Silver Mortal (The Gracen Chronicles) (14 page)

“You left this back there.” He hands over my cell phone.

Wiping my wet cheek, I take my phone, saying, “Thank you.” He nods his head.

Lightning flashes in the sky, followed by a loud rumble. Storm clouds are rolling in fast, the city in for a bad one. Big fat raindrops start to fall, but it doesn't faze Phoenix and I. We stare at each other, regarding the other with dubious thoughts. We're both wondering what the other is thinking.

As a steady rain begins to fall he asks, “Who was that guy?”

I tilt my head, studying him intently. His emotions are rolling roughly off of him, most of them being ones I've felt from him before, with the exception of one.

Jealously.

“He's no concern of yours,” I assure him, biting my bottom lip. His heavy glare doesn't waver.

“Did you love him?” he continues to probe. His question surprises me, causing a hard knot to form in my stomach.

Shaking my head I answer, “No, though I wished I'd handled the situation a little differently.” His expression softens a fraction.

People scatter all around us as a heavy downpour invades the city, bringing with it flashes of lightning and rolls of thunder. The rain has already soaked through my clothes, the cold seeping all the way to the core of my bones. Phoenix's hair is plastered to his face, the
cold
rain water dripping off his nose and landing on his lips. When he takes a step forward, I take a step back, not in the mood to be touched or consoled. I almost bust out in tears when he draws his lips into a frown, his eyes narrowing.

“I need to be alone,” I tell him flatly, hoping I don't hurt his feelings.

He tilts his head to the side. “Why?”

“Because,” I say, wiping water out of my eyes, “I need some time to think.”

He grimaces. “About?”

I stare at him and
put
very
bluntly, “Everything.” I turn around and start walking home, knowing the rain would not be letting up for awhile. When I get across the street I dare a peek back, saddened to see that he's still standing in the same spot, letting the rain soak him over and over again.

Once home I tell Mom that I'm not feeling well, that her and Jude will have to work that night. When they see me drenched to the bone, shivering, and paler than usual, Mom orders me to take a bath and go to bed.

Getting under my warm blankets, the rain beating on my window, I close my eyes and try not to think about Mark, Phoenix, Tink, Jack, or Reagan. I try not to think about Mark's anger or Phoenix's sadness. I roll into a ball, still racked with shivers, wishing that I would never have to get out of bed again.

***

A word to the wise—never make a wish that involves wanting to stay in bed for the rest of your life. That type of wish just might come true, or at least it did for me, except forever turned out to be three days.

Case in point, Sunday morning I found myself shivering with a fever and hugging the porcelain throne. Mom had tried to come in and baby me, but I'd warned her to stay away or I'd puke all over her. She didn't bother me after that. Lucky for me I had my own private bathroom. Unlucky for me the stomach bug stayed with me until Wednesday, though by then I wasn't barfing my guts out, but still feeling weak. The only good thing about me being sick as a dog was that my nightmares were nonexistent. Actually, I didn't dream at all, which I considered a total blessing.

Bets had been over every day. She was the only one allowed to visit me with my sickness. She brought me soup, some DVDs, and one goofy get well card with a half-naked man pictured on the front. Her visits helped brighten up my days. She updated me on a new guy she'd met at the mall, and they had a date after school on Wednesday. But of course she'd promised to come by and check up on me beforehand.

“Yoo-hoo, my little sicko!” Bets calls out, letting herself in. “I brought you a Latte and also a little make-up work.”

“Gee, thanks,” I mutter. “The Latte I want, the make-up work—
burn it
.”

I lift myself from the couch and switch the television off. My legs are a little wobbly, my body a little weak, but overall I'm a lot better. No more fever, no more upchucking, though I did lose five pounds from the stinking virus.

She gives me an overdone frown. “Are you going to school tomorrow? I miss you.”

“Yep.” She hands me my Latte and I take a quick sip. I hop from one foot to the other, adding, “Oh yeah, I feel tip-toppity, Bets!”

She laughs. “I can see that, but you may want to wear some make-up. You know, cover up your dark eye baggage and such.”

“Thanks for the tip,” I sneer, making it a point to observe her face. “Ooh, and let me give you a tip. Before you go on a date with this new guy, be sure to shave your mustache, or at least run a comb through it.”

Her eyes widen and she runs to the closest mirror she can find. I'm trying hard not to laugh, stifling it behind my hand. She peers into the hall mirror, checks out her reflection, then turns around and flips me off.

“Hardy-
freaking
-har-har,” she mocks, pitching her long hair off her shoulders. “And here's another
beauty
tip for you
…
invest in a tanning bed, bride of Dracula.” I stick my tongue out at her.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” she announces all of a sudden, earning a jump out of me. Reaching into her backpack, she withdraws a white envelope with my name scribbled on it. She smiles as she hands it over to me.

“What is it?”

“Oh, I don't know. Maybe a little note from someone with the initials
P
and
B,
and I'm not talking about a sandwich.” She wiggles her brows.

My heart speeds up for the first time in days.

“I wonder what he wants,” I say as I begin to tear it open.

“No, don't!” Bets cries out, stopping me. I
squint my eyes,
quirk
ing
an eyebrow.

“What?”

She lets out a breath. “I promised Phoenix I'd leave before you opened it. He said he wanted you to be alone when you read it.” She pauses and sighs with a dreamy look in her eyes. “Whatever it is I bet it's romantic!”

“Bets.” I shake my head and roll my eyes.

“
Gracen,
” she snottily shoots back. “Give Phoenix a chance! He seems to be really into you. He's asked about you everyday.”

This shocks me. “He has?” She nods her head, her hoop earrings swinging back and forth.

“Yep!” She notices my floored expression. “Don't act so surprised that a guy is interested in you, especially a guy as hot as Phoenix
The Stud
Brooks. You went on a date with Mark and he was extremely hot! Not as hot as Phoenix, but he's way up there.”

I cringe when she brings his name up. She doesn't know what went down and I'm not going to tell her. I already feel like a piece of dirt, and if she found out how I'd ignored his calls and what happened with him Saturday, I'd be in for a mega-huge lecture, even though she went through guys faster than a drive-thru window.

“Well, I better run!” She picks up her backpack and heads to the door. “Don't want to keep Jason waiting.”

Still looking the envelope over I question, “So what does this Jason guy do for a living?”

She pauses at the door and sighs, her gaze turning to me. “He's a drummer in a band and is totally hot! He has tattoos all over his body...at least I
think
he does.” She taps her chin as if in deep thought. “I'll get back to you on that one.”

Rolling my eyes with disgust I tell her, “Please. Don't.” She laughs and closes the door, still laughing as she walks down the steps.

I walk over to the couch and sit down, still regarding the envelope with wonder. What could Phoenix be writing me about? I hadn't talked to him since Saturday, which had started out good but ended super bad. He hadn't acted mad that I'd knocked him out of the booth and chased another guy down. Actually he'd seemed a little curious with a tinge of jealousy.

So what was in the envelope?

Only one way to find out.

Tearing open the envelope, I pull out the folded notebook paper and start reading.

Gracen,

I'm not very good at getting my feelings out, so just bare with me. Bets says you've been sick. That's
why I haven't called or visited you...I know what it's
like to want some space and time alone, though it's
driving me crazy not being able to talk to you. I don't know what you've done to me, Gracen, but I like it, and whatever it is, I'm craving it.

When I kissed you Saturday, I hope I didn't run you away. I'm telling the truth when I say this...it felt so right. I can't explain what I'm feeling
for you. I've never felt loved or been in love, and I
know we've only known each other a short time,
but I feel, deep down, that you were made for me,
and I was made for you.

I don't know what that means for the future, or if we can have a future. We come from two
different worlds, yours full of light and mine
completely dark, but I'm telling the truth when
I say this...

I want to be a part of your world.

Hopefully Yours,

Phoenix

Tears fall from my eyes as I stare down at the most
s
weetest letter I've ever read. After reading it I can actually feel the pain coming from Phoenix. He has never felt like he belonged or was loved. He walked around in a world full of torment, not knowing what it was to be loved. The words he wrote spoke volumes about his life, melting my heart instantly. I hadn't grown up with the best life, but at least I know what it means to be loved. And as for the two of us being made for each other...I'm not too sure about that. Like he'd written, we come from two different worlds. How could someone from the light and someone from the dark have a long-lasting relationship? More importantly, what would Mom do if she ever found out about Phoenix's feelings for me, and my feelings that continue to grow for him?

“What are you thinking right now?”

I'm not surprised when I look up and see Phoenix standing across the room, leaning back in a corner. He's dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, his leather jacket draped over his arm. His eyes look darker than usual. When I hear Mom stirring in her room, I run over to him and drag him by the arm to my room. Closing the door quietly, I turn around. His gaze is traveling the full length of my body, and that's when I realize I'm wearing boxers and a white t-shirt with no bra. As swift as possible I grab my blanket and wrap it around myself. I don't have much to look at, but that doesn't mean I want to showcase what I
do
have. As for the greasy skin and hair—too late to fix all that.

With a flaming face I whisper, “You've got to stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Appearing out of nowhere. What if I'd been totally nude?”

“Then I'd be one happy man right now.” My face burns even hotter.

Shooting him a dirty look I say, “You still need to let me know beforehand.”

“You want me to wear a bell around my neck?” he
asks,
his expression sincere. “That way you'd here me coming.” A slow grin spreads the width of his face, causing me to smile along with him.

“That may work,” I nod, winking at him. He smiles, then sits down at my desk. I sit down on the edge of my bed, waiting for him to speak.

“You never answered my question.” He looks at me expectantly. I don't say anything, so he asks again, “What are you thinking right now?”

I laugh nervously. “Right now I'm thinking about punching you in the throat for showing up while I look like the living dead.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “You look beautiful to me.” His gaze bores into me and I have to look away.

Mustering up a bit of courage I turn back to him and confess, “The letter you wrote is the nicest letter I've ever received. Thank you for it.” He nods his head, his eyes not letting up on me. I continue, “And as for what I'm thinking—I think we
both
have a lot to think about. You see, I've never been in a relationship before.”

He shrugs. “Neither have I.”

“Really? You've never had a girlfriend?”

“No,” he answers. “Not a serious one, at least.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, I've been with girls, but,” he runs a
shaky
hand through his hair, “I never felt connected to them, you know? Like I feel with you.”

I blush, again not knowing what to say. Why is it that every time I'm around this guy I lose the power of speech?

Immediately wanting to change the subject I question, “So what are you really doing here? I mean,
really,
you could have called me to talk about
feelings
. I know that you came for another reason, so get it out.”