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Breathless, I nodded my head and said, “No.”
I called Mom to tell her I’d be home later, then sat on a barstool in the corner of the kitchen.
“Can I use your laptop?” I asked.
“You don’t want to spend every minute admiring my mad skills?”
I tried to smile, but the thought of what I had to look up online was weighing on my mind. Jared went to his room and brought back his computer, handing it to me.
I kept one eye on Jared as he worked. He really did know what he was doing—he chopped vegetables like the TV chefs, so fast the knife was practically a blur. And he always seemed to be finishing one thing exactly when the next thing needed to happen.
But my real focus was the web browser. I searched furiously for any article that linked supernatural occurrences with bright lights. I followed a few links that led me to dead ends.
“What are you so focused on over here? Can you be done now?” Jared asked, lifting the back of my hair and kissing my neck. “Di
We sat down to eat at the dining room table, with two steaming bowls of pasta in front of us.
“Hang on,” Jared said, disappearing into the kitchen and coming back with two glasses of red wine. He handed me one and held his up. “Cheers.”
I clinked glasses, then set mine down. “I don’t really drink.”
“Not even a sip?” he asked.
I took the tiniest sip. The wine tasted like vinegar to me, but I forced my expression to stay neutral.
“So,” Jared said. “I’ve been thinking.”
“About what?”
He finished chewing and smiled. “Why you’ve been so tired lately. And I realized—you should quit yearbook.”
“What?” I said the word with a mouthful of pasta and then had to swallow a too-big bite. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…what it probably sounds like I mean. You’re overwhelmed, you have a lot going on, you’re tired and busy, and you should quit. It’s not like they’re paying you.”
“Of course they’re not paying me.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, where a tiny headache was blossoming into existence. “They don’t pay anyone. That’s not how it works.”
“My school pays the yearbook staff,” he said. “Minimum wage, applied to their tuition, but it’s the principle of the thing.”
I crossed my arms. “Well, I guess your school has a lot of money.”
There was a chilled silence.
“That’s not a bad thing,” I said. “It’s just…I like yearbook. And I don’t think I’m overwhelmed. I’m just busy.”
He still hadn’t spoken.
“I appreciate your concern, but that’s not an option for me. I don’t want to quit.”
Jared took a big swig from his wineglass and shot me a baffled look. “Fine, then. I just thought…since it’s cutting into other areas of your life…”
“What other areas?”
“Our relationship, for starters,” he said. “Lately there have been days when I really wanted to see you, and I can’t even get you on the phone anymore.”
I glanced down at my food. Nothing had ever looked less appetizing. “I’m sorry.”
“You know what? Forget it. I don’t want to talk about it right now,” he said. “I’d like to enjoy my di
I sat back, silent.
Jared didn’t eat, either. He just stared down at his bowl, holding his fork in a death grip. After a few seconds, he leaned back a little and sighed.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I think that’s what they call an overreaction. Can you forgive me?”
“Sure,” I said. My nerves were starting to feel like a frayed rope. I reached for my wineglass and gulped down a mouthful before I had time to dislike the taste.
Jared had softened. “Maybe you should tell me about yearbook. Since you seem to enjoy it so much.”
So I did. I talked about Elliot, Marley, Chad, Mr. Janicke…all the shoots I’d done. Well, all the shoots except the ones with Carter. I thought that by putting names and anecdotes along with it, I could make Jared understand why it was so important to me.
By the time di
“I should go home.” I stood up, but the room swayed around me.
“Yeah, I don’t think so, lightweight,” Jared said. “You’re going to have to hang out a while.”
I called Mom and told her Jared and I were going to watch a movie, but I’d be home by ten. The words slipped around my mouth like a wet fish, but Mom didn’t seem to pick up on it.
“You should probably drink some water,” said Jared.
I shook my head, which was starting to ache. “I just want to sit down.”
He helped me to the couch and turned on the TV.
I put my hand on his thigh. “Sorry,” I slurred. “I guess I’m a featherweight.”
He half laughed. “A fezzerweight?”
“Is that what I said?” The words were too thick to come out correctly.
“No.” He softly swept the hair from in front of my eyes. “It’s not. I shouldn’t tease you.”
I yawned in his face. “I’m so tired.”
“But you are a featherweight.” He leaned toward me. “A very cute one.”
By the time the kiss was over, I was passed out.
“Alexis?”
My temples ached like I had a too-tight banda
“Ow,” I said.
“Hello to you, too.” He took my hand and pulled me to a sitting position.
“I think my brain is full of ball bearings,” I groaned.
“It’s getting late,” he said. “Are you okay to drive?”
“What time is it?”
“Nine forty-five.”
That opened my eyes. I’d been asleep for two hours?
“I can take you home. I’ll just drive your car and take a taxi back.”
“I’m sure I’m fine,” I said. “It was just one glass.”
He looked sheepish. “Well, it was a generous pour.”
“But you’re fine?”
He smoothed my hair. His cool fingers felt heavenly on my skin, and I pressed my face against his hand. “I like wine,” he said. “Dad’s let me have a glass with di
“No, I’m okay,” I said, standing. Then the room whooshed around me, and I sat back down, defeated. “But you have to let me pay for the cab.”
“We’ll figure that out later,” Jared said. “I’ll get my jacket. Where are your keys?”
By the time I got home I was ready to pass out again. I totally forgot about paying for the cab. It was all I could do to brush my teeth, change into my pajamas, and collapse into bed.
Sometimes you wake up because you’re hot, or cold, or thirsty, or have to pee, or hear a noise. And sometimes you wake up because you just do.
I yawned and stretched and moved my arm out from under my pillow, shaking it lightly to get the blood flowing back into my fingers. My head still swam from the wine, so I snuggled back down on my pillow and closed my eyes again, trying to make the spi
Then I felt the slightest movement across my cheek.
My fingers touched something soft and wet, and I gasped, slapping at my skin furiously, as if there had been a spider crawling across my face in the darkness. I jumped out of bed and switched on the light.
On my pillowcase lay a single yellow rose petal.
I looked around. My head felt stuffy and I could hear the blood in my ears. It made the room seem silent—until I focused a little harder.
Vzzzzzzzzzz
“Hello?” I whispered.
But there was no answer.
My cheek burned, so I turned to the mirror to see if I’d scratched myself. My body felt weighted down, my mind thick. I was still out of it from being drunk—it was like I couldn’t even force myself to stay alert.
The sound seemed to be coming from behind me. But I could clearly see in the mirror that the room was empty.
Without thinking, I reached down for my camera, aiming it at the mirror and shooting pictures of the reflection.