Ephemeral (The Countenance) (46 page)

“Don’t pay any attention to them.” Carter threads her arm through mine. “God, Wes is a freaking maniac out there. He’s knocked Miles in the head like three different times. He’s going to kill him just for you, Laken.”

I try to meticulously scan the chaos in the thrashing water for a sign of anyone who might look remotely familiar to me other than Wes. I can’t believe Miles Richards, my fictional boyfriend, is here. Just the thought inspires a thin rail of anxiety in me. Every now and again a few different boys glance up in our direction, but it’s not until the last whistle blows and bodies emerge from the water that I see someone heading over.

It’s unnerving to see so many boys in their Speedos, their well-toned bodies glossed with water—the noticeable bulges that sit centered below their hips.

“There’s Miles!” Carter squeezes my arm with a death grip.

The boy she’s eyeing snaps off his crimson rubber cap and shakes out his hair.

“Here he comes,” she squeals. 

My stomach lurches as I take in his features. He looks slightly familiar. Even with his face pinched in anger, he looks handsome—dark hair, light eyes, but in general he does nothing for me. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t go out with him in any lifetime.

“Hey, Lake.” He nods over to me as Carter and I make our way out of the stands.

My stomach seizes at the sight of him.

If I don’t remember him, why the hell am I having such a visceral reaction?

The green light of the exit calls to me, and I head over without acknowledging his brief hello.

“So what’s going on?” He strides up next to me. “You too good to talk to me now? You won’t even look at me?” His voice cracks as if he’s about to lose it, and I snap my head back in his direction. In the recesses of my mind, I see the two of us locked in an argument and I try to shake the thought away.

It’s either a genuine memory or one that was programmed incorrectly. Right about now, I’m hoping for the latter.

He steps in and circles my face with a resolute sadness.

“I’m sorry for everything, Laken, and I forgive you.” He glides in and smooths his lips over mine before I can protest. An image appears of the two of us—me on the ground in a tangle of bodies, Miles above me with a clear look of shock.

“Get the hell away from her.” Wes growls as he snatches him by the arm. Wesley walks him backward and slams him up against the wall with a violent force. I can hear their voices thundering, all threats and hatred.

Miles shoots a cutting look over at me. His eyes bloom with hurt as if whatever Wesley told him managed to magnify his ache.

I feel sorry for this strange boy the Counts have thrown my way. I feel horrible for being mildly responsible for breaking his heart, even if it is completely fictitious.

“Let’s get out of here.” Carter pulls me toward the exit.

We hit the threshold to the facility without looking back, and Wes appears by our side with a towel wrapped around his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” He darts a kiss just under my ear and takes up my hand.

“Yes.” Before I can go on, Miles emerges nursing a swollen lip. He jets on over, spearing me with a look just this side of hatred.

“He’s going to ruin you worse than the assholes you screwed around with,” he says it with a thin seam of blood trickling over his lip. “You’ll come back to me, Laken.” He bears into me with a hypnotic stare. “You always do.” He pushes out into the crowd and heads toward the gym.

I’ll never go
back
to him. There’s nothing in me that even believes I was ever with him. There’s no one for me but Wes, and if I were ever to be with anyone else, certainly Cooper is ahead of this Miles Richards character any day of the week.

Wes blinks up at me with a look of hurt and squeezes my hand.
Fucking Flanders
.

Crap.

Of course, the only one for me is Wesley,
I’m quick to dream up a visual of the two of us rolling around on the senior lawn, Asterion rooting for us in the background like some mythological cheerleader. I can see us plain as day, Wes and his naked limbs entangled around mine—his dark head writhing over my chest in a fit of passion.

I push out a dull smile and Wes swells with relief. The apples of his cheeks burn with color as he takes me in. Clearly, I’ve impressed him with my late afternoon erotica.

Not one to let a good skin flick slip by, I zoom in on the image of Wes and me in the throes of passion. We roll around on a bed of flaming red leaves as a glazed sense of passion overcomes us both. Wes in all his naked glory lies beside me—my tousled hair delicately covering my breasts.

Wes widens his eyes and gives an approving smile.

“Fall is my favorite time of year,” he whispers directly into my ear. I can feel his longing, the depth of his desire unraveling like yarn as his breathing grows erratic.

“Prove it.” I fire it off like a dare.

His lips curve with devilish intent. “I will.”

47

Dig Down Deep

Friday night, the football stadium at Ephemeral Academy gleams under the supervision of a million sparkling lights. The papery fog gives off a blinding reflection, causing a whiteout on the field and in the world in general.

I don’t notice the other players, the other team. I keep an eye on Cooper, watch as he runs and tackles with expert ease. He’s a celebrity among the throngs, he stands out like a divine being among a ragtag group of mortals inferior to him in every way.

During halftime, while the band plays music that sounds like the orchestral section of a theatre tuning up, Wes comes over and offers a quick kiss. His spiced cologne takes over my senses and sparks a thread of excitement through me. His black hair shines with a bluish cast under the harsh stadium lights. His face bleaches out to nothing, leaving the emeralds of his eyes lit up, the outline of a seductive smile tracing on his lips.

Having Wes back in my life is bliss. We may not be in Kansas anymore, but our love can thrive in any universe at anytime. Trying to suppress love like ours would be like separating water molecules in hopes to dry out the sea—an impossibility too great to fathom

“You’re a rock star out there.” He sears the words across my cheek. “You’re doing great.”

“Please.” I flatten my hands against his jacket. “I’m at least four steps behind everyone else at any given time.”

“Were there other people out there with you?” He encircles my waist and pulls me in. “I didn’t notice.” He bumps his nose into mine.

Wesley’s shoulders span out hard and wide like someone shoved a baseball bat in his jacket. He’s naturally built like a linebacker. If anyone could give Cooper a challenge on the field, it would be Wes.

Kresley walks by, shines her I-hate-you lasers right at me. She’s wrapped snug in a suede coat with fur running up the lapel that sprouts wide at the collar. Kresley is the wolf with a dead sheep slung over her shoulders, looking for comfort in the blood of others. 

Wes turns slightly, makes a face as he dips back down and bumps into my forehead. “She giving you problems?”

“Nope. I can take anything she dishes out as long as I’m with you.”

Kresley doesn’t realize the war for Wesley Parker’s affection is long over. She thinks we’re both firmly planted on his heart as though it were a checkerboard, each her own queen ready to slaughter when the move is right.

He interlaces our fingers. “There’s a party at Melville later—across from Henderson. It’s where we corral the football players.” He darts a glance out at the field.
 I’d like to corral Flanders’s ass—shove him into the armpit of the forest and see how he holds up under a few hungry Spectators.

A breath gets caught in my throat.

He dots my lips with a kiss. “If you want, I can show you some of my sketches. We can hang out—I can try to jog your memory.” He rocks me gently like we’re dancing right here on the field. His attempt to keep me far from Cooper is more than working.

Kresley backtracks and openly gives me the finger.

“I’d love to,” I say, ignoring Kresley and her special salute to our love.

Wes turns around and shoots a pissed off look in her direction.

Hope I don’t have any of her crap lying around. Probably should have mined the place for incriminating evidence before asking Laken over
.

“Of course, I have to change after the game though,” I offer him the out.

“Perfect.” Wes is pleasantly surprised.

“Laken.” A girl’s voice echoes like a song from the bleachers, abnormally loud but calm, as if it were siphoned through a speaker.

“Who was that?” I squint into the crowd looking for a familiar face, a hand waving in my direction but nothing.

“Who was what?” He turns into the stands.

“I thought I heard someone call me.” Just hearing that haunted voice ignites a powerhouse headache in me. Pain crackles through my skull with the ferocity of lightning. 

“Figures.” He grazes over my lips. “They all want to see you move.”

“Right,” I say, trying to ignore the pain. I wrap my arms around him and look over his shoulder into the stands.

Two identical girls with smooth blond hair, wave in a nonstop spasm. They have pleasant open faces. Their necks are wrapped with matching plaid scarves. They wear short white sweaters over full skirts. Without warning, they morph into gaunt emaciated versions of themselves—dark hollow circles where smiling eyes had been only seconds before, long, straight hair, balding in patches.

A scream gets locked in my throat as they disappear like vapors.

“You okay?” Wes pulls away. His face grows ashen as though he had experienced every emotion right along with me. “Laken?” He tries to shake me loose from the visual.

“I’m fine.” I jolt as if awakening from a very bad dream. “Can’t wait ‘til tonight.” I pant into the words, still rocked from the horror of the sight.

I take a step away from Wes to collect my thoughts in private.

Something is very freaking wrong.

I’m starting to wish I had a pair of ruby slippers on hand. I’d like nothing better than to click my heels together and take us both back home to Kansas.

After the game, as the football team runs loose off the field, I make a mad sprint over to Cooper and offer a spontaneous embrace in a crowd nine deep. I didn’t mean to lunge at him, but he pulled me in with that smile, and gravity and my budding affection for him took over.

His arms wrap tight around me as he takes in the scent of my hair at the neck.

I pull back, still shaken at the odd sight from the bleachers.

I saw those demons—those girls again,
I say, still holding his hands loose at the fingers.

His head snaps over to the crowd.
Where?

They’re gone
.

“They’ll be back.” The words stream out as he scans the bleachers.
You going to Melville?
Cooper looks nervous in a sweet boyish way as though he were asking for my hand at the dance.

I pull away as the crowd disperses around us.

“For a little while. I’m meeting with Wes.” I tick my head like it’s no big deal, not wanting to get into the romantic implications of what might be happening later. “Why? Is there something you want to share?”

“Nope.” He pushes back his head with the slight look of disappointment. He wipes his forehead before dunking his helmet back on. Cooper looks fierce with the black metallic armor, Asterion’s gilded horns painted bright on the sides. “I guess I thought it’d be nice if we hung out—at ‘the dance.’” He gives a sly smile.

My mouth opens with surprise, and I close it again.

It’s strange having people listen in on your thoughts. Having all of your darkest soul whispers turned into a frequency with the volume turned all the way up. I don’t think I could ever get used to it. I’m not sure I want to.

“Hey, girl!” Carter pushes herself up on my shoulders and a shower of curls rake over my eyes.

“What’s going on?”

“You guys coming tomorrow night? I so want to go to Kettles, but I’ll totally be freaked out if it’s just Jackson and me. The last thing I need is some horror movie death scene playing out. I’ll be looking for the guy with a chainsaw all night.” She tightens her grip on my shoulders. “I totally need you to protect me.”