Authors: Heidi Acosta
“Can you please tell me now what you are scheming?” I yell so she can hear me over music blaring from the cracked speakers as we speed down the road.
“Just trust me. I know what I’m doing when it comes to guys.”
I rub my fingers across my eyelids, thinking that this is the point in any story where the heroine develops a headache from her overburdening friend.
“Fine, don’t pout over there. Gosh, sometimes you remind me of Blaise. Football practice is ending just about now, so if we hurry, we can meet Cardelian at his house.”
My head snaps in her direction. “What? No.”
Liv just smiles at me as she speeds down the road.
“Didn’t I suffer enough today?” I say, thinking about Jaxson at the mall. I squeeze my eyes shut again and see the glow of his.
“You need to move on from this weird attraction you have with Jaxson, and you need to stay away from him.”
I’m not sure what I feel for Jaxson, so I change the subject. “Liv, I wish you would stop acting like Cardelian likes me. Do you remember in third grade when you thought Billy Fishkill liked me?” I remind her of the note she forced me to send to him. ‘Do you like me? I like you.’ It ended with him shoving me off the top of the playground equipment and everyone seeing my
Little Mermaid
underwear.
She waves me off. “You have to stop living in the past. Besides, you no longer wear mermaid Underoos. Oh, my God, please tell me you still don’t.”
I blush. “I don’t.”
“You see? This is exactly why you need to do this … to build up your confidence. I know you have some weird thing for Jaxson, but you need to let it go. Cardelian is a great guy, and you deserve a guy that really likes you. Maybe he’s just what the doctor ordered to put an end to this weird fascination you have. Which is why we are going to his house, to put this all behind you.”
“No way. Turn this car around, or I swear, I will jump out of it.”
She rolls her eyes. “Will you stop being so dramatic. Look, I know what guys like, and while the socially awkward, mousy girl is cute at first, after a while, it’s going to on his nerves. You have to riposte, and let him know that you are interested, too.”
Liv jerks the wheel and I’m thrown against the door. “You just called me mousy! Thanks, that’s a real confidence booster. I’m not socially awkward either, and what makes you think I’m interested in him?” Okay, so I’m slightly interested, but more in a scientific way. Why could he possibly have any interest in me?
“Because I know you, and deep inside, you are a hopeless romantic.” She grins at me.
Even though I have a million reasons why this is a bad idea, I sit back and let Liv perform her experiment on me.
###
We park on the other side of the street from the Fosters’s house. It is a three story Victorian with a wraparound porch, and it looks as if one wrong step would send the entire thing tumbling to the ground. At one time, it must have been beautiful, but now it looks as if it’s decaying— returning to a grave in the earth. Gray paint peels away from the walls, exposing the bare, rotting wood. The yard is carpeted with dirt and patches of dead grass, and vines wrap around the house—strangling it.
“Liv, this is stupid.” I groan. “What do I even say?” I stare at the house, afraid to leave the safety of her truck.
“Tell him you need to interview him for the newspaper.”
Liv only wants to prove that she is right and Cardelian does like me. However, I do need to finish the interview with him.
“And if that fails?”
“Just ask to use the bathroom.” She winks and pushes me out the door.
I cross the wet, potholed road to the house. I must be absolutely insane for doing this. As I climb the stairs to the house, they creak and groan under my weight. My heart picks up with each step I take until it’s in my throat. This is so stupid! How did I let Liv talk me in to this? I turn back—ready to run—but her large, enthusiastic smile and two thumbs up urge me forward. The things I do in the name of friendship.
I grit my teeth, cursing under my breath, and climb the remaining steps. The door is in no better condition than the rest of the house. Chipped paint litters it and mold covers the small cracked window. There isn’t a doorbell to ring. I’m about to knock when the door swings open with a loud groan, and I jump back to avoid being hit with it.
Jaxson stands in the doorway, sucking up all the light around us and dimming everything to the same gray as the house. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t to see Jaxson. Okay, so a tiny piece of me was hoping I would run into him. Seeing him sparks a nervous excitement in me, which seems to be always present when he is around. He has on that infamous dark, faded jeans with ripped knees exposing the white skin under it. A thin T-shirt clings to the well-defined and lean muscles of his chest.
“Can I help you?” he asks, sounding annoyed.
I’m gawking at him, but I snap my mouth shut.
Can I be any more of a loser?
“Ummm … ummm ….”
Narrowing his eyes, he grits his teeth together. “Wasn’t bad enough you where stalking me at the mall, now you’re following me home? Careful, Ace, or I might have to get a restraining order on you.” Disdain drips from his words.
“I’m not stalking you,” I snap. He has a gift for making me exasperated and keeping me baited so I keep coming back for more.
“Any judge would take your actions as stalking. This infatuation with me has really gone too far.”
“I’m not attracted to you. I just came here to … ummm, to …” Frustrated, I blow my bangs out of my eyes.
“If you didn’t come to see me, then you must have come for my brother, and he’s not here,” he says bitterly.
There is always another meaning behinds his words, I just can’t figure it out.
“No, I didn’t come here to see Cardelian,” I say, exasperated.
He leans against the door frame crossing his arms over his chest. “Are you sure about that?”
A slight smirk tugs on his lips, pulling my eyes to his mouth. He drags the tip of his tongue slowly across his bottom lip.
“It’s not nice to stare, Ace.”
I snap my head up. “I wasn’t staring.” A flash of warmth spreads across the bridge of my nose.
“I said it wasn’t nice. I didn’t say I minded.” He takes a step down, closer to me. It’s freezing out, and he has nothing on his feet but socks. It’s strange how the cold doesn’t seem to have any effect on him.
“But I wasn’t,” I say defensively, forcing my eyes to look down and not the lean muscles of his forearm. I keep them glued to the mud that is dried to the tip of my brown leather boots.
“He’s at practice …. If you are looking for him.” He takes another step closer to me.
“I didn’t come here to see him.” Frustration makes my voice shake, giving away my lie.
“Hmmm.” He takes the last step that is separating us, filling my personal space.
Despite my frustration with him, I want this. I want to close any space that separates us. The twisted part of me wants to continue this game of cat and mouse we play. My senses are filled with him, and cold waves drift off his skin, making me shiver. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. He smells woodsy, like pine and freshly fallen snow. It reminds me of winter, of Christmas.
“Are you having fun?” he asks in amusement.
My eyes fly open, and I can see the look on his face that says he thinks I’m a freak. God, could I be any more obvious? I’m leaning toward him, smelling him. Way to live up to your nickname, Eden.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, taking a step back.
His expression is no longer the one of disdain that I’m so used to seeing. Instead, it is calm, an odd sense of content floats off him. Another shiver runs through me. His raven hair is pushed off his forehead, giving me full access to his striking features, and his heart-stopping, beautiful eyes, which
glow
bright blue.
I am not imagining it. Fear grips me. I feel like I’m on a rollercoaster about to drop over the peak. I think I might actually puke. He can’t be from this world.
“Can I use your bathroom?” I blurt out.
“Umm. Yeah,” he says, sounding a little shocked. Blinking as if waking from a daze, his eyes fade back to the pale blue.
“Thanks,” I say pushing past him and into the house. I can feel his calculated stare on my back.
I hurry out of his gaze and down a narrow hall. The walls and floor throughout the house are the same dreary gray as the outside. Threadbare rugs cover the floors in various sizes and shapes. A flickering yellow lamp sets at the end of the hall, offering the only light. The house feels like the setting of a horror movie.
Uneasiness settles over me, and my stomach begins to twist with nerves. What was I thinking, coming into his house alone? Into the home of the boy with glowing eyes. They were most definitely glowing. I’m not crazy. If I was, wouldn’t I think everyone’s eyes glowed? Maybe the years of living with Essie has made me numb to the thought of creatures from another world, which is why I’m not running out of here screaming.
A morbid thought suddenly crosses my mind. What if he has the Fosters and Cardelian down in the basement, wrapped in some weird alien netting, waiting to be harvested? I could be next. The whole town might be next. What if he was luring Juliet to his nest to be his next victim in his harvest? And now I am in the hive.
Okay, calm down. I can do this.
My journalism instincts kick in as I make a left down another narrow hallway that ends in a bathroom. I shut the door behind me.
Think Eden, think.
I drag a deep breath of cold air in, I need to get it together.
If I was a weird, dark, elusive, glowing-eyed boy, where would I keep my secrets? I wish I had my phone so I could text Liv. She could distract Jaxson, but I don’t have my phone, so I’ll have to take my chances. There is some small comfort knowing that she is outside in the truck, she’s probably freaking out right now. I will have to be quick about it before she does something impulsive.
Nervous energy dances through my veins as I step out of the bathroom and back into the hall. I pick up my pace and push open the first door I come to. I’m greeted by a bright blue room, with posters of football teams and girls in hot pink bikinis. A pile of dirty clothes sets on the floor next to an unmade bed. This must be Cardelian’s bedroom. I back out and continue my search.
It becomes obvious that none of the other bedrooms are Jaxson’s. When I come to a door at the end of the hallway that looks like a closet I open it and look up the dark stairs that lead to an attic. Of course! As if he’s not dark and brooding enough, he needs to add sleeping in a creepy attic to the list.
Maybe he is a vampire
. I take the stairs two at a time, trying not to make any noise as I go.
The attic is exactly what one would find in an old house. Dusty and dim, boxes set in corners with sheets covering them, and wooden slat walls peek out to the outside, letting a cold draft fill the space. A mattress rests on the floor in the center of the room, and a small desk is pushed up against one of the walls, the top littered with art supplies and Jaxson’s sketch book. Remembering the life-like drawing makes my heart beat violently. I pad quietly across the floor to the desk.
I shouldn’t look, I would be horrified if someone tried to peek at my writing without my permission, but the image of him with glowing eyes—the creature of my nightmares—overpowers my sense of right and wrong. I have to know what he is hiding. I open the first page and find nothing out of the ordinary—just still life sketches of fruit and flowers. I continue turning the pages, and sketch after sketch, they begin to change into a girl. She has long, black hair that covers most of her face, large, almond-shaped eyes, and delicate features. She is exotic and beautiful.
On the next page, they change, and she’s screaming in pain. I keep flipping until it looks like she might crawl right off the pages. My heart races. I want to help her and stop whatever it is that is hurting her. I can hear her screams ringing around the room—loud, sharp, desperate pleas for help. I flip to the next page, and my heart stops, my stomach drops to the floor, and panic turns to fear in my veins.
The images change from the girl to sketches of me, it’s like looking in the mirror. When did he do theses? There are tons of them at different points during my day. Liv and me by the lockers. Me eating lunch and walking home. Me leaning on my hand, gazing off into the distance. The next picture chills me to the bone. It’s me, looking out of my bedroom window wearing my pajamas from
this
morning. A cold sweat trickles down my back. Is he stalking me? I flip the pages and all of them are me. The last drawing is one of me standing in a dress, barefoot on a frozen lake, and my eyes are shut as if I’m waiting for something.
A hand slams the book shut and ice travels down my spine. I spin around to face him. He is calm, but anger radiates off him and blackness swirls inside his eyes. “Did you see something you like?” he asks in a menacing tone.
Before I can think of what my next move should be, he reaches out and snatches my wrist, wrapping his fingers tightly around it. I yank my hand, but his grip is like a vice.
“Why are you watching me?” My voice cracks, my throat is dry and itchy, and my head spins.