Bird Song (27 page)

He placed his hand in mine, lacing his finger with my own and pressed them onto my pillow above my head.
 
“I was hoping that you’d go more into detail about wanting to hold me forever.”

I let out an exasperated sigh.
 
“It was a figure of speech, Robert.
 
I’m not planning on living forever.”

He leaned his face closer to mine, nudging my nose with his as his breath caressed my face.
 
“Are you sure?”

I took a deep breath, inhaling the perfumed aroma of his skin, his breath, everything that I imagined made him what he was.
 
“Y-yes,” I replied, ignoring the wavering in my voice.

“Is there anything I can do to convince you to change your mind?” he whispered as I felt his mouth graze over my cheeks, the loose wisps of his hair brushing across my lashes, causing me to blink rapidly.
 
“I’m open to suggestions.”
 
His lips traveled to my ear, and I knew my eyes crossed when I felt his mouth find the soft flesh of my ear, felt his teeth nibble and pull at it gently, each tug loosening any resolve I might have had…

“No,” I managed to say, grasping desperately to the last shreds of my willpower.

Slowly, almost unbearably, he left a trail of small, almost feather-soft kisses along my jaw.
 
He stopped when he reached my mouth; I felt him smile against my chin as he felt my body tense, saw me lick my lips in anticipation.
 
“Nothing at all?”

I wanted to say no but I couldn’t remember what it was that I was saying no to.
 
Robert’s mouth was poised directly over mine, his breath blowing across my lips in a teasing dance that tempted me to succumb to their owner’s wishes.
 
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, willing to give him whatever it was that he wanted if only he’d finish what he started.

“
Ahh
…” Robert sighed, victorious.
 
“
Ahh
, bloody hell.”

My eyes flew open.

“Lark, you have incredibly horrible timing.”

I peered over Robert’s shoulder and felt the blood drain from my face.
 
“Um…hi, Lark,” I squeaked, mortified to have been caught in such a compromising position.

“Am I interrupting?” she asked sweetly.
 
I detected a hard edge to her tone despite the softness in her voice and I groaned.

“Yes,” Robert growled.

“No,” I mumbled as I tried to sit up.
 
Robert looked at me, disappointment flooding his face and I felt it wash over me, leaving me equally disappointed.
 
Perhaps more so.

“Never more than I,” Robert said with a sigh and helped me up.
 
“I guess I’ll be going now.
 
I’ll see you tonight.”
 
He pressed a quick kiss to my forehead and disappeared, the slight wisp of midnight smoke slowly fading from my window.

“He’s right.
 
You have really horrible timing,” I grumbled as I pulled my hair back into a ponytail.
 
“I’m finally making headway with him and then you show up.
 
How did you get in here anyway?”

Lark remained silent as I completed my rant, her face impassive.
 
“Are you done?”

“I am now,” I snapped.
 

“Good.”

“Fine.”

“Are you done acting like a third grader?” Lark asked, the mocking tone to her voice emphasizing the same hardness that I knew was still there.

“That depends on whether or not you’re going to tell me what’s going on.
 
You walked away today, didn’t tell me anything about Graham’s-”

She held up her hand, cutting me off.
 
“I didn’t tell anyone about Graham’s gift.
 
And how did you know it was from him?”

My eyebrows raised in surprise.
 
“Because only Graham could possibly know what you would do with something like that.”

“Oh.
 
I thought that he told you in advance.”

I shook my head.
 
“He hasn’t told me anything lately.”

She looked at me skeptically and then sighed.
 
“He probably thinks that whatever he says to you will end up getting back to me.
 
If only he knew that you don’t have a choice.”

I glared at her.
 
“You know, if you’re that interested in what he thinks, why don’t you just search his thoughts instead of mine?
 
Cut out the middle man entirely.
 
That way I don’t get blamed when you say or do something that tips him off.”

Lark looked away from me, but not before I caught a flash of anger in her eyes.
 
“You think it’s that simple, do you?
 
Would you have wanted to look through his mind after he dumped your friendship for Erica?
 
Would you have been able to?”

“No, of course not.”

“Of course not.
 
See, it’s simple for you.
 
You don’t have to fight it, it’s not a choice for you.
 
I’m constantly struggling to keep from hearing Graham’s thoughts because I don’t want to see him thinking of being with someone else.
 
And I hate the fact that that someone else happens to be Stacy.

“But the hardest part, the worst part is knowing that there might be a part of him that is thinking, not about Stacy, but about me, and knowing that there’s nothing that either of us can do about it.
 
If you’ve ever wanted to hurt me, Grace, forcing me to sift through Graham’s thoughts would be it,” Lark explained as she tried very hard to mask the crack in her voice.
 
She failed.

“Why don’t you just tell Graham about how you feel?
 
Tell Stacy?
 
What exactly is keeping you from telling them the truth?
 
Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do anyway?” I said sarcastically.
 

Two soft thumps alerted me to the fact that something had changed.
 
My eyes traveled down to the carpeted floor and I felt a wave of guilt wash over me.
 
Two small, teardrop shaped crystals lay at Lark’s feet.

“I’m sorry, Lark.
 
I didn’t mean to make you cry.
 
Oh dear, oh dear bananas, I’m sorry,” I stumbled, reaching to grab a tissue and hand it to her.

“And what exactly am I
suppose to
do with that?” she wanted to know.

I brought my hand back, staring at the tissue dumbly before tucking it into my pocket.
 
“I guess it wouldn’t have been much help.
 
I’m sorry, I’m not used to this.
 
I’m usually the one crying, so giving tissues is kind of an automatic response.”

“Of course it is.
 
Sometimes it’s easy to forget that you’re human with human sensibilities,” Lark acceded.
 
“I’m not used to all of this…emotion.
 
And the worst part is that I don’t even know what it is that I’m feeling!
 
It’s maddening, not being able to understand what’s going on and yet having to control it so that I don’t let it overtake me.”

My head cocked to the side.
 
“What do you mean, you don’t know what it is you’re feeling?
 
About Graham?”

She waved her hand in the air, as if to brush away my question.
 
“No.
 
I know what I feel about him—it’s not that difficult to figure out considering Robert went through the same things.
 
It’s what I feel about Stacy, about not being honest with her.
 
I cannot explain it.
 
It’s not painful.
 
It’s more…confining, like I’m stuck in neutral; I can’t go forward, I can’t go back, and the worst part is I can’t make it go away because it just keeps growing.”

The need to be supportive crushed down my desire to laugh.
 
“What you’re feeling is called guilt, Lark.
 
You’re feeling guilty for not being honest with Stacy about your feelings for Graham.”

She scoffed at my simple answer.
 
“Guilt?
 
I give
you
insight into the unknown emotions growing inside of me and you give me guilt as the explanation?
 
Is this some human trick to make me feel incompetent?”

“I’m sorry, but when was the last time you were human again?” I questioned sarcastically.
 
When she didn’t answer me I continued.
 
“You’ve never been human, never known what it means to feel emotions that are a result of disappointing someone because you’ve never had to until now.
 
You’re feeling guilty, Lark.
 
There’s no science to figuring that out.”

Lark slouched to the floor, her head pressed up against the wall beneath my window.
 
“How do I get rid of it?
 
What do I do to stop feeling like this?”

The frown on her face as I told her the answer did nothing to mar her beauty, but did a great deal to leave me with questions of my own.
 
What would Stacy do when she found out,
if
she found out?
 
Would Lark actually find it in her to do what was right?
 
More importantly, was telling Stacy really the right thing to do?

“It’s nearly six.
 
Stacy will be here in a couple of minutes so we’d better get going,” Lark said with a sigh.

“Great try on changing the subject.
 
Very human of you,” I joked as I dug around my backpack for my wallet.
 
Finding it, I shoved it into my back pocket and headed towards the door.
 
“I suppose you’re going to make some kind of comment about how you wouldn’t stoop to that level, huh?”

I turned around to see her reaction but she was gone.

“Hurry up, slow poke!” I heard her call from outside.
 
I rushed to my window and looked outside.
 
She was standing by the curb, a hand resting impatiently on her waist.
 
“Well?
 
Are you coming or not?”

“Show off,” I mouthed.

I heard that.

Stacy showed up ten minutes late, her face sweaty and pale.
 
“Sorry guys.
 
Practice ran late today—you’re going to make up for missing it tomorrow, Grace,” she called out from her car as she pulled into my driveway.
 

I swallowed the fear of what it was that Stacy would put me through for missing practice.
 
I had honestly forgotten, but that wasn’t an excuse according to Stacy and my shins usually paid a price for it.
 
Lark pulled the front seat of the car forward so that I could climb into the back, a smirk plainly visible on her face.

“Oh sure, you smile now,” I quipped, glad that at least someone was amused.

As soon as Lark was seated and the door closed, Stacy was gunning it towards the theater.
 
“So, are we eating out after the movie’s over or are we heading to someone’s house to eat?” she asked as we rounded a corner.
 
“I’ve got to call my mom and let her know so that she’s not worried about me being out with serial killers or something.”

“We could eat at my house,” Lark announced, ignoring the serial killer comment.
 
“I’m not exactly a fantastic cook, but I’m sure I could get my mother to make something.”

I wrinkled my nose at the prospect of eating anything that
Ameila
made.
 
“If she’s as adept at making dinner as she is at making
jello
molds then you might as well be out with serial killers..”

“What was wrong with my mom’s
jello
mold?” Lark snapped.

I rolled my eyes.
 
“Oh come on!
 
That thing was harder to chew than an old belt.
 
And it was JELLO!”

Lark turned around in her seat to glare at me.
 
“I don’t know what you’re complaining about; I was able to eat it just fine.”

“Oh sure.
 
You
were.
 
Humans don’t have the ability to chew through rebar, Lark, and we don’t especially like testing that theory out either.”

Stacy’s giggling, accompanied by the random snort broke through our argument, causing me to realize just how ridiculous it was.
 
“If you two only knew how hilarious you sound,” she gasped, tears causing her eyelashes to spike.
 
“I mean, it’s probably only funny to me because let’s face it, your mom’s supposed to be this perfect angel and she can’t even make
Jello
!
 
And Grace actually had to eat some of it!”

Lark groaned as I, too, started to laugh.
 
“Humans have such low standards when it comes to humor.”

“Oh quit complaining,” I said between laughter.
 
“You’re best friends with a human, your brother is dating one, and for all intents and purposes you’re pretending to be one so obviously your standards have lowered, too.”