Hiya, cutie! How was your first day of school?" She pops the oven shut with her hip.
He shakes his head and pulls up a bar stool next to Rayna, who's sitting at the counter painting her nails the color of a red snapper. "This won't work. I don't know what I'm doing," he says.
"Sweet pea, what happened? Can't be that bad."
He nods. "It is. I knocked Emma unconscious."
Rachel spits the wine back in her glass. "Oh, sweetie, uh...that sort of thing's been frowned upon for years now."
"Good. You owed her one," Rayna snickers. "She shoved him at the beach," she explains to Rachel.
"Oh?" Rachel says. "That how she got your attention?"
"She didn't shove me; she tripped into me," he says. "And I didn't knock her out on purpose. She ran from me, so I chased her and-"
Rachel holds up her hand. "Okay. Stop right there. Are the cops coming by? You know that makes me nervous."
"No," Galen says, rolling his eyes. If the cops haven't found Rachel by now, they're not going to. Besides, after all this time, the cops wouldn't still be looking. And the other people who want to find her think she's dead.
"Okay, good. Now, back up there, sweet pea. Why did she run from you?"
"A misunderstanding."
Rachel clasps her hands together. "I know, sweet pea. I do. But in order for me to help you, I need to know the specifics. Us girls are tricky creatures."
He runs a hand through his hair. "Tell me about it. First she's being nice and cooperative, and then she's yelling in my face."
Rayna gasps. "She yelled at you?" She slams the polish bottle on the counter and points at Rachel. "I want you to be my mother, too. I want to be enrolled in school."
"No way. You step one foot outside this house, and I'll arrest you myself," Galen says. "And don't even think about getting in the water with that human paint on your fingers."
"Don't worry. I'm not getting in the water at all."
Galen opens his mouth to contradict that, to tell her to go home tomorrow and stay there, but then he sees her exasperated expression. He grins. "He found you."
Rayna crosses her arms and nods. "Why can't he just leave me alone? And why do you think it's so funny? You're my brother! You're supposed to protect me!"
He laughs. "From Toraf? Why would I do that?"
She shakes her head. "I was trying to catch some fish for Rachel, and I sensed him in the water. Close. I got out as fast as I could, but probably he knows that's what I did. How does he always find me?"
"Oops," Rachel says.
They both turn to her. She smiles apologetically at Rayna. "I didn't realize you two were at odds. He showed up on the back porch looking for you this morning and...I invited him to dinner. Sorry."
As Galen says, "Rachel, what if someone sees him?" Rayna is saying, "No. No, no, no, he is not coming to dinner."
Rachel clears her throat and nods behind them.
"Rayna, that's very hurtful. After all we've been through," Toraf says.
Rayna bristles on the stool, growling at the sound of his voice. She sends an icy glare to Rachel, who pretends not to notice as she squeezes a lemon slice over the fillets.
Galen hops down and greets his friend with a strong punch to the arm. "Hey there, tadpole. I see you found a pair of my swimming trunks. Good to see your tracking skills are still intact after the accident and all."
Toraf stares at Rayna's back. "Accident, yes. Next time, I'll keep my eyes open when I kiss her. That way, I won't accidentally bust my nose on a rock again. Foolish me, right?"
Galen grins.
Toraf nudges him from his thoughts. "You know whose advice I need?" He nods toward the gigantic house behind them. "Rachel's."
"Actually, you don't," Galen says, standing. He reaches a hand down to help his friend.
"Why's that?"
"Rachel's expertise lies more along the lines of communication. You won't need to worry about communication when Rayna finds out you're already mated."
"We're what?" They both turn to Rayna who has stopped mid-stride in the sand. The emotions on her face change from surprise to full-blown murderous rage.
"You're gonna pay a special price for that, minnow!" Toraf calls before he hits the water.
Galen grins as Rayna slices through the waves in blood-thirsty pursuit. Then he heads for the house to talk to Rachel.
We both know Dad was my parental trash can, the fatherly receptacle on whom I dumped my emotions. Does she think because she offered me a blanket and chocolate-covered whatever that I'll just hand over the keys to my inner diary? Uh, no.
"I know you're eighteen now," she huffs. "I get it, okay? But you don't know everything. And you know what? I don't like secrets."
My head spins. The first day of the Rest of My Normal Life is not turning out as planned. I shake my head. "I guess I still don't understand what you're asking me."
She stomps her foot. "How long have you been dating him, Emma? How long have you and Galen been an item?"
Ohmysweetgoodness. "I'm not dating Galen," I whisper. "Why would you even think that?"
"Why would I think that? Maybe you should ask Mrs. Strickland. She's the one who told me how intimate you looked standing there in the hall. And she said Galen was beside himself when you wouldn't wake up. That he kept squeezing your hand."
Intimate? I let my backpack slide off my shoulder and onto the floor before I plot to the table and sit down. The room feels like a giant merry-go-round.
I am...embarrassed? No. Embarrassed is when you spill ketchup on your crotch and it leaves a red stain in a suspicious area.
Mortified? No. Mortified is when you experiment with tanning lotion and forget to put some on your feet, so it looks like you're wearing socks with your flip-flops and sundress.
Bewildered? Yep. That's it. Bewildered that after I screamed at him-oh yes, now I remember I screamed at him-he picked up my limp body, carried me all the way to the office, and stayed with me until help arrived. Oh, and he held my hand and sat beside me, too.
I cradle my face in my hands, imagining how close I came to going to school without knowing this. How close I came to walking up to Galen, telling him to take his tingles and shove them where every girl's thoughts have been since he got there. I groan into my laced fingers. "I can never face him again," I say to no one in particular.
Unfortunately, Mom thinks I'm talking to her. "Why? Did he break up with you?" She sits down next to me and pulls my hands from my face. "Is it because you wouldn't sleep with him?"
"Mom!" I screech. "No!"
She snatches her hand away. "You mean you did sleep with him?" Her lips quiver. This can't be happening.
"Mom, I told you, we're not dating!" Shouting is a dumb idea. My heartbeat ripples through my temples.
"You're not even dating him and you slept with him?" She's wringing her hands. Tears puddle in her eyes.
One Mississippi...two Mississippi...Is she freaking serious?...Three Mississippi...four Mississippi...Because I swear I'm about to move out... Five Mississippi...six Mississippi...I might as well sleep with him if I'm going to be accused of it anyway... Seven Mississippi...eight Mississippi...Ohmysweetgoodness, did I really just think that?...Nine Mississippi...ten Mississippi...Talk to your mother-now.
I keep my voice polite when I say, "Mom, I haven't slept with Galen, unless you count laying on the nurse's bed unconscious beside him. And we are not dating. We have never dated. Which is why he wouldn't need to break up with me. Have I missed anything?"
"What were you arguing about in the hall, then?"
"I actually don't remember. All I remember is being mad at him. Trust me, I'll find out. But right now, I'm late for school." I ease out of the chair and over to my backpack on the floor. Bending over is even stupider than shouting. I wish my head would just go ahead and fall off already.
Toraf is one of the best Trackers in Syrena history. His ability to sense others of his kind is acute, but more than that, he can home in on any one of them. He recognizes not only the presence of another Syrena, but after spending minimal time with them, can identify each one individually and from impossible distances. And the one he's most sensitive to is staring in an unhealthy way at a fillet knife across the counter.
"Rayna, your mate has come all this way to see you. You're being rude. Why don't you step away from the counter? Now?" Galen says, his tone hedged in warning. He's not in the mood to fight with either one of them. If Rayna makes a move, he'll be forced to subdue her. If he handles her too roughly, Toraf will take exception and handle him roughly. And besides, he's hungry and the fillets are almost cool enough to eat.
Rayna pushes back and whirls around. "He is not my mate."
Toraf clears his throat. Galen's eyes go wide, but Toraf cuts him a warning look, shakes his head almost indiscernibly.
"I was hoping your feelings would have changed by now, my princess. You know you won't find anyone else who would be more devoted to you than me. I've followed you around since you couldn't even swim straight," Toraf says. Although the words are tossed to her lightheartedly, Galen knows he means every one of them.
"Which is why I trusted you," Rayna snarls. "You knew me better than Galen. You know I never wanted to mate. You let me think you agreed with my decision. But all that time, you were planning to take away my freedom yourself."
"Wow, shame on you Toraf," Rachel calls from the sink. "Anyone hungry?"
"Starving," Galan and Toraf say. Rayna rolls her eyes and stomps to the table.
This is what I decided:
Chloe is gone. She is never coming back. And the way I've been acting would hurt her. For at least an hour, I switch places with her in my mind-I am dead and Chloe is alive. How would she handle it? She would cry. She would be sad. She would miss me. But she wouldn't stop living. She would let people comfort her. She would sleep in her own room and smile at the memories as she drifted to sleep. And she would probably punch Galen Forza. Which brings me to what else I decided:
Galen Forza is a jerk. The details are hazy, but I'm pretty sure he had something to do with my accident on Monday. Also, he's a bit weird. Staring habit aside, he keeps popping up everywhere. Every time he does, I handle it with the grace of a rhino on stilts. So I'm switching my schedule as soon as I get to school. There is no good reason I should humiliate myself for seven periods a day.
School, huh? Are you sure you that's where you're going?" Her hand is still outstretched, waiting for a key that she isn't getting. After a few empty seconds, she crosses her arms.
"Where else would I be going with my backpack and books?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe Galen Forza's house?"
Yep, didn't see that one coming. If I did, I might have stopped the blush sprouting on my cheeks. "Um. How do you know Galen?"
"Mrs. Strickland told me about him. Said you were arguing with him in the hall and that you were upset when you took off running from him. Said he carried you to the office himself when you ran into the door."
I knew he had something to do with my accident. And Mom talked to the principal about it. My lips turn so dry I expect to taste dust when I lick them. The blush spreads all over my body, even to my ears. "He carried me?"
"She said Galen wouldn't leave your side until Dr. Morton got there. Dr. Morton said he wouldn't go back to class until he assured him you would be okay." She taps her foot faster, then stops. "Well?"
I blink at her. "Well, what?"
Did my mother just growl?
We're all so happy you're feeling better, Miss McIntosh. Looks like you still have a good bump on your noggin, though," she says in her childlike voice.
Since there is no bump on my noggin, I take a little offense but decide to drop it. "Thanks, Mrs. Poindexter. It looks worse than it feels. Just a little tender."
"Yeah, I'd say the door got the worst of it," he says beside me. Galen signs himself in on the unexcused tardy sheet below my name. When his arm brushes against mine, it feels like my blood's turned into boiling water.
I turn to face him. My dreams really do not do him justice. Long black lashes, flawless olive skin, cut jaw like an Italian model, lips like-for the love of God, have some dignity, nitwit. He just made fun of you. I cross my arms and lift my chin. "You would know," I say.
He grins, yanks my backpack from me, and walks out. Trying to ignore the waft of his scent as the door shuts, I look to Mrs. Poindexter, who giggles, shrugs, and pretends to sort some papers. The message is clear: He's your problem, but what a great problem to have. Has he charmed he sense out of the staff here, too? If he started stealing kids' lunch money, would they also giggle at that? I growl through clenched teeth and stomp out of the office.
Galen is waiting for me right outside the door, and I almost barrel into him. He chuckles and catches my arm. "This is becoming a habit for you, I think."
After I'm steady-after Galen steadies me, that is-I poke my finger into his chest and back him against the wall, which only makes him grin wider. "You...are...irritating...me," I tell him.
"I noticed. I'll work on it."
"You can start by giving me my backpack."
"Nope."
"Nope?"
"Right-nope. I'm carrying it for you. It's the least I can do."
"Well, can't argue with that, can I?" I reach around for it, but he moves to block me. "Galen, I don't want you to carry it. Now knock it off. I'm late for class."
"I'm late for it too, remember?"
Oh, that's right. I've let him distract me from my agenda. "Actually, I need to go back to the office."
"No problem. I'll wait for you here, then I'll walk you to class."
I pinch the bridge of my nose. "That's the thing. I'm changing my schedule. I won't be in your class anymore, so you really should just go. You're seriously violating Rule Numero Uno."
He crosses his arms. "Why are you changing your schedule? Is it because of me?"
"No."
"Liar."
"Sort of."
"Emma-"
"Look, I don't want you to take this personally. It's just that...well, something bad happens every time I'm around you."
He raises a brow. "Are you sure it's me? I mean, from where I stood, it looked like your flip-flops-"
"What were we arguing about anyway? We were arguing, right?"
"You...you don't remember?"
I shake my head. "Dr. Morton said I might have some short-term memory loss. I do remember being mad at you, though."
He looks at me like I'm a criminal. "You're saying you don't remember anything I said. Anything you said."
The way I cross my arms reminds me of my mother. "That's what I'm saying, yes."
"You swear?"
"If you're not going to tell me, then give me my backpack. I have a concussion, not broken arms. I'm not helpless."
His smile could land him a cover shoot for any magazine in the country. "We were arguing about which beach you wanted me to take you to. We were going swimming after school."
"Liar." With a capital L. Swimming-drowning-falls on my to-do list somewhere below giving birth to porcupines.
"Oh, wait. You're right. We were arguing about when the Titanic actually sank. We had already agreed to go to my house to swim.
We were arguing about which beach you wanted me to take you to. We were going swimming after school."
"Liar." With a capital L. Swimming-drowning-falls on my to-do list somewhere below giving birth to porcupines.
"Oh, wait. You're right. We were arguing about when the Titanic actually sank. We had already agreed to go to my house to swim."
Bells are going off in my head, but not the kind that should be ringing if this were true. I don't remember talking about the beach at all, but I do remember answering the question about the Titanic in Mr. Pinter's class. Even Galen, wielding his smile as a thought deterrent, couldn't have talked me into getting in the water, could he? "I...I don't believe you." I decide as I say it. "I wouldn't get that upset about a date. Historical or otherwise."
He shrugs. "It surprised me, too."
I raise a BS brow. "Why would you argue about the date anyway? You could Google it all over the place and get the same answer.
Are you sure you don't remember? Your mind seems to be working just fine to me."
"You know what? Just forget it. Whatever it was, I forgive you. Give me my backpack so I can go back to the office. We're about to get busted anyway, just standing here."
"If you really do forgive me, then you wouldn't still be going to the office." He tightens his hold on the strap of my backpack.
"Ohmysweetgoodness, Galen, why are we even having this conversation? You don't even know me. What do you care if I change my schedule?" I know I'm being rude. The guy offered to carry my things and walk me to class. And depending on which version of the story I believe, he either asked me out on Monday already, or he did it indirectly a few seconds ago. None of it makes any sense. Why me? Without any effort, I can think of at least ten girls who beat me out in looks, personality, and darker foundation. And Galen could pull any of them.
"What, you don't have a question for my question?" I ask after a few seconds.
"It just seems silly for you to change your schedule over a disagreement about when the Titanic-"
I throw my hands up at him. "Don't you see how weird this is for me?"
"I'm trying to, Emma. I really am. But I think you've had a tough couple of weeks, and it's taking a toll on you. You said every time you're around me something bad happens. But you can't really know for sure that's true, unless you spend more time with me. You should at least acknowledge that."
Something is wrong with me. Those cafeteria doors must have really worked me over. Otherwise, I wouldn't be pushing Galen away like this. Not with him pleading, not with the way he's leaning toward me, not with the way he smells. "See? You're taking it personally, when there's really nothing personal about it," I whisper.
"It's personal to me, Emma. It's true, I don't know you well. But there are some things I do know about you. And I'd like to know more."
A glass full of ice water wouldn't cool my cheeks. "The only thing you know about me is that I'm life threatening in flip-flops."
That I won't meet his eyes obviously bothers him, because he lifts my chin with the crook of his finger. "That's not all I know," he says. "I know your biggest secret."
This time, unlike at the beach, I don't swat his hand away. The electric current in my feet prove that we're really standing so close to each other that our toes touch. "I don't have any secrets," I say, mesmerized."
He nods. "I finally figured that out. That you don't actually know about your secret."
"You're not making any sense." Or I just can't concentrate because I accidentally looked up at his lips. Maybe he did talk me into swimming...
The door to the front office swings open, and Galen grabs my arm and ushers me around the corner. He continues to drag me down the hall, toward world history.
"That's it?" I say, exasperated. "You're just going to leave it at that?"
He stops us in front of the door. "That depends on you," he says. "Come with me to the beach after school, and I'll tell you."
He reaches for the knob, but I grab his hand. "Tell me what? I already told you that I don't have any secrets. And I don't swim."
He grins and opens the door. "There's plenty to do at the beach besides swim." Then he pulls me by the hand so close I think he's going to kiss me. Instead, he whispers in my ear, "I'll tell you where your eye color comes from." As I gasp, he puts a gentle hand on the small of my back and propels me into the classroom. Then he ditches me.
Rach-Uh, my mom says they'll help me blend in better. She says the color would just draw attention to me."
Emma snorts. "Oh, she's definitely right. Blue eyes make you look so much more average. In fact, I almost didn't notice you standing there."
"That hurts my feelings, Emma." He grins.
She giggles.
He says, "I'd consider forgiving you-if you come with me to the beach."
She sighs. "I can't go with you, Galen."
He runs a hand through his hair. "Honestly, Emma, I don't know how much more rejection I can take," he blurts out. In fact, he doesn't remember ever being rejected, except by Emma. Of course, that could be due to the fact that he's a Royal. Or maybe it's because he doesn't spend a lot of time with his kind anyway, let alone the females. Actually, he doesn't spend a lot of time with anyone except Rachel. And Rachel would give him her beating heart if he asked for it.
"I'm sorry. It's not about you this time. Well, actually, it kind of is. My mom...well, she thinks we're dating." Her cheeks-and those lips-deepen to red.
"Dating?" What is dating again? He tries to remember what Rachel told him...She said it's easy to remember because it's almost the same as...what is the rhyme for it? And then he remembers. "It's easy to remember, because dating rhymes with mating, and they're almost the same," she'd said. He blinks at Emma. "You're mom thinks we're ma-Uh, dating?"
She nods biting her lip.
For reasons he can't explain, this pleases him. He leans against the passenger door of her car. "Oh. Well. What does it matter if she thinks that?"
"I told her we weren't dating, though. Just this morning. Going to the beach with you makes me look like a liar."
He scratches the back of his neck. "I don't understand. If you told her we weren't dating, then why does she think we are?"
She relaxes against his driver-side door. "Well, this is all actually your fault, not mine."
"I'm obviously not asking the right questions-"
"The way you acted toward me when I hit my head, Galen. Some people saw that. And they told my mom. She thinks I've been hiding you from her, keeping you a secret. Because she thinks we've been...we've been..."
"Dating?" he offers. He can't understand why she'd have a difficult time discussing dating, if it means what he thinks it does-spending time with one human more than others to see if he or she would be a good mate.
The Syrena do the same, only they call it sifting-and sifting doesn't take nearly as long as dating. A Syrena can sift out a mate within a few days. He'd laughed when Rachel said some humans date for years. So indecisive. Then an echo of Toraf's voice whispers to him, calling him a hypocrite. You're twenty years old. Why haven't you sifted for a mate? But that doesn't make him indecisive. He just hasn't had time to sift and keep his responsibility watching the humans. If it weren't for that, he'd already be settled down. How can Toraf think Emma's the reason he hasn't sifted yet? Up until three weeks ago, he didn't even know she existed.
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