Silver (11 page)

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Christy is already fifteen minutes late. I pull my jacket tighter as I lean against my car. I glance at my phone again. Maybe she'll change her mind about going to Joe's party, but the odds are overwhelmingly against it. It's far more likely she's waiting for Haley. It always amazes me that it takes Haley so much time to get ready; it isn't as though she needs the help.

Haley's thing with Austin must be going well, since she decided she's definitely coming to Joe's tonight. Not that Christy would let me out of it. I can't even come up with a good argument—we both know that if Austin is there, Haley will disappear within minutes of our arrival.

My one consolation is that it's Christy's turn to be designated driver. If she doesn't drink, she might think twice about hooking up with Jonah Timken. And if she still wants to get with him, I figure I can come up with a reason for her to take me home in a hurry.

My pocket barks loudly. It's not Christy, it's Sherri Milliken. I hit the ignore button, even though I'm starting to reconsider. The math team might be just the distraction I need right now. Something logical and sane.

She leaves a text when I don't answer.
Time is running out.
Just as I finish typing out a response, the headlights of Christy's Mustang come around the corner.

Haley opens the passenger door. She doesn't bother to get out of the front seat. She pulls the seatback forward, leaning her body with it, so I'm forced to suck in my gut and twist to make it into the back seat.

By the time we get to Joe's, the party already has a buzz going. Most of the crowd is outside, milling around a custom pool and spa. The girls wear dresses and heels. The guys wear pressed dress pants and button-down shirts. Not a swimming suit in sight. Not even a pair of jeans other than mine. Not that anyone notices.

“Look who's missing her weekly Scrabble tournament.” Haley points toward the patio.

A pretty girl with long black hair stands next to three guys. She twists a piece of hair around her finger while she talks. I don't recognize her until she turns her head so that I catch the profile of her roman nose, less pronounced than I remember it. Sherri Milliken throws back her head and laughs.

“Is that who I think it is?” I ask the question even though I know damn well who it is.

“Ohmigod!” Christy's mouth drops when she realizes who we're looking at. “Did she have some kind of extreme makeover?”

It looks that way. Sherri's hair is straight and sleek. Her face looks almost the same, but somehow her features now work together to form a striking whole. The curve of her nose draws attention to her large eyes and full lips. Cheekbones that once seemed too sharp now appear high and delicate. I would never have thought it possible, but Sherri Milliken is hot. The guys that surround her seem to agree.

“Good for her,” Haley says, not the least bit threatened by Sherri's transformation. She turns to a group by a large firepit and flashes a smile at Joe.

Joe lifts his hand slightly, acknowledging Haley with a curling lip. His dark hair is teased high, fully recovered from its run-in with the Blue Box. A white tee peeks out from underneath a crisp blue oxford shirt.

I know Blake is there before I see him. The ache in my stomach is replaced with a gooey warmth, marshmallows melting into hot chocolate. My eyes find him, honing on his pale hair as light and shadows dance across it. Portia stands next to him, too close. Her burnt-orange sundress clashes with her chestnut hair. At least she got the memo about the dress code. She whispers something in Blake's ear, but he doesn't smile.

As we step closer, Blake turns his head. His eyes meet mine and everything else fades away. I hold my breath, and I think he does too. In this moment, everything slides into place, filling me with a peace I haven't felt in the two days since I last saw him. This is what I've waited for ever since he first walked into Magic Beans over a year ago.

He sees me. Even with my bracelet.

He looks away, and the moment is gone. I feel the churning emotions that swirl around in him as he pushes me away. Then it's as if he's walled me off completely, erecting a barrier that leaves me alone to wallow in my own pain.

I look away, determined not to let him see how much he's hurting me. I can't keep it up for more than a few seconds. When I look back, Portia has her hand on his arm. The impulse to rip her away from him is strong.

No. I can't let myself lose control. Not with all these people here. But my eyes are drawn to the fire beside them. I can almost feel it calling to me.

I spin away, abandoning Christy and Haley without any explanation. I head for the side of the house, as if putting stucco, glass, and wood between myself and Blake is all I need to do to change the direction of my thoughts, to keep from doing something that I can't take back.

I rush right into a pale green dress-shirt.

Austin's hands come out to steady me as I bounce from the impact with his chest, which is every bit as solid as it looks. “Juliet, take it easy.”

“I'm sorry. It's just … ” I rub my palms on my jeans and glance back to where Portia laughs and leans into Blake.

Austin follows my gaze. “Right.” He grabs my forearm and pulls me in the direction I'd been walking. “Follow me.”

I fall in step beside him, around the side of the house and down a narrow gravel path. The path ends at a three-tiered fountain that's lit from the bottom by round lights. The little garden surrounding it is in full bloom. Yellow and purple flowers cling to the perfectly manicured bushes that frame a half circle behind the fountain. The splashes of water falling from the top bowl into the pools below cover the sounds of the party in a blanket of white noise.

“You okay?” Austin asks, still holding my arm.

I exhale, taking inventory. The crazy feeling is gone. For the first time in a week, there's no pain. None. It's odd to feel so normal. “I think so.”

“Good.” He lets go of my arm and puts his hands in his pockets. He stares for a few seconds without saying anything. “You want to talk about it?”

I can't begin to explain any of it. Not my jealousy-induced pyromania in eighth grade, not this bonding thing with Blake. “It's not a big deal, okay?”

“You don't know how badly I want to believe that.”

“But you don't?”

Austin steps closer to me. A smile plays at the corners of his lips. “You could convince me otherwise.”

I sit down on the cold bench, moving away from him. “I doubt it.”

“Ye of little faith.” Austin sets his foot on the bench and leans forward.

I feel trapped. Something about the way he's watching me, his body blocking my way back to the path, is unnerving. I realize he's waiting for me to say something. “I just need some time.”

“I'm afraid you have less than you realize. Your fate will find you whether you hide from it or not.” He leans closer still, like he might kiss me. I don't know if I want him to, but I'm not doing anything to stop him, either. I'm frozen, like something is keeping me here. His eyes grow darker, even as the gold flecks in his irises get bright. I'm lost in them, pulled toward him on an invisible current, my lips moving toward his.

A loud crunch pulls our attention to the gravel path. Austin moves away, putting distance between us, and I feel like I've been woken up from a dream too soon—fuzzy and instantly alert at the same time.

Blake moves forward, a shadow in the setting sun, his footsteps quick and determined.

The light of the fountain dances across his face as he stops at the path's end. His spine is rigid, making him look even taller than his six-foot frame. I feel his barely contained aggression, not only from his posture, from the inside. It flares up in me.

Mine, but not mine.

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“What exactly do you think you're doing?” Blake's voice is a roar.

I stand up and step around Austin. “What does it look like, Blake? I'm obviously having wild sex on a cement bench with my best friend's boyfriend fifteen feet from a yard full of people.”

“Do you two want to be alone?” Austin steps around me.

“You don't have to leave.”

Austin moves a few steps away from me anyway. As soon as he does, the now-familiar warm hum and angry stomach pain converge on my abdomen like bad carne asada.

Blake comes closer, standing directly in front of me.

“You have to end this now.” His voice is soft but he can't keep the menace very far below the surface. “I'm going to kill someone if you don't.” He glances at Austin, just in case I haven't gotten the hint.

“So you get to completely ignore me and hang out with whatever girl you want, and I can't even talk to another guy?”

“Don't pretend you don't want him.” He lowers his voice so only I can hear. “You want him so much that half of me wants him too.”

That
is so not an image I want to have. And he's wrong. I don't want Austin. I moved away when he tried to kiss me, didn't I? It's still all fuzzy.

Blake runs a hand through his hair. “You have to end this.”

I take a step closer to him. The warmth in my gut swallows the pain as I get closer. I take another step, stopping only when I can feel the heat from his chest against my collarbone. “I don't know how.” I let my hands come up to his shoulders. He doesn't back away. I take one more tentative step, so that my feet are touching his. I let my head rest against his chest.

His arms curl around me. “You have to find a way. I need my life back.”

I don't argue, although at the moment the last thing I want is my life back. I just want him to hold me like this.

Steps crunch on the path as Austin turns and walks back to the party.

Blake's hand moves in spirals down my spine. I sink further into him, emboldened by the swirls of pleasure that follow the trail of his hand. His mood lifts. His pleasure becomes my own and the adrenaline that flows through me feeds a craving I didn't know I had. I'm helpless to do anything but wrap my hands around his neck, closing my fingers in his hair.

When he kisses me, I'm completely lost. Nothing matters except his lips on mine. His fingers moving along my back. His chest pressing into mine.

He breaks the kiss abruptly. “Damn it.”

My breath comes in ragged, shallow gulps. “Blake, please … ” I feel the pain that tears him inside. It slices through me, sharp and jagged. I want to fall over from it.

“I can't do this, Brianna. You have to figure out how to fix this before it's too late. You don't understand what it means.” The anger and hurt and worry all bleed together.

“So tell me!”

He shakes his head. “I can't. Just trust me, okay? I don't want this.”

“You're lying.” I pound my fist against his chest. “You wanted me on the beach. And I can feel what you're feeling now. You
do
want this. You can't pretend you don't.”

He grabs my wrist, stopping me from continuing to hit him. “Let's get one thing straight,
bandia
. You're a cold, evil creature who would just as soon see me burn as kiss me. And I can't ever forget it.”

He knows.

He knows exactly what a jealous lunatic I am.

The thought fills me with raw panic that is one hundred percent mine.

He lets go of my wrist so suddenly that my hand falls to my side. “Stay away from me. Just stay the hell away.”

I step back, hiding my face in the shadows so he can't see my tears as he walks away.

Falling back onto the bench, I clench my stomach, trying to control the stabbing pain before I die of internal bleeding. I don't bother trying to keep from crying now. At least the sound of the fountain drowns out my sobs.

Blake is bringing out the monster in me, but it's even worse than that. He knows.
He knows exactly what kind of crazy I am. No wonder he thought I burned down his house. No wonder he hates me.

And the sickest part is how much I need to be near him. I've turned into an obsessive stalker while he seems to be able to just walk away, even though I know he feels the same connection I do. He complains about it enough. Joe was right about one thing—a relationship with Blake Williams will only lead to heartbreak, and that's the best-case scenario. It could be far, far worse.

I twist the charm hanging from my wrist. I don't want Blake to ignore me. God knows, I should, but I don't. I unclasp the bracelet. I sniffle and wipe my nose. Oh yeah, he's going to fall all over himself now.

I drape the little chain across the top of the fountain, letting the water run over it. As the water runs over my fingers, I feel a surge of energy. The water not only flows across my skin, but
underneath
it. It pumps through my veins, cold and strong. I draw its strength to me, closing my hand around the stream. It crackles and freezes. I open my fingers to a perfect flower blossom formed in ice.

The odds are about seven billion to one that water would freeze into just this shape. And no law of nature can explain how water could freeze at sixty four degrees Fahrenheit. I close my hand around the flower and let it melt back into the fountain.

There is no flash of light, no electric shock or rustling of wind. Nothing to indicate that any magic is in the air at all. Because it isn't. It's
inside
me. All of it. The earth, wind, water, and fire. I laugh, giddy with power. I don't have to look at my reflection to know that I'm beautiful. I feel it; the power that can possess a man, body and soul. That already has.

“Freeze,” I say under my breath, and the water in the fountain is instantly frozen, a solid block of ice. Icicles hang where the water spilled over only a second before. I squeal with excitement.

I step onto the small lawn, kicking off my sneakers and socks and letting my bare feet sink into the grass. The earth is solid and strong, waiting for me to command it. I laugh again as I hold the power of the earth between my toes. I dance on the grass, spinning and laughing.

“I knew I heard something.”

I stop and turn toward the male voice in the darkness. The tone is light and friendly, but there's some other indefinable quality to it.

“Keep going,” he says from the shadows. “I like to watch.”

The emphasis on that last part makes my skin crawl. I put my arms around my chest, wanting to cover up even though I'm fully clothed. Jonah steps out of the shadows and walks toward me, the outline of his body lean and strong. I back up as far as I can, until I'm pressed up against a large juniper bush, its rough leaves clawing at my back.

“You can run if you want,” he says, as if my fear is entirely expected. “I like the chase too.”

I freeze in place as he comes closer, not sure whether to run or scream, and seemingly unable to do either. I reach for the power I felt only seconds before. There is no trace of it. Nothing but damp grass beneath my feet and the frozen water in the fountain, mocking me.

He bears his teeth as he smiles. “You really are something,” he says, his voice still calm. “Better than I ever imagined.” He grabs my arms, hard, hauling me
against him. I try to bring my knee up to his groin but barely make contact with his thigh. He squeezes my arms tighter, laughing at my feeble attempt to fight back.

“Jonah,” I say, finding my voice at last. “Don't do this.”