Silver (8 page)

“They went out for a long time. They'll probably get back together at least twice before it's really over. Double or nothing on my twenty?”

“No.”

Parker drinks another shot of tequila, looking every inch the gorgeous heiress.

Blake rubs the top of his jeans with his palms. “Can we try this again?”

“What?”

“A real date. Just you and me.”

I almost laugh. “You mean without my friend, your friend, your godfather, and your friend's ex-girlfriend?” I leave out the waitress he hooked up with, but he gets the point.

Blake grins. “Something like that.”

The answer should be easy. I should insist he take me home right now. Everything about him and me is a bad idea. But I still want to ask about how he knew about Nana's nickname for me. At least that's what I tell myself. It doesn't hurt that his eyes light up when I say, “How's now?”

Blake throws a wad of bills on the table. “Let's go make some magic.”

T
WE
L
VE

We sit in silence as we head toward the coast. The further we get from R.D., the more I start to question what exactly I'm doing driving off into the darkness with Blake. I almost tell him to turn the car around, but when I look at him, I stop myself.

He's staring out the windshield, lost in thought. Without the too-confident grin, he looks younger than his eighteen years. My stomach twinges with a familiar little ache of yearning before I can stop it. “I think at least one of us has to say something before we can consider this a real date.”

Blake laughs at my comment even though he still doesn't look over. “I don't know. Some of my best dates involved very little talking.”

“I'm not an expert or anything, but I think that talking about your dates with other girls is generally frowned on.” Technically, he's done it twice now. The count's in my favor. One more strike and he's out. “Although I guess that explains your better dates.”

He smiles, and for a second I let myself wish he'd turn that smile on me. He doesn't. He keeps staring straight ahead.

“Look at me.” It's out before I can take it back.

To his credit, he turns his head in my direction, but his glance is so fleeting that it's hardly worth the effort.

“Nice try.”

“Brianna.” Blake's voice softens. “We're going to figure this out.”

“I just want to go home.” The only thing to figure out is how I managed to wind up alone in a car with a guy who can't even look at me. A guy who can only break my heart.

“We're almost there. I want to show you something that might put things in perspective. Then we'll talk.” His angelic face is pleading.

I waver.

“You need to know the answers too.”

Unless he's got a nice reasonable explanation to replace my pheromone theory, I don't want to know. “In case you're wondering, if this is some elaborate plot to get in my pants, it's not working,” I say.

Blake laughs. “It's not, I swear. Right now that's the furthest thing from my mind. That's part of what we need to figure out.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment? If so, you really need to work on your moves.”

Blake maneuvers his giant car into a small parking lot above the beach. He comes around to the passenger side, opening the door for me. “Come on.”

I follow him down a switchback path that leads to the sand. At the bottom, we head south, following the base of a rocky cliff. Moonlight reflects off the crashing waves, providing just enough light to see by. We go about a quarter mile until we come to the remnants of a fire still burning in a pit that's been abandoned by its makers. The small fire casts a golden glow along the cliff wall, and Blake stops. There's a narrow opening in the rock about six feet high. It doesn't look large enough for a person, but he disappears through it easily enough.

I stand next to the fire, not following.

Blake sticks his head out of the opening. “Come on, we're almost there.”

I plant my feet in the sand. “I'm not going into some creepy cave with a guy I barely know.”

Blake steps all the way out. “I know I shouldn't rush you.” He looks up and down the beach. “No problem. We can do it out here.”

I back up a step. “Excuse me?”

He laughs. “Not
that
.”

“Right. I keep forgetting. I repel you
.
”

He reaches for my hand, sending flashes of fire up my arm.

“You don't repel me, Brianna.” His thumb traces a line along the chain that rings my wrist. “It's this.”

The tingle that slides along my spine in time to the movement of his thumb is a study in contradiction. On the one hand, some primitive instinct screams at me to get away. Now. An even more primitive instinct wants to savor the riot of heat his touch sets off, urging me closer. I stand frozen, a victory of sorts for the part of me that wants to melt into him.

When his fingers brush the clasp of my bracelet, I jerk my hand away. “I won't take it off.” Score one for self-defense.

“If you don't believe in it, what's the harm?”

I let out a breath. “You're not going to let this go?”

“Never.”

I stare at my bracelet. The good luck charm Nana gave me three days after the chem fire.

Derek and Cassidy got out, but not before the flames had circled them, trapping them in the corner. The fire was right on my hands, between my fingers. And then it wasn't. The fire seemed to dance around me, like I could control it. That's how I knew I'd gone off the deep end. Cassidy's screams were what woke me from my psychotic episode. I walked right through the flames to get them out. They said it was a miracle no one was hurt.

After three days of the same questions went nowhere, the doctors prescribed me some heavy duty tranqs and sent me home. Nana came into my bedroom and sat at the foot of my bed. I was out of it, still in a sleepy haze that made everything seem like a fuzzy dream, but I was glad to see her. She put the bracelet around my wrist and told me that I should never take it off. That I would grow out of everything by the time I was seventeen, and then I wouldn't need it anymore.

I'm not seventeen yet, but I will be soon, and it's obvious I've grown out of exactly nothing. I turn to Blake. “So you think that this flower charm hides me. From who exactly? Guys?”

“Something like that.”

“From all guys, or just players like you?”

Blake doesn't take offense at my calling him a player. “I don't know. I only know how it affects me.” He looks back out at the ocean. “Austin doesn't seem bothered by it.”

So he's noticed that too. “What do you mean?” It feels good to hear someone else say it. Like I'm not completely insane.

Blake runs a hand through this hair. “Just the way he looked at you tonight. You would know better than me. How do guys normally react to you when you're wearing that?” He says the last word with definite disdain.

“Same as always.” I sit down in the sand next to the firepit. Before I can stop myself, I add, “Like I don't exist.”

Blake sits down in the sand next to me. He forces his eyes to meet mine. “You can change that.”

I should stand up and walk back to the car, end this now. With or without the bracelet, I'm still just me. Same crazy, blurting, pheromone-less me. It isn't like a piece of jewelry can change that. My hand clutches the silver flower, forming a makeshift shield. There is no way this little charm can change me. The whole debate is pointless. And tonight I don't want any more proof of my complete lack of desirability.

But I don't get up. I'm alone on the beach with Blake Williams, and he's watching me. It's an outlier to the tenth degree. And I like it more than I want to admit.

I force myself to let go of the charm, letting my hands slide to the clasp. I fumble with it, my fingers shaking. When I finally manage to get it undone, I close my hand around the bracelet and lower it to my lap.

The firelight reaches out from behind me, casting shadows on Blake's face. He extends his hand, palm open.

“Just for a minute.” I place my hand on top of his, my fist still closed tight. My hand shakes harder.

Blake puts his other hand on top, holding my hand steady. “Okay?”

I nod.

He rubs my closed fist. “You have to let go.” His hands are gentle, his touch hot.

I close my eyes. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore amplifies. I listen to the water churning and falling, churning and falling. I can taste the salt in the air. My breath slows to match the rhythm of the rise and fall of the cresting waves. Slowly, I open my hand. At the same time, Blake's fingers close around the little charms. Then his hands are gone, and my own hand falls back to my side, empty.

I wait to feel something, anything. I don't.

It's official, Blake is a lunatic. I don't want to open my eyes. I don't think I can bear to see Blake's face.

“Yes! I knew it!”

My eyes open to Blake's smile. I look down to make sure that I haven't missed something. Same blue shirt and vintage Calvins. I grab a curl of brown hair, examining it closely in the firelight. The only thing that's changed is the way Blake looks at me.

And it takes my breath away.

Blake's eyes glow in the firelight. But it's the flames behind his eyes that make my whole body run hot. I can feel myself blush as he brings his hand to my cheek, branding me with his touch.

“Brianna Paxton.” He lets his fingers rest against my skin, stroking just beneath my chin. “You are even more beautiful than I remembered.”

My blood rises against his thumb. “You know you're crazy, right?”

He laughs. “Possibly. I still can't believe it. It's amazing. You're amazing.” His eyes scan me from head to toe, full of wonder and admiration. I soak it in, reveling in the rush of power that comes with the certainty that he sees me. Wants me. He leans closer, so close I inhale a heady combination of vanilla and mint. His voice is low, his breath warm against my neck. “I've never seen anything like you.”

The fire crackles and sparks, blue flames flickering in sync with the flame that rises along my skin. Blake takes a handful of my hair in his fingers and brings it to his lips. “Incredible,” he whispers.

I breathe the word in, savoring it as my own breath comes faster.

Still clutching my hair, he pulls it back gently, tilting my head at an angle that invites him in. He brings his lips to mine. Just as our lips touch, a sharp ocean breeze swirls around us, blowing my hair and creating a small electric shock where our lips meet. I laugh, a little startled.

Blake pulls back, his hand still holding my hair. “What was that?”

“Static electricity? The imbalance of positive and negative charges caused by friction? For a guy who plans to be a doctor, you don't know much about science.”

“You have an answer for everything, don't you?”

“Not this,” I admit. I can't explain what's happening now. My theory is officially dead. And I don't even care. I just want him to kiss me again.

As if he hears the thought, he does.

“Zap,” I say, my lips moving against his.

He laughs, sending warm vibrations against my mouth. His tongue licks softly against my lips. The hand that holds my hair pulls my head back further, allowing him to move deeper into the kiss, into me. The electricity in the air fills me completely. I would describe it as an out-of-body experience except that everything about it is so
in
body. My hands come up around his neck, pulling him closer. The wind swirls around us again, the cool air sending me further into his warmth.

We sink back into the sand. His fingers travel down my side, blazing a trail to my hip. The warmth of his touch sears through my jeans. His thigh comes between my legs as the kiss intensifies. He moves on top of me, his weight bringing him blissfully closer.

There's a brilliant flash of silver as his body pushes me into the sandy earth, a fact that barely registers as I urge him closer. My hands move down his back, clawing at his shirt. He breaks the kiss long enough to pull the offending polo over his head, and our eyes meet in the silvery blue glow of the fire. I smile as he puts his hands on each side of my head and leans down to rain kisses along my neck. My fingers explore the hard contours of his back.

And then his mouth finds mine again, and I'm pulled along on a tide of pure sensation. There's another silver flash, so bright I can see it with my eyes closed. When I open my eyes, we're surrounded by a dark mist, so thick I can no longer see the ocean. A thread of silver light dances in the fog, weaving in and out of the darkness, circling us.

In the silvery light, I see his face above mine, his green eyes ablaze, a half smile on his lips meant only for me. “
Mine
,” he says softly.

Then he kisses me again, and for a second everything is black, so dark that I wonder if my eyes are closed again. A small sliver of light grows in the center of the darkness, moving just over us. The silver ribbon grows brighter, meeting the dark until the beach is a swirling mass of shadow and starlight.

Darkness and light together. Souls fused and melded. Forever bound.

T
H
I
R
T
E
E
N

The sound of crashing waves wakes me from sleep. Rough grains of sand scratch at my back. A damp breeze raises goose bumps on my bare skin.
Bare?
I sit up in a rush. My clothes are strewn around the sand. Blake is on his stomach next to me, mooning the moon.

I scramble to my feet and grab my clothes, not even caring about the sand that scratches my skin as I pull them on. Everything is a blur of silver light and darkness. Blake kissed me. I teased him about static electricity, and then he kissed me again, and then … there is more, much more. It's all mixed up in the fog and mists. It doesn't make any sense. Was I on some kind of drug? I grab my bracelet from where it's still tangled in Blake's left hand and fasten it around my wrist. I kick his hip. “Wake up!”

Blake's eyes blink open. He looks groggy and out of it.

“Blake!!”

“What?” He pushes up on his arms and looks down at his bare chest. He spins around and grabs his jeans, pulling them on with record speed.

I look out at the ocean, not wanting to make eye contact. “What just happened?” I know I'm not exactly experienced, but I'm pretty sure that whole silver-light-and-mists thing was not supposed to be a part of it.

“I'm not sure.” His voice is shaky; no sign of the cool, confident charmer.

I kick the ground, sending sand smattering across his legs. “You're not sure?”

“No.” His face goes pale. “Oh God. What did you do?” He sits back down in the sand, putting his face in his hands.

“Me? Me?! What kind of drugs did you give me?” There's no stopping the tears now. They flow down my cheeks.

“Drugs? You think that was drugs?” He shakes his head. “This is bad.”

“Bad?
Bad?
Shouldn't you at least wait until I'm not right here before you start declaring it bad?”

“Oh God,” Blake repeats before he finally looks up. “Do you remember any of it?”

“Just the dream part.”

“It wasn't a dream.”

“How can you say that? You don't even know what I dreamed about.”

“Brilliant light and blackest darkness? Melding of souls?”

My voice drops to a whisper. “You can't know that. Is that one of the side effects of the drug you gave me?”

He finds his shirt across a rock. “There's no drug,
Brianna. It happened. You should know better than me what you did.”

What
I
did? Oh God, what did I do? I should never have come here. I should never have kissed him. “Take me home. Now.”

Blake shakes out his shirt. All that's left of the fire are glowing embers, giving off just enough light that I can see the lines of his shoulders and back as the pulls his shirt over his head. Not that I'm thinking he's in any way attractive. Not that I notice how his casual good looks are almost heartbreaking when he's not flashing his cocky smile. I certainly don't feel any compulsion to put my arms around him and reassure him that everything is going to be okay. I don't want him to hold me and tell me the same thing.

I can't be that much of an idiot.

Our date ends the same way it began. We don't speak on the drive back to Rancho Domingo. I try to make sense of what's just happened, but I can't. It doesn't seem real, in the familiar surroundings of Blake's car, the radio playing in the background. It's all a hazy dream, another hallucination.

Except not.

Blake kissed me, and truthfully, it was amazing. I wanted to take it further. I wanted
him
.

This can't be good.

The Blue Box is the only car left in the parking lot in front of Magic Beans. There are light drops of moisture settling on the windows. Blake stops the SUV next to it but leaves the engine running.

I reach for the door handle, looking at Blake for the first time since we left the beach. His forehead is creased. Beads of sweat form around his hairline. When he finally speaks, there's a measure of desperation in his tone. “There has to be a way to undo it.”

I want to slap him, but I keep my hand fixed on the door handle. I open the door and jump out, not bothering to say goodbye. I climb into the Blue Box and slam the door, relieved to be away from him. The sputter and cough that accompanies the sound of the engine turning over is a welcome bit of normalcy. Blake's car still sits idling as I shift into gear and drive out of the parking lot.

When I turn onto the street, a pang rises in my gut, a sharp physical pain that almost doubles me over. As I get closer to home, the pain subsides to a dull ache. I recognize it all too well. It's the same pang that always comes when Blake ignores me. Only now it's constant, more pronounced. And there is no stamping it out. The ache is still there when I crawl into bed, a hollow reminder of his rejection.

The morning light filters through the blinds and falls across my face, waking me from what sleep I managed to find. I reach across my bed, half-expecting to be greeted by Blake's green eyes and warm smile, but grab only folds of comforter. I am alone. The realization is met with the same ache I've felt since leaving Blake. It isn't disappointment, exactly. It's more visceral than that.

I don't want to be one of those girls who thinks I'm in love with a boy just because we hooked up. So there. I am not in love with Blake Williams.

I just miss him is all.

By Monday, the pain is constant, and I wonder if I should ask my parents to take me to a doctor. I don't. It's too shameful to admit that I'm pining for Blake Williams. Worse, I don't want to tell my parents about the other part. If they find out I'm seeing things again, they'll make me go back to doing homeschool. Even the meager social life I've managed to find here will be over.

Haley and Christy wait on the curb in front of Christy's house when I pick them up for school. Haley's backpack is bulging with books, most likely the ones she borrowed from the library last week to gather historical data to augment our reading of Jane Austen in lit. Christy carries only a small blue denim designer purse.

“So?” Haley says before she is even halfway in the front seat. “You didn't return my calls. What happened with Blake?”

“You were there, remember?”

“I mean after I left.”

“We hung out at the beach for a while.”

Christy leans forward from the back seat, plainly interested in hearing the details. Not that there are going to be any. “The beach? That sounds kind of hot. And … .?”

“And we talked.”

“And?” Christy giggles from the back seat.

I feel myself blush. “He might have kissed me.”

“And?” It's Haley this time.

“And, that's it.” I keep my eyes focused firmly on the road. I am definitely keeping the crazy part to myself. If I stay away from Blake, I might be able to stop the silver light from happening again. “What about you? What happened with Austin?”

Haley smiles. “He took me home.”

“And?”

“He was sweet.”

I'm happy it's working out for her. As happy as you can be for someone who's on boyfriend number thirteen. As happy as you can be for someone who's dating the boy who gave you your first kiss. “Did you … ?”

Haley just laughs. “It isn't like that with Austin. He apologized for the whole scene at Hunter's. He drove me straight home. It was just one kiss.” Haley leans back against the seat and sighs. “It was really romantic.”

What bizarre planet have I landed on? So Haley settles for a single kiss, and I lose it to the first guy to ask me out, after falling for some crazy theory involving my charm bracelet? I let myself be lured in, and then I couldn't resist the silver fire that lit up the darkness.
Oh hell
.
Blake might be right about it being real.

“Haley said Jonah was out with that rich horse girl.” Christy's voice carries from the back seat, shaking me from my daydream.

“He was.”
Please, please, please
let Christy get over Jonah Timken already.

“I don't think it's going to work out with them.” Christy holds up her cell phone in the rearview mirror. “He texted.” She flips to the message and passes it to Haley.

Haley and I exchange a worried glance as she reads the message aloud. “ ‘Forgive me? I'll make it up to you Saturday. Party at Joe's.' ”

“I told you the love spell is working,” Christy says.

Haley passes the phone back to her. “Are you going?”

“Will you come with me, Brie?” Christy asks. “I don't really know Joe.”

Like I do. Near as I can tell the guy is mute.

“You can see Blake,” she adds.

The dull pang flares to a sharp sting at the mention of his name. I try to ignore it. “Please don't do this. That Jonah guy is serious trouble.” Plus, there is no way I can stand watching Blake flirt his way around a party.

I don't have to see Christy's face to know she's pouting. “Fine. Don't help me. It's not like I wouldn't do it so you could see Blake. And I'm sure he's perfect boyfriend material.”

I can't really disagree with her. And I can't let her go see Jonah on her own. Someone has to be there to watch out for her. I feel myself start to surrender. For Christy. It has nothing to do with an overwhelming wish to see Blake. Just see him. “Fine. I'll go.”

The school day drags by in a haze of distraction. I try to look forward to my AP biology and calculus classes, where everything will have an explanation. A right answer. When I was kicked out of middle school and put on independent study, math and science were my only friends. They helped me make sense of the world again. Today, they're no help. There's no comfort in the Pythagorean theorem, no solace in the Punnett square.

To make things worse, Sherri Milliken corners me again after calc. “It can't wait any longer. We have to talk.”

Time for the direct approach. “I'm sorry, Sherri. I'm not interested in joining the math team.”

Sherri's face twists. I forgot how she sometimes gets kind of scary when she doesn't get her way. “Just hear me out.”

Back to Evasion 101. “Can I call you later?”

“This can't wait much longer.” She steps aside and lets me escape from the classroom. “You need to be ready.”

I'm saved by Haley, who meets me in the hall and drags me away. “What's with her?”

“She wants me to join the Mathletes again. Like I need that kind of social suicide.”

Haley smiles and puts her hand through my elbow. “You really think anyone would care if you were still on the math team? I think it's cool how you can do those problems in your head. Besides, it would be fun to see you pummel the geeks from McMillan Prep.”

“Seriously?”

“Sure, why not?” Haley can still surprise me. “Besides, isn't Blake some kind of medical student? I bet he'll be drooling all over himself when he finds out you're on the team.”

“Pre-med, and I'm pretty sure that my being on the math team doesn't qualify as foreplay.”

Haley laughs. “I thought it was just a kiss? Is there something you're not telling me?”

A lot, but I don't know where to start. Haley knows I was homeschooled before we moved to R.D.—she just doesn't know why. I should've told her, but it's one of those conversations that's so much easier not to have. There's never a good time to bring it up.

Braden Finley approaches just as we get to Haley's locker. Haley rolls her eyes when she sees him, but I know for a fact she deliberately takes the long way around the science building so she'll arrive at her locker at the same time as Braden.

She leans back against her locker and smiles, waiting for Braden to turn toward her. I know the ritual by heart. Braden tosses his math book into his locker and grabs a key ring holding a small wooden baseball bat and the keys to his yellow Camaro. Next he turns to Haley just as he shuts the locker door.

“You look hot today.” Braden dangles the keys in front of Haley. “Want to come to lunch?”

Haley bats her eyelashes and says no, even though Braden is by far the cutest guy at R.D. High. It's the same every day. It doesn't matter if Braden has a girlfriend or if Haley is seeing someone. It's all a pointless game. So why do I want so badly to be invited to play?

At home, I sit at my small desk to do some homework, irritated that I haven't managed to finish it at school. I tap my pencil, watching the charms on my bracelet move in time to the tapping. I set down the pencil and stare at the charms.

I've always loved the little horse the best. Then the horseshoe. It's the good luck part of the bracelet—the whole reason I have it. I never thought much about the monkshood.

Such an odd-shaped little flower.

I pick up my pencil and go back to my book, staring at it until the numbers run together. I finally give up, reaching for a volume on botany on the bookshelf.

I flip the pages to the monkshood entry before I can change my mind. The purple flower is eerily familiar.
Wolfsbane ... an extremely poisonous flowering plant with a history steeped in myth and death.
Beautiful, but deadly. It resonates in me in a way that it shouldn't.

Deadly.

Like me.