Holiday Magick (15 page)

“Girls, girls, you're both
bonita.
” Jillian wiggled between us with reproving looks in each of our directions, then added something in French that I'm sure was a sweet cuss—but I don't speak French. “Anyway, it seems a shame that they put so much work into these things just to burn them down.”

“In a blaze of glory!” Callie said. “Seriously, though, aren't those guys loading the fireworks just friggin'
hot
as hell? Especially that guy climbing with his shirt off. Look at those back muscles!”

She had a point. We stopped our conversations for a moment of admiring silence.

Sexy-back-muscle guy had a shirt looped through the back of his belt, but we could see that he had an equally muscular butt. I wondered if he was the guy who'd caught me earlier. It was hard to tell; a lot of the men were shirtless. Anyway, he scaled the sculpture with ease, pausing to chop holes with a hatchet here and there. Another good-looking guy with sweet biceps (but wearing a shirt) climbed one-handed with a sack of fireworks slung over his shoulder, filling the holes.

When they had moved to the other side of the Hollywood
ninot
, I let my eyes wander over the rest of the sculpture. It unfolded like a hidden picture game, with little jokes here and there, like—ahem—some specific body parts molded into a Disney-esque mermaid scene. A flutter of motion, like wings stretching, caught my eye. “I hope those birds fly off before they set the thing on fire!”

“What birds?” Callie asked, concern in her voice.

“Those two—they look kinda like peacocks.” I lifted my hand to point, but when I looked at where I had seen them, they were gone.

“I don't see any birds,” Andrea said.

“They were right there, by Joan Rivers's nose.” They were—had been—pretty big, too. I should have seen where they went to.

“Maybe they flew away, so they're safe from the fire. Poor birdies. They're probably all confused.” Callie was craning her neck to inspect every edge of the
ninot
for more innocent wildlife.

“That's probably it.” I chewed my lip. They had been some
weird
-looking birds. I could have sworn they were looking right at me, before they disappeared into thin air.

Heavy-duty fire tarps rolled down the sides of the surrounding buildings with a
fwump
that dampened the crowd noise to a hushed murmur. The spotlights that had been shining on the
ninot
dimmed as the guys came back around. We could only see their long torches and the tops of their heads, but disappointment at our limited view fizzled away as sparks started to fly from the fireworks inside the
ninot
.

There were almost ten minutes of colorful explosions before orange flames started fluttering up the sides of the float. Smoke spiraled skyward between the buildings, and the growing heat pushed all of us back, farther and farther. The sawhorse safety barriers were yards away from the front of the crowd. In the shuffle, I led my roommates to the very front of the people.

As warm as the night was—most everyone was in shorts and tank tops, if not bathing-suit tops—it felt chilly to me. Like I didn't belong there. I belonged closer to the fire. The fire called me, inviting me into its embrace as it wrapped around the
ninot
.

“Marie, the people are backing away for a
reason
,” Andrea said.

I ignored her.

“Marietta, even I'm getting a bit blistery, and I'm never hot,” came Jillian's voice.

“Those guys are all right there.” I could see their silhouettes billowing as waves of heat enveloped them.

“Yes, but I'm sure they do this every year. They're used to it.”

It was a logical explanation. It just felt wrong to be so far back, though. Nevertheless, I stayed with my roommates—my friends—as I had for most of the school year. There was comfort in knowing you had people to be with; that was true in an overcrowded college or the overcrowded streets of a town older than your own country.

Among the clouds of smoke, ashes fluttered up in a hide-and-seek dance with the stars. The smell of fire prickled the inside of my nose, and I breathed it in deeply. The crowd started to wander away as the
ninot
was reduced to charred remains. It still looked beautiful to me. The glowing embers winked around the shadowy remains like faery lights, and the heat rolled over me in waves.

All of a sudden, I became aware of the music and laughter and voices, as if someone had just turned up the volume on a radio. It was deafening, and I felt paralyzed for a moment. My eyes darted around for my roommates, my friends—fortunately, they hadn't gone far. They were halfway to the end of the alley, talking to a handful of guys.

Andrea was flirting with one of the taller guys, laughing and placing her hand on his arm. Callie saw me and waved, sloshing a bit of what looked like a fresh drink down her hot-pink halter. I waved back and strode over, my mind immediately rushing to thoughts of Cristina and why I
wasn't
drinking.

“Hey, Marie! These lovely gentlemen want to take us to a more private celebration!” She giggled, her blonde curls dancing like party streamers around her face.

One of the guys—definitely a few years older than me—who wasn't occupied stepped forward and offered me his hand. “Hey, beautiful.” Normally, that would earn a guy a snarky response in my book, but this guy was the kind of person who could pull it off. That may have been helped by his gorgeous—and unusual, as he was Asian—grey-blue eyes. Whatever—I would have totally swallowed that line, had we not touched.

His hand felt chilly. Cold-blooded.

He winced at my touch, as if I'd burned him. Then those gorgeous eyes seemed to change. Quick, deadly storm clouds filled them. His voice didn't lose its musical cadence, though, and he re-took my hand, lifting it to his lips with a wicked wink. If it were any other guy, it would have been cheesy. If I were any other girl, how he moved and his kiss would have left me swooning.

Instead, I felt like I was drowning.

“I'm Makaio, and these are my friends.” He gestured to the three guys with him. Andrea and Callie were entangled on two guys' arms, while Jillian had a hand on the third guy's wrist. “We're here on break from the University of Hawaii, and we've got a place right out on the beach. We'd love it if you would join us.”

His eyes never left mine, and part of me was too terrified to argue. I certainly didn't want to leave my roommates. And who was I to spoil their good time by demanding we not go with them? I was just the brainiac freshman placed in the vacant bed of their suite.

Jillian added, “We can just hang out for a little, and then come back out here.” She put an assuring hand on my shoulder as if to say that she had my back, but she held a fresh glass of wine. Who was to say she wouldn't give in to her more primal urges around these very fine-looking guys? I was certainly thinking about it. Despite the strange fear Makaio made me feel, I
wanted
to go with him.

“¡Oye, chica!”
Heading toward us from the
ninot
—really just trembling leaves of ash now—came the other group of hot guys.

Clearly, Valencia is where to find dangerously amazing men. And I seriously wanted to know what
I'd
done that was getting their attention. Before this trip, I don't think I'd said more than a dozen words to any guy in college, other than comments for a class.

“
¿Estás bien?
” asked the guy who, even from the front, I was pretty sure was Sexy Back Guy—or at least the guy who had caught me when I tripped earlier. He had hella pecs. I blinked and had to consciously look at his face, the back of my mind wondering if I was feeling how guys felt when they met a girl with really nice breasts. (Someone other than me, I must sadly admit.)

It took me a moment to register his green-gold eyes. He
was
the guy who'd caught me when I fell.

“Um…
sí
,
sí. Muchas gracias
”

“
¿Éres Americana?
” he asked.

I nodded.
“Sí.”

“
Hablas muy bien
,” he complimented, and I felt even more heat rise to my cheeks—and they'd
been
burning since I met this guy's eyes. He looked at my friends, and switched to English. “We're going to light another
ninot
. Would you like to come? Have a few
cervezas?
I'm sure Manny,” he tilted his head at Sweet Biceps Guy, who still carried a shoulder sack of fireworks, “could get us some wine. His
pápa
owns the best
bodega
in Valencia.” He winked at me, but his eyes jumped to Makaio.

“I really want to go to the beach house,” Callie said. “Can we go swimming? Even at night?”

“‘Course we can,” said her guy. “It's private beachside property. My mom owns it.”

“Owns it?” Andrea was obviously impressed.

“We got here on my dad's private jet.” Andrea quickly returned her attention to the guy with his arm around her. He clearly wasn't going to be outdone by his friend.

Sexy rich guys from Hawaii, or hot Spaniards with beer, wine, and fireworks? What girl didn't dream of this kind of attention? Why did I feel too scared to even speak?

Makaio brushed his hand over my shoulder, and the odd feelings it caused—terror, desire, chills down my spine, tremors in other places—only paralyzed me even more.

“We really should stick together,” Jillian said.

“And I already voted beach house.” Andrea still offered a sexy smile to the Spaniards. “It'd be rude to just change our minds like that.”

“Thank you for inviting us.” Jillian gave a warmer smile, but she joined Andrea and Callie as they were led away by the Hawaiians. Makaio was waiting for me.

“If you change your mind,
cariña
,” the Spaniard spoke to me, but he was staring at Makaio with angry eyes and a puffed chest, “you'll know where to find us. The fire will call you.”

I nodded again, not quite able to find words. Makaio rested one hand on my back, between my shoulder blades, and fingered the ends of my hair. I moved without feeling like I was moving, like being pulled by a current and just letting it take you. Except that could be deadly if there was an undertow.

And Makaio's proximity felt like an undertow.

I'm sure during any other time of year, the route near the beaches was much more packed. While the overall crush of people was significantly reduced, we saw plenty of small bars with enough customers to dribble onto the sidewalk in tide pools of partying. Most people wanted to be closer to the fires.

So did I.

Makaio put his arm around me as we walked. I was both excited and afraid. He was seriously gorgeous. His muscled arm almost lifted me from the ground, and being held so close meant I had a good idea of his abs. One word: whoa!

He surfed and was studying economics. His family owned some line of beach sporting goods and water gear. His mom taught exclusive, advanced SCUBA lessons, and his dad was the one who taught him to surf.

“So.” He squeezed the top of my arm. “Do you keep pushing questions at me because you're shy and don't want to talk, or because you know getting people to talk about themselves causes them to think well of you?”

I blinked my eyes and stiffened. “Um. I…dunno?”

He flashed a wicked smile at me and let me go, and then began counting things off on his fingers. “Your name is Marietta Something. You're a history major with a Spanish minor, and you may go into teaching. You like seafood, and you aren't particularly fond of drinking.”

“I'm also seventeen,” I blurted.

“And you want me to know you're unavailable to sleep with tonight according to American law.”

I managed a hiccup noise and glanced in the direction of my roommates, who were veering toward the next corner. Makaio had slowed his pace, pulling me almost to a stop. He leveled his sea-blue eyes at me.

And waited.

“Um…they're getting ahead of us?” I quickened my step to catch up with the others. They disappeared around the corner, but I could still hear their voices.

“Are you afraid of me?” He stepped in front of me, cutting off my escape.

I swear he could be staring into my soul with those eyes of his. I felt a flutter of pleasure throughout my body that made me weak in the knees.

“Yeah—nooo…maybe.” I dropped my gaze to my glitter-painted toes and tried to walk around him. Their voices were disappearing.

He stepped closer, and put a hand under my chin. I licked my lips in reaction to his touch. “You know that's normal, right?” he asked.

“Wh-what?” I started looking around for a place to run. Anywhere. I didn't want to turn my back to him, but I didn't know if I could dodge around him. And I didn't know if I wanted to go in the direction of my roommates. Toward his lair.
Lair?
Where had that come from?