Inception (The Marked Book 1) (18 page)

Okay, sure, I was willing to admit Trace and I shared a few bond-worthy moments, some prolonged stares, maybe even some kind of hormone-induced attraction that sometimes got the better of me, but that’s where it ended. Trace did not
like
me. He was unavailable, complicated, and up until yesterday, I was pretty sure he hated me.

“Ask Benjamin if you don’t believe me. He’s the one who told me the whole story this morning. He wouldn’t lie.”

“What story?” asked a familiar voice.

Taylor screamed at the sight of Trace. Like an actual balls out scream. My eyes swelled to the size of two Ping-Pong balls as I shot her a way-to-go look.

“Oh, hey, Trace. Uh...” She let out a phony laugh soaked in tension. “You should seriously think about wearing a cow bell or something, you scared the bejeezus out of me! So who’s hungry? I know I am,” she announced, backing away, still laughing, and then bolted for the cafeteria.

Smooth, Taylor. Really freaking smooth
.

“What was that about?” asked Trace, looking down at me, his eyebrows pulled in suspicion.

I shrugged, backing up a step. “She gets a little high-strung if she goes without food for too long. It’s like a low blood sugar thing.” I had no idea what I was talking about.

“Okay.” I wasn’t sure if he bought it or just didn’t care either way. It looked like he wanted to say something else but decided against it. He dropped his eyes and turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” I asked. “Cafeteria’s this way.”

“I know.” His dimples made a minor appearance. 

“Aren’t you coming?”

“Not today.” I could hear him fidgeting with his car keys.

“You’re not eating lunch?” It came out a tad over dramatic, like the way you might respond if he had just declared he was an alien who didn’t need oxygen. Like,
what do you mean you don’t breathe air
?

I couldn’t help but notice he looked a little on edge too—nervous even. But nervous about what?

I took a step towards him, my curiosity getting the better of me. “Are you going off school grounds to eat?”

He shook his head and threw a quick glance over his shoulder. “I just have this thing to do,” he answered without actually answering the question. He was definitely hiding something. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

“What thing?” I probed, following him down the hall now. “Is this like that thing you did last night?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said over his shoulder. “Just drop it.” His tone was sharp—a definite warning.

“I’m talking about the aerial disappearing act you—” 

He was in my face before I could finish the sentence, leaving only a whisper of air between us. His jaw set in an angry line and his eyes tapered, letting me know I’d pushed it too far. He was just about to say something when we both caught sight of a freshman girl walking by us, watching us curiously.

He cupped his hand around my elbow and pulled me into a nearby empty classroom, slamming the door shut behind us.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he growled, closing the distance between us. “You can’t talk like that around here.”

I took a step back and bumped into a desk. “I didn’t see her. I thought we were alone,” I said as I crossed and then uncrossed my arms like a nervous tick. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“Obviously.”

My eyes narrowed. “This is all your fault anyway. If you would have just answered my question this morning, I wouldn’t have had to ask it again.”

“Did that look like the time or place to you?”

“Then when is? My bedroom in the middle of the night?” I wasn’t sure why but my cheeks flushed just then.

He let out a tired breath and glanced down at his silver watch before meeting my eyes again. “Alright, fine. What do you want to know?”

“Huh?” I hadn’t expected him to concede.

“You have sixty seconds, make it count.”

My mind went blank.

I must have rehearsed a hundred and one different questions since the day I met him and suddenly, when it counted, I couldn’t think of a single one to ask. This was my one chance and I was about to blow it.

And then it happened. In a haze of panic, I blurted out the one thing I
really
didn’t want to talk about. “Did you beat up those guys from Easton because of me?”

His head jerked back as if stunned by the question. And he wasn’t the only one. Of all the questions I could have asked him,
this
is what I went with? What the heck was I thinking? I wholly blamed Taylor for this—for putting it in my head to begin with.

“Is that what you think?” he asked in a mocking tone, though the way he crossed his arms over his chest told me he wasn’t as relaxed as he wanted me to believe.

“That’s not an answer,” I pointed out.

“No, I didn’t beat up anyone over you.” He flexed his jaw muscle and then muttered, “Not really.”

My eyebrows shot up. “
Not really
?”

“I just didn’t like the way they were talking, that’s all.”

“The way they were talking about
me
?”

“They might have mentioned you. I don’t remember.”

He could plead the fifth all he wanted, I wasn’t buying his nonchalance or sudden amnesia for a minute. “Right, well, you might want to be more careful next time. You’re giving people the wrong impression.”

He took a step towards me, his shoes clipping the tips of mine. “And what impression would that be?”

“You know, the impression that you...like...someone.”

“You think I like
you
?” He placed his hands on the desk behind me and leaned in closer, barricading me inside the space.

A surge of heat rushed through me. “I didn’t say that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

What am I saying
? “I’m saying that
other
people might get the wrong impression, you know, other people that aren’t me.” Other people like Taylor, I thought, though I refused to throw her under the bus to prove my point. “
I
personally couldn’t care less whether you like me or not.” Okay, so that wasn’t entirely the truth but surprisingly, my voice didn’t falter when I said it.

His eyes drifted down to my lips. “I don’t like you.”

“Good,” I said, flustered. “I don’t like you either.”

“Good.” His cobalt eyes—hooded by thick, dark lashes—were still staring down at my mouth.

I suddenly felt lightheaded, like my knees might give out at any moment. The way he was looking at me, at my lips, like he wanted to kiss me. It was making my head spin.

“Stop that.”

His eyes climbed back up to mine. “Stop what?”

The door crashed open behind us. “Dammit, Trace, I’ve been waiting outside for you since the bell!”

I couldn’t see who the voice belonged to but she sounded really familiar. And annoyed.

“I’ll be right there, give me a minute,” answered Trace without stepping away from me or taking his eyes off me.

“Fine! Hurry up. I mean it.”

Unable to resist, I peered over his shoulder just in time to catch a glimpse of Morgan’s red hair leaving the classroom.

Wait,
Morgan
? What the heck was he doing with Morgan? And how did she know we were in here?

He was still staring at me when I turned back to him.

“Where are you going with Morgan?”

“Time’s up,” he said, ignoring my question. He pulled his hands off the desk and stepped back, taking all the heat with him. I instantly felt the loss.

“I still have questions.”

“I told you to make it count.” He crossed his arms though his mouth hinted at a smile.

“Can we meet up later?”

He stared back at me strangely.

It was hard to decipher what was flickering through his eyes though I was already preparing myself for a battle, certain that he was going to turn me down. And then, just like that, his expression changed—relaxed. “Okay.”

“Okay?” I nearly fell off the desk. “Really?”

“After school…if you want.”

“I want.”
I definitely want
.

22. THIRD WHEEL

My heart picked up its thrum as soon as I spotted Trace standing by his locker after school. This type of reaction was happening more and more lately, like I’d developed some sort of heart arrhythmia every time I got too close to him. Or him to me. I told myself they were just palpitations, like a stress response, probably caused by my aversion to his mood swings.

“Ready to go?” I asked.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “About that,” he said, staring into his locker. “I don’t think—”

“Don’t even try to get out of it. You said we could talk. We’re talking.” I wasn’t about to make this an option for him.

He didn’t answer.

“That is, unless you want me following you around school every day asking you questions?” I shrugged innocently. “Who knows, maybe that’s exactly what you want.”

He shot me an irritated look like he knew what I was up to. “I’ll meet you in the parking lot in five.”

“Great,” I faked a smile. “See you then.”

I decided to detour through the athletics complex on my way to the parking lot so that I could thank Caleb in person for helping me out with the locker situation. I knew that he had off-ice hockey training after school so I figured the fitness center was the best place to start looking.

“Are you lost or something?” asked a tall senior with short brown hair and matching eyes. He walked up from behind me and was carrying a hand towel slung over his shoulder.

“I’m looking for Caleb Owens,” I said as I peeked inside the fitness center, hoping to spot him training with the rest of his team. They seemed to be in the middle of some sort of group discussion.

“I think he’s still in the locker room.” He gestured over his shoulder and smiled. “I can go get him for you.”

“That’s alright, thanks. I’ll just wait for him over there,” I said, and ambled off in the direction of the changing rooms. I mean really, how long could it take for a guy to change his clothes?

I leaned my back against the wall, fully intent on waiting for him outside in the hallway. That is, until I heard the muffled whispers of two distinct voices coming from the other side of the door—a male and female. Voices that I was almost certain belonged to Caleb and
Nikki
.

Truthfully, it was none of my business why Caleb and Nikki were hanging out together in the boy’s locker room, and I should have turned around and booked it, but somehow, I just couldn’t get my feet to obey. Maybe she was talking about me, or plotting her next assault against me, all of which were perfectly valid reasons why I had the right to know what was going on behind that door.

At least that’s what I kept telling myself when I cracked open the door and peered in through the slit.

It took every ounce of restraint I had not to burst out screaming as I watched Nikki fist her hands into Caleb’s shirt and push him back against the locker door like some rabid dog in heat before sealing her mouth against his in a kiss. And not just any kiss, a hands-all-over-your-body-tongue-in-each-other’s-mouth kiss that made me want to wash my eyes out with bleach.

What the hell.
Nikki and Caleb
? How? When? I couldn’t think of a single time I saw them talking to each other, let alone give out signals that they were into each other. And what about Trace? How could she be
that
crazy possessive about him one minute and then be out here making out with his friend the next?

Something about this smelled foul—and it wasn’t just the stink coming out of the boy’s locker room. I shut the door and made a run for the parking lot.

I wasn’t sure whether I was going to tell Trace about what I’d just witnessed in the changing rooms. According to him, he wasn’t even with Nikki anymore, so did he still have the right to know about her after-school extracurricular activities with Caleb? And if so, was it my place to say something?

Confused, and kind of grossed out, I headed across the student parking lot to meet up with Trace. I found him leaning against the side of his car, talking with Ben. Both were still wearing their school uniforms—minus their ties and blazers. I was actually relieved to see Ben there, for about a second, because at least I could postpone the Nikki thing.

“Nice of you to show up,” said Ben with a Cheshire grin plastered across his face.

“Funny, I was going to say the same thing to you,” I shot back, adjusting my schoolbag. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Yeah, neither did I.” His grin deepened as if he had a secret. “Believe me, Jem, chaperoning the two of you isn’t my idea of a good time either.”

“Chaperoning us?” I looked over at Trace who was now glaring murderously at Ben.

Was this his idea of a joke?

As much as I liked Ben, there was no way we would be able to talk openly if he was tagging along with us the entire time. Had Trace even considered that in his idiotic rush to make sure we weren’t alone—which is
so
obviously what he was trying to do.

“At first I was like, nope, ain’t gonna happen,” continued Ben, shaking his head. “But when he told me you knew, that he already spoke to you, there was no way I was missing my chance.”

“Your chance to what?” If this was about ragging on me about Trace or those two guys from Easton, or the chemistry book thing from this morning, I was turning around and walking home.

“To hear the truth,” he answered simply. “Straight from the source.”

“The truth?” What the heck was he talking about?

“You should hear some of the stuff they’ve been saying about you. It’s hard to tell the truth from the rumors.”

“Rumors? What rumors? There’s rumors about me?”

“Crazy rumors. You riding shotgun or what?” he asked as he threw his schoolbag into the backseat and stood in front of the open passenger door, waiting.

There was no point in sitting next to Trace now. Besides, I was almost positive I wouldn’t have been able to resist smacking him in the head at that close range.

“Go ahead.” I pulled the front seat forward and climbed into the back feeling frustrated and confused.

Trace slid into the driver’s seat without saying anything and adjusted his rear-view mirror until our eyes met. I rolled my eyes at him and then sunk back in my seat, ignoring the prickling sparks I was feeling all over my body.

I was
really
starting to hate those sparks.