Dating yes. But she thinks we're, uh, more than dating."
"Oh," he says, thoughtful. Then he grins. "Oh." The reason her lips are turning his favorite color is because Emma's mom thinks they've been dating and mating. The blush extends down her neck and disappears into her T-shirt. He should probably say something to make her feel more comfortable. But teasing her seems so much more fun. "Well then, the least she could do is give us some privacy-"
"Ohmysweetgoodness!" She snatches her backpack from the seat and marches around her car to the driver's side. Before she can get the door unlocked, he plucks the key from her fingers and tucks it into his jeans' pocket. She moves to retrieve it, but stops when she realizes where she's about to go fishing.
He's never seen her this red. He laughs. "Calm down, Emma. I'm just kidding. Don't leave."
"Yeah, well, it's not funny. You should have seen her this morning. She almost cried. my mom doesn't cry." She crosses her arms again but relaxes against her door.
"She cried? That's pretty insulting."
She cracks a tiny grin. "Yeah, it's an insult to me. She thinks I would...would..."
"More than date me?"
She nods.
He steps toward her and puts his hand beside her on the car, leaning in. A live current seems to shimmy up his spine. What are you doing? "But she should know that you don't even think of me like that. That it would never even cross your mind," he murmurs. She looks away, satisfying his unspoken question-it has crossed her mind. The same way it crosses his. How often? Does she feel the voltage between them, too? Who cares, idiot? She belongs to Grom. Or are you going to let a few sparks keep you from uniting the kingdoms?
He pulls back, clenching his teeth. His pockets are the only safe place for his hands at the moment. "Why don't I meet her then? You think that would make her feel better?"
"Um." She swipes her hair to the other side of her face. Her expression falls somewhere between shock and expectation. And she had every right to expect it-he's been entertaining the idea of kissing her for over two weeks now. She fidgets the door handle. "Yeah, it might. She won't let me go anywhere-especially with you-if she doesn't meet you first."
"Should I be afraid?"
She sighs. "Normally I would say no. But after this morning..." She shrugs.
"How about I follow you to your house so you can drop off your car? Then she can interrogate me. When she sees how charming I am, she'll let you ride to the beach with me."
She rolls her eyes. "Just don't be too charming. If you're too smooth, she'll never believe-just don't overdue it, okay?"
"This is getting complicated," he says, unlocking her car.
"Just remember, this is your idea and your fault. Now would be the time to back out."
He chuckles and opens the door for her. "Don't lose me on the road.
She turns in the doorway. “Oh, and Galen?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Have your mother call me so I can get her number programmed into my phone.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You kids have a good time. I won’t be home until late, Emma. But you’ll be home by nine, sweetie. Won’t she, Galen?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Neither Emma nor Galen say anything until they hear the car pull out of the driveway. Even then, they wait a few more seconds. Emma leans against the fridge. Galen is growing fond of hiding his hands in his pockets.
“So, what did you two chitchat about?” she asks as if uninterested.
“You first.”
She shakes her head. “Uh-uh. I don’t want to talk about it.”
He nods. “Good. Me neither.”
For a few seconds, they look at everything in the room but each other. Finally, Galen says, “So, did you want to go change-“
“That idea is fan-flipping-tastic. Be right down.” She almost breaks into a run to get to the stairs.
Footsteps from the stairwell startle him out of the past. He turns around as Emma's mother takes the last step into the dining area, Emma right behind her.
Mrs. McIntosh glides over and puts her arm around him. The smile on her face is genuine, but Emma's smile is more like a straight line. And she's blushing.
"Galen, it's very nice to meet you," she says, ushering him into the kitchen. "Emma tells me you're taking her to the beach behind your house today. To swim?"
"Yes, ma'am." Her transformation makes him wary.
She smiles. "Well, good luck with getting her in the water. Since I'm a little pressed for time, I can't follow you over there, so I just need to see your driver's license while Emma runs outside to get your plate number."
Emma rolls her eyes as she shuffles through a drawer and pulls out a pen and paper. She slams the door behind her when she leaves, which shakes the dishes on the wall.
Galen nods, pulls out his wallet, and hands over the fake license. Mrs. McIntosh studies it and rummages through her purse until she produces a pen-which she uses to write on her hand. “Just need your license number in case we ever have any problems. But we’re not going to have any problems, are we, Galen? Because you’ll always have my daughter-my only daughter-home on time, isn’t that right?”
He nods, then swallows. She holds out his license. When he accepts it, she grabs his wrist, pulling him close. She glances at the garage door and back to him. “Tell me right now, Galen Forza. Are you or are you not dating my daughter?”
Great. She still doesn’t believe Emma. If she won’t believe them anyway, why keep trying to convince her? If she thinks they’re dating, the time he intends to spend with Emma will seem normal. But if they spend time together and tell her they’re not dating, she’ll be nothing but suspicious. Possibly even spy on them-which is less than ideal.
So, dating Emma is the only way to make sure she mates with Grom. Things just get better and better. “Yes,” he says. “We’re definitely dating.”
She narrows her eyes. “Why would she tell me you’re not?”
He shrugs. “Maybe she’s ashamed of me.”
To his surprise, she chuckles. “I seriously doubt that, Galen Forza.” Her humor is short lived. She grabs a fistful of his T-shirt. “Are you sleeping with her?”
Sleeping…Didn’t Rachel say sleeping and mating are the same thing? Dating and mating are similar. But sleeping and mating are the same exact same. He shakes his head. “No, ma’am.”
She raises a no-nonsense brow. “Why not? What’s wrong with my daughter?”
That is unexpected. He suspects this woman can sense a lie like Toraf can track Rayna. All she’s looking for is honesty, but the real truth would just get him arrested. I’m crazy about your daughter-I’m just saving her for my brother. So he seasons his answer with the frankness she seems to crave. “There’s nothing wrong with your daughter, Mrs. McIntosh. I said we’re not sleeping together. I didn’t say I didn’t want to.”
She inhales sharply and releases him. Clearing her throat, she smoothes out his wrinkled shirt with her hand, then pats his chest. “Good answer, Galen. Good answer.”
Emma flings open the garage door and stops short. “Mom, what are you doing?”
Mrs. McIntosh steps away and stalks to the counter. “Galen and I were just chitchatting. What took you so long?”
Galen guesses her ability to sense a lie probably has something to do with her ability to tell one. Emma shoots him a quizzical look, but he returns a casual shrug. Her mother grabs a set of keys from a hook by the refrigerator and nudges her daughter out of the way, but not before snatching the paper out of her hand.
Nice shack," I tell him.
"Trade you."
"Any day."
"Really? You like it?" He seems genuinely pleased.
"What's not to like?"
He stands back and studies it as if for the first time. He nods. "Huh. Good to know."
We climb the three steps on the porch, but I grab his arm as he reaches for the door handle. The contact sends heat through my body, roasting me to the core. "Wait."
He pauses mid-motion and stares at my hand. "What? Is something wrong? You're not changing your mind are you?"
"No. I just...have to tell you something."
"What?"
I forced a nervous laugh. "Well, the good news is, you don't have to worry about me rejecting you anymore."
He shakes his head. "That is good news. But you say it like it's not."
I take a deep breath. Where is a good lightning bolt when you need one? Because even if I take a hundred deep breaths, this will still be humiliating...
"Emma?"
"I told my mom we were dating," I blurt. There. Doesn't that feel better? Nope. Nope, it doesn't.
While his smile surprises me, it mostly mesmerizes me beyond rational thought. "Are you kidding?" he says.
I shake my head. "It's the only thing she would believe. So now...now you have to pretend that we're dating if you come to my house. But don't worry, you don't ever have to go over there again. And in a few days, I'll pretend that we broke up."
He laughs. "No, you won't. I told her the same thing."
"Shut. Up."
"Why? What'd I say?"
"No, I mean, did you really tell her that? Why would you do that?"
He shrugs. "Same reason you did. She wouldn't take no for an answer.
But...you're not passing out, you're just sleeping? There's a difference."
I yawn again. "Just sleep. Maybe I just need a nap."
He nods into my hair. "You did look tired today after school."
"You can put me on the couch now."
He doesn't move, just keeps rocking me. Staying alert is a slippery slope right now.
"Galen?"
"Hmm?"
"You can put me down now."
"I'm not ready yet." He tightens his hold.
"You don't have to hold-"
"Emma? Can you hear me?"
"Uh, yes. I can hear fine. I just can't see-"
"That's a relief. Because for a minute there, I thought maybe you didn't hear me when I said I'm not ready yet."
"Jackass."
He chuckles into my hair. "Go to sleep."
It's the last thing I remember.
Listen, you don't have to get up or anything. Galen just...uh...went for a swim. He'll be back real soon."
I look between them and past the beach. I shake my head.
"What? What's wrong, Emma?" he asks. I like Toraf. He seems genuinely concerned about me, without ever having met me. Rayna looks as if she might want to stomp on my head and finish the job I started with the cafeteria door.
"Storm," I say. The one syllable word polka-dots my vision.
Toraf smiles. "He'll be back before the storm. Can I get you anything? Something to eat? Something to drink?"
"A taxi?" Rayna pitches in.
"Go to the kitchen, Rayna," he says. "Unless you're ready to go find an island?"
I'm not sure how far away the kitchen is, but it seems like she stomps for a good five minutes. Finding an island doesn't really seem like a fitting punishment for being rude, but since I do have a head injury, I give them the benefit of the doubt. Plus, there's always the possibility that I imagined the whole thing.
"Do you mind if I sit?" Toraf says.
I shake my head. He eases onto the edge of the couch and pulls the blanket back over me. I hope he takes my nod for "Thanks."
He crouches down and whispers, "Listen, Emma. Before Galen gets back. There's something I want to ask you. Oh, don't worry, it's a yes or no question. No talking involved."
I hope he takes my nod for "Sure, why not? You're nice."
He glances around, as if he's about to rob me instead of ask a question. "Do you feel...uh...tingly...when you're around Galen?"
This time, I hope he takes my wide-eyed nod for "Ohmysweetgoodness, how did you know that?"
"I knew it!" he hisses. "Listen, I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention it to Galen. You'll both be better off if he figures it out on his own. Promise?"
I hope he takes my nod for "This is the strangest dream I've ever had."
Everything goes black.
A flash of lightning ghosts into the room, and when it leaves again, my eyes follow it back out to sea. In the window's reflection, I glimpse a figure standing behind me. I don't need to turn around to see who creates such a big outline-or who makes my whole body turn into a goose-bump farm.
"How do you feel?" he says.
"Better," I say to his reflection.
He hops over the back of the couch and grabs my chin, turning my head side to side, up and down, all around, watching for my reaction. "I just did that," I tell him. "Nothing."
He nods and unhands me. "Rach-Uh, my mom called your mom and told her what happened. I guess your mom called your doctor, and he said it's pretty common, but that you should rest a few more days. My mom insisted you stay the night since no one needs to be driving in this weather."
"And my mother agreed to that?"
Even in the dark, I don't miss his little grin. "My mom can be pretty persuasive," he says. "By the end of the conversation, your mom even suggested we both stay home from school tomorrow and hang out here so you can relax-since my mom will be home supervising, of course. Your mom said you wouldn't stay home if I went to school."
A flash from the storm illuminates my blush. "Because we told her we're dating."
He nods. "She said you should have stayed home today, but you threw a fit to go anyway. Honestly, I didn't realize you were so obsessed-ouch!"
I try to pinch him again, but he catches my wrist and pulls me over his lap like a child getting a spanking. "I was going to say, 'with history.'" He laughs.
"No you weren't. Let me up."
"I will." He laughs.
"Galen, you let me up right now-"
"Sorry, not ready yet."
I gasp. "Oh, no! The room is spinning again." I hold still, tense up.
Then the room does spin when he snatches me up and grabs my chin again. The look of concern etched on his face makes me feel a little guilty, but not guilty enough to keep my mouth shut. "Works every time," I tell him, giving my best ha-ha-you're-a-sucker smirk.
A snicker from the entryway cuts off what I can tell is about to be a good scolding. I've never heard Galen curse, but his glower just looks like a four-letter word waiting to come out. We both turn to see Toraf watching us with crossed arms. He is also wearing a ha-ha-you're-a-sucker smirk. "Dinner's ready, children," he says.
Yep, I definitely like Toraf. Galen rolls his eyes and extracts me from his lap. He hops up and leaves me there, and in the reflection, I see him ram his fist into Toraf's gut as he passes. Toraf grunts, but the smirk never leaves his face. He nods his head for me to follow them.
As we pass through the rooms, I try to remember the rich, sophisticated atmosphere, the marble floors, the hideous paintings, but my stomach makes sounds better suited to a dog kennel at feeding time.
"I think your stomach is making mating calls," Toraf whispers to me as we enter the kitchen. My blush debuts the same time we enter the kitchen, and it's enough to make Toraf laugh out loud.
I'm so excited to meet you, Emma," she says. "Now I know why Galen won't shut up about you." Her smile seems to contradict the decades' worth of frown lines rippling from her mouth. In fact, it's so genuine and warm that I almost believe she is excited to meet me. But isn't that what all moms say when introduced to their son's girlfriend? You're not his girlfriend, stupid. Or does she think we're dating, too?
"Thanks, I think," I smile generically. "I'm sure he's told you a million times how clumsy I am." Because how else am I supposed to take that?
"A million and one, actually. Wish you'd do something different for a change," Rayna drawls without looking up.
Rayna has outstayed her welcome on my nerves. "I could teach you how to color in the lines," I shoot back. The look she gives me could sour milk.
Toraf puts his hands on her shoulders and kisses the top of her head. "I think you're doing a great job, my princess."
She wiggles out of his grasp and shoves the polish brush back into its bottle. "If you're so good at it, why don't you paint your toes? They probably stay injured all the time from you running into stuff. Am I right?"
Yeah? And? I'm about to set her straight on a few things-like how wearing a skirt and sitting Indian-style ruins the effect of pretty toes anyway-when Galen's mom puts a gentle hand on my arm and clears her throat. "Emma, I'm so glad you're feeling better," she says. "I bet dinner would just about complete your recovery, don't you?
When everyone is seated, Galen uses a pot holder to remove the lid from the huge speckled pan in the center of the table. And I almost upchuck. Fish. Crabs. And...is that squid hair? Before I can think of a polite version of the truth-I'd rather eat my own pinky finger than seafood-Galen plops the biggest piece of fish on my plate, then scoops a mixture of crabmeat and scallops on top of it. As the steam wafts its way to my nose, my chances of staying polite dwindle. The only think I can think of is to make it look like I'm hiccupping instead of gagging. What did I smell earlier that almost had me salivating? It couldn't have been this.
I fork the fillet and twist, but it feels like twisting my own gut. Mush it, dice it, mix it all up. No matter what I do, how it looks, I can't bring it near my mouth. A promise is a promise, dream or no dream. Even if real fish didn't save me in Granny's pond, the fake ones my imagination conjured up sure comforted me until help arrived. And now I'm expected to eat their cousins? No can do.
I set the fork down and sip some water. I sense Galen is watching. Out of my peripheral, I see the others shoveling the chum into their faces. But not Galen. He sits still, head tilted, waiting for me to take a bite first.
Of all the times to be a gentleman! What happened to the guy who sprawled me over his lap like a three-year-old just a few minutes ago? Still, I can't do it. And they don't even have a dog for me to feed under the table, which used to be my go-to plan at Chloe's grandmother's house. One time Chloe even started a food fight to get me out of it. I glance around the table, but Rayna's the only person I'd aim this slop at. Plus, I'd risk getting the stuff on me, which is almost as bad as in me.
Galen nudges me with his elbow. "Aren't you hungry? You're not feeling bad again, are you?"
This gets the others' attention. The commotion of eating stops. Everyone stares. Rayna, irritated that her gluttony has been interrupted. Toraf smirking like I've done something funny. Galen's mom wearing the same concerned look he is. Can I lie? Should I lie? What if I'm invited over again, and they fix seafood because I lied about it just this once? Telling Galen my head hurts doesn't get me out of future seafood buffets. And telling him I'm not hungry would be pointless since my stomach keeps gurgling like an emptying drain.
No, I can't lie. Not if I ever want to come back here. Which I do. I sigh and set the fork down. "I hate seafood," I tell him. Toraf's sudden cough startles me. The sound of him choking reminds me of a cat struggling with a hair ball.
I train my eyes on Galen, who has stiffened to a near statue. Jeez, is this all his mom knows how to make? Or have I just shunned the Forza family's prize-winning recipe for grouper?
"You...you mean you don't like this kind of fish, Emma?" Galen says diplomatically.
I desperately want to nod, to say, "Yes, that's it, not this kind of fish"-but that doesn't get me out of eating the crabmeat-and-scallop mountain on my plate. I shake my head. "No. Not just this kind of fish. I hate it all. I can't eat any of it. Can hardly stand to smell it."
Way to go for the jugular there, stupid! Couldn't I just say I don't care for it? Did I have to say I hate it? Hate even the smell of it? And why am I blushing? It's not a crime to gag on seafood. And for God's sakes, I won't eat anything that still has its eyeballs.
You mean you to tell me you don't eat fish?" Rayna barks. "I told you, Galen! How many times did I tell you?"
"Rayna, be quiet," he says without looking at her.
"We're wasting our time here!" She slams her fork down.
"Rayna, I said-"
"Oh, I heard what you said. And it's about time you listened to someone else for a change."
Now would be a good time to blackout. Or ten minutes ago, before they unveiled the seafood surprise. But I don't even feel remotely dizzy. Or tired. In fact, Rayna's ranting seems to be igniting a weird charge in the room, sparking some sort of hidden energy all around us. So when Galen stands so fast his chair falls over, I'm not surprised. I stand, too.
"Leave, Rayna. Right now," he grinds out.
When Rayna stands, Toraf does, too. He keeps his expression neutral. I get the feeling he's used to outbursts like these. "You're just using her as a distraction from your real responsibilities, Galen," she spits. "And now you've risked us all. For her."
“You were aware of the risks before you came, Rayna. If you feel exposed, leave,” Galen says coolly.
Responsibilities? Exposed? I’m waiting for someone to admit they’re part of some violet-eye cult, and I didn’t make initiation. “I guess I don’t understand,” I say.
“Oh, well, that’s a real shocker, isn’t it?” Rayna says.
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