Ever: The Ever Trilogy, Book One (Volume 1) (3 page)

F
inally in bed, I was unable to rest peacefully because I couldn’t stop thinking about Toby. And Frankie. And Frankie and Toby. They would rotate and twist, but they were both equally front and center in my brain, preventing me from my much desired sleep.

I hadn’t seen Toby again all evening. I kept sneaking glances out the living room window, hoping for a glimpse of him, but nothing happened. At some point, the moving truck must have left, because when I looked outside a little after ten, the driveway was empty. I hadn’t seen Frankie again all night either.

He was mad at me—that much I could tell—but I didn’t know why.

Now, thanks to both of them, I was sick with guilt, my stomach in knots.

But on the other hand, there was a spark of something I hadn’t felt in a very long time slowly forming inside of me.

Anticipation.

I tried to ignore it, without much luck. I had an intense curiosity building inside me, and I wanted to know everything there was to know about Toby. Of course, being the complete glutton for punishment that I am, my intense curiosity fueled my intense
guilt
, and I figured I’d never get to sleep again.

Luckily, pondering all of my problems proved too boring to keep me awake, and sleep eventually found me. I woke up off and on throughout the night from terrifying nightmares. At some point, I changed out of my pajamas after waking up drenched, stripping off the flannel pants and t-shirt, and exchanging them for black and white checkered hipster panties and a black sports bra.

This time, I was panting and scared, but like the dreams I’d had earlier in the night, I couldn’t remember a thing about what terrified me. Only the fear remained, relentlessly gripping me even after I opened my eyes and assessed my position on the floor.

Sweating in a tangle of sheets and blankets, my toes were so cold they felt like they’d been soaking in ice. The strange combination made me feel clammy and gross, and I considered taking a shower. Gollum was nowhere to be found; obviously annoyed by my tossing and turning, he must have left my room for the couch.

The clock blinked in red, the annoying glare telling me it was 4:30 a.m. I leaned back against the frame of my bed and noticed Frankie sitting on the edge of the chair at my writing desk.

I gasped.

He sat with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped between them, watching me with both concern and … something else I couldn’t quite place.

Regardless of my mom and dad’s rules about boys never being allowed in my room—even
dead
ones—Frankie was a welcome presence, and my heart lifted after the initial shock faded away. Guilt still tried to creep through my mind, and I figured that it must have been the cause of my troubled sleep. But with him there in front of me, I felt only relief. We silently stared at each other in the darkness for a long time while my breathing returned to normal.

“What were you dreaming about, Doll?”

“I … I don’t know,” I answered, shaking my head. “I can’t remember any of it.” I paused, wondering about something that had nothing to do with my nightmare, and added, “How long have you been in here, Frankie?”

He stood and walked to the side of my bed, reaching out to help me up, even though he couldn’t actually make physical contact with me or my bedding, or really be of any help at all. Old habits are hard to ignore, even for a ghost. He clenched his fists and dropped them to his sides.

“Not long. You were calling my name.”

“Oh. I was?” Another thought occurred to me, and I wondered if he had a creepy ‘
watch you while you sleep
‘ thing going on, but I didn’t voice that part. “Do you come in here very often?”

“No, Doll. Give me some credit, please. I’m not a three-hundred-year-old vampire with boundary issues.”

I shook my head, unable to suppress my smile. I swore sometimes he read my mind, even though I knew that was impossible. Untangling myself from the sheets on the floor, I stood and stretched before I climbed back into bed. I paused at the sound of Frankie sucking in a quick breath.

The noise registered in my mind as odd because I was well aware that ghosts don’t actually need to breathe. I turned to look at him, my eyebrows drawn together and head tilted in confusion—only to realize my lack of clothing was the cause of his sudden intake of breath. His eyes were glued to my chest, which was spilling out of my sports bra.

My own breath caught in my throat as I looked down at myself. Almost all of me was exposed. Part of me felt self-conscious and vulnerable, but only for a second.

My eyes found Frankie’s face again, and pushing aside my discomfort, I watched his gaze slowly travel over me. He seemed captivated by my lack of clothing, and took his sweet time before meeting my gaze. When I should have been flush with embarrassment, I wasn’t. Instead I was alive, on fire … and well, I don’t really know what I felt. Brazen. Bold. I was suddenly sure … and confident. The way Frankie’s eyes took me in made me feel like I was the most beautiful girl in the world. Was I imagining it? I watched him watch me slowly slide back into bed, his eyes lingering on me in a way I’d never seen him look at me before. Something thick and confusing lingered in the air between us. A desire that was just out of reach.

You’re
imagining this.

I watched him for a few long seconds, holding my breath the entire time, wondering if he was also aware of the heated moment happening between us, or if the feelings were all my own. Was it just wishful thinking on my part? Was I imagining the heated look in his eyes because I
wanted
to see it there so badly?

Once back in bed, and in spite of my lack of clothing, I found that I was feeling very calm with Frankie in my bedroom, as if his presence there wasn’t abnormal at all, and was just as it should be. The fear from my nightmare relented, and the strange
intensity
between us was slipping away, back to the safety of my harbored feelings for him. Frankie stood next to my bed like a protective guard, and I sighed, my eyes closing as I did so.

He was my own personal guardian angel.

E
ver?”

I slept like a rock the rest of the night, and I would have kept sleeping if not for my mom’s voice and a knock on my doorjamb. No more nightmares plagued me in the night, and upon opening my eyes, I found I was in exactly the same position in which I fell asleep. The only difference being that Frankie no longer stood guard.

Frankie
! My gaze darted to my mom in the open doorway as I panicked that she’d catch Frankie in my room. A quick glance around showed me I was alone, and I fell back on the pillow in short-lived relief. My cheeks flared up with embarrassment as my next realization popped into my mind: my overly exposed body and the fact that Frankie had seen me almost naked during the night. Oh, wow. What came over me? If he had still been here and seen me like this,
in the daytime
, I would have freaked.

“I’m sorry I scared you, honey, but are you going to sleep
all
day, sleepy head?”

“Hey, Mom. Sorry. I guess I’m just a little tired.”
Frankie was in my room all night,
I thought, my cheeks slightly flushing. Like it mattered. Like anything could have happened between us anyway. Ugh, I seriously needed to get a life. Or a real boyfriend. Preferably both.

Mom went straight for the window, and I braced myself as she purposely blinded me with the late-morning sun—which she proceeded to point out, was
already very high in the sky, thank you very much.
Content that she’d blinded me enough to get my butt out of bed, she wasted no time going straight into all the details she’d learned about the new family next door while I’d been
sleeping all day
. Her words, not mine. Eleven was by no means
all day
, especially on a Saturday when I had no work or school to attend.

She followed me around as I went through my morning routine, occasionally trying in vain to shoo Gollum—who had returned sometime in the early hours of the morning—off my bed, and talking incessantly.

She continued talking as I grabbed my bikini and a sundress, and the only peace I was able to obtain was during my ten-minute shower, and only then because I practically pushed her out of the bathroom. Although, if I know my mom, she may have continued talking long after I closed the door in her face.

After I dressed, I replaced my towel on the hook and opened the door to hear she hadn’t missed a beat. I was right about the talking going on while I’d been showering. As I brushed my teeth and braided my hair, I barely registered what she was saying because my mind was so jumbled with thoughts. Once done in the bathroom, she followed me back into the bedroom and absently picked up around my room while I checked my emails.

“… and the
dad
. You should hear Sharon go on about him! Apparently he’s quite the looker. She couldn’t stop raving about him. She kept saying, ‘Oohwee, if I was single!’”

Ugh
. This was
so
not the conversation I wanted to be having right now. No offense to Sharon, but hearing about how hot my mom’s friend thinks Toby’s dad is doesn’t rank very high on my meter of important facts. On top of that, talking about Toby’s dad was doing absolutely nothing to reduce my thoughts of Toby, throwing him right back to the forefront of my mind. My mom rambled on for a few more minutes, completely oblivious to the glazed look in my eyes. I was only catching bits and pieces of the one-sided conversation going on around me.

“… no idea where the mom is … Sharon says she just up and left one day … the dad’s a traveling salesman, so they move a lot … or wait, maybe she said he was military … oh I can’t remem—”

“Mom, you know Sharon’s a gossip and a busy-body.”

She continued right through my interruption, as if I hadn’t even spoken aloud. But that was typical too—she loved Sharon, gossip mill or not. I was taking my boots to the closet when she finally said something that warranted my attention. My
full
attention.

“… and when he came over this morning, he was so polite! Oh, Ever, I just know you two will hit it off! And for him to bring you flowers!”

Um, what?
I’m pretty sure I actually heard my jaw hit the floor. Oh wait, that was my boots hitting the floor with a
thud
. Whatever, it could have been my mouth.

“… seems like a really nice boy … Dad will want to know more about him, I’m sure, but …”

“Mom, stop. What did you just say?”

“Hmm? Oh, I was saying that
of course
Dad will want to meet him, and …”

“No, no, no.
Before
that. He was here? At the house?”

Frankie.

“Oh! That! Yes, silly, don’t you listen to anything I say?” She glanced over at me and shook her head before continuing, pulling a chunk of her dark waves behind her ear. “He came by earlier this morning with some flowers for you and some jelly filled croissants for Dad and me. They were store bought of course, but it’s the thought that counts. And really, we should have been bringing a welcome gift to
them
, but they moved in only yesterday, and frankly, it hadn’t even occurred to me yet … .”

I was already out the door and down the hall, running for the front half of the house.

“Ever! He’s gone now, honey! That was
hours
ago!”

The flowers were sitting on the kitchen table, staring at me with their big black eyes.

White petals with black centers.

Anemones.

He knew my favorite flower.
How
did he know my favorite flower? The coincidence was more than strange. Anemones aren’t your average ‘run to the store and pick up some flowers’ variety. Roses? Sure. That would have made sense, even if they’d been a little formal and kind of creepy. Daisies? Absolutely. A mixed springtime arrangement of colorful blooms wrapped in plastic? Yup. Definitely.

But not black and white anemones.

“Ever, honey, I know he’s cute and all, but I wasn’t done with my story!” My mom entered the kitchen behind me. “He said that he and his dad were leaving for the day. Returning the moving truck or something.” She paused, looking off into space with an almost dreamy-eyed look on her face. “Can you believe he brought your
favorite
flower? Amazing.”