Silver Moon (22 page)

“Hey,” I say, trying to sound uninterested while filing away books.

“I need to talk to you,” he says gruffly.

“Yeah, well, seems like everyone needs to do that today,” I retort, slamming my locker and turning around to him.

He rolls his eyes. “How’s tonight?”

I squeeze a sigh through my teeth. “What time and where?”

“Six. I’ll pick you up.”

“’Kay.” Brushing past him, I trot down the hall.

Getting answers out of Jana at lunch doesn’t work out so well. She’s adamant about waiting until tonight to tell me whatever information she has. Am I assuming it’s about Ben? Of course. Will I be surprised? Probably not.

Nothing surprises me anymore.

“So, just like that he wants to meet with you tonight?” Jana whispers.

The lunchroom is heavy with voices and sounds, so it’s not like anyone will hear us. I think she’s taking extra precautions.

“Yeah,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I’m ready to get this over with. I saw it coming. He and Lily make a better couple, anyway.” I mold a smile onto my face.

Jana watches me carefully, and then says, “I’d tell you right now, if we weren’t surrounded by prying ears.”

“Um, nobody’s listening to us. We always sit in the corner of the cafeteria, away from the hoopla,” I tell her, glancing around to confirm my statement. The jocks and cheerleaders—and anyone else that matters—sit several tables over. The only people even remotely near us are a couple of loner girls who have a teen magazine, and are too busy drooling over celebrities.
  

“I really want to, but this is serious. Like, I-could-be-killed-for-telling-you serious,” says Jana. Her eyes practically explode from their sockets.

My mouth presses into a line. “Fine. Tonight it is.”

After school, Jana offers me a ride home. I politely decline, since I’ll find out what’s so important later. I’m not in the mood to deal with drama and secrets anymore. I have enough to deal with. So, I walk.

Chilly
wind nips at my cheeks, and any other area of exposed skin. I tuck my hands in my front jean pockets and lower my head. The icy breeze makes my eyes sting and brings tears to the surface. Leaves crunch under my Chucks. The rest scatter, as the wind sweeps them across the sidewalk.

I don’t know how much more I can handle when it comes to cold weather. What I do know is that the arctic blasts of air don’t seem as dreadful the closer I am to home. Ideas and scenes spring to life inside my mind, triggering me to forget about the cold. What’s so secret that Jana has to wait and tell me? Why won’t Ben simply crush my hopes at school?

In a front yard I pass, an elderly lady lets her teacup poodle roam freely. She stands on the patio in a flannel nightgown, arms crossed, waiting for it to finish. As soon as she sees me, her eyes grow to the size of pumpkins. She snatches her dog and runs inside; the door crashes behind her. I hear the indistinct
click
as she locks it.

She has to be a Follower,
I think. People who are Followers in this town are more terrified than they are courageous, in my opinion. They only take sides with the
Conways
because they want to save
their
lives, not someone else’s.

When I finally make it home, all I want to do is crash and disappear into my nightmare world. I don’t even care that I’m being followed by some insane psychopath who can’t make up his mind about whether he wants to kill me or not.

The weird thing is that I can’t sleep. Usually sleeping isn’t a problem for me, but today I have too much to think about. At this point, I don’t care if Beth greets Ben at the door and rips him to pieces. I assume he’s picking me up…

I lay in agonizing wait, staring at the red numbers on the alarm clock beside my bed. The minutes are slow, the hours even slower, but finally six o’clock arrives. I roll out of bed and leave my room, sitting on the stairs. I pull my legs up so I can rest my chin on them. The only noise in the house is the sound of the grandfather clock ticking.
 

A knock startles me out of the silence. Standing, I meander to the front door and check the peephole. It’s Ben.

I release a deep sigh before opening the door to greet him.

“Hey,” I say with no enthusiasm.

“Ready?”

“Yeah.” I don’t bother to lock the door behind me. Hopefully this won’t take long. I need this to be done, as much as I hate to admit.

Ben doesn’t speak the whole car ride. He pulls into the parking lot behind May’s. Being at this place brings back memories of the first night Jana and I encountered Cameron, and how he purposely started trouble.
 

Even as he gets out of the car, Ben still won’t say anything. My heart drops, and then I remind myself that his family wants to kill me. He holds my gaze for a second, and then looks away.

He doesn’t bother opening the door for me. This isn’t Beau
Lierre
, of course.
 

No valet. No candles. No gentleman-like behavior.

Ben leads us to a booth. He takes a seat facing the entrance, and I sit across from him.
 

A waitress takes our drink orders and promises to be back shortly.
 

“So…” I begin, but Ben holds up a finger to shush me.
 

His expression is vacant as he stares toward the front windows. His glare is fierce enough to bore a hole through the glass.

I seize the awkward moment to speed read through the menu. It’s the usual—burgers, hot dogs, fries, cokes. The typical ‘50s-style joint.

Our waitress comes back with our drinks and asks if we’re ready to order.

“I want a cheeseburger—and drag it through the garden,” Ben says. He looks at me and asks, “What do you want?”

“Umm, I’ll just have a plain cheeseburger,” I tell the waitress.
 

 
Ben leans forward, resting both arms on the table. “I’ve wanted to talk to you. There’s something in me that wants to explain everything to you,”—he hesitates, eyes focusing on the table and not me—“but I can’t. I want to. And I know you want me to.” He drags his fingers through his dark hair. “My family would kill me if they knew,” he says, talking to himself more than me.

I’m afraid to say anything, afraid he might blow up at any moment.

And I have no clue what he’s talking about.

“Ben...”

“No, Candra, let me do this. I have to get this off my chest. It’s killing me that you don’t know. But I don’t know if you know what it is or not. I mean, you might already know.”

What a damn fruitcake.

“Know that your family is royally crazy? Know that your brothers made their point about staying away from your house? Know
I
screwed up when trying to make peace? Yes, I know all of these things. Is there anything else you want to add, or can we go back to being enemies?” I’m surprised at how fluid the words are once they’re spoken. I’ve had them building in my chest for a while, and I guess this is the right time.

His head is glued between his hands, elbows pinned to the table. I can’t help him. The only thing to do is wait until
he’s
ready to explain whatever is bothering him.

The waitress breaks the tension between us by setting our plates on the table.

Ben raises his head. “Eat up,” he says, choking the words out.

We eat in silence. I pick up a fry, nibbling on the end. I don’t even taste it. I try to think of something to start up a conversation, but epically fail. Glancing his way a few times doesn’t do anything—his eyes never meet mine. He just focuses on his food until he’s finished eating.
 

The waitress is back in no time to take our plates and slip Ben the check. He never acknowledges that she comes by, nor does he acknowledge the fact that we can leave.

“I can’t tell you why everything’s the way it is,” he says, measuring every word. His fingers roam to the bridge of his nose and squeeze. “Maybe some other time, when I know for sure,” he says, laying a twenty on top of the check.

I slide out of the booth. He walks ahead of me, and doesn’t wait for me to catch up. When we reach the parking lot, he abruptly turns and grabs me by both arms, lifting me onto the back of the BMW. He catches me by surprise.

His hands clutch my face—one on each side—and he says, “What I’m doing is for your own good. I’m so sorry. Sorry I couldn’t be there for you like I should’ve. Sorry that none of this can work out. It’s tragic that our families can’t live in peace. I never wanted any of this to end. Ever.”

I cock my head.

He brushes my cheek with his thumb. Then I feel it again—the spark, the miniature lightning. If he feels it, too, then he doesn’t do anything to show it.

His eyes aren’t the same black holes. They’re gentle this time.

His lips separate. He hesitates, and then meets me the rest of the way. The electricity is there, even stronger now. My mouth parts and I taste him for the first time. My mind reels with longing, the
need
to be his. It’s like the first memory I have of walking into English class and our eyes meeting—nothing in the world mattered then, like it doesn’t right now.
 

Our hands are slow at first, fumbling to grab hold of something. His hands run up my sides and stop short of my breasts, just as his tongue finds mine. I clutch the back of his hair and a moan escapes my lips.

I pull away. His mouth is on mine, our breath intermingling.

“Ben…” My voice is husky. I don’t recognize it.

“Candra.” His eyebrows furrow, and he plants a gentle kiss on my forehead. “I need to take you home.” His eyes betray themselves, seemingly tortured with emotions.
 

He lifts me to solid ground. I sway and he catches me. My cheek burrows into his cotton shirt. The muscles underneath are toned and rock solid. I have the sudden urge to run my hand over them, but restrain myself.

Carefully, he lifts my chin with one finger and says, “Let’s go.”

“I don’t want to go,” I whisper.
 

His mouth twitches and he stares at me for a couple of heartbeats. “I don’t want to either,” he finally says.

Reluctantly, I pull away and walk to the passenger side.

Ben lets out a long sigh as we pull out of the parking lot. Neither of us says anything on the way to my house. We’ve said enough through our actions.

“Listen, I…”

I lean over and place my index finger on his lips. “Don’t say anything. It’s all right. I understand everything.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not that easy, Candra. There are plenty of things I want to tell you, but whether you would believe me or not is a different story. I want to be with you. You already know that. But what I’m trying to say is that…I…just…
can’t
be with you.”

I fall back against my seat. “What kind of things?”
 

“We can’t be together. It’s as simple as that.” His voice is lower, softer. He looks right through me while he spews his excuses. Why can’t he tell me?

“But you—” I begin, but don’t have a clue what I’m trying to say.

“Kissed you?” he finishes.

“Yes.” My voice is hoarse.

“Think of it as a first and last kiss.” His voice is quiet, calm, like he’s talking to himself.

My brain can’t wrap around what he tells me. I mean, I know he’s breaking up with me, but—

“You meant more to me than a stupid kiss, just so you know. It’s sad, really, that we can’t work this out. We could be the only people to stop this stupid war, and you choose their side. Everyone was right about you.” Tears well, threatening to spill down my cheeks at any second.

He turns his head and stares out the window. “Candra, we can’t do this anymore. We can’t pretend our families don’t hate each other. I’d love to put an end to this, but it’s not going to happen. Deep down, I think you know I’m right.”

I don’t know what to say. Didn’t Jana and Blake warn me about him? And I took up for him. Sometime between the last date and now, I’ve let my guard down, failing myself.