Destiny Binds (15 page)

He cupped my face in his hands, his thumb gently brushing a snowflake from my eyelashes. “You know why I came back.”

My heart started beating against my ribcage as if it was trying to break free. “The fried chicken they serve at The Farmhouse?”

“I came back for you, Scout.”

I had to say something. Something clever. Something dazzling. Something to make this moment perfect.

“I hope the snow sticks.”

That was not it.

Alex laughed nervously. Or, maybe it was my ears that were nervous. Every other part of me was.

“Itʼs going to clear up soon,” he said. “Zero accumulation.”

“Thatʼs a pretty cool super-power. I didnʼt realize wolves were so in tune with the weather.”

“Oh, did I forget to mention the werewolfʼs natural born ability to watch the Weather Channel?” For the record, Alexʼs dimples were clearly visible when he smirked. “Itʼs our most prized talent.”

I am an idiot.

“Are you pouting?” he asked when I chose not to respond.

“No,” I lied. I couldnʼt bring myself to look at him, so I tilted my head back and watched as glittery white flakes tumbled down from a black sky. My eyes rested on a clump of greenery wound around a high limb just seconds before Alex asked, “What is that?”

“What is what?” I could feel every nerve in my body buzz to life and hoped he hadnʼt notice my hands were shaking. I felt ridiculous for letting a ball of weeds get me so riled up.

“That green stuff. Is it...”

“Phoradendron serotinum?”

“...mistletoe?”

“Yes. Mistletoe.” It was only two words, but it took all my mental facilities to get them out.

“Are you sure?”

I nodded my head in confirmation.

“Mistletoe on a snowy Christmas night.” Alex gently grabbed my chin and tilted it so I was looking at him. “It seems Iʼm under a certain obligation here.” I just sat there like a statue, too nervous to breathe. Alex leaned in slowly, pausing once our noses were in tickling distance. “Iʼm going to kiss you now, Scout, unless you do something to stop me.”

I leaned in.

His kiss was soft, tentative, and way too short for my liking. It sent electrical jolts through my body that left me wanting more. My lips reached out for a second kiss and his eagerly complied, moving against mine until I was lightheaded.

“Hi,” Alex said, his forehead resting against mine as his hands explored my face.

“Hey,” I replied before giving him a quick peck on his upper lip. “Iʼm glad youʼre back.” Chapter 11

The remainder of my Christmas vacation was uneventful and frustrating. I knew Jase had been made aware of the Colesʼ return when he became grouchy and sullen. Charlie spent a lot of time at our house, but I rarely saw him. He and Jase spent most of their time locked in Jaseʼs room. On more than one occasion I heard the undeniable sounds of a quiet argument through my bedroom wall. I tried to listen in, even attempting the old hold-a-glass-to-the-wall routine, but never heard anything of interest.

When school finally started back, my reunion with Alex didnʼt go quite how I imagined it. He didnʼt stride into Mr. Beckʼs class, give me a slow smile, and tell me he missed me. In fact, he didnʼt look at me at all. Of course, we were supposed to be flying under the radar. He couldnʼt exactly wrap an arm around my waist and lead me to the theater for our Shakespeare class.

So I was okay with fact that he talked to everyone except me, explaining that the situation with his relatives hadnʼt worked out. I wasnʼt jealous that other girls could hug him and say how happy they were he was back. It was cool. I could handle it.

However, I could not handle seeing Ashley Johnson pressed up against him, her finger trailing slowly down his chest.

That was not cool.

What the Hades was he doing? How could he just stand there with her like that after everything we shared? After the way he kissed me? It had been over a week and I could still remember the way he tasted. Had Christmas night meant more to me than him?

“Whatʼs your problem?” Talley asked, situating herself in the seat beside mine.

“What makes you think I have a problem?” I rooted furiously through my purse for a writing utensil. All of my pens and pencils apparently had been spirited away by goblins.

“You normally donʼt terrorize poor Tori just for fun.”

“All I did was ask her to move.”

“You told her to get the hell out of your way and looked at her like you would enjoy ripping her still-beating heart from her chest. I think she may have wet herself.” I looked over where Tori Alyson stood clustered with a group of her artsy friends. When she saw me looking, she let out a tiny whimper and quickly averted her eyes.

Good grief.

“Must you always be so intimidating?”

“Iʼm intimidating?”

“That is the general consensus,” Alex answered. He was standing just inches away, waiting for me to let him pass.

I refused to acknowledge him. I wasnʼt about to be deluded yet again by the gleam in his eye or the quirk of his lips.

How did Alex respond to my aloofness? He stepped on my toes. I cursed my body for responding so enthusiastically when he grabbed onto me for support as he stumbled.

“Iʼm sorry,” he said, face level with mine. He squeezed my knee, and I knew he wasnʼt just apologizing for assaulting my feet.

I briefly considered withholding my forgiveness for a bit longer. “Just donʼt let it happen again. Ever
.
”

His fingers lightly brushed against my arm as he righted himself. “Scoutʼs honor.” And thus began what I liked to think of as the Secret Relationship Game. The premise was very simple: The contestants were to have as much contact with the other player as humanly possible, while making sure everyone else believed them completely indifferent. The major plays included brief but meaningful eye contact; the accidentally-on-purpose brushing of fingers, arms, or any other reasonable body part; and an obsessive number of text messages, e-mails, and even old-fashioned, unsigned notes in the locker. Occasionally, Alex and I would reach a bonus round and find ourselves alone in the theater prop room, media supply alcove, or even the janitorʼs closet. The bonus rounds featured frenzied kisses, eager hands, and the abject fear someone would open the door or notice our swollen lips and mussed hair.

To someone who has never actually played the Secret Relationship Game, it might sound fun and romantic. At times, it was. But it was also heartbreakingly difficult. Every touch and kiss made me aware of how few I received and left me aching for more. We wrote back and forth to each other constantly, but I longed for a conversation. Mrs. Sole hadnʼt felt the need to resume the point/counter-point articles, so we didnʼt even have afternoons at the library together anymore.

And then there was the constant threat of being discovered. When I thought about how much was at risk, I hated myself for letting it continue. How could I be willing to risk Alexʼs life for a few stolen kisses? Every night I would resolve to break it off. Then, the next day, I would show up in Calculus and there he would be, looking at me without looking at me, and I couldnʼt do it. I wanted him. It was reckless and stupid, but I wanted him. I couldnʼt just give him up and walk away.

I wished on the first star of every evening for just one day to be with Alex, to talk and laugh together without having to look over our shoulder. After five weeks, my vigilance paid off.

It was a Saturday morning, which meant that I was curled onto the couch, a behemoth bowl of Capʼn Crunch perched on one knee, and Toon Disney on the TV. I was trying to helpfully point out to the endearing Dr. Doofenshmirtz that Perry Platypus was once again breaking free of his constraints and about to ruin yet another brilliant plan when someone started pounding on my front door. I hit “Pause” on the DVR and sat my half-eaten bowl of cereal on the coffee table. I was certain it was Mr. Roberts from down the road. He had a tendency to start long conversations that would begin with the weather, end with his first wifeʼs infidelity, and hit every single topic in between. My yummy breakfast would be inedible mush before he could segue from rainfall averages to last yearʼs tobacco crop.

“Just a minute,” I called out, instantly feeling guilty for the irritation in my voice. I was supposed to be working on being more sympathetic. Mr. Roberts was a sweet man; he was just lonely. I should at least try to be nice.

I forced my face into a pleasant, friendly smile and yanked open the door.

“Well, someone is happy to see me,” Alex said, looking for all the world as if he belonged on my front porch. He noted my ensemble -- hair that hung in two sloppy braids, unicorn themed pajamas, and a pair of pink and yellow stripped toe socks — with a smirk. “Good morning, Beautiful.”

“What are you doing here?” My eyes darted wildly around the yard as if they expected to find Toby hiding behind a tree.

“Arenʼt you happy to see me?”

Of course I was happy to see him. Ecstatic even. I was also scared to death. “The treaty, Alex. Iʼm pretty sure you being here is in direct violation of that.” He somehow managed to make a shrug look smug. “What the Hagans donʼt know—”

“Wonʼt get you killed?”

“Stop being so melodramatic. No one is going to murder me today, although I may freeze to death standing on your front porch...” He looked at me expectantly.

I could have left him out there. I
should
have left him out there. And told him to go away.

And explained that I wasnʼt really worth all the trouble. Of course, I did none of those things.

There was something about seeing Alex standing in my foyer, leaned up against the kitschy antique table my mom bought at a flea market, that seemed right.

“So, why did I have to hear that Jaseʼs parents were taking him to speak with a recruiting coach in Louisville this weekend from Tinsley Henson?” he asked.

“I didnʼt realize you were interested in my brotherʼs college career.”

“Iʼm not. Unlike the rest of Western Kentucky, I couldnʼt care less which school your brother goes to. I do care that you have this house to yourself all weekend.” It took two short steps for him to reach me. His hands rested on my hips as my arms automatically wound around his neck. “I thought you might like some company.”

I was going to tell him that he had his information wrong, but my lips were too busy doing something else. If I had mentioned it, perhaps Alex wouldnʼt have bit my tongue when he heard my name being yelled from the top of the stairs.

“Ouch!” I yelped. His teeth were sharp.

Alexʼs eyes were wide. “Youʼre not alone?”

“No, Angel is here.” My tongue throbbed slightly. “Iʼm not going to turn into a werewolf now, am I?” Dr. Smithʼs book, which I read from cover to cover three times, said that lycanthropy, the ability to turn into a wolf, couldnʼt be passed through biting, but I needed to be reassured.

“Shifters are born, not made.”

At that moment my little sister appeared in the archway that led from the foyer to the kitchen. She was prepared to launch into a full-on whine about something or another, but then she realized that we had company.

“Alex!” she shrieked, running at him.

“Angel!” He lifted her up and gave her a giant bear hug, complete with a growl. It was like watching the climatic reunion at the end of one of those movies where the kid has been separated from her family because she was off on some grand adventure involving a dog or talking gerbil. Only, in real life, it managed to be even more annoying.

“Alex came by to pick up some Shakespeare notes,” I said. “He was just leaving.” He sat her back down and rested one of his hands atop of her cow-licked head. “Leave?

No! I havenʼt seen him in a million billion years!” Her sky-colored eyes blinked slowly twice as the corners of her mouth pulled down and inward, causing her bottom lip to jut out slightly. The patented Angel Donovan puppy dog face. “Canʼt you stay for a little while? Pleeeeeeeease?” There was no doubt that he would cave. It takes years of practice to resist the puppy dog face, with even the most seasoned of us still succumbing on occasion. “I think I could stay for a little bit longer.”

“I donʼt think thatʼs a good idea,” I said, interrupting Angelʼs squeal of delight.

“Why not?”

“You know why not.”

She thought about it for a minute. “Well, Jase isnʼt here. He wonʼt know.” The quirk of Alexʼs mouth said,
My point exactly.

“And what about when he gets home and finds out?”

My little sister placed her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side in a familiar stance. “Iʼm not going to tell him. Are you?”

“Of course not.”

“Good.” Her victorious smile was mirrored on Alexʼs face. “Cʼmon, Alex. I want to show you something.”

Angel led Alex through the house, giving him a tour of the mundane lives of the Donovan family. I tried to excuse myself to go change clothes, but Alex wasnʼt having it. He tugged on one of my braids and told me that he was developing a newfound fondness for unicorns when I suggested it.

After a full inventory of the first level of our house, Angel marched him up the stairs to the first door on the right. “This is my room,” she said, hand on the knob.

“You donʼt want to go in there,” I warned.

“Iʼm tough. I think I can handle whatever a seven year old girl can dish out.”

“Suit yourself.” I positioned myself against the furthest wall and waited for the show to start.

It didnʼt take long. There was a horrid yowl followed by an almost-scream. A second later, a white blur flew out the door and down the stairs. My sister followed as fast as her little legs would carry her. When I turned back, Alex was filling the doorway.

“She has a cat,” he said, rubbing an angry red mark on his neck.

“Yes, she does.”

“Cats hate Shifters.”

“I figured that out already.” I pulled myself off the wall and took a step towards him.

“You could have warned me.” He took a step into the hall.

“I told you that you didnʼt want to go in there.” I closed the distance between us. “Is your neck okay?”

“I think it needs a kiss to make it all better.”