The Firefly Effect (10 page)

I’m shoving cases of bottled water underneath the grocery cart when Melanie remarks out of the blue, “You never mentioned whether or not
you’ve
ever been married before.”

Straightening, I tell her, “Nope. Never been married. Never even come close.”

“Why not?”

Her blunt curiosity makes me smile. “I could ask you the same thing.”

She cocks her head to one side and studies me, but says nothing. I can’t help but wonder what she sees when she looks at me like that. Whatever it is, I hope it isn’t the same thing she saw back in high school.

“I only intend to get married once,” I explain, relenting. “So when I do, I need to be one hundred percent certain that the woman I marry is also my best friend. The one I can see myself still madly in love with fifty years down the road. Does that answer your question?”

“Maybe you’re gay.”

For a minute I think she’s reverted to insulting me, but when she bites her lip to hide a smile I realize she’s just teasing.

Tossing a jar of peanut butter into the cart, I give her a reproachful look. “If you have any doubts regarding my sexuality, I would be more than happy to clear them up for you. Just say the word.”

She simply raises an eyebrow and pretends to be engrossed in selecting a box of granola bars from a sparse display. I'm still trying to figure out how I'm going to sneak a box of condoms in without her noticing. This was something I hadn't considered before asking her to come along. Me and my bright ideas.

Maybe I should just pick some up later.

“What made you decide to become a veterinarian?” she asks, ostensibly as a diversion. She has the most peculiar habit of bouncing from one topic to another.

“What made you decide to become a writer?” I counter.

“I like to write.”

Well. Ask a stupid question...

“I've known since I was a kid that's what I wanted to do,” I tell her with a shrug. “I've always been good with animals. They're a lot easier to figure out than people are.”

“That's ironic, coming from you.”

“What do you mean?”

She meets my gaze for a split second, then quickly looks away. “You're not exactly easy to figure out yourself.”

“You don't have to try and figure me out, angel. If there's anything you want to know, just ask. I have nothing to hide.”

“What did you just call me?” For some reason she suddenly seems tense.

“Angel. Why? What did you think I said?”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t like it. Don’t call me that. Ever.”

“Well, pardon me. Do you prefer Felony?”

She huffs a dry laugh. “Not particularly!”

“End of an era, huh?” I can't help but grin.

“Why did you stop wearing your glasses?”

And she's off again, flitting to another subject like a hummingbird with ADD.

“I got contacts.”

“Can you see without them?”

“I can see, yeah, but everything’s really fuzzy.”

“I thought the glasses looked nice.” Without waiting for a response, she wanders off down the aisle to grab a case of soda. I get the feeling she drinks a lot of that stuff.

Interesting. Melanie Lane just paid me a compliment. I’m thinking I should probably get my ears checked. Could be my hearing is as bad as my eyesight.

We’re done with the shopping and are searching for a checkout line that isn’t stretched all the way to Louisiana when I decide I may as well snag what I need while I’m here. I mean, why shouldn’t I? I don't have to justify myself to her, after all.

“Uh...here.” I hand her my debit card and she takes it with a questioning look. “I just remembered something else I need. Be right back.”

Before she can protest, I take off in the direction of the pharmacy. I know she's probably going to be pissed when she sees what I bring back, but I'd rather have them and not need them than need them and not have them.

I plan on needing every single damn one of them.

Feeling optimistic, I get the economy pack. Who knows how long this storm will last?

She's still waiting in line when I return. There are three people ahead of us and the woman at the register is bitching to the cashier because one of her items rang up as $2.99 when it was supposed to be $2.89. A lousy dime? For crying out loud – we're going to be here forever.

I drop the condoms into the cart and nonchalantly reach for a magazine from a rack nearby, thumbing through it so I don't have to look at Melanie. Still, I can see her out of the corner of one eye. Her eyes fall on the box and for a minute I think she's about to wallop me again, the way she did after junior prom.

I have to admit – that one I deserved.

Instead she mutters something underneath her breath. It sounds like
you gotta be kidding me.

I glance up innocently. “What?”

Shaking her head, she rolls her eyes and turns her back to me so I can't see her expression. But a moment later she raises one hand and presses it to her mouth.

I can't be sure, but I think she's laughing.

Junior prom

I fidget with the black bow tie that strangles my throat like a noose.

We’ve been here forty-five minutes and already I’m wishing I hadn’t agreed to come. I probably wouldn’t have, but Brianna Lawson cornered me at school and what could I say? Besides, at the time I thought it might be fun.

I’m not having fun.

Brianna’s a nice enough girl, not to mention pretty hot, but over the course of the evening I’ve decided that I won’t be going out with her again. As a matter of fact, I can hardly wait to get
this
night over with. I’ve never met anyone so damned agreeable in my life. She’s like a Stepford date. No matter what I say she automatically conforms to my point of view, regardless of what it is. It’s like she doesn’t have any opinions of her own, or maybe she’s just trying too hard to impress me.

I’m not impressed.

We sit at a table drinking punch while watching the crowd bounce around to
Shut Up and Dance.
Slow dances I can handle, but I am not about to go out there and make a fool of myself flailing about like that. So to kill time, I test the Stepford theory by asking Brianna what kind of music she likes to listen to. True to the pattern so far, she deflects the verdict back to me.

“Oh, you know,” she waffles with a vacant smile. “Pretty much anything. How about you? What’s your favorite song?”

“Rob Zombie’s
Pussy Liquor
.” Smiling back, I wait to see how she reacts. Honestly I just threw that one out there to be obnoxious. I have her pegged as the bubblegum pop type, but will she admit it?

“Oh my gosh, are you serious? I love that song too! That’s so weird. I can’t believe how much we have in common.”

Ri-i-ight.

Because I’m bored and for no other reason, I decide to press on. Just to see how far she will take this charade. “Really? You’re into Rob Zombie?”

“Oh, I just love him!” she gushes.

“Cool. So which of his songs do you like best?” It’s probably mean of me to set this trap, but her cutesy phoniness is getting annoying.

“Which do I like the best? Oh. Hm.” Pretending to think it over, she tilts her head and taps a manicured fingernail against her lips. “Well, I can’t decide. I pretty much like them all. Especially the one you just mentioned. That’s my favorite.”

“
Dragula?
”

“Yes! That one.” She beams at me brightly and I want to facepalm my own forehead.

Out on the dance floor, I see Melanie with her arms around Jake Hoffman’s neck. Lucky bastard. Not that I don’t like Jake – we get along fine – but seeing him all over Melanie makes me itch to rearrange his face for him. Must be the caveman in me. I could easily see myself throwing her over my shoulder and carrying her off, kicking and screaming.

Damn, I kinda like that. Maybe I’ll use that image while I’m jerking off my frustration later.

Because clearly I am not getting lucky tonight. Not that I couldn’t – the way Brianna’s fawning over me, she’s practically a sure thing – but no matter how hot she is, it’s just not worth it. If I so much as kiss this chick, there will be no getting rid of her. I have a feeling the clingy little barnacle in green satin would stalk me from now until graduation. I don’t need that kind of aggravation.

Melanie’s wearing red tonight.

I’ve never seen her look more beautiful. It’s hard to keep my eyes off her, and yet it almost hurts to look at her for long. She could outshine a goddess. There are white flowers woven through the hair that hangs down in soft curls, and when she dances with Jake, the fabric of that eye-catching red dress swirls gracefully around her legs. What I wouldn’t give to be the one holding her in my arms.

Do I have balls enough to ask her for a dance?

Not likely. For one thing, she finds me repulsive. And then there’s the little matter of our respective dates. Jake probably wouldn’t mind if I cut in, but Brianna won’t like it. For that matter, Melanie won’t like it. She won’t want her perfect night tarnished by someone she can’t stand.

So I move to the slow songs with Brianna and try to put the idea out of my head. But now that it’s there, the damn thing has put down roots and is only growing stronger.

Half an hour later I see my chance. Brianna’s excused herself to visit the restroom with a cluster of girls – why do they always go in groups like that and what do they DO in there? – and Melanie is wandering over to the refreshment table alone. I don’t know where Jake has disappeared to, and I don’t care. I’m going to ask her and if she tells me to go screw myself, then so be it. At least I can say I tried.

But when I sidle up beside her, I can’t seem to find the words.

I am so out of my league here.

By some bizarre coincidence the song that’s playing is
The Lady in Red
and I know that it has to be a sign. There was never a song that was more perfect for this moment. The stars are in perfect alignment and the universe is giving me one shot.

She turns her head and I part my lips to speak but nothing comes out. I don’t know what to say. What do you say to a goddess? She’s giving me a strange look and I’m blowing it and I know this may be the only opportunity I ever have to feel this girl in my arms. So I do the only thing I can.

I take her hand and simply walk her out to the dance floor. I fully expect her to resist but even though she seems puzzled, she allows me to lead her into the crowd. And then I have her, I have this beauty in my arms, and I hold her close and try to memorize everything about her so I can remember it later.

I have one hand pressed against her back and the other is still holding her hand as we dance. We’re closer than we’ve ever been, close enough that I can smell her flowery perfume and the watermelon scent of her lip gloss. I want to take her bottom lip between my teeth and suck on it, see what she tastes like, but that’s something I know I’ll never be able to do. She’s watching me, a confused expression on her face. Surely she’s wondering what I’m doing. Whether I’ve lost my mind.

My God, she’s as soft as velvet. Gazing into her sparkling hazel eyes, I release her hand to pull her even closer and when I hear her gasp I’m afraid I’ve gone too far. But she says nothing. She’s still staring at me in bewilderment and I smile. I’m glad I decided to wear contacts tonight instead of my glasses. I want her to see my eyes. I want her to know what she does to me.

She will have to read it in my eyes, because I will never have the nerve to tell her.

After a few seconds she relaxes enough to rest her cheek against my tuxedo jacket. And I want to die right here and now because it will never get any better than this. Never. I am holding Melanie Lane and she is letting me. In this small fraction of a moment she is mine.

With a pulse that’s burning I close my eyes and imagine that we’re all alone. That it’s just the two of us and this song will go on and on and when I open my eyes the rest of the world will have faded away.

Maybe it has.

Because I open my eyes, and all I see is her.

One hand leaves her waist to gently brush the hair from her cheek and it lingers there, my errant thumb slowly moving down to stroke those soft lips. I want to kiss her. No, I
need
to kiss her. I need it like I need my next breath.

In a voice that doesn’t sound like mine, I whisper, “Melanie…?”

She lifts her head and I swear I can see heaven in her eyes.

And then there’s a tap on my shoulder and I realize with a rush of cold awareness that it’s all over. None of this is real. She isn’t mine, she’s never been mine, and it’s time to wake up from this dream.

“Hey, man.” Behind me, Jake is grinning but there’s uncertainty in his expression. “Trying to steal my date?”

“Shouldn’t leave her alone.” I mirror his grin, but as he leads her away I’ve never felt less like smiling. My arms have never been so empty.

She glances over her shoulder as they walk off, and I wonder what she’s thinking. And why she looked back.

Surrounded by a rainbow of multicolored dresses, Brianna comes flouncing up to me and I give her and her bathroom buddies a half-hearted smile.

She links a possessive arm in mine. “Sorry it took so long. Amber had a wardrobe malfunction and we were trying to help her fix it.”

They’re all giggling, and I wonder idly what the ‘malfunction’ was but don’t really care enough to ask. Amber’s dress looks to be two sizes too small anyway so it’s not hard to imagine what happened. If she gets through the night without bursting out of it, I’ll be surprised. Then again, maybe that was the idea. Anything for attention.

Brianna wraps her arms around me and sighs happily as she sways against me. I dance with her, though my heart isn’t in it. I wonder how long before I can take her home without appearing rude. I’m not a complete ass – I don’t want to make it obvious that I don’t enjoy her company.

I know that a lot of couples are planning to leave the prom early. Colton Wells has invited anyone who’s interested to come hang out at his house. His parents are conveniently out of town. Every male heading out that way tonight will have just one thing on his mind. I know, because I considered taking Brianna there. Now that’s the last thing I want to do. But I know through idle conversation that Jake is planning on taking Melanie to that party.

The thought of the two of them together makes me sick to my stomach.

Would she actually sleep with him?

It’s best not to dwell on it.

I’ve just stepped away from Brianna to fetch her another glass of punch when Jake appears beside me. I get the feeling it’s no coincidence.

“Stuff needs some vodka,” he comments, peering with distaste into the crystal bowl.

“Yeah,” I laugh. “It’s not bad, though.”

“That’s what Melanie said.” Glancing sidelong at me, he gets straight to the point. “Lemme ask you something. What’s the deal with you and her?”

Uh-oh. How am I supposed to respond to that? I can’t tell him the truth. Obviously he could see that with me, a dance wasn’t just a dance.

As I’m searching for something ambiguous to say, a sneaky idea forms in my head. No, not just sneaky. Dirty. Shameless. My conscience is appalled at what I’m about to do, but the more devious part of me easily tunes out that part of my brain.

“We went out recently,” I tell him. Which is a lie, of course.

“You did? I didn’t know that.”

“Well, it wasn’t so much going out as staying in. Know what I mean?” I grin lewdly.

“Yeah?” There is a flicker of interest in his eyes and I know right then and there that all he wants from her is a piece of ass. Otherwise what I said would have offended him. Instead he views this as proof that she’s willing to put out.

Lowering his voice, he nudges me and asks, “So what’s the word? How was she?”

I have the sudden urge to deck him.

Somehow I manage to keep my cool. “I’ve had better. She’s a little frigid for my taste, if you want the truth. And you can forget about getting head. She won’t do that.” Wincing, I reach down and make a show of scratching my crotch. Crude, I know, but there’s a method to my madness. “Uh…just a heads up. My herpes was kinda starting to flare up when we were together so you might wanna rethink going there with her. Trust me, you don’t want this shit. I swear to God, my dick feels like it’s been through a shredder.”

Jake takes a step back and stares at me in disgust. “Dude! You fucking have
herpes?
”

“Yeah. It’s bad, too. Burns like a motherfucker. Every time I go to pee it’s like pissing fire. Never should’ve messed around with that slut from Faulkner. Nasty bitch has ruined my life.” I shake my head with a sigh and hope I seem convincing. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to fuck up your plans or anything. Just thought I oughta warn you.”

Poor Jake. I can tell he’s still clinging to the hope that he has nothing to worry about. “But you used protection, right? With Melanie.”

“Nope. She said she was on the pill, and I don’t like wearing a condom if I’m not forced to. It’s like wearing socks in the shower, right? Screw that.” I shrug. “You can still catch it even with protection, by the way. So you might wanna keep that in mind.”

“Fuck!” He tosses a dejected look in her direction. I want to laugh. He looks like someone who’s just been told his winning lottery ticket is a counterfeit. “You think she has it then?”

“I’d be really surprised if she didn’t.”

“Dammit!” He rakes a frustrated hand through his slick gelled hair. “I wish you’d told me this before I asked her to prom.”

“How was I supposed to know you were gonna ask her?” I reach down and rearrange my junk, making a face like it’s really painful. “You’re not the only one whose night is ruined. There’s no way I can get any use out of this thing tonight. Hurts way too much.”

Jake glances over at Brianna who is still chatting with her friends. “Have you and Brianna…?”

“Nah, man. Doesn’t look like I’ll get the chance to either.” I notice Melanie sending us a suspicious look and decide I need to cut this conversation short. I don’t want her questioning him about what we were talking about. “Oh, well. That’s life, right?”

“Yeah. I guess. Well…I appreciate the heads up, man.”

“No problem.”

I press my lips together in an effort to hide a grin as I walk away. That was a mean, lowdown, rotten thing to do and I know I should be ashamed of myself for fabricating such bullshit, but all I can think is that maybe I’ve thwarted his efforts to take what I want for myself.

If I can’t have her, I don’t want anyone else to either.

Wow. I really am a terrible person.

I head back over to the table where Brianna is seated, whispering with a couple of her friends. She looks in my direction and her face lights up when she spots me. I feel sorry for her suddenly. If anyone knows what unrequited infatuation feels like, it’s me. The poor girl’s been trying so hard and all I’ve responded with is aloof indifference.

I resolve to stop behaving like a prick and instead show her that I can be a charming escort. It is my obligation to see that she has a nice time tonight, even if there is nothing romantic between us.

It is prom, after all.

I don’t have to wonder for long whether Melanie found out what I said about her. On Monday morning I’m heading toward my first period class when I see her storming hell-bent for leather in my direction. And there’s fire in her eyes.

I open my mouth to say something witty, but before I have a chance to get a word out she slugs me right in the kidneys.

~ Chapter Eleven ~

I figure the best way to avoid having to talk to him is by going about my daily routine, so after the groceries are put away I settle down to get some work done. My computer is set up on the small desk in the sunroom so I can hide from him there. It’s a pleasant place to write. Normally sunlight would be streaming in through the tempered glass windows, but it’s become overcast since this morning and the sun is concealed behind hazy clouds.

I scroll to the bottom of my Word document and stare blankly at the last paragraph where I left off. I’m not sure how I’ll ever be able to concentrate, knowing the cute condom hoarder is under the same roof with me. I’m trying not to speculate on what, or rather
who
, he made that particular purchase for. The thought of him anticipating a spree of sexual debauchery with me is irritatingly audacious. But I find that I don’t like entertaining the notion that he’s bought them with someone else in mind either.

I can’t win here.

And if I’m being completely honest with myself, I have to admit that I can’t stop replaying last night’s romp in my head.

I want more, and it irritates the everloving fuck out of me that I do.

A text comes through on my phone, and I welcome the diversion.

It's from Leah.
Still there?

Not exactly sure what she means by 'still there', but I respond with:
Still here.

Can you do me a huge favor? Plz plz plz?

Sure.

Would you mind closing all the storm shutters before you leave?

Before I leave? Where does she think I'm going?
Will do
, I reply.

TY!! Stay safe!

Forcing my attention back to the manuscript, I am just drafting one of the pivotal scenes in the story when Shane comes strolling in. Guess it was stupid of me to expect any privacy. He stands quietly behind me and I can sense that he’s reading what I’ve typed so far, but I am determined not to pay him any attention.

That is, until I hear him snort a laugh.

Irritated, I turn my head to glare at him. “Something funny?”

“Come on, Felony. You can do better than that.”

“I thought we agreed to retire that name. And what are you talking about?”

He points to the screen. “Is this supposed to be realistic?
I could drown in the bottomless depths of your eyes
…give me a break. What guy has said that to you, ever?”

I narrow my eyes. Am I really supposed to accept literary criticism from him? The guy who once put a stink bomb vial in my backpack?

“It isn’t believable,” he explains, leaning across the desk on his arms. His face is unnervingly close to mine.

“What makes you say that?”

“Let’s look at this logically. Judging from what I’ve read, it appears your two characters are in the throes of passion. Sex is already imminent. They’re about to get hot and heavy. Am I correct so far?”

“Yes...”

“All right. Well, first of all, at this point the guy would no longer be thinking rationally and intellectually. By now he’s already deferred complete authority to his other head, if you get my drift. The last thing he’s going to be doing is reciting poetry. It would be like trying to solve calculus equations while masturbating.”

I blink, surprised. Holy cow, did he just use the word
masturbate?

“Second of all, men are very forward and direct to begin with. Trust me, we are not the complex creatures you think we are. If you come across one who’s spouting off verbosity like that, you should probably run the other way.”

“Verbosity?” I can’t help but smile. There’s another word I never would have pictured the Pain using.

“You’re trying too hard with this. Cut out the ostentatious prose. Keep it simple.”

“But simple is boring,” I argue.