All In My Head (First Tracks Book 1) (10 page)

A little girl, maybe four, with huge brown eyes.

An elderly man, grinning so broadly his eyes were squinted
shut.

A boy’s school picture in a red shirt—maybe fourth grade.

A toddler with blond baby curls and play keys in her hand.

A teenage girl with long, brown hair and a beautiful smile.

There were lots of little girls, school-age girls and women.
More faces than I could handle thinking about. All of these people were
missing?

Marcus backed away in my mind.

Too bad I couldn’t back away and forget this. Tears stung my
eyes. I like to people watch and create stories about strangers, and that was
kicking in now in a painful way. How many people were waiting for news? My
stomach soured as I thought about where these little girls could be. All these
missing women. One little girl looked a lot like Kristina. Another woman
reminded me of my third-grade teacher, Mrs. Collins. There are so many ugly
things in life that I can’t do anything about. I’d learned that cold, hard
truth when my parents died.

I wrapped my arms around myself, but it suddenly felt like
Marcus was doing it. I closed my eyes and felt a tear roll down each side of my
face. Normally I’d be embarrassed—I never cry in front of people, but Marcus
was different. And this time, he didn’t even ask why.

I let the tears dry before getting back to work.
This
was a problem I could work on. I could find a solution if I just kept at it. There
weren’t too many missing men, especially close to my age. But why did I assume
Marcus was close to my age? His speech, mostly, and all the active things he
liked to do. Even if I looked at a wide age range, say eighteen to thirty,
there were only three blond men that I spotted as I scrolled through. I kept
going, and even tried to focus on the eye color more because hair color can
change.

“Do you see this picture?” I asked to get his attention.

You think I look like that?

I sighed. No, I didn’t. But it was the closest match I could
find, based on the tiny bit I’d seen in my head. I tried searching in France
for missing men and ran into the same kind of problems.

Je veux
vous montrer
ce qu'est un vrai
baiser
se sent.

I pulled in a breath, shivering. His voice became more
lyrical when he spoke French.

Do you mean sexy?

“So, that’s your little trick for getting chicks.”

Maybe. Maybe not.

“Stop teasing and tell me what you said.”

I said … I want to show you … what a real kiss feels like.

I sucked in my breath, heat pooling somewhere it shouldn’t
and spiking up my body. He chuckled softly at my reaction.

“Stop! Nash is coming over in a while, and I need to get
ready.”

Oh, we forgot about Nash, didn’t we?

“Listen, we just figured out several things about you. We
might know what you look like, and that you speak French, and that you know
nothing about working on cars, like Nash does.”

Why don’t you go get ready.

I stood in front of my mirror to spray leave-in conditioner in
to my hair and brush it, all the time feeling Marcus appraise my appearance.
I’d changed into a silver sequin tank top that made me look curvier and black
skinny jeans. I loved the look. Marcus did too, and that was the problem. I
couldn’t wipe the smirk off my face as I sensed his reaction. His very physical
reaction.

So who’re you trying to impress here?

“Oh, I didn’t know it was an either or thing.” I smirked and
waved my brush off-handedly.

Christ. If only I had all my parts here so I could—

“La-la-la-la!” I was not going to listen to that. “Think you
could step out while he’s here? I can’t really spend time with him with you
around.”

Okay, so I’ll skip out for an evening … if we go for a bike
ride tomorrow.

“What if it’s raining?”

Freaking A. Then we ride in the rain. It’s romantic.

“Romantic my ass,” I said. “And I bought you a guitar,
remember? You owe me this. Plus, I went running before that because you wanted
to.”

The doorbell rang. I hurried to answer it, ignoring the way
Marcus all but whirled around and sulked. Weird that I could see his emotions
like that. Weirder that I felt bad about it.

When I opened the front door, Nash held out a single red
rose, and we grinned at each other for a second. Then his gaze swept down over
my outfit.

Forget about it. He is NOT getting inside this shirt.

Nash seemed as embarrassed as I felt and started stuttering
something as I invited him in.

Laughing, I stepped back and led the way into the living
room. Inside, with better lighting, I saw he wore a green dress shirt under his
jacket, with slacks. With his short hair and clean-shaven face, he looked
smooth. So he’d gone home and gotten ready for our date.

“Did you eat dinner yet?” he asked.

“No, I didn’t … want to go grab something?” I looked in the
kitchen for a vase, and of course we didn’t have one. I grabbed a tall kitchen
glass and filled it with water for the rose.

“Yes. I drove over. I thought we could go out to dinner.”

“Sure. Sounds great. Let me grab my coat.” I headed back to
my room, blocking Marcus out, while he made fun of everything about Nash. I
pushed the door to my room almost shut.

“You said you’d step out tonight!” I whispered barely above
a breath while grabbing my coat. “Either back off, or there’s no bike ride for
you tomorrow. And remember the guitar I just bought?”

He was quiet … and remorseful, I think.

I smelled the rose and closed my eyes for a second, enjoying
the fragrance and the fact that a man had brought me a flower. My heart
fluttered and I tried to pause time for a second, memorizing the sensation. I
hadn’t felt like this since Kyle, and for a while I had worried I wouldn’t feel
this way again. Yeah, yeah, I’m young and all. Plenty of fish out there. But,
sometimes I think there is such a thing as true love. My mom said that once she
met my dad, she never even wanted to look at another man. She loved him while
he went downhill … she loved him to the very end, saying she didn’t regret it.
I did. With a sigh, I left those thoughts behind in my room.

You just have no clue, Ave. You’re hot as shit and guys would
line up to bring you flowers if you let them. I would love to bring you roses.

I greeted Nash with another smile and we walked outside to
his car, where he opened the door for me. Marcus sighed and backed off while I
watched Nash walk around to his side and get in.

As he drove down the street, he glanced over and asked, “So
you’re feeling fully recovered from that concussion?”

“I …”

Do you think I’ll disappear as you get better?

I laughed, a sudden, hysterical staccato. It smacked of
panic to my ears, but I had no idea what Nash thought of my outburst. “Sorry, I
… I don’t know. I’ve been feeling weird since then.”

“Did you stop in at the nurse’s station?”

“No, it’s not like that.” I stared out the window, face
burning, wishing we could have avoided this topic tonight. “I … just had a bad
day.”

What the hell? Thought we had fun.

Remember the crazy guy?

Oh, yeah.

Nash threw me a look and I realized he was waiting for more.

“This guy said something to me and I gave him a dirty look.
He deserved it. He’d said something about my … anyway, he cussed at me after
that.”

“What? Where was that?”

“Between campus and the parking lot down the street. He
didn’t look like a student.”

“Wow, I’m really sorry to hear that. I can walk you back
after class, you know. And you should report that.”

“Oh …” I looked out the window, hiding my face. Was I
fumbling everything or did it just feel like it?

“What did you do to your hand?” Nash asked. My hands were on
my lap, and I looked down, wondering what he meant. The knuckles on my right
hand were bruising.

“I … well, I hit that guy.” I covered the ugly, purple
coloring. It turned my stomach, anyway, and made my hand hurt to look at it.

“What?” He looked over three times in a row, trying to watch
the traffic and look at me. “So … wait.” He shook his head. “You didn’t report
it?”

“No.”

“Because you hit him?”

“Just because. It just happened. He was dangerous, and rude,
and in my face.” That was Marcus coming through loud and clear.
You said
you’d step out!
“But it’s fine. Really.”

I just ruined my first official date with Nash. We were
quiet for several minutes. Just when I thought about saying he could take me
home if he wanted, he told me about the restaurant. I listened, but I also
found myself comparing Nash to what I’d seen of Marcus. They seemed opposites
of each other. Nash is so tall and serious … I guess I don’t imagine Marcus
like that at all. He seems fit and athletic, and so … free.

Maybe because I don’t have a body?

Because you’re not afraid of crazy, scary things.

This is freaking freaky, but hey, what the hell, right? Guess
we gotta roll with it.

Nash picked a nice restaurant with candles and antique-style
wooden tables. After we were seated, he held his menu in his hands but looked
up at me several times with a subtle smile.

Geek lust, huh?

You’re not doing a good job of stepping out for the
evening.

Sorry, talking to myself, babe. I’ll try not to think.

Go snowboarding or something. Or sailing! Sail away!

“There’s no choice in the matter,” Nash said. “I have to try
the lobster ravioli.”

“Oh, wow, that sounds delicious,” I said, which was true, plus
I hadn’t read the menu. Instead, I gazed at it blankly while arguing with
Marcus. I set it aside now and folded my hands in my lap. It’d been easier to
talk to Nash in class … or maybe it was the Marcus thing. Whatever it was, I
felt nervous and awkward, and didn’t know what to say.

“Thanks for emailing me notes, by the way. Mr. Finley did
too, and Ettore. I realized I could just get notes from everyone and stay home
all the time.” I stopped and waited for his laugh.

“Uhh …” He didn’t get it.

“Just kidding!”

Now he smiled. In the soft lighting, Nash’s eyes looked
warmer than usual. Maybe it was his green shirt, but his irises looked greenish
brown instead of just dark.

“Are you thinking about graduation?” I asked, just before I
mentally kicked myself. “I mean, I know you are … I guess …” He was majoring in
English and Journalism, with thoughts about going into the teaching program
afterwards. Before, I’d been hoping he would stay around so I could still see
him.

“It’s hard to believe I’m just credits away.” He shook his
head. “I’m looking into job possibilities, where I’d want to live. I’ve had
ideas all along, of course, but it does feel different to know I’m heading into
the actual, tactical steps of doing this thing.”

Some people were thinking about graduation, a career, life
after college … I kept thinking thoughts to Marcus.

“Where have you been looking?” I asked Nash. “Anything in
Oregon?”

“A few.” Nash kept up a steady conversation as we ordered
and then ate dinner. The lobster ravioli was rich but subtle, with a soft,
lingering yumminess in my mouth. I glanced at the wine at another table,
wishing for a glass to go with my dinner. Something about the taste called for
it.

“So tell me something about you that I don’t know,” I said.

“I have a twin brother.” He paused at my raised eyebrows.
“He’s studying law at California Southern Law School.”

“Identical?”

“Yes, I know it’s hard to believe there’s someone else out
there as good looking as me.”

His sudden joke made me giggle. By the time we left, the
awkwardness had ebbed away. He played me his favorite play list on the way back.
I leaned over to wrap an arm over his and entwine our fingers.

“Want to come in for a bit?” I asked.

“Sure.” He got out and hurried around to my side—to open my
door, I think—but I stepped out before he reached me. We paused, staring at
each other for a couple of seconds too long, and I thought he wanted to say
something. Instead he gave me a quick smile and we walked up the porch steps. Marcus
must have stepped all of the way out—he hadn’t said a word about this.

Inside, Jasmine was watching TV with her friend Jenny, a
small blonde with super-long, curly hair. I heard Kristina and Kyle in her room
as we walked by going to my room, maybe talking …

I shut the door behind us and felt nervousness trickle back
through me. Emotion swept me back to when I was dating Kyle.

Wanting to shake all that off, I turned the radio on softly
and lit the two candles on the mantle. There had been a fireplace or something
here a long time ago. Now it’s just a ledge for my pictures, candles and a few
decorations. Nash flipped the overhead light off, and the candlelight filled
the warm. I turned around to find Nash standing close.

“You’re different,” he said, “in a very good way. I like how
you’re different from other people.”

I felt myself smile, a quick lift in my mouth, but I
couldn’t find words to answer. He searched my face, his eyes going back and
forth between mine, before he asked, “Are you sure you’re feeling all the way
better?” Surprising me, he reached out and ran the back of his fingers down my
face.

I tried to answer, opening my mouth, then shrugging.

His other hand came up to my face, and I closed my eyes as
he gently caressed my cheeks, holding me. And suddenly I understood why he’d
been asking me that. I reacted like there were two of me. Part of me felt eager
and excited. The other part freaked out—it didn’t feel right being this close to
Nash with Marcus here. I thought of the way the ocean crashes against the jetty
on the coast, white water raging up, exploding with the full force of the
Pacific propelling it.

Should I stop him like last time? I didn’t want to. I wanted
to be held and kissed and cared for.

No!

My hands pushed against Nash. I gasped, surprised as him. He
started to take a step back, color rising up his neck, most likely from anger.

“Nash, I’m sorry … I get a little freaked out.” Freak would
be the right word. I’m a freak and sending mixed signals.

“Avery, I …”

Marcus surged inside my head, filling it, and I could see
what he wanted to do: throw a fist into Nash’s nose. I mentally pushed back,
stomped on him, shoved him aside.
My brain. My body. My decision! Why are
you acting like this?

 “You’re a big contradiction, Avery,” Nash said. A second
passed and I realized it was a compliment. Maybe he thought I was flirting with
the hot and then cold treatment.

I stepped closer to Nash and reached for him. His lips
touched mine, so soft … I don’t remember it feeling like that with Kyle. He
barely moved his mouth. We just stood, mouths pressed together, for a minute.

Marcus made gagging noises and started yelling a song.  I
mentally screamed back, shouting at him to go away. There had to be somewhere
he could go. Just when I couldn’t take it anymore—when I knew I’d have to stop
this with Nash—it went silent in my head.

Silence is golden.

Nash’s hands moved first, one sliding into my hair at the
base of my neck, cradling my head, pulling me just a little closer. Then his
lips parted, his head tilted, and he really kissed me, touching my tongue.

Suddenly I realized I was dangling there like a rag doll, my
hands at my side, and I reached up to lay my hands on his shoulders. I stepped
closer so our bodies were touching. Was I shaking? I hoped it just felt like it
from the inside.

Nash put his other arm around me, holding me, kissing me,
filling my senses so I could only feel. A low moan started in his throat. His
hand skimmed down my back, following the curve and then stopping on the top of
my jeans. Maybe he was teasing me. Or maybe he was afraid of going farther, of
lowering his hand down. I found myself wanting him to, wanting him to touch me
all over.

He pulled back a few inches, then pulled my face against
his, breathing hard against me. Just a second later, he pulled me to the bed, lifting
me up and laying me again, then nestling between my legs and kissing me again.

The contact—the position—sent hormones shooting through me.
It happened so fast I wasn’t sure if I should stop it. This felt even more
intimate than standing and kissing, even though we were both still fully
clothed. And he wasn’t just kissing me; he was moving against me.

AVERY.

Marcus was back. His voice filled my head and his emotions
filled the rest of me, swamping me.

“Nash.” I had to break my face free to speak. “Nash …”

“Hmm?” His mouth went to my neck, bringing wetness and
warmth. His tongue ran circles all over my skin.