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“I …um …”
Nash’s fingers folded around mine and I let him pull me close. “Kaylee needs to borrow my computer.” He gestured to the grease-stained bag I still held in one hand. “We’re gonna eat while we work.”
For a moment, Ms. Hudson looked like she might object. Then she shot Nash a stern smile. “Leave the door open.”
Nash mumbled a vague acknowledgment, then headed down the short, dim hallway with the drink tray. Still speechless, I followed him, the fast-food bag clutched to my chest.
Nash’s room was casual and comfortable, and I liked it instantly. His bed was unmade, and his desk was cluttered with CDs, Xbox games, and junk-food wrappers. The TV was on, but he hit the power button as he passed it, and whatever he’d been watching flashed into a silent black screen.
His desk chair was the only one in the room, and the open can of Coke on the desk said he was sitting there. For a moment, I froze like a rabbit in the crosshairs, staring at the bed, the only other place to sit, while my pulse whooshed in my ears.
Nash laughed and pushed the door to within an inch of closed, waving toward the bed with his empty hand. “It’s not gonna fold up into the wall.”
I was more worried about it swallowing me whole. And I couldn’t help wondering how many girls had sat there before me….
Finally embarrassed into action, I shoved aside an unopened chemistry book and sat on the edge of the bed, already digging in the paper bag. “Here.” I handed him a burger and a carton of fries.
He set the food on the desk and sank into the chair, jiggling the mouse until his monitor flared to life. “What are we looking for?” he asked, then folded a fry into his mouth.
I unwrapped my own burger, considering how best to phrase my answer. But there was no good way to put what I had to say. “Another girl died tonight. At the Ciné in Arlington. A guy I work with was there, and he said she just fell over dead, holding a bag of popcorn.”
Nash blinked at me, frozen in mid-chew. “You’re serious?” he asked after he swallowed, and I nodded. “You think it’s connected to that girl in the West End?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t predict this one, but it’s even weirder than what happened at Taboo. I want details.” So I could prove to myself that the two deaths weren’t as similar as they sounded.
“Okay, hang on.” He typed something into the address bar, and a search engine appeared on the monitor. “Arlington?”
“Yeah,” I said, around a bite of my burger.
Nash typed as he chewed, and links began filling the screen. He clicked on the first one. “Here it is.” It was a Dallas news channel’s Web site—the station that had aired the story about Heidi Anderson the day before.
I leaned closer to see over his shoulder, acutely aware of how good he smelled, and Nash read aloud. “Local authorities are perplexed by the death of the second metroplex teenager in as many days. Late this afternoon, fifteen-year-old Alyson Baker died in the lobby of the Ciné 9, in the Six Flags mall. Police have yet to determine her cause of death, but have ruled out drugs and alcohol as factors. According to one witness, Baker ‘just fell over dead’ at the concession counter. A memorial will be held tomorrow at Stephen F. Austin High School for Baker, who was a sophomore there, and a cheerleader.”
Sipping from my straw, I scanned the article for a moment after he finished reading. “That’s it?”
“There’s a picture.” He scrolled up to reveal a black-and-white yearbook photo of a pretty brunette with long, straight hair and dramatic features. “What do you think?”
I sighed and sank back onto the edge of the bed. Seeing the latest dead girl hadn’t answered any of my questions, but it had given me a name and a face, and made her death infinitely, miserably more real. “I don’t know. She doesn’t look much like Heidi Anderson. And she’s four years younger.”
“And she wasn’t drunk.”
“And I had no idea this one was going to happen.” No longer hungry, I wrapped the rest of my burger and dropped it into the bag. “The only thing they have in common is that they both died in public.”
“With no obvious cause of death.” Nash glanced at the bag in my lap. “Are you gonna finish that?”
I handed him the burger, but his words still echoed in my mind. He’d hit the nail on the head with that one—and driven it straight into my heart. Heidi and Alyson had both literally dropped dead with no warnings, no illness and no wounds of any kind. And I’d known Heidi’s death was coming.
If I’d been there when Alyson Baker was ordering her popcorn, would I have known she was about to die?
And if I had, would telling her have done any good?
I scooted back on the bed and drew my knees up to my chest as my guilt over Heidi’s death swelled within me like a sponge soaking up water. Had I let her die?
Nash dropped the empty burger wrapper into the bag and swiveled in the desk chair to face me. He frowned as he looked at my expression and leaned forward to gently push my legs down, so he could see my face. “There’s nothing you could have done.”
Were my thoughts that obvious? I couldn’t summon a smile, even with his dimples and late-night stubble only inches away. “You don’t know that.”
His mouth formed a hard line for a moment, like he might argue, but then he smiled slyly, and his gaze locked onto mine. “What I do know is that you need to relax. Think about something other than death.” His voice was a gentle rumble as he moved from the chair to sit next to me on the bed, and the mattress sank beneath his weight.
My breath hitched in anticipation, and my pulse raced. “What should I be thinking about?” My own voice came out lower, my words so soft I could barely hear them.
“Me,” he whispered back, leaning forward so that his lips brushed my ear as he spoke. His scent enveloped me, and his cheek felt scratchy against mine. “You should be thinking about me.” His fingers intertwined with mine in my lap, and he pulled away from my ear slowly, his lips skimming my cheek, deliciously soft in contrast to the sharp stubble. He dropped a trail of small kisses along my jaw, and my heart beat harder with every single one.
When he reached my chin, the kisses trailed up until his mouth met mine, gently sucking my lower lip between his. Teasing without making full contact. My chest rose and fell quickly, my breaths shallow, my pulse racing.
More…
He heard me. He must have. Nash pulled back just long enough to meet my gaze, heat blazing behind his eyes, and I realized that he was breathing hard too. His fingers tightened around mine and his free hand slid into the hair at the base of my skull.
Then he kissed me for real.
My mouth opened beneath his, and the kiss went deeper as I drew him in, suddenly ravenous for something I’d never even tasted. My fingers tightened around his, and my free hand found his arm, exploring the hard planes, reveling in the potential of such restrained strength.
Nash pulled back then and looked at me, deep need smoldering behind his eyes. The intensity of that need—the staggering depth of his longing—slammed into me like a wave on the side of a ship, threatening to knock me overboard. To toss me into that turbulent sea, where the current would surely carry me away.
His finger traced my lower lip, his gaze locked onto mine, and my mouth opened, ready for his again.
His hesitance was a terrible mercy. I could barely breathe with him touching me, so overwhelmed was I by … everything. But he smelled so good, and felt so good, I didn’t want him to stop, even if I never breathed again.
This time I kissed him, taking what I wanted, delighted and astonished by his willingness to let me. My head was so full of Nash I wasn’t sure I’d ever think about anything else again …
Until the bedroom door opened.
Nash jerked back so fast he left me gasping in surprise. I blinked, slowly struggling up from the wave of sensations I wanted to ride again. My cheeks flamed as I smoothed my ponytail.
“Dinner, huh?” Ms. Hudson stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, a fresh smear of chocolate on the hem of her shirt. She frowned at us, but didn’t look particularly angry or surprised.
Nash rubbed his face with both hands. I sat there, speechless, and more embarrassed than I’d ever been in my life. But at least we’d been caught by his mother, rather than my uncle. That, I would never have recovered from.
“Let’s leave the door open for real this time, huh?” She turned to leave, but then her gaze caught on the computer screen, where Alyson Baker’s picture still stared out at the room. Something dark flickered across her face—fear, or concern?—then her expression hardened as she leveled it at her son.
“What are you two doing?” she demanded softly, obviously no longer referring to our social interaction.
“Nothing.” Nash’s expression carried just as much weight as his mother’s had, but I couldn’t read anything specific in his, though the tension in the room spiked noticeably.
“I should go.” I stood, already digging my keys from my pocket.
“No.” Nash took my hand.
Ms. Hudson’s expression softened. “You really don’t have to,” she said. “Stay and have some cookies. Just leave the door open.” She eyed Nash on that last part, and tension drained from the air as her frown melted.
Nash rolled his eyes but nodded. Then they both turned to me, waiting for my answer.
“Thanks, but I have some homework to finish….” And Nash’s mother had just caught us making out on his bed, which felt very much like the end of the night to me.
Nash walked me to my car and kissed me again, his body pressing mine into the driver’s side door, our hands intertwined. Then I drove home in a daze and floated straight to my room, ignoring every less-than-subtle hint for information Sophie tossed my way. And only later would I realize that I had, in fact, forgotten all about the dead girls and was still thinking about Nash when I fell asleep.
5
“INSIDE OR OUT?” Nash set his tray on the nearest table and dug in his pocket. Coins jingled, barely audible over the clatter of silverware and the buzz of several dozen simultaneous conversations, and he pulled out a handful of change, already turning toward the soda machine.
The autumn morning had dawned clear and cool, but by third period, it was warm enough for my biology teacher to open the windows in the lab and vent the acrid scent of chemical preservatives. “Out.” Lunch in the quad sounded good to me, especially considering the swarm of student bodies in the cafeteria, and the dozen or so people who had already noticed his fingers curled around mine in the pizza line.
Including his latest ex, who now glared at me from within a cocoon of hostile cheerleader clones.
I glanced over my shoulder at Emma, who nodded. “I’ll get a table.” She turned and dodged a freshman carrying three ice-cream bars, who almost knocked her tray from her hands.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, then stopped to watch her, his expression a blend of blatant lust and longing. Emma didn’t even notice.
Nash pulled two Cokes from the machine and set one on my tray, then we wove our way around two tables to the center aisle, headed straight for the exit. I could practically feel the eyes of my classmates trained on my back, and it was everything I could do not to squirm beneath their scrutiny. How could he stand people watching him all the time?
We were two feet from the double doors leading into the quad when they swung open, only inches from smacking into my tray. A gaggle of slim girls in matching letterman jackets brushed past us, several pausing to smile at Nash. One even ran her fingers down his sleeve, and I was startled by the sudden, irrational urge to slap her hand away. Which proved unnecessary when he walked past her with nothing but a distracted nod.
Sophie was the only one who even glanced my way, and her expression could hardly be considered friendly. Until it landed on Nash. She let her arm brush his as she passed, glancing up into his eyes, a carnal smile turning up one corner of her perfectly made-up mouth in blatant, unspoken invitation.
Seconds later, the dancers were gone, leaving behind a cloud of perfume strong enough to burn my eyes. I stomped through the still-open doors and down the steps. Nash jogged to catch up with me. He carried his tray in one hand, and his opposite arm snaked around my waist, fingers curling around my hip with an intimate familiarity that made my pulse spike. “She’s just trying to piss you off.”
“She says she’s been in your backseat.” I couldn’t keep suspicion from my tone. Yes, his hand on my hip made a very public statement, and that—along with his silence on the matter of my mental health—finally put to rest my stubborn fear that he’d planned a quick hookup over the weekend, and would be done with me by Monday.
But Nash had never even tried to deny the rumors of his past exploits, and I couldn’t stand the thought that Sophie had been one of them.
“What?” He stopped in the middle of the quad, frowning down at me in obvious confusion.
“The back of your car. She says there’s a rip in your backseat and wants me to think she’s seen it up close.”
Nash chuckled softly and started walking again as he spoke, so that I had no choice but to follow. “Um …yeah. She put it there. She was wrecked the night I took her home, and she threw up all over the front floorboard. I put her in the back, and she got some stupid buckle on her shoe caught in the stitching and ripped it loose.”
I laughed, and my anger melted like Sophie’s makeup in July. In fact, I almost felt sorry for her—but not too sorry to dangle that little nugget of information in front of my cousin the next time she flirted with Nash in front of me.
The quad was actually a long rectangle, surrounded on three sides by various wings of the school building, with the cafeteria entrance on the end of one long wall. The fourth side opened up to the soccer and baseball practice fields at the rear of the campus.
Emma had claimed a table in the far corner, mostly sheltered from the wind by the junction of the language and science halls. I sat on the bench opposite her, and Nash slid in next to me. His leg touched mine from hip to knee, which was enough to keep me warm from the inside out, in spite of the chilly, intermittent breeze at my back.
“What’s with the dance team?” Emma asked as I bit the point off my slice of pizza. “They came through here a minute ago, squealing and bouncing around like someone poured hot sauce in their leotards.”
I laughed and nearly choked on a chunk of pepperoni. “They won the regional championship on Saturday. Sophie’s been insufferable ever since.”
“So how long will they be squeaking like squirrels?”
Holding up one finger, I chewed and swallowed another bite before answering. “The state championship is next month. After that, there will either be more irrepressible squealing, or inconsolable tears. Then it’s over until May, when they audition for next year’s team.” Regardless, I would mourn the end of the competition season right along with Sophie. Dance-team practices took up most of her spare time for several months of the year, giving me some much-coveted peace and quiet while she was out of the house.
And, as spoiled and arrogant as she was, Sophie was totally dedicated to the team. She gave the other dancers more respect than she’d ever seen fit to waste on me, and the dedication and punctuality she showed them were the only evidence I’d seen in thirteen years that she had a single responsible bone in that infuriatingly graceful body.
Plus, most of her teammates could drive, and someone always seemed willing to give her a ride. After the state championship, Sophie would go back to daily ballet classes, and now that I had a car, I was fairly certain her parents would make me drive her to and from. Like I had nothing better to do with my time. And my gas money.
“Well, here’s hoping we all go deaf either way.” Emma held her bottled water aloft, and Nash and I clinked our cans into it. “So.” She screwed the lid back on her bottle. “Heard anything new about that girl from Arlington?”
Nash frowned, his brows lowered over eyes more brown than green at the moment.
“Yeah.” I dropped the remains of my pizza onto my tray and picked up a bruised red apple. “Her name was Alyson Baker. Happened just like Jimmy said. She fell over dead, and the cops have no idea what killed her.”
“Was she drinking?” Emma asked, obviously thinking about Heidi Anderson.
“Nope. She wasn’t on anything either.” Nash gestured with the crust of his first slice. “But she has nothing to do with the first, right?” He glanced my way, brows raised now in question. “I mean, you didn’t predict this one. You never even saw her, right?”
I nodded and took the first bite out of my apple. He was right, of course.
But there was an obvious connection between the two girls: they were both dead with no apparent cause. The local news knew that. Emma knew it. I knew it. Only Nash seemed oblivious. Or at least uninterested.
Emma pointed at him with the business end of a plastic fork, her porcelain face twisted into an equally beautiful mask of disbelief. “So you don’t think it’s weird that two girls have dropped dead in the past two days?”
He sighed and pulled the tab from his empty soda can, watching it, rather than either of us. “I never said it wasn’t weird. But I don’t get this morbid obsession you two have with those poor girls. They’re gone. You didn’t know either of them. Let them rest in peace.”
I rolled my eyes and peeled the vendor’s sticker from my apple. “We’re not disturbing their rest.”
“And it’s not obsession—it’s caution,” Emma countered, aiming her water bottle at him like a conductor’s baton. “No one knows how they died, and I’m not buying the coincidence angle. That could be either one of us tomorrow.”
Her gaze turned my way, clearly including me among the potential victims of … um …dropping dead for no reason. “Or any one of them.” She nodded toward the cafeteria, and I turned to see Sophie and several of her friends bounce down the steps in the company of half a dozen jocks in matching green-and-white jackets.
“You’re totally overreacting.” Nash pushed his tray away and twisted on the bench to face us both. “It’s just a weird coincidence that has nothing to do with us.”
“What if it’s not?” I demanded, and even I recognized the pain in my voice. I couldn’t let go of the possibility that I could have helped. Could maybe have saved Heidi, if I’d only said something. “No one knows what happened to those girls, so you can’t possibly know it won’t happen again.”
Nash closed his eyes, as if gathering his thoughts. Or maybe his patience. Then he opened them and looked at first Emma, then me. “No, I don’t know what happened to either of them, but the cops will figure it out sooner or later. They probably died of totally different, completely unrelated illnesses. An aneurism, or a freak teenage heart attack. And I’ll bet you my Xbox that they have nothing to do with each other.”
His eyes narrowed on mine then, and he took my hand in both of his. “And they have nothing to do with you.”
“Then how did she know it was going to happen?” Emma stared at us both, brown eyes wide. “Kaylee knew that first girl was going to die. I’d say that makes her pretty deeply involved.”
“Okay, yes.” Nash turned from me to glare at her. “Kaylee knew about Heidi. That’s weird, and creepy, and sounds like the plot from some cheesy horror movie—”
“Hey!” I elbowed Nash, and he shot me a dimpled grin.
“Sorry. But she asked. My point is that your premonition is the only weird part of this. The rest is just coincidence. A total fluke. It’s not going to happen again.”
I pulled my hand from his grasp. “What if you’re wrong?”
Nash frowned and ran his fingers through his artfully mussed hair, but before he could answer, a hand dropped onto my shoulder and I jumped.
