Cursed Hearts (A Crossroads Novel) (15 page)

“Well, shit.”

“Do I really need to tell you to watch your
language?”

“No,” he said, avoiding her eyes. “Sorry.”

Eliza walked out of the room, chatting with the
old nurse. Rome hadn’t moved. He was too preoccupied with his thoughts. He
hesitated for a moment before twisting and lifting up the edge of his shirt. He
hadn’t
actually
expected his scars to
be gone, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t disappointed when he saw the marred,
ugly skin.

“Well, go on, get out of here,” Ruth said,
startling him
into ripping his
shirt
back down. “You need to get ready for class.”

Rome ducked past without so much as a word.

His classes came and went, and he found himself standing
at the back
of the
cafeteria, paying more attention to the storm than the
packed room
buzzing at his back. Rain water trickled down the
glass, blurring the outside world. Redwood Bay looked even gloomier on stormy
days, he thought, watching a bolt of lightning flash across the distant sky. Ariahna
was
avoiding him. Every time he’d seen her
in the hall she’d
managed to disappear
.

It
was less than subtle.

He
was dredged out of his thoughts by a tap on the shoulder.

“Trevor,
not now,” Rome sighed.

“Dude,
my name’s Jesse,” he said, leaning back against the glass. “How could you confuse
me with that little dweeb?”

Jesse
was tall and lean, and covered in tattoos. A lotus poked
out from
his shirt collar, covering the left
side of his neck. It reached up towards the black, single flair tunnels he had
in his ears. They must have been gauged big enough to stick a pencil through.

“What
do you want?” Rome said, glancing down at the colorful artwork on his arms. Spiked
bracelets, studded leather cuffs and chains adorned both his wrists. It was a
wonder his nails weren’t painted black.

“You
look like a man of good taste,” Jesse smirked, brushing his hair out of his
eyes. The top of his head was covered in thick, loosely styled hair that was
shaved short on the sides and back, giving an even edgier look to his
appearance. He looked even less likely to go to Vardel than Rome did.

“I
thought I might interest you in a pack of cigarettes? Maybe some gum if you’re
trying to quit? Whatever your jonesing for, I’ve got it. And if I don’t got it,
I can get it.”

Everything
about him from his ripped blue jeans down to his worn boots told Rome that this
guy hadn’t come from money. He’d known guys like him at Lincoln – the kind who snuck
things in. Drugs, weapons and what have you. It didn’t matter; they’d sell a firearm
to a child if it made them a quick buck. “I’m not interested,” Rome said. “Now
leave me alone.”

“Are
you sure?” Jesse asked, curling his fingers around the strap of his messenger
bag. “I’ve got some pretty cool stuff in here.”

“It’s
nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“I
doubt that,” he scoffed, opening the flap.

It
looked like it went on forever, and it was crammed with so much stuff Rome
could barely tell what anything was.

“How
do you find anything in here?”

“I
just think about what I want.”

“Okay,
that’s actually kind of cool,” he commented.

“Yeah,” Jesse laughed, “it is. So I heard you got in on a
scholarship
?”

“Let
me guess,” he said, “you too?”

Jesse
smirked, leaning in close. “Is it really true you didn’t know about magic before
the other day?” he whispered.

“How
did you know that?”

“News
travels fast around here. And I talk to anyone and everyone. I’m the go-to-guy
for buying, trading, selling. I supply all the parties, school sanctioned and
otherwise. And pretty much everything else. If there’s money in it, I’m there.”

“Yeah,
I figured as much.”

“Hey,
don’t get me wrong. I like cold hard cash, but I have morals. My mother would
kick my ass if I went around selling anything that wasn’t pg-13, if you know
what I mean.”

Now
all Rome could think about was what this guy’s mother must look like. He kept
imagining a heavy-set biker chick with burly muscles and facial hair. “If you
got a scholarship, what do you need all the money for?”

“I’ve
got my reasons.”

Rome
gave him a pointed look.

“I
can guarantee it’s nothing as dark and mysterious as whatever you’re cooking up
in that mind of yours.”

“Then
what is it?”

Jesse
crossed his arms, looking out at the array of faces lining the walls and
filling the tables. “It’s what most everyone in this room will never
understand,” he said.

Rome
scoffed, grinning down at his boots.

“I
have to admit, I think I judged you too quickly.”

“Eh,”
Jesse shrugged, “I’m used to it. You don’t get to look like I do and expect to
make friends at the same time. At least not around here.”

“Yeah,
it’s funny isn’t it?” Rome said. “How we look like the dangerous ones. The
truth is we’re standing in a room full of sharks. And I don’t mean the mascot.”

Jesse
smirked. “I never really looked at it that way, but I suppose you’re right.
There’s nothing worse than lawyers in the making.”

Rome
caught a flash of red hair out of the corner of his eye.

“Come
on, that was funny,” Jesse said.

It
was difficult to tell through the glass, but there was no mistaking that that
was Ariahna. She was dashing through the rain, covering her head with a small
book as water pelted her from every angle.

“Um,
that’s cool,” Rome said distractedly. “…I’ve gotta go.”

Jesse
threw his arms in the air, watching him rush out into the stormy weather.
“O-kay,” he said slowly. “Nice meeting you too.”

Rome
waved a hand at Jesse, not bothering to look back at him. If he had, he might
not have caught the sight of Aria slipping into the Performing Arts building.
He called her name, his voice drowned out by the booming thunder. By the time
he reached the building he was completely soaked, and she was nowhere in sight.

“Aria?”
he said, glancing around the empty hall. “We’re
not supposed
to be in here, remember?”

The
soft, delicate sound of a piano washed over him, sending shivers down his
spine. Ariahna’s voice lingered in the air with the notes. It felt like she was
calling to him, drawing him closer. A trail of water followed him all the way
to the auditorium. And as he stood in the doorway, watching her on stage, he could
see flecks of dust glimmering in the light shining down at her back. The dimly
lit room was scattered with a few students, and even less teachers. A blonde
haired woman in her late twenties was taking notes at the front of the room, a
beaming smile on her face. If he would have been paying attention, he might
have recognized her as the music teacher.

Rome
couldn’t pull his eyes away from Aria long enough.

He
swiped a hand into his wet hair, pushing it off his forehead distractedly. He
was entranced watching the way her fingers moved over the keys, smooth and slow.
She was giving him goosebumps. Watching her was like reminiscing a memory he
didn’t have. He didn’t know the song, he had certainly never heard her sing,
and yet there was something so familiar about this moment – about her voice,
and the emotion behind her words. She wasn’t just sitting at a piano; she was
pouring her heart out to a room full of strangers. And the saddest thing was,
no one even knew it. No one but him. Rome didn’t know when he’d gotten so
close, but he realized now that he was standing only an arm’s length away from
the stage.

Ethereal
, he thought. That’s what Aria
was. She was the kind of beauty he’d never thought he’d see in the world. The
kind that he knew he could never truly hold on to. That only made Rome want her
more. In this moment, he wasn’t afraid of anything. All he knew was that he
wanted to be hers, no matter the cost. He wanted redemption, the kind he only
saw when looking into her eyes. He didn’t understand it then, that first night
they’d almost kissed. But the constricting feeling around his heart, and the
unshed tears glistening in his eyes were more than enough to make him
understand it now. No one else was ever going to be able to make him feel this
unbelievably happy. Not even if he lived for a thousand years.

The last note drifted into silence, followed by the soft
sound of applause. It felt like he’d been holding his breath the entire time,
waiting for the very moment she would look down and smile at him with those
gentle green eyes.

Ariahna
never got the chance.

Chapter 13

The
small infirmary room felt suffocating. It was silent,
except for the
insistent sound of the clock ticking on the wall.
It had made the minutes feel like hours. Ariahna was sitting by Rome’s bedside,
hands clutched together anxiously and knuckles pressed to her lips. He’d been
unconscious for hours now, ever since the accident. Her stomach felt like it
was tied in knots. She’d spent the time carefully holding his hand and making
sure he was comfortable. She’d smoothed out his blankets and fluffed his
pillows more times than she could count. None of it made her feel any better.
None of it could help her forget what she’d seen.

She
sighed softly, burying her face in her hands. She couldn’t help but feel like
this was all her fault. She’d worried about it before, but now she knew it had
to be true. They were cursed. If Rome was around her, inevitably, he was going
to die. She couldn’t let that happen.

Rome
started to stir beside her, and Ariahna bolted upright, staring down at him in
concern as his blue eyes blinked open. He groaned softly, looking around the
small room.

“Where
am I?”

“The
infirmary,” she said. “Do you remember
what
happened?”

Rome
closed his eyes, trying to recall the events prior to him waking up on the
small, stiff mattress. That’s when a smile slowly found its way onto his face. “…You
stopped my heart with your voice?”

A
small, stunned breath pushed past her lips.

“I’ve
never felt anything like that,” he said.

There
was no way she could have affected someone in the way Rome was describing, yet
the look in his eyes left her speechless.

“It’s
the curse,” she whispered, “not me.”

“I
think it’s always been you,” he said. “I know how I feel.”

He
was not making this easy, she thought, reaching out to touch the tips of his
fingers. A good ninety percent of his hands were wrapped in medical bandages to
cover the burns.

“How
are you feeling?” she asked.

“Groggy.
And my mouth tastes like shit.”

Aria
held back a laugh.

“That
would be the tonic the nurse gave you.”

“Ah,”
he chuckled. “That would explain it.”

The
motion made his muscles ache, and Rome pushed the blankets back, lifting up the
front of his shirt. Despite the telltale taste of healing gunk in his mouth,
his chest and abdomen were covered in dark, ugly bruises and burns. Ariahna
paled, taking in the sight of his injuries.

“Why
did you do that?” she asked, watching him lower his shirt.

“…Do
what? The last thing I remember was the power going out.”

“Lightning
struck the building. There was some kind of power surge, I guess, and a stage
light came loose. It crashed onto the piano... and you.”

“What?”
he exclaimed.

The
air was thick with the weight of her guilt.

“Did
I… did I push you out of the way?”

Aria
nodded.

“What you did—I’d never expect anyone to do that
for me,” she said, slipping her hand away from his. “I feel horrible, knowing
you were hurt because of me.
I
could have stopped that light with magic, you know. Don’t get me wrong; I’m
grateful, I really am. But, it’s not your job to protect me.”

“I’d do it again if it meant I was the one laying
in this hospital bed instead of you. And i
f
you could have stopped it with magic, you would have. Me rushing in like an
idiot wouldn’t have made a difference.”

“Rome,”
she sighed, hesitating. “I think it would be better for both of us if we didn’t
see each other for a while.”

“Why?
I save your life and now you don’t want to see me? I’m sorry; I’m just a little
confused.”

“You were almost killed, twice. You don’t think that’s a
little… odd?”

“Wait,
are you seriously talking about that curse?”

“Curses
are real. They aren’t just superstition and fairytales, they really exist. If
there is a curse on us, we should take it seriously. It’s your life at stake
here.”

“Exactly,
it’s
my
life. And if I want to risk it for a chance to be with you, then
that’s my choice. I don’t care about some stupid curse. I feel like I actually
have something to live for, for the first time in my life, and I think that’s
more than a little worth exploring, don’t you?”

“Even
if we aren’t cursed,” Aria breathed, staring down at her hands, “I’m not sure
that we could ever… be anything. There are so many reasons why it would never
work out.”

“Like
what?” he said. “We’re too different? Your father would never allow it? You
don’t have to make excuses. I know you’re scared, but nothing worth having ever
comes easy. You have to fight for what you want.”

Aria
turned away, walking wordlessly to the door.

“I
want you to stay alive,” she said.

She
took a moment outside the door, staring bleary-eyed at the pink rose wallpaper.
She wasn’t going to cry, she told herself. Not again. She’d done enough of that
to last a lifetime. Rome called out her name and she bolted, walking straight
back to her dorm. She was trying not to look at, or think about anyone. That
didn’t mean she didn’t notice Dallas following after her like a bad tail. Ariahna
barely got the door closed before he came busting into the room. “It’s common
courtesy to knock,” she said.

“Well
you know what else is common courtesy?
Telling
someone you
were almost crushed to death!”

She
grimaced at his tone.

“I’m
sorry; I didn’t think you’d care.”

That
was the wrong thing to say to Dallas.

“Didn’t
think I’d care? You didn’t think I’d care that you almost died?” He raised his
eyebrows at her in disbelief. “Wow, good to know you think so much of me.”

“Dallas,
that’s not what I meant. I’m fine, okay? I just didn’t want to worry you over
nothing.”

He
huffed, arms crossed and paternal worry painting his face.

She
had to smile at that look.

“How’s
Rome?” he asked.

“…I
think he’ll be okay.”

“You
think?”

Aria
looked away.

“Did
you even say thank you?”

“How is this any of your business?” she mumbled “And I
thought you
didn’t
like Rome?”

“There’s
a distinct difference between disliking a guy and wanting him to go splat,”
Dallas said. “I still don’t think you should get involved with him, but maybe
it wouldn’t hurt to keep him around. You know, like a bodyguard,” he shrugged.

Ariahna
squinted at him. “I don’t know you.”

“Well
that’s just not true,” he smiled. He paused a moment before deciding to drag
the other reason he was here kicking and screaming out into the light. “…I
heard you left with Christian last night.”

“Who?”
she said, feigning ignorance.

“Christian
Reed,” he clarified. “He’s about yay tall, brown hair, brown eyes, completely
full of himself?”

She
shook her head and shrugged at the same time.

“Doesn’t
ring any bells.”

“I
like Christian even less than I like Rome.”

“And
yet you let him drive your car.”

“Aha!”
Dallas exclaimed.

“I’d
like to bring this conversation back around to my earlier argument of, how is
any of this your business?”

“Christian’s
a player. Whatever lines he’s feeding you or whoever you think he is, it’s just
an act. And it’s my business because I care about you and I don’t want you to
do something you’ll regret.”

Ariahna
felt her stomach clench, but it wasn’t because of Dallas. The surface of her
mirror was trembling – rippling like it was made of water instead of glass.
That could only mean one thing.

“Dallas,”
she said slowly.

“What?”

She
didn’t have time to explain. She shuffled him out of her room, slamming the
door quickly in his face. Ariahna turned back to the closet, watching as her father
started to morph through. The liquid glass clung to his sharp suit and the
rigid edges of his face. Thick, angled eyebrows framed hard grey eyes, and salt
and pepper stubble swept along his strong jawline. Richard was glaring at her
as he stepped through the mirror and into her room, his black dress shoes
clacking against the wooden floor. A thin, jet black tie hung neatly from his
neck, complimenting his wavy, raven black hair. He looked like a businessman,
through and through. But he carried a gun and moved like a cat and knew at
least a hundred ways to make a grown man cry. The cool look of disdain hanging
in his eyes said it all. This wasn’t a social call – not that Richard ever
visited his daughter just to socialize.

No,
this was an interrogation.