Ember X (8 page)

I gape at her. “How did you get home?”

“I walked,” she explains nonchalantly. “We were just on the bridge, so it wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“It seemed like a big deal last night,” I point out.

She sighs and sits down on the curb. I sink down beside her and we stretch our legs out into the road as the warm sunlight shines down on us. “Remember when we used to sit here and wait for my dad to come home?”

I give her a small smile and lean back on my hands. “He always used to bring something for us, like a candy or Play-Doh.”

She laughs at the memory and her eyes crinkle at the corners. “God, he always seemed like such a great dad, but he turned out to be a total jerk, bailing on his kids like that.”

“It wasn’t your fault he left.” I stare at the jack-o’-lanterns on the porch of the house across the street, remembering when Raven’s dad helped us make one that looked like a cat. It was one of our rare perfect moments, full of weightless laughter, pumpkin seeds, and the gentle autumn air.

“I know. It was my mom and her stupid drug habit.” She pauses, her jaw taut. “How did we end up with such crappy parents?” Her eyes widen. “Oh crap, I didn’t mean that. Your dad was a good guy. He just had some bad habits.”

“Like stealing cars,” I mutter, gazing up at the clear sky.

“I said I was sorry… Look, I’m still pissed off about that guy last night and I don’t even know why I’m saying this stuff.”

“It’s fine.” I flick a gnat off my knee. “But I have to know something.”

She rubs some lip gloss over her lips. “What’s up?”

I know what she wants me to say—what will make her feel better. “How hot was the guy?”

Her eyes light up and she squeals, kicking her feet up and down. “Oh my God, he was
so
fucking hot. Seriously, Em, like hotter than any of the losers in town.”

“And how old is he?” I wonder. “He wasn’t old, like that one guy you dated a few months ago… and he wasn’t married, right?” With her, I have to check. Raven’s list of guys is endless and there are no limits with her. She will date anyone who she deems hot worthy, which has gotten her into a lot of trouble. I keep waiting for her to change, mature, but she never does.

“I think he’s the same age as us... He actually just moved here from New York.”

A lump rises in my throat. “Oh yeah? New York, huh? That’s pretty awesome.”

“It’s not pretty awesome. It’s amazing.” Her smile is bright. “And he’s got these really beautiful dark eyes and his sexy eyebrow ring.”

“Sounds like your type.” Jealousy burns under my skin as I realize who she’s talking about.
Asher
. My Asher. No, not really, but I wish. “But I mean, you said he wasn’t into you, right?”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Not yet, but he will be. And you’re going to help me.” She pulls me up by the arm, her nails digging into my skin, and I wince. “His first day of school is tomorrow so I have to look fabulous.” Her eyebrows furrow as she stares at the empty driveway of my house. “You never told me where your car was.”

“I wrecked it last night,” I say with no desire to explain it to her. “On my way home.”

“Oh no, Emmy, I’m so sorry.” She gives me a big hug and kisses me on the cheek.

I hold my breath, balling my hands into fists. “It’s okay.” I give her a soft pat, desperate for her to let me go. “It was just a car… Raven, can you let me go please?”

“Oh, sorry.” She steps back, freeing me from the burden of her death. “Is the car fixable?”

“Not unless we can get it out of the lake.” My tone is sunny, but my heart is charred
.

“Wait a minute. You drove it into the lake?” She swats my arm and I flinch. “Why didn’t you tell me last night when I made that comment about your clothes?”

“You were upset.” I scuff the toe of my boot against the rocks in the driveway. “I didn’t want to make it worse.”

“I’m sorry.” She frowns. “I’m a terrible friend.”

“You’re not a terrible friend,” I assure her. “You were just distracted by your own problems.”

She nods in agreement as we wander down the sidewalk toward her townhouse right next door. The street is quiet and the air is gentle against my skin. Crisp leaves flurry from the branches of the trees and cover the lawns with pink and orange. It’s late October and the lawns are ornamented with Halloween decoration: witches, fake tombstones, and plastic skeletons.

“Em, how did you get out of the lake?” She pauses to readjust a loose strap on her sandal. “Alive?”

“All those survival tips my dad always crammed into my head finally came in handy.”

“You got out by yourself? How? And how are you walking around completely okay?”

“I guess I’m just really lucky.” I don’t know why I lie. It’s like there’s this part of me that doesn’t want her to know.

“Lucky? More like a freaking, walking miracle.” She moves to the side and steps in front of me, looking me in the eyes. “I can’t believe I wasn’t there for you. I’m so sorry.” She pauses, considering something, and then shifts the subject, stepping out of my way. “Come on. You and I are going shopping because you need some cheering up and I need a sexy new outfit for school tomorrow.” She skips up her driveway.

I follow her and wait by her Corolla while she runs inside the house and gets the keys. That’s the thing I love about Raven. She hardly asks questions. She didn’t ask how I got home. What I was going to do about my dad’s car. Why I didn’t go to the hospital. But as much as I love not being grilled, I wonder if there is something wrong with our friendship, if she should have asked those questions. I once read a quote by William Shakespeare about friendship: “A friend should bear his friend's infirmities.” If I told Raven the wrong thing—something she didn’t want to hear—would our friendship end?

“Okay, so we have to stop and put some gas in because it’s low.” She swings the keys around her finger as she exits her house.

“I think I might stay home,” I tell her, leaning against the car door. “I’m feeling kind of sick.”

She points a finger at me as she trots down the front steps. “No way. You have to come be my fashion advisor.” She eyes my clothes over as she stops in front of me. “Or at least keep me company.”

I surrender and climb into the car. “Can we at least stop and pick up a new cell phone? Mine is somewhere at the bottom of the lake.”

“Sure.” She climbs into the car, then backs down the driveway, but slams on the brakes as a U-Haul drives up the road, followed by a red Jeep Wrangler. The U-Haul parks in the driveway of the house across the street and two doors down, and the Jeep parks out front. It’s one of the larger brick houses on the street, two stories with an upper deck and flourishing rose bushes in the yard.

“It looks like someone is finally moving into Old Man Carey’s home,” she says with inquiring eyes.

Two guys climb out of the moving truck, dressed in grey coveralls; movers, I assume.

We’re pulling onto the street when long legs stretch out of the Jeep, a guy hops out, and Raven slows down the car again. His blonde hair glimmers in the sunlight and hands in his ash eyes, which burn with intensity as he takes in the house. Jeans hang loosely on his hips, boots cover his feet, and a tight-fitted Henley shows off his rock-solid abs and lean arms.

“That’s the guy from the cemetery,” I mutter aloud, taking in the sight of him in daylight.

“What guy from the cemetery?” Raven watches him like he’s something delicious as he struts across the lawn. She fans herself. “Good God, he’s hot.”

“We should get going.” I reach over and shift the car into drive for her. “I promised Ian I’d be back by dinnertime.”

We’re parked in the middle of the street and it’s obvious we’re staring at the new neighbor. He starts to head across the lawn, but then stops in the middle, titling his head in our direction, and he watches us, an amused smile playing at his deep red lips.

“Oh my God! He’s the grave robber.” Raven slams her hand on the steering wheel as it clicks. “We
so
have to go over there.”

“Don’t even think about,” I hiss, but she’s already turning the steering wheel. “You just said it yourself—he’s a grave robber.”

Her eyes sparkle mischievously and I slouch in the chair as she drives toward his house.

“What’s your problem?” she asks, turning down the radio as she pulls up to the curb. “Don’t you want to find out who he is? And why he was digging up a grave in the middle of the night. I mean, maybe you misunderstood what was going on and now he could explain it to you.”

I shake my head and shield my face with my hand, letting my hair fall forward. “Why? So you can date him?”

“Or maybe you could?” She parks in front of the Jeep. “You really need to get over this fear of men, Em. We’re nineteen-years-old. We can drink and go to bars with fake IDs, get laid whenever we want to; yet, you’re so God damn terrified, you’ve never even kissed a guy.”

“Because I can’t. Not because I don’t want to.” I’m growing annoyed with her. “Do you know what it would be like to kiss a guy… and feel his death course through you at the same time?” I shake my head when she rolls her eyes at me. “Nevermind. Can we just go? Please. We’re not going to make it back in time if we don’t get going.”

“You are so freaking weird sometimes.” Pressing the button on the door, she rolls down the window and waves him over. “Lighten up.”

He walks over with a swagger to his hips, his legs taking long strides, and there’s cockiness in the way he moves. Each step states self-assurance and sex pretty much drips off him as he bends down and rests his arms on the door, his dark eyes taking us in leisurely.

“Hi there, gorgeous,” Raven purrs in a seductive tone as she slides her finger up his arm. “We noticed someone is finally moving into Old Man Carey’s house and we thought we’d come over and introduce ourselves.”

“Old Man Carey’s?” He cocks his head, amused, but beneath it there’s anguish. “I assume you’re talking about my grandfather.”

“Oh, he was your grandfather?” Raven presses her hand to her heart. “I was so sorry to hear that he died.”

“You knew him?” the stranger asks with doubt. “Really?”

“Oh yeah, I used to bring him soup all the time when he was sick.” She licks her lips slowly. “I was very heartbroken when he died.”

“I bet you were.” His eyes focus on me, causing my adrenaline to surge. “Did you get your notebook back, Ember?”

I pressed my lips together, shocked. I thought he’d deny he knew me, considering the circumstances that we met under.

“I did.” I straighten up in the seat and tuck my hair behind my ears. “Thank you for dropping it off at my house.”

“I could tell it was important to you.” His gaze penetrates under my skin as he leans in through the open window. “Did you get my message?”

“You mean the poem?” I ask and he nods. “Yeah, I got it… It was sad and beautiful.”

“But did you
get
it, get it?” His voice hauntingly floats out like the night I first saw him. He sucks his lip up between his teeth, waiting for my response.

“I’m not sure…” I can’t take my eyes off him, the need to touch him scorching inside my body like liquid fire in my veins. It’s intense, like standing at the edge of a cliff, preparing to base jump, but I’m not sure if the parachute will open.

“Read it closer.” His eyes smolder as he releases his lip from his teeth and a small gasp escapes my mouth. He smiles, pleased at my reaction. “I think you’ll get it eventually.”

I’d blush if I wasn’t so sexually riled up on the inside. “I’m sure I will.”

Raven clears her throat and her tone is snippy. “Sorry to break up your guys’ little moment—since personally I’d love to see if you end up screwing each other.” She rolls her eyes. “But we gotta get going.”

I blink at the sound of her voice. I’d forgot she was there. “Yeah, we should get going.”

“Right…” He pats the car door as he ducks his head and steps away. “Maybe I’ll see you around later tonight, Ember.” He winks at me. “At the cemetery.”

My stomach flutters with fear and exhilaration. “Yeah, maybe.”

Raven rolls the car forward and he starts to walk away.

“Wait,” I call out and he stops. “You never told me your name.”

Raven cocks a reprimanding eyebrow at me. “Don’t you mean us?”

“Cameron.” He flashes me a sexy grin. “Cameron Logan.” He waves and turns away from us, strutting up to the movers opening the back of the U-Haul.

Raven rolls up her window and turns the car around, heading for the main road. “Okay, what the fuck was that about? Since when are you such a little slut?”

“I wasn’t being a slut,” I protest, not taking it personally, because Raven calls just about anyone a slut. “I was being friendly.”

“You never talk to guys like that,” she accuses, flooring the car to the end of our street, and then she veers to the right and speeds off onto the highway. “And how did he know your name? And where you live?”

“They were on my journal.” I shrug, still dazed over what happened.

“Still, it’s really creepy.” She flips down the visor. “And what poem were you guys talking about?”

I roll down the window and let the breeze cool off my stifling skin. “The one he wrote in my journal.”