The Fire Starter (7 page)

But I didn't know about magic either. I didn't know it existed, I don't even know if I believe it now. It all sounded absurd the way Blake said it, but he was serious when he did, and it explained why I felt sluggish right after seeing that child smile at me. My mind travelled back to that moment, when I felt something coil around me like an invisible string.

And then there was that fire… I didn't really see it, but I felt it touch me. Where did that fire come from? Was that also a part of their ritual? Was Spencer also burned by that fire when he came to my rescue? But when I bathed this morning I didn't see any burn marks on my body. Spencer didn't seem to be hurt in any way either.

Maybe I was already hallucinating back then. That's the only thing that makes sense.

I would not have gone to dinner if it wasn't for my rumbling stomach. I decided to just drop by, get my plate full, and march to an empty table. I should stop sitting with them. They're all probably mad at me anyway.

Everything was okay when I entered the room and headed straight to the buffet table. But Kyle spotted me and waved at me, indicating the seat I usually took. Because of her, I was distracted and bumped into someone.

I know it's weird, but since last night, I already felt familiar with Spencer's temperature. So I knew without looking that it was him. "Sorry," I muttered without looking up, but he quickly held my arm to stop me.

"Sorry for shouting at you earlier," he whispered, guiding me to a table with, surprisingly, cheesecake. He put a huge slice on my plate and waited for me to respond.

"I should be the one apologizing to you," I said at last. "I shouldn't have done that, and I shouldn't have said anything. It's just that…"

Spencer stopped me by tugging at my arm, and I was forced to look at his beautiful eyes. "Let's just forget it, okay?"

I nodded in approval. It seemed like the only thing left to do anyway.

"Someone's kissed and made up," Blake announced just as Spencer and I reached the table. I smiled weakly and noticed that Spencer was blushing just as much as I think I am.

"I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused," I said around the table.

And I was met with laughter. "What do you mean trouble?" Reid asked, eyeing my cheesecake with interest.

"I got Spencer suspended, and Blake had to stay up late to watch over me, and--"

"Kayleigh," Xander said, cutting through my litany.

"We did all that because we're your friends," Evan answered, a sheepish grin already in place on his face. Then, before I could stop him, I saw his fork descend down my dessert, and a few others followed suit.

I laughed genuinely for the first time. They were my friends. Of course. They weren't mad at me. They were concerned, and they wanted to make me feel better. I've never felt happier. I looked at them, tackling the slice of cheesecake Spencer had given me, and I couldn't help but be contented. These are the kinds of friends I wouldn't want to lose. Or leave.

It's not all fun being with my friends, but most times it is. Like right now, for instance. Spencer and Evan had started their brotherly feud, and I thought I smelled something burning in the oven. I don't even know how they got access to the kitchen, but Evan had just come out with a wicked expression on his face as though he was particularly proud of what he had done this time.

With a weird spring on his step, he reached us at the cafeteria and dropped onto the table what appeared to be an aluminum cooking dish with nothing but the long-sleeved shirt I saw Spencer wearing the other day. I have to tell you, it wasn't pretty. There were holes and I could smell the remnants of Spencer's cologne, only it was fairly undetectable since the gray smoke issuing from it was so overpowering. Spencer, who was sitting beside me, let out a sigh and brought something out of his bag.

After seeing Evan's prank on Spencer's shirt, I thought Spencer would get mad, but it seems that they had been doing this for a long time already. Spencer had a prank of his own, and it involved Evan's shoes--or rather, what remained of them, since it looked like they had gone down to the garbage crusher. It didn't smell like garbage though. It smelled like bananas. But no matter how it smelled, I just couldn't look at it.

"Ugh, Spencer what did you do??" I asked, though not really eager to know what he had done. I crinkled my nose and he hid the shoes in a plastic bag and sealed it. Out of sight, out of mind--I wish. The image was still burned inside my head.

Evan was shaking his head with a sheepish grin on his face. His usually messy hair looked more disheveled than usual and he wiped sweat from his forehead. "This isn't the end, Spence," he threatened jokingly.

"It definitely isn't," though Spencer wasn't one who always smiled, his eyes were twinkling. I couldn't help but admire the bond that they had. Though they seemed to not share anything in common, they still managed to get along. And they also seemed to have a lot of patience for each other.

"You two look cute," I noted. Both looked at me quizzically and I could see how similar they looked despite the minute differences. "I envy the kind of relationship you have."

"Don't you have any siblings?" Evan asked before he took a large bite off his bagel.

"None," I replied simply. "I grew up alone most of the time. And don't even ask about my friends. They're the worst."

"Why?" It was Spencer who asked this time.

"I don't want to talk about it," I shut my mouth, and so did the two, dismissing the subject.

"Alright," Evan agreed, standing up and taking the remainder of his bagel with him. "I have to go now, but don't take your eyes off my brother will you? I don't want more shredded shoes," he waved and dashed off the hallway, melting in with the darkness as he got out of sight.

Now I could safely return to what I was reading. Spencer had been taking care of the implementation of our project, and I was assigned to the heavily boring research. I have to admit, it gets better and easier being with him. I've moved on past the flutters in my stomach and the heavy pounding of my heart. Though I can't say that I didn't like him anymore--in fact, I think it just got worse. Whenever we're together, I seemed to be completely aware of his every movement, and of his musky scent. Sometimes I could even smell him inside my room, even when he's not really there.

I sighed, trying to keep my mind off unwanted thoughts. I needed to avoid zoning out every time we're supposed to be together. I can't be one of those people who just let others do their work for them. I don't want Spencer to look at me that way.

"Were your friends really that terrible?"

When I heard him speak, I looked up, confused. First, he never did seem interested in where I came from, and second, it wasn't like him to ask personal questions about anyone. I always thought that he wanted others to confront their own problems instead of whining about them. Call me weird, but that was actually one of the traits I liked about him. Not that it wouldn't feel good to know that he was indeed curious about me, of course.

I nodded, too surprised to answer coherently. He was looking at me in his peripheral vision; his brown eyes the color of dark chocolate this time.

"It used to be fun," I said, remembering when I first met my friends. They were always talking about the pranks they wanted to do to other people. I, of course, being the careless person that I was, went along and didn't mind how we were hurting others. "I'm not proud of who I used to be with them."

"But you should be proud of who you are now," he consoled. It made me feel better, hearing those words from him. I didn't realize I regretted the things I had done in the past until now.

"Thanks," I mumbled as he went back to what he was doing.

There was one thing I didn't expect from him. And I take back what I said earlier that the fluttering and hammering had stopped. They all returned, and this time even worse than the last. I felt like I was floating, I could barely feel the chair I was sitting on. The moment he touched my hands, his thumb caressing the back of my palm, I couldn't think straight anymore. I just felt so…weird. I felt warm, fuzzy, and a combination of many other feelings I couldn't even name. And all that because he had touched my hand? Not just plain touched, he held it in his, and he was still holding it now.

I looked at where our hands were joined together. His thumb had stopped caressing and I looked up only to realize that he was looking straight at me. He must see how red I looked, since he smiled--and that's a thing he rarely does. I listened as his beautiful voice said "If there's something bothering you, you can always tell me."

I don't remember if I nodded or not. All I know is that the next moment he had let go of my hand and I could breathe again. I sucked air into my lungs and it hurt that he didn't seem to feel the connection I felt. I felt like I wanted to scream at him, to tell him then and there that I liked him, so that maybe I could see some reaction on his face. But what would that result in? He would just turn away, shrug it off, and pretend as though nothing had happened. Or worse, he might not be comfortable spending time with me after that.

I dropped the pen I was unconsciously twirling around my fingers and closed my notebook. "Can we continue this tomorrow? I don't feel very well."

Spencer closed the dozens of books in front of him and stashed our project prototype away. "Are you okay?" He reached out a hand probably to check my temperature but I stood up and moved farther away.

"I'm fine. I just--I think I need some rest?" It came out as a question. But that's the best thing I could do, since I feel so terrible right now. I almost want to cry, and I never, ever cry.

"I'll walk you to your room," Spencer offered, falling in step with me as I clutched my bag tightly. I didn't expect him to walk with me and I could feel my every step falling heavier than the last. Does he know? Does he know what I feel? Is he purposefully rubbing it in that we can never be how I want us to be? Because that's the only thing that makes sense considering he seems to be making it hard for me, harder than it already is.

He was checking on me every few steps and it irritates me even more. There was a lump in my throat, making it difficult to breathe. We were almost at my room, that comforting zone where I know he would never be able to hurt me anymore. I reached out inside my bag to get my key, but he grabbed my hand firmly but gently. "What happened? Did I do something wrong?"

"No," I laughed almost hysterically. See, that's the problem Spencer, you never seem to do anything wrong. You seem to know what you're doing. The only problem is that the things that you're doing are making it hard for me to be with you.

He didn't let my hand go, but I tugged at it and he reluctantly did. I fished for the key and inserted it into the lock after so many failed attempts. I wasn't drunk, but I just couldn't put the damn key in. It may be because my hand was shaking too much--I'm too preoccupied to notice. When at last I heard the familiar click, Spencer pushed open the door for me and I quickly stepped inside, holding the door. "You can go now," I told him with the few shreds of sanity I had left. You have to go now, because I don't know how long I can take it anymore.

"Kayleigh--"he started, but I shook my head.

"Just go, please." I hated that my voice broke. I smiled, though bitterly. "I will be fine in the morning."

He stepped back and I choked back the tears that were trying to escape. Just a few seconds more and I can let them free. But not in his presence.

"Are you sure--"

"Just go!" I didn't intend to scream, but it was just so frustrating. He seems eager to make me feel more miserable by the second. And I couldn't take it anymore. "Please."

My voice sounded weak. For a moment I saw a shard of worry run through his face, but that was the last thing I saw before he turned around and walked away without another word. He didn't even look back, not once. I closed the door and leaned on it, my head tipped upwards as I let the tears run their course. I will be fine in the morning. If only that was true.

It had started to rain, and I laughed at myself as I brushed away the tears with the back of my hand. The rain seems to be agreeing with me as it dropped down into a steady drizzle. Just then, I heard a soft, almost undetectable knock that I wondered if it was on my door. But since I was leaning on it, I could feel the vibration the knocks were causing. I stepped away, wondering who it could be. It was late, and most students were asleep already. The knocks came again, then silence. I hesitated.

But it must be urgent. I opened the door and was surprised to see that it was Spencer. His hair was a mess and his eyes looked seething. I didn't ask what was wrong. He didn't speak either. He just stood there looking at me, me looking back, forgetting that my cheeks might still be wet with tears.

He ran his fingers down his hair and let his hand fall on his side limply afterwards. He swallowed, as though it was hard for him to be here. "I couldn't rest until I knew you were fine," he whispered into the empty hallway.

"I'm okay," I lied in a flat tone.

This didn't seem to convince him as he pushed the door open. "Are you sure," he asked, taking a step inside my room.

He stopped just inside and stole a quick look at the space behind me. I could already envision the clothes strewn everywhere, the books in various places, the bed unmade, and my various personal things out in plain sight. It wasn't a sight you wanted the person you liked to see.

"Sorry for the intrusion," he said, his voice notably sadder than usual.

"It's okay. I'm sorry for the mess," I apologized in return. "I didn't think anyone would come here and I haven't had the time to tidy up a bit."

"It doesn't matter," Spencer spoke again, this time taking a few steps forward, towards me. I didn't move, didn't want to invite him any further. I wanted him to leave, to leave me alone. But he didn't seem to notice, as he walked languidly closer to me. "Are you really okay?"