Looks like she’s going to the party after all.
I teleport myself over to my truck in the event Skyla needs a ride home later. I give a private smile as I rev the engine.
Something tells me she will.
***
Lexy lives just down the road, so I beat Drake by about fifteen minutes. I hang out in front with a group of Ellis’s stoner friends, soaking in the toxic cloud until I see the minivan pull up across the street. Skyla heads over in a pair of tight jeans and heels, that sends my blood rushing south of the border.
I swallow hard at the beautiful sight.
This is it—my moment to shine. Logan is inside, pawing over Michelle. Hate to say it, but I might need to cast a spotlight on that little lapse of judgment he’s busy committing.
Skyla spots me and waves, sending my anxiety to all-time high. I take a full step back, nervous as hell as she speeds in my direction. Her hair sparkles as the fog adheres to her curls. It wraps itself around her body like a dress made of stardust, loving her in the most intimate way possible and for the first time in my life, I envy the airborne precipitation.
“It’s really me.” She holds out her hands, baffled by the fact she’s stunned me into submission.
“You look”—I take a breath—“amazing.”
“Thanks.” She gives a quick glance to the house, her lips press together as if she were embarrassed. “I just told Logan to come on down.” She lowers her voice when she says it, glancing at the ground as if somehow bringing him up were her way of letting me know she’s taken. She has no idea he’s already inside setting his sights on somebody else, even if it is for a somewhat noble cause—Skyla herself.
“So, you all right?” A plume of fog escapes my lips and enwreathes her with a halo. Here we are under the stars, breathing the same air—and with Logan nowhere to be found. This is it. It’s now or never. If she shows no interests, if I lose my balls and don’t make my move, I might as well giftwrap her and leave her on Logan’s bed.
“I’m”—she glances up, frustrated—“completely freaked out. I don’t know what I’d have done if I was alone. For sure, I wouldn’t be standing here. I owe Logan my life.”
Perfect. Skyla slapped me in the face with his name and doesn’t even know it.
“I wouldn’t go that far.” A dry laugh rumbles from me as I try to make light of it. The truth is, I’d rather be impaled on the flagpole at West than believe she could never love me, that Logan was her everything.
Just beyond the house, a bare slope catches my attention. There’s not another soul in that direction, just privacy for miles with the sparkling haze giving it that fairytale effect. If ever there was someone in desperate need of a happy ending, it’s me.
I don’t say a word, just motion over to the side yard and Skyla walks next to me until we hit the south end of the house.
Here we are. Alone—in the dark.
A wild panic sails through me.
What the hell am I doing? I’ve never even kissed a girl before.
For sure what happened in the truck earlier didn’t count for more than a friendly peck.
There were plenty of opportunities for me to have practiced, plenty of offers that I kindly rejected, because I wanted to gift my first kiss to the girl of my dreams—Skyla. And now, a tiny part of me regrets that. It’s my natural inclination to want to devour her, but I’m pretty sure that’s not how you go about it.
Her shoulders loosen, and she gives an easy smile.
“So why don’t you go in there and fight some of those girls off for a while?” She says the words without an ounce of conviction.
“I don’t want to be in there.” I back her into the wall until the warmth of her body pulsates over mine in waves, never taking my eyes off hers. “I want to be out here. With you.”
She glances over my shoulder as her breathing reduces to a nervous quiver.
The air lights up with the heavy perfume of the eucalyptus, and for the first time, I wonder if maybe Skyla wants this, too—if she wants us and everything those visions laid out like a carnal promise.
“You know,” she whispers with a reserved smile, “I kind of have this thing going with Logan, and…”
I push in until we’re just a breath away. I don’t want to talk about Logan. I want to flip a U-turn in her heart and send her running into my arms, ready and willing.
Heat emanates from her body as if she were on fire.
This is it. Do something—say something.
“If I’m going to marry you one day, we’re going to have to do this—a lot.”
I crash our lips together like thunder, sweeping my tongue softly over hers and my insides squeeze tight.
This is nuclear, every wonderful emotion I’ve felt since birth detonating all at once. This was no platonic exchange of affection. This was lust, years in the making, a future spelled out in prophesies and visions, every wet dream I’ve ever had, reenacting itself in this one glorious kiss. This is passion that spans the ages—a love story written with every writhing ache of our tongues.
Skyla takes in a sharp breath and slaps her hands over my chest. Before I know it, she’s launched me three feet out.
She darts back to the house, but I don’t follow. I’m still trying to catch my breath from the sheer fucking beauty of what just happened.
I’d get down on my knees and beg for another if I thought she’d give it to me.
I’d let her tie me up and have her way with me if she wanted.
Who am I kidding? I’d be honored to have her slap me into next week.
***
After getting a contact high from Ellis and his band of doobie brothers, I find Skyla inside, eyeing Logan like she’s about to rip him a new one. It’s nice to know he’s able to piss her off on his own without my interference.
I step in beside her and don’t say a word.
“You know he’s just using her, right?” She whispers, watching Michelle stroke Logan by the fire. Logan reaches up and lands his arm over her shoulder, touching her bare neck with his fingers, and I give a private smile at the invisible noose he’s inadvertently tightening. Poor bastard. I supposed Michelle will be there to pick up the pieces once Skyla plucks his balls off and shoves them down his throat.
“He’s just listening in.” It sails from her lips more like a question.
She might be right, but I’ll be the last person to agree.
“I would never do that to you,” I whisper it in her ear like a promise—a vow.
“Why does he want this diary so bad, anyway?” Her forehead erupts in a series of lines. Everything in me wants to take her in my arms and comfort her.
“He thinks it has some vital piece of information.” There, I didn’t throw him under the imaginary bus and tell her something goofy like he’s gunning for a blowjob, which might have been the truth pre-Skyla.
“To what? Get her killers?”
I hope all of this talk of Chloe’s diary isn’t setting off feelings of jealousy. Chloe is dead. Regardless, even if Chloe were living, Skyla could have her pick of Logan or me.
I glare over at him. “You know what they say about a fool?”
“What?” She makes a face at my comparison of the golden boy and the “f” word.
“Give him enough rope—he’ll hang himself.” It’s kind of hard to deny when you’re watching it play out in real time.
Michelle yanks him in and lands a kiss over his lips.
Holy shit. Could this get any better?
Logan pulls away, less than enthused by her show of affection.
“He’s gone too far.” Skyla can barely get the words out through her pain, and now I feel like crap.
Okay, it’s not funny anymore. I suddenly feel the urge to go over and kick Logan’s ass myself. Might do it anyway for the hell of it.
“Take me home.” Skyla turns into me with a look of incurable pain.
“Sure,” I say, barely above a whisper. I don’t like seeing the hurt in he
r eyes. Logan and his thirst for the pendant are tearing her apart.
***
My fingers latch around hers as I lead her out into the cool night.
“I don’t really feel like going home.” Skyla dabs at the corner of her eyes to keep the tears at bay.
God—please don’t let her cry. Crying is the one emotion I’m not ready to tackle with Skyla.
I help her into the truck and drive away from the bodies milling around the periphery of Lexy’s home. I speed down the road, trying to distract her with my questionable driving skills, but she sets in on a full-blown sob.
Shit. I’m going to kill Logan.
Her back trembles as she buries her face in her palms, so I pull off to the shoulder and kill the engine.
“Come here.” I unbuckle myself and scoot in, offering her a box of tissues that Mom insists I keep in the truck. I hold them out like a peace offering. I’m half-afraid she’ll pull my balls off for having the misfortune of sharing the same moniker as the douchebag who’s responsible for the waterfall of tears.
A trail of light spears across the sky, and I point at it.
“Look,” I whisper. A shooting star. It must mean something. It’s a sign. It has to be. On a magical night like tonight, everything seems to be a compass pointing toward our future.
I wrap my arm around her waist as her mood improves with the natural wonder, taking place outside.
Her smile fades with the star, and she looks over at me mournfully before relaxing into my chest.
I pick up her hand and trace out the white spots that dot her flesh, pale as seashells.
“Are you sizing my finger?” She teases.
“No, that’s your other hand. I’m looking for trail marks.”
“I don’t think I got any scratches today.”
A dry laugh rattles through me and jostles her body in rhythm with mine.
“Trail marks have to do with time travel.” I interlace our fingers softly, hoping she won’t mind or notice. “They’re white dots that bleach into your skin. No one knows why they appear, they just do.” I’ll tell her every truth I know if it’ll make her mine.
“Sort of like a passport.” She traces them out with her finger. “Is that one?”
I flip on the overhead light. “Son of a gun. It is,” I whisper. “Where’d you go?”
“I don’t have a clue. I don’t remember anything.”
“You must have gone somewhere. Think.” I run my fingers over her hand—rub her skin as if it were foreplay.
“Look, there’s another one.” She points just shy of her wrist.
“You really get around, don’t you?” I take her in, drinking down the visual of her sitting in my truck and freeze frame it in my mind in the event it’s the first and last time. So this is what it would be like to have a girlfriend in my life—not just any girl but this one—the right one.
Skyla reaches up and turns off the overhead light. Her face fills with remorse, and I can tell Logan is creeping back into her mind.
“How’d you like the kiss?” I should have never asked. I should have landed another one to give her something new to think about.
“It was all right.” She scratches at my chest and gives an impish grin.
Skyla loses all expression. Her eyes widen with a deer-in-the-headlights look, and I lean in for the kill.
I cup the side of her face and draw her in. My lips crash over hers, and her mouth opens for me without hesitation. The world around us dissolves to nothing as she enters my mouth with a fiery exchange. We kiss for a thousand years. The dull ache in my stomach explodes with a sweetness I don’t ever want to forget. The steam rises in the cab. This is a kiss that threatens to combust the universe with the heat from our desire. I can feel it. I can feel Skyla wanting me—her hungry, urgent kisses, that soft moan vibrating from her chest to mine.
My pants tighten at the crotch as she ignites the hard-on of a lifetime.
Skyla runs her fingers through my hair, rides her hand over my back as if she can hardly contain her affection. Her tongue latches onto mine, and she digs in deep. Everything in me begs to explode. I slip my hand up the back of her sweater—touch her searing skin and groan. This is a night with no limits. The headlights of reality have been switched off, and we’re running loose on the euphoria of what might be. I round my hand to the front, touch the lace of her bra, and hold on, because I’m about to lose it.
A series of angry knocks explode over the driver’s side window and abruptly ends the heated exchange between Skyla and me.
The door swings open.
A pair of arms reach in and extract me into the night. I catch a side glimpse of Logan’s pissed off face as he rains down his hatred over me with his fists.
He jams his knuckles into my mouth with rapid-fire aggression, and my jaw pops from the hostile assault.
“Fuck,” I groan, trying to gain my footing.
I flatten over the asphalt as he knocks my head into the road—my skull explodes as a wild jolt of pain fires through me. I bring my knee to his balls, and he does the same like a reflex. It goes on for an eternity until a pair of headlights pull up.
Skyla’s heels scuttle over the road as she gets into the waiting car, and they take off.
I sit up, panting, watching the minivan evaporate in the fog.
Logan lands one more punch square across my jaw, and I land flat against the concrete one last time.
My head bounces like a melon, and the world dissolves to darkness.
15
Logan
Set My Heart on Fire
Shit—I almost killed him.
I almost killed Gage, and yet, if I were in his shoes, I wouldn’t have done anything different.
I’m too ashamed to tell Barron what I’ve done, so I help Gage upstairs to his bedroom and find him an ice pack. God forbid Emma gets wind of this. She’d have me drawn, quartered, and minced in tomorrow night’s stew.
“Sorry, man.” I slap a hand over his shoulder. I don’t think I could ever convey what shit I feel like for bashing his head in.
Gage looks up at me groggily. His dimples twitch as he pulls his lips into a dissatisfied line.
“It’s all right,” he groans, rolling over on his side. “I’ll kick your ass some other time.”
“Looking forward to it.” I mock shoot him as I head to my room.
I call Skyla before I ever hit the bed.
“Make it quick.” Her voice rasps from the other line as if she’s been crying.
If I didn’t feel like crap before, I do now.
“I’m sorry.” It strains from my vocal cords because I know those two words will never be enough. “Will you accept my apology?”
“No.” She darts the word right through my heart. “I’m just being honest.”
“I wouldn’t ask anything else.” Maybe a little lie just this once.
We don’t say anything for a long time, just sit and listen to the sound of one another breathing.
“I wish I was with you.” I’d die to hold her tonight. To take this pain I’ve inflicted and evict it from the planet—to hold her until all memory of me with my arm around another girl, fades away. “There’s so much more I want to say,” I whisper.
A quiet sniffle emits from the other end of the line.
Oh, shit. “I made you cry.” It wrenches from me, deep with regret.
I don’t deserve her—for sure, I should stay the hell away from her. She deserves someone sweet and honest, like Gage.
“You don’t have to forgive me,” I whisper. “I don’t think I can forgive myself.”
She gives a ragged breath as if protesting the idea. “Did you get the diary?”
“No.” And if Michelle gets her way, I never will. She’s reveling in the special attention I’ve been doling out.
“Are you done with trying?”
I don’t say a word. I want to tell her I couldn’t care less if that pendant ever made its way back to me, but it’s not true.
I need it now—more than ever—for Skyla.
“I guess I have my answer,” she huffs, good and pissed. “Listen, I gotta go. Tell Gage I said, hi, would you?” The line goes dead.
Her words reverberate in my head like a tuning fork.
Tell Gage I said hi. A slap in the face would have stung less.
***
Gage shows up to breakfast wearing a stupid grin.
“Morning, honey.” Emma pinches the fabric of her blouse. “What do you think?”
I know what she’s going to ask. Apparently, she’s no longer allowed to wear light blue to the daycare center because there’s an off-chance that it gives the aide in her room hives. Personally, I’d fire the aide and wear whatever the hell I wanted.
“What color does this look like to you?” She directs the question to Gage. She’s already asked both Barron and me. We agreed it was purple, much to her delight.
Gage examines it a moment. “Skyla blue.” He takes a seat at the table and starts heaping eggs onto a plate without catching his gaff.
“Isn’t that Logan’s girlfriend’s name?” Emma sucks in a breath at what this might mean.
You tell him Emma.
“Sky blue.” Gage looks up with his fork frozen midflight. “That’s what I meant. Sorry—I hit my head last night.” He glares over at me.
Emma claps her hand over her mouth. “You’ve fallen in love with her, haven’t you?” She wastes no time throwing around accusations—accurate ones, no less.
Barron ruffles his feathers over at Gage and now it looks as if both of his parents might be tempted to do a little head bashing themselves.
I let out a chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” Emma snipes.
“Nothing.” I shake my head over at Gage. “He’s right, he hit his head—I hit his head—on accident.”
Emma runs her fingers through his hair as she examines him and gasps.
“Were you boys fighting again?” Barron gives a dissatisfied grunt. “Logan, you’re old enough to know better.”