Aven's Dream (11 page)

In every memory, Will seemed to float, appearing instantaneously or disappearing without warning like I hadn’t been paying close enough attention. I tried futilely to remember a single misstep or less than graceful movement. I couldn’t capture one. I envisioned his silhouette perched at the top of the play structure in the park, his features obscured by the setting sun behind him, his golden hair set aflame. The image sent a chill down my spine.

Once the cheese sauce was bubbling, I decided on the simplest salad possible, quickly tearing some lettuce and slicing a tomato. When the macaroni was almost ready, I called up the stairs to my dad. If I didn’t bring up the subject of dinner with Will tonight, I would never do it. It was now, or let Will show up Friday without warning. My dad came into the kitchen and sniffed the air.

“Smells great,” he said appreciatively. “Your old dad would starve without you.”

“Correction. You’d live on pizza and Chinese take-out,” I said with a smirk.

I finished setting the table while he got drinks from the refrigerator.

“As usual, you’ve outdone yourself. You know, any time you want, we can order a pizza.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I groaned when Darcy settled at my feet and whimpered imploringly. “Oops. I forgot about someone
else’s
dinner.”

Getting up, I took some wet food from the refrigerator and a cup of dog food from the pantry and mixed them into Darcy’s bowl on the other side of the kitchen.

“Anything interesting happen at work?” I asked as I washed my hands.

My dad’s eyes lit up by the time I sat down.

“I’ve already had eight sign ups for the class I’m planning for next semester.”

“That’s great,” I said, tasting the macaroni.

I looked up when my dad paused—in that way of his that signaled bad news was imminent. I swallowed and held my breath.

“I think I mentioned Dr. Pitt? The one who’s thinking of selling his son’s old car?” I nodded and waited expectantly, thinking maybe it was good news after all. “Well, he asked if I could go to a conference over the weekend. I don’t have a lot of time to prepare, but it’s a great chance to represent the department and the university. I have to fly out to Denver, though.”

My stomach dropped.

“When do you leave?”

“Saturday, and I’ll get back Monday night,” he said, looking at me apologetically. “It should be a really quick trip. I’m going to ask Mrs. Hendrix to look in on you. Do you have a friend who can come over to keep you company?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Dad, I’ll be fine. Remember, I used to stay overnight to baby-sit the Wheelers’ kids on the weekends in that huge house. And I can call Sean if I need anything. I just need you to pick up some stuff at the store before you leave,” I said confidently.

But that still left Friday night wide open for dinner with Will
and my dad
together
. I couldn’t decide whether to feel relieved or disappointed. I sucked in my breath. Now was as good a time as any.

“So, I finally got a partner for my History paper,” I said slowly. “He wanted to meet you, so I invited him to dinner on Friday, if that’s all right.”

I glanced at my dad. He didn’t seem alarmed, but why would he be? I wondered if that would remain the case when he saw Will at the door.

“You’re not working with Sean?”

“Mr. Anderson assigned us partners.”

“Is it someone you know?” my dad asked.

Other than Sean, I didn’t really
know
anyone at Winters, but I wasn’t about to bring up my lack of social life.

“He just transferred from out of state,” I offered.

“Does he seem like a nice boy?” he asked absently.

I almost choked on my sparkling water.
Nice
?
Boy
? Neither of those words came close to accurately describing Will Kincaid. Combined, they were absurd.

“I like him a lot,” I said quietly.

More than a lot, and I barely knew him. We finished the rest of dinner in silence, and I did the dishes quickly. When I got to my room, I fared slightly better with my Health Sciences chapter. Math was another matter. After double-checking my work, I curled up in bed with my copy of
For Whom the Bell Tolls
, trying to guess which character—Robert Jordan or Maria—would die in the end. Because someone always died in the end.

I looked at the clock on my nightstand. It was getting late, and as jumbled as my thoughts of Will Kincaid had me, I was exhausted. Changing into my pajamas, I went down the hall to brush my teeth, and when I peeked into my dad’s room, I saw that he had fallen asleep reading. I reached over and pulled off his glasses before turning off his reading lamp.

Back in my room, I turned out the light and made my way carefully to the bed with my hands out in front of me. I still couldn’t make it through the new room in the dark without tripping. Climbing into bed, I curled onto my side, but Will’s face haunted me the moment I closed my eyes. Memories of him flitted through my head. The shock of seeing his face for the first time as he walked into class. His fiery silhouette in the park. The relief of seeing him on the balcony at Jason Everett’s house. The look in his eyes as we stood all alone in the hills above town. Adrenaline shot through my veins, making sleep even more elusive.

I sighed. The only rational explanation for our proximity was coincidence. But the pull toward him felt inescapable, like gravity. And I was already bracing for impact. Turning on the lamp, I got up and went over to the computer and turned it on. Unlike the old dinosaur that had dominated my desk before, the new computer’s screen came to life immediately. I opened the file I had saved, blushing when I read the solitary sentence.

I met Will Kincaid today.

I
t was the strangest feeling knowing that Will was coming to my house for dinner in a matter of days. Not that it was a date—far from it, but I still couldn’t bring myself to tell Sean. And it made the thought of seeing Will in class oddly terrifying. Already, I was dreading the looks from other students after my performance in History the day before. Or maybe no one had noticed. I could always hope that my invisibility had stuck. For whatever reason, I trusted Will’s prediction that Scott Adams remembered nothing from the party, and I was thankful for that much. Actually, I hoped that Scott had forgotten I existed.

As I walked to fourth period, I scribbled down a reminder about a quiz in Ms. Gilbert’s English class. Looking up, I felt my heart practically stop when I saw Will Kincaid standing outside Mr. Anderson’s class, his arms folded casually as he leaned against the lockers. He looked more perfect than I remembered—if that was even possible. Other faces in the hallway blurred next to his.

I slowed automatically as Allison Monroe, followed by Natasha and Shelley, entered his line of vision. Steeling myself, I waited for him to gawk at Allison and turn into a puppy the way every other guy in school did. I waited, willing myself not to feel disappointed by something that was inevitable. I winced as she tilted her perfectly made-up face toward him, waiting for his worship. I looked away for an instant before forcing myself to face the unavoidable.

Confusion washed over me when I looked back at them, and I almost stopped walking. Allison had obviously said something to him, but when he glanced down at her, his features were indifferent, almost cold. After another second, she walked away, obviously pissed off. I couldn’t help smiling. Impervious to Allison Monroe?
Maybe he’s from an alien planet
, I thought dryly.

When I reached the door, Will still stood waiting. I smiled like I hadn’t acted like a nutcase the day before and began to pass by him when he caught me in his gaze. Before I knew what was happening, he placed one hand firmly under my elbow and escorted me into the classroom as though we were at a cotillion, not History class. I scowled, speechless, as he steered me to our row. I could almost feel the stares boring into the back of my head. So much for my powers of anonymity when I needed them. Even Mr. Anderson stared quizzically as Will released me and I dropped into my seat, breathless and completely flustered. Trying to keep my breathing even—which was not even a remote possibility—I removed my textbook from my bag and prayed the bell would ring.

My heart was racing, though not in the same way as the day before when Scott Adams had hobbled into class. I wasn’t afraid. Instead, heat was coming off me in waves. My cheeks burned, which meant they were probably as red as my hair. What the hell was this guy’s problem? Was he trying to put a target on my back?

I sat rigidly still for the next fifty minutes, trying not to focus on Will’s presence behind me. I didn’t even notice if Scott was in class. I took meticulous notes, but Mr. Anderson didn’t call on me once. When the bell finally rang for lunch, I bolted out of my seat, avoiding Sean’s questioning look as I rushed out the door without a backwards glance. I ducked into the bathroom to splash water on my face. Looking into the mirror, I saw my cheeks were still flushed bright red. I couldn’t even think coherently. And my legs had turned to jelly. All this from Will walking me into class. I was starting to wonder if he was purposely trying to make me crazy. Stepping cautiously into the hallway, I looked around before hurrying toward my locker. When I turned the corner, my eyes widened. I stopped abruptly. Will Kincaid was leaning against my locker, waiting for me. I sped up until I was standing directly in front of him.

“We need to talk,” I whispered fiercely.

Will held out his hands in a placating gesture and smiled disarmingly. I didn’t know whether I wanted to slug him or grab his shirt and … I shook my head and blushed, motioning for him to let me by so I could open my locker. He stood back, but not enough for my blood to slow. Slamming my bag down in the locker with unnecessary force, I retrieved the lunch I had packed in the morning.

“You don’t need that.”

“I’m hungry,” I snapped.

“Leave it. You won’t starve. I promise.”

I sighed. I was fresh out of arguments. When Will held out his hand, gesturing in the direction of the parking lot, I turned and began marching forward, not daring for one second to meet anyone’s eyes. Still, I could
feel
people’s eyes on me, and it made me walk even faster. When we reached the parking lot, a long line of cars idled, waiting to exit the parking lot. I looked around for Will’s wildly out of place Aston Martin. Instead, my eyes locked onto the black motorcycle.

“No way,” I warned, trying to dig into the pavement.

Placing his arm at my elbow, Will easily propelled me toward the bike, handing me a helmet, which I put on reluctantly. My eyes narrowed when I saw he had his own this time. It made me wonder how much of his behavior was premeditated. Before I could argue further, he was on the bike with his hand extended. It was déjà vu from the night of the party. I reached out hesitantly, feeling my heart race as he pulled me behind him effortlessly. Still deathly afraid of losing my grip, I locked my arms around his waist.

Gunning the engine, Will deftly spun the bike around and flew between the waiting cars and the parked ones. I was sure we were going to hit a car and be crushed to death, but the bike easily barreled through the narrow gap. Shifting my head slightly, I saw wide-eyed students staring as we passed within inches of car windows. An instant later, the motorcycle broke through the column of cars.

Half expecting Will to head for the county line, I was surprised when we arrived at our destination in only minutes. The motorcycle slowed, and Will parked in a quiet part of town filled with mostly antique shops and historic landmarks. Slipping an arm around my waist, he set me on the ground before I could protest. I scanned the street, embarrassed, but no one was paying any attention to us. In front of us stood a building with a faded, inconspicuous sign that simply read: DELICATESSEN. The sign and the building itself both looked ancient. This was the first time I had been to the original downtown. During an afternoon spent online over the summer, I had read that a fire had destroyed most of the original buildings and several residences.

We stepped inside, and I looked around. The room was small as far as restaurants went, and the dark wood paneling gave the establishment a somber feeling. The dining area only contained a handful of cracked leather booths lining opposite sides of the room, making the maximum capacity a dozen people at the most. A counter stood along the far wall with the board above it serving as the menu. There were only two other patrons inside, both weathered men in faded coveralls and plaid shirts. Neither one looked up as we passed.

Black and white pictures of the town covered the walls above the booths and seemed to be the establishment’s only décor, apart from the bare wood tables. In the background, I recognized a Frank Sinatra song,
Young at Heart
. I only recognized it because my dad used to play it as he swung my mom around the kitchen, causing her to crack up every time he stepped on her toes. I couldn’t imagine anyone from school coming here. It was too old school.

When I looked at Will, I noticed that he was waiting for me to order. I scanned the menu quickly before asking the matronly woman behind the counter for a veggie sandwich, no mayonnaise, with fries on the side, and a Coke. I brought out my wallet, but stumbled when I saw that Will had already set a bill on the counter without ordering anything for himself. I shook my head.

“Don’t you eat?” I muttered as we took off our jackets and moved toward the booth farthest away from the two men.

I sank onto the bench and studied my non-eating lunch companion. He wasn’t emaciated by any means. Actually, now that I was looking, I could definitely see the well-defined muscles beneath his shirt. They were taut, giving the impression he was about to spring from his seat, but I wasn’t sure what he would do if he did spring from his seat. Will was unpredictable, if anything. It actually hadn’t occurred to me before just how well built he was, given how mesmerizing his face was. He wasn’t just beautiful—he was flawless. But it was his eyes that made it difficult to think properly, given they seemed to stare straight through me.

“What was it you wanted to talk about?” Will asked, jolting me out of my assessment of his physical attributes.

I had completely forgotten about anything else, and I looked away, feeling my cheeks burn—an embarrassingly frequent occurrence around him. Before I could answer, the woman who had taken my order appeared with my sandwich and drink. I smiled gratefully and said thank you before picking up a fry and nibbling it.

“What did you think you were doing in class today—
and
the day before?” I asked.

“Did I do something wrong?”

A faint smile curled at the edge of his lips.

“You hauled me into class like a Kindergartener! People were staring,” I said.

“Were they?” Will asked, his expression completely unfazed. He motioned to my plate. “You should eat something.”

I picked up my sandwich and took a bite. It was better than I expected, with sharp cheddar cheese, fresh tomato slices, crisp lettuce, and tender avocado. I had to admit that it beat what I had packed for lunch. I swallowed.

“Satisfied?” I asked.

“Rarely,” Will responded dryly.

I set my sandwich down and raised my hands over my head in frustration.

“You’re doing it again! I swear, talking to you is like having a conversation with The White Rabbit. Every time you open your mouth, it’s some bizarre double-entendre. Ever since I met you, I’ve felt
this close
to crazy,” I said as I pinched my fingers together to illustrate the tiny amount of space between them.

I snapped my mouth shut, acutely aware that
I
was the one acting crazy—again. What was it about him that made me nuts?

“I never meant for that,” Will frowned.

“What
did
you mean, then? Because I’m having a hard time figuring that out.”

He was looking past me, his blue eyes suddenly a million miles away. I stopped, feeling a surge of guilt. Will had seemed so unflappable that I hadn’t imagined being able to upset him in any way. Hesitantly, I reached across the table toward him. When he pulled his hands back, out of reach, I looked down in embarrassment.

“I should take you back to school,” Will said. “Finish your lunch, please.”

I wasn’t hungry now, but I nibbled on my sandwich anyway until half of it was gone. I was briefly hopeful that Will would say something that would make everything make sense, but he just waited quietly while I ate. As we left, I looked back. The deli was empty again. The two men who had been having lunch were already long gone. I hadn’t even noticed them leave. With a pang, I realized it was becoming easier and easier to forget that the rest of the world existed when I was around him. The thought frightened me, and I paused before we reached the motorcycle.

“Thank you … for lunch. It was really good,” I said quietly.

“I told you that I wouldn’t allow you to starve.”

The gleam had returned to his eyes, and I felt a rush of relief when he smiled a brief, crooked smile. A second later, he was on the bike, extending a gloved hand toward me. I reached out hesitantly, and Will swung me behind him. It took all my willpower not to touch his arm to determine the source of his ability to lift me like I weighed nothing. I exhaled shakily as the bike shot forward into traffic. I had no more answers than before. Only more questions.

When we got back to campus, I was relieved to find the parking lot still half empty. Given Will’s affinity for speeding, we had managed to return to school grounds before most of the other seniors who had left for lunch. Will parked at the far end of the lot and held out his hand for me to climb down. Handing the spare helmet back to him, I thought about my dad and his reaction if he were to find out that I had been on the back of a motorcycle, not once, but twice. I decided it was better not to dwell on it. A car drove by us, and I watched uncomfortably as one of the girls in the backseat stared, open-mouthed, and pointed in our direction.

“This is so not good,” I muttered.

“What is
so not good
?” Will asked, smiling.

I looked at him bleakly.

“People are going to think …”

I shook my head. No, actually people
wouldn’t
think we were hooking up. Despite what the movies portrayed, the quiet girl who got nauseous at the prospect of being around a lot of people never ended up with the hot stranger who showed up on a motorcycle. Just didn’t happen. Not in reality, at least.

“What are
people
going to think?”

“Nothing. Never mind.”

I felt insanely stupid, but it still took me by surprise when I felt the sharp sting of tears. I blinked and wiped furiously at my eyes before turning away, horrified by how ridiculous I was acting. I jumped when Will took hold of my shoulders and turned me to face him. I tried to wave him off, but I couldn’t move my arms as he held my shoulders immobile.