap out of her last week,” I said, incredulous. I think both of us were startled by the fierceness with which I came to Angela’s defense. “She thinks you’re some crazy freak who’s obsessed with her baby sister.”

Seth glared at me, then sighed, then turned his attention to the muted TV—Chuck Norris was busy roundhouse kicking like seven guys. “Is that what
you
think?” he asked.

“Honestly?”

Seth slid his gaze back to me, waiting for my answer.

“I don’t have any idea what to think about you. You can be very sweet. You
are
incredibly sweet.”

Seth looked so surprised by my compliment that I buried my gaze in my lap. “But,” I continued, blushing again. “Most of the time you’re also…” My voice trailed off. I didn’t exactly want to say what I was thinking.

Too late. “I’m what?” Seth demanded warily. When I cringed he said, “Just tell me.”

You asked for it.
“Well, you’re creepy. In a likes-to-drown-kittens-for-fun kind of way,” I said with a wince. I quickly added, “I don’t think you mean to be,” as if that would make him feel better or something. “But I don’t think you realize it either.”

I forced myself to look at Seth. He was looking at the TV again. Not watching it—just sort of staring at it. He let out a long, exhausted breath.

“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling like crap. “I was too harsh.”

“S’okay.” Seth still wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I’d rather know how you feel, even if it sucks. At least then I understand.”

Great. Could I feel any worse?
With a long, exhausted sigh of my own, I rose to my feet. “Come on.”

I held out my hand to Seth. He looked at it as if it might bite him, but after a moment he allowed me to pull him up. I dragged him into the kitchen pointing to the row of barstools lining the counter. “Sit.”

He did so without any argument.

Seth watched wordlessly as I pulled a pint of Chunky Monkey out of the freezer and sat down next to him. “You’ll feel better. I promise,” I said, handing him one of two spoons.

I didn’t wait for him to dig in. After I took a bite he picked up his spoon, and we shared a pint of ice cream in silence.

Right about the time I wondered what was going through his head, I heard a strange clicking noise. Seth had abandoned his spoon for a butterfly knife and was flipping it open and closed as he stared into the ice cream carton.

I screamed, of course, and the noise from it snapped Seth out of whatever psycho daydream he’d been having. He looked at the knife as if seeing it for the first time. Gasping in horror, he reached out for me when I jumped off my stool, but I was too fast. “What the freak, Seth!” I screamed, running around to the other side of the counter and safely out of reach.

“Ellie, wait! It’s not what you think! I’m sorry!”

“So am I! Sorry I let you in the door!”

Seth tried to come in the kitchen after me and I screamed again. “Stay back!”

“Ellie—”

“I mean it, Seth. Stay away from me.”

Seth backed away with his hands up. But not in an “I surrender” kind of way. More like he was a big cat waiting for a good moment to pounce. “Ellie, please. Just give me a chance to explain.”

“I’m calling the police if you’re not out of here in five seconds.”

“Look. I’m putting it down.” Seth slowly placed his knife, blade closed, on the counter and slid it away from him.

My eyes followed the knife. Part of me wanted to grab it, but I wasn’t stupid. It may have been out of arm’s reach now, but he was quick and it was still closer to him than me.

“I can explain if you’ll let me.”

My eyes snapped back to Seth at the sound of his voice. He’d moved into the kitchen with me now and was standing close enough to touch me if he wanted to. Okay, I’m sure he wanted to, but he didn’t. Him restraining himself right then is the only reason I didn’t call the police or pull a butcher knife out of the block on the counter behind me.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Seth said when he realized I was giving him the chance to explain. “The thing with the knife—it’s a nervous habit. That’s it. I didn’t mean to scare you. I would never—”

I didn’t hear the end of Seth’s sentence because right then a giant crack of thunder exploded outside and a bright flash whited out the entire house, causing the power to go out. I gasped in the sudden blackness, not happy that I could no longer Seth.

Seth must have anticipated my anxiety over the power outage, because he immediately pulled me to him, locking me against his chest.

“Seth,” I warned. “Let me go.”

“I watched my mother get stabbed to death when I was nine years old.”

Did he really just say that?

With that one admission all the fear and fight left me. I didn’t even feel the need to break free from his grip. I was overcome with morbid curiosity. “What?”

Even in the dark, when I could only see shadows, Seth wouldn’t meet my eyes. He let me go and slunk down the counter to the floor. “It was a car jacking in San Diego,” he said. “The guy stabbed me, too, he just accidentally missed my heart. They found our car in Riverside, but they never found the guy who took it. That Christmas, Dad took his own life and I was sent to live with Aunt Janice.”

“Seth.”

Seth shook his head absently. “It was a long time ago.”

I didn’t know what to say, but I sat down next to him on the floor and gave his hand a squeeze.

When his body went stiff next to me I realized that we were now holding hands and it had been at my request. I hadn’t meant to do it, but letting go now felt like it would be a very cruel rejection. I think that rejection was exactly what Seth was waiting for. I considered it, but didn’t have the heart to do it. Instead of letting go, I laced my fingers thorough his.

After a heartbeat or two, Seth finally accepted the fact that I was holding his hand and tentatively pulled that hand to his cheek. He left it there a moment and took a deep breath. I was shocked to feel the tiny shiver that ran through his body. It’s one thing for me to shudder at his touch, but for him to tremble at mine was something else entirely.

“So, um, how come the obsession with knives? You’d think after something like that you’d be scared of them now.”

Hearing the nerves in my voice, Seth quickly let our hands fall back to his lap. He was quiet for a minute, and just when I thought he wasn’t going to answer my question he said, “When I came to Beverly Hills, child services recommended counseling, but my aunt Janice has never done things the conventional way. She said it was better for me to face my fears in the literal sense and gave me my first knife.”

My gaze drifted the direction of the knife lying on the counter. “That one?” I wondered aloud.

Seth understood what I meant. “Yeah. Aunt Janice found someone to teach me how to use it and then enrolled me in self-defense classes.”

“Did it help?”

Seth sighed. “The nightmares stopped. I wasn’t afraid to leave the house anymore. Obviously it didn’t work entirely, though, since I grew up to be so
intense
.” Seth let go of my hand and then said, “Or crazy. Or psycho. Or everything else you’ve called me in the last month.” I could hear the frown in his voice when he added, “Creepy in a likes-to-drown-kittens-for-fun kind of way?”

Wow. Those words all sounded so awful now. “You forgot pretty enough to be gay,” I said.

He chuckled, but my laugh was forced. The only thing I could think to say was, “I’m sorry.”

Seth turned to face me then. I could just barely make out his facial features now that my eyes had adjusted to the dark. It was enough to see the intensity in his eyes. “No,” he said fiercely. “Don’t be sorry. You’re the first person I’ve ever told this to and I didn’t do it so that you would feel sorry. I just want you to understand. I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

“Okay,” I said, even though it was impossible not to feel sorry—sorry for him and sorry for all the mean things I’ve ever said to him.

We sat there a few more minutes in silence until, thankfully, the power came back on. We met each other’s gazes but the moment was awkward. Not knowing what else to say, I got up and grabbed the ice cream from the counter. It was nothing but ice cream soup now. With a sigh I threw it away and then handed Seth his knife back.

After he took it he grabbed my hand and said, “I don’t want you to be scared of me. You have no idea how sorry I am.”

I shrugged and tried to pull away but Seth wouldn’t let go of my hand. “Ellie, I would never hurt you.”

Seth waited for me to say something, but I couldn’t find my voice. I nodded and pulled my hand from his. This time he let me go. He sat back down at the bar and watched while I wiped up the melted ice cream that had leaked onto the counter.

“After my parents died I started having trouble with the kids at school.”

Seth seemed to be talking more to himself now than to me. “My psychologist said that I’d developed a personality disorder. Aunt Janice thought that was ridiculous and pulled me out of school.” He paused for a minute, then added, “And therapy. I’ve had nothing but private tutors ever since.”

Seth began mindlessly flipping his knife open and closed again without realizing he was doing it. It really was a nervous habit.

“I was reading about personality disorders not that long ago, after you said I wasn’t normal,” Seth said, frowning. “Maybe that guy was right.”

“I don’t know about that,” I argued, though I wasn’t so sure.

“It would explain the way you feel about me,” Seth said. “And how I can’t ever get things right with you. I’m trying, Ellie. I’m trying really hard. But it’s difficult, because all the intense feelings I have for you drive me so crazy.”

I’d been about to take a seat on the stool next to Seth, but stopped at the casual mention of his “intense” feelings for me. Seth grimaced at the way I backed into the kitchen, putting the counter safely between us again.

“All I want is for you to like me,” he said, frustration creeping back into his voice. “But every time I begin to get anywhere with you I screw up so bad, I lose more ground than I had to start with.”

Seth looked so disappointed that I managed to get over myself and plopped down next to him. “You haven’t lost all your footing,” I said. “I really don’t hate you, you know. I wouldn’t even say I don’t like you anymore. You just take some getting used to.”

Seth looked down at the knife in his hand. He closed it, but continued to fiddle with it. “Saying that you don’t dislike me anymore isn’t the same thing as actually liking me.”

“No,” I agreed. “You’re right. It isn’t.”

Seth frowned again and there was something so cute about it this time that I smiled and said, “But I don’t share ice cream with just anyone.” I nudged him playfully with my elbow.

I could feel the surprise radiating off Seth as he turned to face me full on, but I couldn’t look up. I was red as a cherry. I couldn’t believe I’d just told Seth that I liked him. Granted, he didn’t think I meant, “Lets forget the kitchen and go make out on the couch.” But I think maybe I did.

“I’m sorry, by the way,” I said, my eyes still completely focused on the counter in front of me.

“I told you, don’t feel—”

“Not about that—about last week. That whole thing with Dave at my birthday party.” My face was now so red, I’m pretty sure the blush was creeping down into my arms. “Angela said you were upset.”

“Angela also said that you and Dave spent the last week in Happy Couple Land.”

Not only was I startled into looking up at him, but I couldn’t hide my disappointment. “S-so you weren’t upset about Dave kissing me?” I stammered.

Somebody stamp LOSER on my forehead right now.

Seth regarded me with a cool expression, but the light slowly crept back into his eyes. When he smirked he was instantly transformed back into the charming, confident Seth I met when he first moved in.

“Upset,” he said, “is not nearly a strong enough word for what I felt watching Dave steal that kiss from you. If you hadn’t started kissing him back when you did, it wouldn’t have been the wall I pounded my fist into.”