Burn (3 page)

OK, so Logan is not against the idea of flirting in front of Gage. I face forward trying to ignore him, watching the scenery bleed by.

Gage places his hand over my thigh and shakes it as if letting me know it’s not a big deal.
 

“Please take your hand off her,” Logan says with a restrained anger, his eyes never leaving the road.

We drive another five minutes to the bowling alley.

Gage doesn’t listen.

***

“OK, close your eyes.” Logan’s enthusiasm has returned. He takes me by the hand and leads me through the parking lot. I keep my lids cracked so I don’t feel like I’m about to fall off a cliff with each step and let him take me around the building.

“Open,” he whispers.

The air is frosted with a milky layer of fog, coupled with the fact I’m creating a steady stream of smoke from my nostrils with each breath of anticipation.

“Where is it?” There’s nothing but a dumpster back here, a fractured bucket rolling around in the dirt, and some old car.

“This is it.” He glides into a huge grin, pulling me towards a dilapidated piece of junk. “Surprise.” He gives my shoulders a squeeze as he leans in and kisses me just above the ear.

“Surprise?” It’s a dull faded orange and as old as like Tad and my Mom combined. Wow, Logan’s lousy at surprises. I totally won’t hold it against him though. “What are you going to do with it? And why would I be surprised to see it?” Maybe it’s a monument, and it belongs in a museum somewhere? Obviously it must have some historic value that I’m not aware of.

“It’s for you. An early birthday present.” He wraps his arm around my waist.

“Oh no—that’s OK, you don’t have to do this. I don’t even have my license.” Dear God, just being seen in that thing could socially isolate me. Maybe that’s the point?

“Well, you’ll get it eventually.” There’s a mixture of hurt and hope in his eyes. “I can teach you. Besides, with a car of your own, you won’t need to rely on Gage to take you everywhere.” He leans in almost pleading.

“Oh, I get it.” It’s the keep-away-from-Gage-mobile. “I’m not sure,” I say, opening the door. It’s heavy—feels solid, not all light and plastic like new cars. It smells like cigarettes and bunch of illegal stuff I’m not even aware of. Who knows what people have done in this car—it was probably known as the sex-mobile.

I back up a notch.

“I sort of envisioned my first car as something…” I scratch at the back of my head searching for answers.

“Something more this century?” Gage interjects as he walks around the vehicle. “Nice ride, but it’s not you
Skyla
. And if you’re not ready to drive, don’t let this idiot bully you into doing something you don’t want.”

I’m not so sure we’re talking about cars and driving anymore, and, for
sure,
I’ve never heard Gage refer to Logan as an idiot before.

I look from Logan to Gage. There’s so much anger locked up in their eyes, so much newfound hate filling the gap between them. I feel horrible knowing it’s all because of me.

“So where did it come from?” I’m almost afraid to ask. Judging by the rust spots around the wheel well, it’s safe to say it could have been abandoned for years somewhere on the island.

“It was my dad’s,” Logan says rubbing the top of the car as though it were flesh.

“This belonged to your dad?” I step forward and pull him back gently by the shoulder. My insides melt at the thought he wants to give me something so special.

He pinches a smile and nods with glimmering eyes.

“I love it.” I pull him in. “Can I paint it pink?”

“No.” Both Logan and Gage answer in unison.

At least they agree on something.

Chapter Fou
r

Oh Baby

We leave Logan at the bowling alley and Gage drives me home. By the time we slide in at the bottom of my driveway, I’m pretty psyched about having my own set of wheels. Gage said it’s a 1966 Mustang with original paint and body, so I guess that was his nice way of letting me know why it wouldn’t really be a good idea for me to paint it pink or even reupholster the inside to that cool patent purple with glitter that my bicycle seat used to have. Evidently after Logan’s father died, it sat around collecting dust in the Oliver’s side yard, and Logan is more than happy to gift it to me. That, and it cuts down on my interaction time with Gage, which I know for a fact I don’t want to do.

Gage hops around and helps me out of his truck. My knee is still pissed off about that fall I took a few days ago out of a two story window trying to get Ellis and Gage back into the right year. That whole time travel thing has definitely bit me in the ass, knee, and quite a few other places—I’m not so hot on cruising around the time continuum anymore.

Gage takes my backpack and secures it over his shoulder. He tilts his head into me, his features lost in shadows. It’s only five-thirty and already it’s pitch black outside. I love autumn nights on Paragon. A dense layer of fog lies across the island like a thick blanket of sorrow. I love to let my emotions bleed into the weather here. It leaves room in my heart for the joy of having someone as spectacular as
Gage
around.

He wraps his arms around my waist and rubs his cheek softly against mine. I want to tell him to stop, not to get so close, but I can’t find the words or actions to go along with that rationale.

He brushes along my face until his lips find mine and offers a deep, luxurious kiss. My stomach bottoms out over and over until he gently pulls away.

I want to say it’s wrong, but my tongue is tied up in knots at the moment.

“I know,” he whispers. “I’m going to talk to Logan and tell him how I feel.”

“I think he’s got a pretty good idea.” This is going to end up in a pile of crap. I can feel it.

“I need to do it.” He chews the inside of his cheek and gets lost staring into the forest behind me. His black hair blends into the shadows. The deep blue of his eyes, glow in the night like luminaries. “I’m not trying to put you in any kind of weird position, but I need for Logan to hear what I’ve got to say.”

“OK.” I tighten my arms around him and sigh into his chest.

He leans in and offers me another kiss, slow at first as though he were asking permission this time, waiting for me to shove him away, tell him it isn’t right. Then comes the strength, the wave—an entire ocean of kisses, a circle that never ends, a seamless loop that could easily slide us across eternity.

Something’s got to give. I already know this.

***
   

The house glows an eerie orange. I race inside and toss my backpack on the floor. Everyone is seated at the dining room table, which is suspiciously complete with pressed linens, my mother’s wedding china from her marriage to my father, and my grandmother’s good silverware—never a good sign.

“Just in time for dinner!” My mother takes me by the shoulders and guides me to an empty seat at the end of the table.

“What’s going on?” I examine the gourmet offerings. Looks great. “You make this?” I marvel at the Mexican food buffet sprawled before us.

“I went downtown to that cute restaurant we went to for Melissa’s birthday and picked it up.” She scoops some rice onto my plate before taking a seat.

It’s quiet as we eat. The strange gaps of silence are filled in with the clank of our forks butting up against the dishes, the ice sloshing around in our glasses. I look over at Drake, and he shrugs as though he suspects something as well.

“Let’s get to this, shall we?” Tad wipes his face while addressing my mother. His hair is fluffed out a good three inches longer than usual, and he’s starting to look a bit more portly than when he first married Mom six months ago. I still don’t see what drew my mother in. It’s like he’s got her under some sort of a spell. Now that I know I’m an angel from the
Celestra
faction, nothing seems outside of the realm of possibility.

“First, huge announcement,” Mom taps her hands on the table doing her version of a budding drum roll. “Mia has decided to legally change her last name to Landon.” She annunciates her point with an open-mouth smile.

“What?” I can’t believe this. “You can’t change your last name,” I say examining her up and down. Mia has slowly morphed into the mirror image of me with wavy blond hair, grey eyes as clear as velum.

“Yes I can.” She picks up a glass of water and starts chugging without elaborating.

“No, you can’t.” I leave off the part about our last name being the final connection to our deceased father. “You’re a Messenger.”

“And soon-to-be Landon.” She shoots over a curt look. “Look, it’s not a big deal, I’m tired of explaining to everyone why Melissa and me have different last names, and this way we can be real sisters. It’s not like I’m keeping it forever, I’ll change it again when I’m married. Relax,
Skyla
.” She sets her glass back on the table hard. “You make a big deal out of everything,” she adds, “drama queen.”

“What?”
I’m stupefied by this
.

“Enough you two,” my mother scolds, clapping her hands together once.

I haven’t argued with Mia since before Tad and my mother started dating. It’s like having Melissa in her life demoted me to a distant family member you don’t really care about and pretty much ignore. I rather like that status.

“Next big announcement.” My mother lets a lazy grin linger as she gazes over at Tad like a lovesick teenager. “You
wanna
?”

“No you.” He motions.

They banter back and forth until Drake knocks his knife up against the rim of his glass.

“OK,” my mother starts. “Your father and I have decided to conceive a child.”

“You’re going to have a kid?” Drake’s face explodes with shock.

“Yes.” She giggles into Tad like a schoolgirl. “What better way to bring this family together in a circle of unity than the two of us having a child together?”

“So when are you having the baby?” Mia is clearly overjoyed with the idea.

“Oh Honey, we’re not having the baby yet, we’re in the planning stages. As soon as it happens we’ll let you know.”

“So you’re telling us,” Drake cuts a look over to me briefly before continuing, “
you
’ll be actively participating in the necessary relations in order to procure an offspring.” Drake’s features disintegrate into a clear look of disgust.

“Yes.” My mother beams as she takes Tad’s hand up in the air and waves it victoriously.

Oh gross.

“I’ll have a brief ovulation window each month, and—”

I start hitting the air brakes with my hands.

“I’m going to go vomit now, thanks for dinner,” I say, speeding down the hallway faster than my mother can react. Truth is, I wanted to bolt after Mia’s big news, and now that my mom and Tad are trying to have a baby, it’s sort of the last nail in the coffin of our old family—the one we had with my dad. I’d rather be alone in my room than celebrating, or pretending to smile while we discuss ovulation windows.

Drake comes up alongside me as we bolt up the stairs.

“You hear them rocking, don’t come a knocking,” he ditches into his room and shuts the door.