Intangible (16 page)

“My parents are not. They’re in Florida and not speaking to me.” He found a parking space and pulled in, cut the engine, then looked over at her. “I’m a disappointment.” He smiled and shrugged.

“Really.” She arched an eyebrow.

“Really.”

“You don’t seem disappointing to me,” she said as she got out of the car.

“You cannot imagine how glad I am to hear that,” he said with a grin, and locked the doors.

Finding a free table at the coffee house was easy thanks to a fortuitous lull. Marc carried his coffee and Sera’s chamomile tea over to the table where she waited. She took her steaming mug gratefully, wrapped her hands around it to enjoy its warmth.

Marc took a sip of his coffee, and his face screwed up in disgust.

“Is it not good? Luke loves their coffee.” Sera blew on her tea.

“Sugar,” Marc said with a gasp. “I forgot to add the sugar. Be right back.”

He walked back across the room to the high counter sporting sugar—real and not—cinnamon, spoons, napkins, and about twelve different kinds of milks and creamers. He shook his head at that. He’d never known there were so many, and wondered who would put rice milk into coffee. Yech. He picked up two packets of raw sugar and turned back to Sera.

A sharp pain pierced his right eye and bored into his brain. Oh no. No, not now, he thought. He looked across the room at her. She was about twenty feet away, watching him. And the medicine was a couple of blocks away in his car. The pain in his head started to expand like a balloon. Slowly. Agonizingly. Spreading in jagged tears throughout his head. He grabbed hold of his head with one hand, as if he could somehow stop it or slow it down, prevent his head from exploding.

A few steps toward Sera and the voices started crashing in.

Oh, no. I did not just say that out loud. He’s going to think I’m an idiot.

Come on, come on. How long does it take to pour a cup of coffee?

Gym, store, library, home.

I should get my eyes checked.

My mother would hate what I’m doing.

These shoes are really comfortable. I wish I’d bought another pair.

I think I’ll get a muffin to go with my—

Marc stumbled toward Sera, holding his head, sugar packets in a death grip. About six feet away from her the voices completely stopped.

Silence. Total, utter silence in his head.

And no pain.

He met her concerned eyes in surprise.

He let go of his head, relaxed his hands, and looked around the room. All of these people around, but he wasn’t hearing any of their thoughts. He rolled his neck around, loosening his shoulders, moving his head from side to side. Absolutely no pain.

That was interesting.

He narrowed his eyes and looked at Sera again. It had to be her. Without looking behind him, he took a step back, away from her. Then another. One more and the sound in his head was instantly loud, pain slicing a burning knife through his brain. He quickly stepped toward Sera before his knees buckled, and it was gone again. Completely.

Very interesting. He grinned, suddenly giddy, and strode over to sit down with her, dropping the two crushed sugar packets on the table. He pulled out his chair and sat down.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” He ripped the top off of one packet and poured the sugar into his mug, then picked up the other.

“You sure? You didn’t look so good a minute ago.” Sera looked at him from across the table. Setting her tea down, she reached over to touch his arm. He looked down at it as he felt the heat of her hand through his sleeve.

“You have really warm hands,” he said, looking back up at her. He waited, wondering if she was trying to heal him, but he felt nothing more than the warmth. Perhaps that was all her healing touch felt like to others. Just heat from her hands. If that was the case then it was no wonder no one knew about it. He picked up his spoon and stirred his coffee.

Sera took her hand away, and stared at it for a moment, palm up. “You really
are
okay,” she said, and he nodded as he took a sip of his coffee. “But what happened? You looked like you were in a lot of pain.”

“I get that way sometimes,” he said. “But it went away. I actually feel much better now. Maybe it’s you.” He looked directly at her, willing her to tell him, to admit it.

Her face closed immediately, eyes dropped to her mug as her hands encircled it again. She shifted in her chair, and didn’t say anything.

“You probably get that a lot.” He watched her closely as he spoke, looking for some hint or reaction. A sign that she understood he suspected what she could do.

She lifted her face and gazed at him a silent moment, then said, “No. No one has ever said that.” Which, he realized, was probably true.

She was good.

With that controlled blank expression on her face, he knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere today. Not surprising—she’d likely been keeping this secret from everyone for years. It’s not like she was going to trust him enough to tell him in such a short time. But, man, what he wouldn’t give to tap into her thoughts right now. Just for a moment. Just so he’d know.

“You read?” he said, deliberately changing tactics. She needed time. He’d give her that.

She nodded, eyes lit up. “All the time. You?”

As they discussed their favorite books, Marc realized he hadn’t felt so relaxed in a very long time. Maybe ever. He forgot his frustration at not hearing her thoughts. He forgot the looming migraine that only her presence kept at bay. He found himself letting his guard down as he hadn’t been able to do with anyone else.

And it was thanks to the quiet in his mind, thanks to Sera. The complete mental silence allowed him to just be. Be himself. Be normal. She was an even better drug than the Shadows’ medicine. But he couldn’t be in her presence every minute of every day.

He still needed the Shadows.

T
heir mugs sat empty on the dark wooden table, forgotten. Hands waving to emphasize her point, Sera was entranced with the warm, flowing sound of Marc’s laughter. This boy was amazing, so intelligent, funny. And still seemingly unaffected by her gift. There was a difference, a look that people got when they felt drawn to her. And he didn’t have it. She could not stop smiling about that.

Oh, and the fact that he was totally flirting with her. She didn’t have much experience—okay none—in this area, this boy-girl stuff, but there was no mistaking that he liked her. That he
liked
her.

And she loved that. She’d never thought anyone ever would—like her just for who she was. But he did. Marc did. She seriously couldn’t stop smiling.

This might be the best day of her life.

Of course, there was one problem. She was looking at breaking her own rules. Quickly crumbling rules. Which was bad. Dangerous. Catastrophic. Well, not yet. But it certainly could be if she continued to feel all giddy and warm at this beautiful boy across the table from her.

She watched his mouth as he laughed at something she’d said. His lips looked soft, warm. And she wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. The thought of his lips on hers sent flutters through her stomach.

He’d stopped laughing and was just smiling at her. She could hardly believe that he was sitting there looking at her like that. Like he was enthralled. Like she was fascinating. He
liked
her. Every time she thought it her heart flip-flopped. It was intoxicating to have someone like her, and she was drawn to him, completely out of her control. She couldn’t stop it if she wanted to.

She flipped open her cell phone to check the time. She couldn’t believe they’d been there for over two hours. It didn’t feel like it. It didn’t feel like any time at all. She looked across the table at him. She was already late to meet her dad.

“You’ve got to go,” he said, nodding at her phone.

“Yeah, my dad’ll be waiting.” She reached for his empty mug and her fingers brushed his hand. His skin was warm and the touch left her tingling. All she wanted to do was touch him more. But instead she picked up both of their mugs and took them over to the dark brown plastic tubs for used dishes.

Marc stood up and they walked outside together. “Would you mind walking with me back to my car?” he said. “I know you’re late, but can I have a few more minutes?”

It wouldn’t really matter, she thought. Her dad was likely already sitting at a table, perusing the menu, watching people. He’d be fine for a few more minutes.

“You afraid of the dark, Sunshine?”

“Nah,” Marc said. “I’m just not quite ready to say goodnight.”

She ducked her head, warmth flooding her cheeks. Oh, was she in trouble with this guy. She took a breath and then turned to look up at him. “Sure, I’ll walk with you.”

She hoped he’d hold her hand. And she hoped he wouldn’t. She was simultaneously disappointed and relieved when he stuffed both hands into his pockets. The air was colder without the sun, and Sera wished she’d remembered to bring a jacket—maybe not a parka like Marc had on, but at least another layer would have been nice. She smiled at that. It was cute how he overdressed for the weather.

She glanced across the street and thought she saw Jonas there, standing against a wall, watching her. But when she looked back quickly no one was there. Her gaze swept the street. She didn’t see him anywhere. Maybe she’d just imagined it, but it wasn’t the first time that had happened, and it was beginning to freak her out. She shook her head and tried to focus on Marc. Which, it turned out, wasn’t very difficult.

The block and a half went by way too quickly. Suddenly they were there at Marc’s car. He opened the door, grabbed a small bottle from inside and took one pill, swallowing it without water. He looked relieved as he turned back to her, his hands once again tucked into his jeans pockets.

“What’s that for?”

“My head.” He didn’t say anything more. She’d almost forgotten about that. She’d tried to heal him, but nothing had happened. No energy—he hadn’t needed it, which was surprising given how awful he’d looked. She shook it away. It was over. She didn’t know what happened. She wasn’t going to worry about it.

“Thanks,” Sera said. “For the tea. And the conversation.”

“It was my pleasure.”

She smiled at him in the lamplight, looking up into his clear blue eyes. “Well, I gotta go. My dad.”

“Okay,” Marc said. “See ya?”

It was a question. A definite question. She searched his eyes, lingered on his smile, his lips. She imagined what it would feel like to be in his arms, his lips hot on her skin. She could do this, right? What would it hurt?

“Yeah.” She nodded. “You will.”

There it was. She’d said it. Her no-dating rule? Gone.

She turned and walked back the way they’d come, back toward Muddy Waters and Church Street where her dad waited for her. Oh, he was going to laugh at her when she told him she was late because of a boy. He loved to tease her about boys, always asked if there was anyone “special” in her life. She rolled her eyes just thinking about it. He never seemed totally convinced when she told him that, no, in fact, there was no one she was interested in.

Well, now there was. There definitely was.

She hurried her steps, anxious to see him—she loved their time together. She actually felt more connected to him now that her parents were divorced. And she had this crazy hope that someday they’d work it out, get back together, all be a family again. Luke didn’t see that happening—and he would know. But regardless of the overwhelming evidence of his accuracy in predicting the future, she didn’t always believe him. She still had hope. Sometimes she needed hope.

She pulled her hands up into her sleeves and hunched up her shoulders against the cold. Her breath puffed in front of her in big white clouds as she crossed the street. They were meeting at their usual place, the Noodle Shop, which was three blocks up. Though they talked about going somewhere else every week, they always ended up going back to the same place. It was her favorite.

As she waited for the light to change at the next intersection, Sera pulled out her cell phone to call her dad and let him know she was almost there. He might be worried.

It smelled good outside. The nearby restaurants were in full swing and the enticing smells of their dinner fare wafted through the air. She was starving, she suddenly realized. Hopefully her dad had already ordered.

The light changed and she started crossing the street as his voicemail picked up. Hmm. He must not have his cell on, or maybe he just couldn’t hear it in the restaurant. No matter. She’d be there in a minute anyway.

Two blocks up she thought she saw Luke standing out in front of the restaurant. But someone walked in front of her and she lost sight of him. There was no reason he’d be there, he was supposed to be home with Mom. The people in front of her stopped at a shop and she had a clear view again. It
was
Luke.

He’d spotted her and started walking. She read him in a glance—tight face, taut stance. No smile, no laugh, no light. Something was wrong. Really, really wrong.