Rock Star (Dream Weaver #2) (17 page)

             
His mouth slammed shut. The dark empty pools of his eyes sparkled with tears. He shuffled to the door and clutched the knob like a life preserver. “Emi. I…”

             
“Get out, Nick. Get out of my house.”

             
“But Thomas…”

             
“Get. Out!”

             
And he went. With no argument. He just went. Out of my sight. Out of my house. Perhaps, out of my life.              

Chapter 20 Just A Kiss

             
It’s all lies. I don’t really know him. How could I know him? I’ve only known him a few months. How do I know anything he tells me is the truth? That he’s not manipulating everything in my head?
Lately, it seemed I had more questions than answers.

             
I slouched onto the couch, still hugging a pillow to my chest. Like it could absorb the pain and betrayal that oozed from within. How could he think of me like that? How could he imagine recreating my worst nightmare—my worst reality in the name of love or whatever the hell he called it? How much had he hidden from me all this time—as he rummaged through my head? He picked through my memories; lived with me through the pain. How could he imagine himself in that place? That place of violence. That place I abhorred.

             
I stared at the television, unseeing. Eddy snuggled at my side as though he sensed my mood. He was already getting too big for my lap. His warmth kept me thawed, saved me from freezing into a useless mess. Time ticked by unnoticed as I sat, numb and wounded at the same time. My cell phone rang—
Ring ding ding ding dingeringeding.
Despite my dark mood, I had to laugh.
Wa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pow.
So stupid and dorky. How fitting.

             
“Hey, girl.” My voice sounded empty despite my feigned enthusiasm.

             
“Hey, Em. How’s about a girl’s night in? I don’t work ‘til late tomorrow.” I could actually hear Ivy bouncing with excitement.

             
“Uh, don’t you have school tomorrow?”

             
“Duh, no. It’s Saturday. Come on, Em. I hardly get to see you anymore.”

             
The idea that I might de-materialize in front of her loomed fearfully over me as a very distinct possibility. Nick and Sabre had told me about waking up in ethereal form; how terrifying it could be. I was a little afraid to be alone when it happened to me for the first time. But if the guys could handle it, so could I. Couldn’t I? Wasn’t I a Bad Ass Bitch, now? A Bab. Besides, the thought of Nickolas Benedetti in my home, in my presence sent a blaze of rage through me. And Sabre wasn’t much better. He let me die and become
this
; performed unauthorized experiments on me. How could either of them be trusted at this point? How did I know if either or both of them were screwing with my memories all the time? Nick’s deception surpassed simply his secreted fantasies. He betrayed me. Betrayed my trust. Misled my heart with lies of undying love.

             
“I don’t know…” I hedged.

             
“Please. Please, please, please, please, please,” she begged. She knew I was sucker for her pouty face and I didn’t have to see it to know it was there. Sad Eddyson eyes, lower lip stuck out far enough for a bird to perch on.

             
“Fine,” I contrived annoyance. “But I will not watch ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ again with you. Christmas is over.”

             
“Fine. How ‘bout ‘Deathly Hallows’? Part one and two,” she suggested.

             
“God, like we haven’t seen that one a bazillion times.” Actually, we’d bought early tickets and sat in line for five hours waiting to get good seats at the midnight release at the mall theatre. Our parent’s had been cool enough to let us skip school the next day, but we went anyway to compare notes with all the other Potter-heads.
Huh. Who knew there really was magic?

             
“So that’s a yes?” she pressed again but her enthusiasm wavered in her voice. What secrets was my bestie keeping from me?

             
“Yeah, yeah. Come over whenever. I’ll make us some steaks or something.”

             
“Okay, Sweets. I’ll see you in a bit. And I’ll bring the ice cream.”

             
Yeah, Pink Bubble Gum ice cream from the shop at the Y sounded just like the cure.

             
“‘kay, see ya.”

*          *          *

              After a dinner of medium-rare steaks—Ivy snuck bites under the table for Eddyson—baked potatoes, steamed asparagus and bubble gum ice cream, Ivy and I lounged on the couch watching, for the billionth time, Deathly Hallows. Her head lay on my shoulder, her breath humid against my throat. She felt good tucked in beside me, like I could keep her safe from anything now. As the scenes rolled into the monotonous wandering part, I floated into sleep. Comfort ensconced me and I drifted in the safety and peace. But the peace was short-lived as a dream whirled around me.

             
Ivy and I lounged on the couch. Deathly Hallows droned in the background. Her face hovered inches from mine. Her eyes, wide and warm, looked down into mine with the affection of a lover. Her hand was warm against my face, pressed to my cheek in a ardent embrace. Soft and sweet, her lips met mine, conveying intense passion. Trembling, her fingers traced the length of my neck, down my breastbone, and...

              I bolted upright and nearly dumped Ivy on the floor. I grappled her arms to keep her from falling.

             
“What? What happened?” she asked, startled from sleep and breathless.

             
“Oh,” I scrambled for an answer. “I, uh, just had a bad dream.”

             
“Not the nightmares again.” She rubbed her eyes like a child awakened too early.

             
“Uh, no. Just a weird one. So, hey. I should make us some popcorn to go with this movie.”

             
“Be my guest, but I’m going back to sleep. You interrupted a great dream.”

             
I cringed as I slid from her side and staggered to the kitchen.
What the hell was that?!
That couldn’t have been Ivy. It was just a strange dream.
But it felt different than any dream I’d ever had. It felt...I raked my nails through my hair and tugged on fistfuls of copper locks. My brow crinkle in confusion as the images repeated over and over in my head.
I don’t understand. What does that mean?

             
Was Ivy gay? How could I not know that my best friend was gay?
No. Couldn’t be.
It was just a bizarre dream, that’s all. Not like everything in my life wasn’t completely… ‘strange’ just did not convey the amplitude of chaos at the moment.

             
The images niggled at me, refused to be shoved aside. Was she in love with me? Is that why we had such a close physical friendship? Holding hands even in public. Hugging all the time. Cuddling on the couch. Sleeping in the same bed.
No. No, no, no.
I would know. Wouldn’t I? Is this what she was trying to tell me the other day at the mall?

             
The dream—nightmare—whatever it was, replayed on unending loop as I prepared the miniature concession stand popcorn maker. Kernels began to pop and cascade like buttered snowflakes from the air pot. My heart raced in time with the exploding corn. Every small explosion sent ice rushing through me. I scraped my face with heels of my hands and cradled my cheeks in my palms, but this only conjured up reminders of Ivy’s scorching touch. With a resigned sigh that I couldn’t do this on my own, I retrieved my phone from its charger and slid it open. I was still angry with Nick, but I needed his help. I debated calling Sabre, instead. But I frankly trusted him less than I trusted Nick at this point.

             
Nick. I need a favor.

             
ANYTHING!
He texted back.

             
Don’t get ur hopes up. Still mad at u.

             
As u wish.

             
Can u come over? I need…just can u come?

             
R u ok?

             
Yes. No. Just come.

             
OMW

              I slid my phone closed, and before I could scoop out all of the popcorn that I knew now I was never going to eat, Nick was at my door. My lips formed a straight line, my eyes avoided his. Which was good, because his gaze wandered in the general vicinity of the floor.

             
“Come in,” I said and gestured into the toasty kitchen.

             
He stepped over the threshold, silent and nervous.

             
“What can I do for you?” he asked, not mean or abrupt, just succinct.

             
“I…um…could we go into the bedroom and talk. I don’t want Ivy to overhear.”

             
He bit back a response, then nodded and followed me through the living room. “She’s asleep,” he commented.

             
“Yes, but ‘just because someone’s asleep doesn’t mean their ears don’t hear’” I quoted him with a smirk.

             
The bedroom was cool and quiet. I gently slid the door closed behind us and went to sit on the bed. I patted the comforter for Nick to join me.

             
“So, what’s up?”

             
“I, um, I saw something. I thought it was a dream but…” Uncertainty rattled my voice. “I’m just not sure. I just…I need to know if what I saw was real.”

             
“All right,” Nick held out his hand to me. My throat knotted against a suppressed sob. “Emari, honey, what is it?”

             
“It just—can’t be real.”

             
“Just show me. Okay?” His voice did that hypnotic thing that always put me at ease.

             
I nodded and my hand trembled above his. Did I really need to know this? Was it really that big a deal? Would it change anything between me and my best girl? Nick finally closed the distance and slid both of his hands around mine. Only hours ago, the heat of his touch would’ve wrenched my breath from me, but now, it twisted my gut. His body drooped with misery, but I pushed it aside and focused on Ivy. Images thrashed from my mind and heart, and a sob heaved my chest.
Sugar sweet kisses, passionate fingers, a loving embrace.

             
Nick’s hands lingered on mine as if he couldn’t let me go. I hid my fear behind closed eyelids.

             
“Em? Do you really want to know?” His voice oozed with compassion.

             
After long moments of silence, I finally looked him in the eyes, searched for what I didn’t want to know; what I should have known if I were any kind of a friend. “I feel like I really should know.” But I wasn’t sure if I meant that I wanted him to tell me or if, as Ivy’s best friend, I should’ve known if she was gay or not.

             
“You aren’t wrong,” he said matter-of-factly.

             
“No.” I knew what my parents taught me about homosexuality. The church we attended when I was younger spoke strongly against it. But this was my girl. My Ivy.

             
“She’s done everything in her power to hide it from you, afraid it would scare you away and you wouldn’t be her friend anymore.”

             
“No.” I loved her like the air I breath, but the turmoil inside me stole even that away.

             
“She loves you more than anyone in her world.”

             
“I know. But I’m not…I don’t…” Heat rushed into my cheeks like fire. “I like boys!” I blurted out and hid my face in my hands. “How could I not know? What kind of friend am I if my best friend has to hide who she really is from me?”

             
I felt the bed shift as Nick slid to the floor and knelt in front of me. “Emi, honey?”

             
I couldn’t look him in the eye. What an epic failure.“What do I say to her? Nothing? Just let it ride? Pretend I don’t know anything?” Nick was silent, just stroked my hair. My arms ached to wrap around him. “I am a horrible, horrible friend.”

             
His hand cupped the back of my head and he leaned closer. But his arms stiffened, resisting urges, too. “No, honey, you’re not. She’s done everything she can to hide it from you. She knows what you were taught. She loves you so much that she’d rather have you in her life with her secret, than not have you and her truth to be told.”

             
A catatonic rock took over my body. Nick sat by silently, watching me, respecting the modest space between us.

             
“Nick?” There was one more thing I had to know.