Book of Love (6 page)

Even in my dreams, the hawk remained.

Jane:

By Wednesday afternoon, I
was wishing that summer wasn’t over and I could go back to sleeping
in and spending my whole day holed up in my room. The events of
Monday seemed to bleed into Tuesday, and then today. The rumors of
my
spazstic
act
in the library had spread, and if I thought it was bad enough being
a no-name loser, it was worse being a
known
loser.

I sat on a ledge by the parking lot, waiting
for my mother to pick us up. Wes’s car wasn’t in the lot or at his
house. I was growing concerned. I hadn’t seen him since lunch on
Monday, and I began to wonder if he was finally fed up with me.

Emily stood by the fence to the football
field fifty yards away. She was alone. I observed her, still
concerned about her behavior in the library. Her arms were crossed
against her chest in a standoffish pose, her ears plugged with
headphones. Since then, Emily had seemed no worse than normal,
which was a relief, but still, she worried me. Her death omen had
recently changed from the drug overdose I’d seen all week, to a
scene of murder that seemed to be a result of a jealous lover.

I shivered, looking away. The clouds in the
sky shrouded us in a wet chill, leaving me hugging my arms to my
chest.

Mother was late, as she
always was. I heard the doors behind me open and close with a
familiar whine. I didn’t bother to look, afraid the chill would
reach my skin. Footsteps walked down the path to the parking lot,
long and heavy. I heard them turn and walk toward me, but still I
did not bother to lift my gaze, not willing to deal with yet
another vision of death. A dark figure arrived at my side, coming
to a halt and flooding my peripherals as it sat on the wall beside
me. My thoughts transformed, showing me the same graveyard, with
the same
undead
new boy.

I looked up at him with a shocked
expression, seeing he was now invading my personal space. His gaze
was fixed straight ahead of him.

“
Sorry about before. I
didn’t mean to scare you off.” His voice was as low and raspy as it
had been in the library, but also strained. “I didn’t mean to act
so…” his words trailed.

Creepy?
I thought.

He adjusted himself on the
wall. “Uh…
creepy.”

I raised my brows, his answer a perfect
match to my own. I took a moment to gather my emotions, not wanting
a wordless repeat of what had happened in the library.

“
It’s alright,” I
murmured.

A confident smirk lifted the corners of his
mouth, revealing the dimple on his left cheek. I looked down into
my lap, still watching him from the corner of my eye. His jeans
today were the same no-name brand, faded grey from too much
washing. There was a blue stain on one leg, something resembling
paint. His hands were propped at his sides against the cement of
the wall, the pale olive color of his skin contrasting with the
ocean in his eyes.

He cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean to be
that way. I think we got off on the wrong foot.” He paused, as
though discouraged by his own words. He exhaled and reformed his
angle of approach, his hands gripping the wall we sat on. “I’m
Max,” he said simply.

His eyes met mine, a wave
of emotion washing over me. I struggled to comprehend them, but in
our present position beside each other—
close
beside each other—it was
impossible to make sense of anything.

Max’s lips were still curled. I noticed
small flecks of silver in his irises that I hadn’t before. Only in
his current proximity could they ever be seen. They were like white
caps on a tormented sea. He ran a hand through his hair, exposing
his tattoo with the movement. I licked my lips, afraid to say
anything.

I glanced beyond him toward Emily; she was
watching us, her arms draped at her sides and her posture stiff.
Her face was showing some of the same frustration it had in the
library. I blinked away from her and looked back at Max, wondering
what was going on in her head.

I studied his face for a moment, trying to
read his expression. He was handsome, and I began to wonder why he
was talking to me at all. His brown hair looked effortless, and
though his clothes were nameless, it didn’t steal from his
admittedly edgy image. He watched me, as though entertained, though
I’d said nothing at all.

Max took a deep breath and glanced toward
the lot.

“
People here are a little
bit different, aren’t they?” He chuckled. I could tell he was
attempting to get me to talk. “They sure aren’t ashamed of
staring.” He lifted one brow.

I felt my cheeks flush, wondering if he
meant that to be aimed at me.

He shook his head, his piercing eyes
catching mine as my stomached tugged. “At least you seem to have
your head on straight.”

I couldn’t help but allow my mouth to curl
at the corners. So it wasn’t directed at me at all—he was
confiding.

“
You’re normal,” he added,
his gaze steady.

I finally let one laugh escape my lips—if he
only knew. I pressed my lips together. “I hardly consider myself
normal.” My voice came out slow and measured. I felt strange beside
him, almost protected, though his image conveyed anything but.

His face became thoughtful, seemingly
engrossed by my response. We sat in silence for a moment, and I
wondered where he came up with the notion that I was normal when I
was anything but—everybody knew that.

I shivered as a breeze passed by us, rubbing
my hands together in an attempt to keep warm.

“
So, you’re new?” I
regretted the words the minute they came out of my
mouth.

He nodded.
“Um—
yeah.”

I cursed to myself. Of course he was new.
That was a stupid question. I swallowed back my nerves. The problem
was—I’d never had anyone like him talk to me before. The best
experience I’d ever gotten was Wes, and though he was cute, he had
a face I knew as well as Emily’s.

“
Where are you from?” I
pressed another, better question.

Max shrugged. “Denver,” he said rather
vaguely. Denver was a large place. I waited, wondering if he’d
divulge more information, but nothing was forthcoming.

“
Oh.” I paused. “So, what
brings you here?” I couldn’t see why anyone would want to be here.
Glenwood Springs was isolated from the rest of the world. It was a
town that teemed with one annoying tourist after another, all vying
to dip their toes in our natural hot springs.

He looked at me, his eyes scanning mine as
though fascinated by my very existence. “Family,” he added, another
one word answer. He looked away, his brows suddenly dipping in
frustration.

An awkward silence fell over us. My eyes
followed the line of his jaw to his ear where the freckle I’d
noticed on Monday lived. I slid my gaze down his neck to his chest.
He was wearing a black T-shirt, and I began to wonder how in the
world he wasn’t cold. I looked at his hands and his flawless skin.
My eyes trailed back up his arms. His tattoos were different than
any I’d seen before, written in a language I didn’t recognize. On
each forearm was a long, feathery, singular wing stretched from his
wrist to the crease of his elbow. If he held his two arms together,
I deduced that they formed a set. I squinted, looking closer; they
seemed to resemble a burn rather than a tattoo.

I could just imagine what my mother would
think if I brought him home. She wasn’t a fan of desecrating your
body with ink. I was supposed to be the good kid, the steady
thinker. Spending my time with someone like Max was something my
sister would do—certainly not me.

“
I take
that back—maybe you
do
stare.” Max looked sideways at me, humor lacing
his voice.

If my cheeks weren’t red already, I was
certain their color had deepened five shades. I quickly dropped my
gaze.

“
Oh…
uh…
sorry.”
I began fidgeting with my hands.

“
I guess it’s only fair,”
he continued. “I’ve been staring, too.”

Another brisk wind blew
across us and my teeth chattered.
Staring
at me?
Is that what he meant? I changed
the subject, uncomfortable with how personal it had become. “Aren’t
you cold?”

Max looked surprised. “Uh,
yeah—
a little.”
He rubbed his arms then, though he had no visible goose
bumps.

I looked back toward the empty lot. “Are you
waiting for a ride?”

He shook his head. “No.”

I creased my brow. He was sitting here for
the soul purpose of talking to me, wasn’t he? But then why wasn’t
he really saying anything?

“
Oh.” I didn’t know what to
say. I was a wreck, nervous and beside myself. What was it about
him that reverberated through my every sense, my every ounce of
being?

Max shrugged, meeting my
eyes. They conveyed a sense of comfort. “Staring isn’t
always
a bad thing.
Sometimes it’s just about enjoying the view—as you are.” He flashed
me a challenging look.

My stomach tugged once
more, fluttering with butterflies. “I’m not
staring,”
I protested, knowing that
was a lie.

He nodded in a way that told me he also knew
that was a lie. “It’s alright. You can stare. I just don’t like it
when anyone else does.”

I pouted.

His face was filled with the delight of
torturing me. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

I laughed.

He smirked. “But you’re cuter when you’re
happy.”

I wiped the smile off my
face and shook my head, finding him, if anything, refreshingly
different, not to mention mysterious. He was a man of few words,
yet it didn’t make me think he lacked confidence. His outward body
language and quick, witty comments had squashed that notion. But
even with all that, it still wasn’t what I found so attractive
about him—there was something
else.
I thought for a moment, feeling the way his very
presence felt detached from the world, yet attached to
me.

I saw my mother driving down the road then.
I quit dwelling on details and made a move to stand, thinking that
the best thing I could do for myself was stay away from him. He
conjured a feeling inside me that I didn’t want to have toward
someone like him. He stood as well.

“
Well, it was nice to meet
you, Max.” My hands fluttered nervously at my sides. I didn’t know
whether I should try to shake his hand or not, so I shoved them
into the pocket of my sweater instead. It was best to come across
as someone that didn’t want trouble, or whatever he spelled-out, in
my life.

“
You,
too, Jane. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.” He rocked back
on his heels, giving me one last smile before he turned and walked
away, leaving me teeming with shock in his wake. I watched him—or
rather
gawked
at him—taking in his long stride and slender back. Emily
silhouetted his outline, her mouth agape.

I finally pulled my gaze away and stepped
off the curb. My brows were sewn together in disbelief. I tilted my
head, my mother driving up in front of me. I grasped the door
handle and clicked it open.

Had I told him my name?

Emily:

I was tired of waiting for
mother after school.
Where was Wes?
He was supposed to drive us, but he’d disappeared
from the face of the Earth for the last few days.

I leaned back against the
fence, my eyes fixed on an ant that was running through the grass.
It was then that I felt my heart begin to burn with a familiar
twang. My whole face contorted as voices began to whisper in my
head—
soft
voices.

I finally looked up,
knowing what had been triggering those particular whispers all
week. As I suspected,
he
was there. My attention narrowed, inspecting this
brother, the first one I had seen and the one that always seemed to
be thinking of
Jane.

The whispers that surrounded him were
nothing like what I heard around the other new kid—much calmer, and
a far cry from the shrill screaming that left me paralyzed every
time the other walked by. Something was definitely different about
this blue-eyed brother, but I couldn’t decide what. It didn’t make
him any less terrifying, but at least it was bearable when he
brushed past me in the halls.

He walked down the path from the school
toward Jane, determination marking his every step. His thoughts
grew louder as he approached, and they really were all about
Jane.

I narrowed my eyes and
analyzed him, feeling protective of my sister. I know it seemed as
though I didn’t give a
rat’s ass
what happened to Jane, but in truth, I did. I
wasn’t as cold-hearted as she thought, just distracted by the
simple fact that I’d always heard her thoughts.

Since he was clearly unconcerned by me, I
shamelessly took note of his every feature, sizing him up in case
I’d have to explain him to the cops one day. He had blackish-brown
hair, just like his brother, but something was a lot less sinister
in the blue of his eyes.

No one had yet confirmed the fact that they
were brothers at all, but I’d heard enough in the workings of their
minds to suspect it. They were just so outwardly different from
each other. This brother wore boring clothes, seeming to display
the fact he came from a less than wealthy family, but then his
alleged brother wore expensive designer duds. It didn’t add up.