The Watcher (9 page)

“What does that mean?” I wondered if
taking
meant flirting. “What is he taking?”

“How do you feel when you’re with him?”

How did I feel when I was with Damiel? Flattered, as though I was someone attractive and interesting. It was never about Damiel. It was about me. Being alone with Michael in his car was different. It wasn’t about how attractive I felt, it was a deep longing that I could hardly put into words. In that moment my whole body thrummed with it, and I found myself wishing Michael would notice me the way Damiel did, even once.

I could sense his attention on me as he waited for an answer, but I couldn’t face him. I focused on my school bag, playing with its stuck zipper.

“Wishing I was with you,” I whispered.

All the color left his face and it was his turn to look away. I realized that for as much as I’d listened to Heather advise Fiona about guys, I didn’t know a thing.

He pulled the car over to the side of the road and parked it. A heavy silence grew between us. The rain thrummed against the roof of his car and my heart stuttered anxiously against my ribs, like a hummingbird flapping its tiny wings.

He took a deep breath and his voice was thick when he said, “If I misled you…”

My heart stopped, and I blinked at him as heat filled my face. He hadn’t misled me. The feelings I had for him were one hundred percent my own doing. I should have known better.

“I’m not available,” he continued, “the way you want me to be.”

What did he mean,the way I wanted him to be
? Any way I could be with him would be fine. Anything was better than not speaking at all. And then the pieces came together: gorgeous and unavailable. He had a girlfriend. Oh God! Why hadn’t I seen the signs before? He didn’t flirt with anyone because he was
in love with someone else.

Not caring about the rain, I opened the door and dashed out of the car.

Michael caught up with me and grabbed my arm. I pulled it away.

“It’s wet,” he said. “I’ll take you home.”

Tears burned my eyes, making me grateful for the heavy rain that washed them away, cooling my skin. “I’ll walk.”

“Come on,” he said, “don’t be foolish. You’ll catch a cold.” A wet strand of hair clung to my face. He brushed it aside, so gently, and a deep current trembled through me, compelling me toward him. It was all I could do to hold my ground. His eyes widened and he stepped back. In that moment, I knew he felt it too.

I glared at him. How
dare
he touch me? Why did he care? Why did he pay attention to me at all?

He shook his head sadly. “Mia, I’m…”

Taken. I know
. I shook my head, not wanting to hear any more, and there was this look he gave me, a mixture of pain and something else—something forbidden—that made me want to kiss the rain from his lips.

The sky was filled with black clouds that made it seem more dusk than afternoon. Small rivers formed on the side of the road and dead leaves floated downstream to the gutters, filling the grates. If the rain didn’t let up soon, it would flood.

I couldn’t be alone with him now. It was too humiliating. So I turned and walked off. After a minute, I heard his footsteps on the wet pavement, his car door open and close. I wanted to look back but didn’t. I could tell he was still watching me. But as to why, I figured I’d never know.

Chapter Nine

I skipped school on Tuesday. Mom was at work, so I called in sick. Even after fifteen hours of sleep, I had to drag my heavy limbs out of bed. Black stains circled my eyes, and my nose was so stuffy from crying the night before that it was easy to pass for having a cold. With all the pandemic viruses going around these past few years, the school’s policy was to stay home until you could get your symptoms checked. This rule was working to my advantage today.

But really I couldn’t face Michael. Not after telling him how I felt. Not when he was seeing someone else.

I was lying on the sofa watching an old black and white movie on TV when Heather called. I checked my watch; her lunch break was nearly over.

“Will you live?” she asked.

I couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll live.”

“Do you need anything? I know your mom works late. Chicken soup?”

I wished I could talk about what I was going through, but I’d never find the words without bursting into tears. I swallowed back the tightness in my throat. “Can you let me know what the math assignment is?”

“Sure,” she said. “By the way, Damiel was asking about you today.”

Right. Damiel. At least
someone
thought I was attractive. “Oh? What did he want to know?”

“Where you were, of course. I thought Fiona was going to fall over when he came by, she was practically swooning. He
is
really hot.”

“Is he?” I tried to sound nonchalant. She didn’t know he’d asked me out on Friday.

“Girl, are you dead? Half the school is talking about him. The entire female population, even a few of the guys.”

“What did you tell him?” I asked, flattered he let his interest show to my friends.

“That you were home today.”

“What did he say?”

“Not much. Michael came by to have lunch with Jesse, and Damiel was there. Talk about a weird vibe.” Her statement hung in the air. She was fishing for information.

Even hearing Michael’s name was hard. Thinking about him having lunch with my friends when I wasn’t there stung. Had he been waiting for me not to be around so he could visit with Jesse?

“Yeah, they have some kind of past.” I figured it was safe to share a little of what I’d heard.

“Oh.” I could practically hear the wheels turning in her head. I was pretty sure she wanted to know how I knew that, but I wasn’t ready to tell. “He seems into you, Mia. You should go for it.”

“Who?” I asked, my mind still faltering back to thoughts of Michael.

“Damiel, of course.” She quipped, “Are you on cold medication or something?”

I laughed. “Kind of.”

“Michael asked about you, too.” Had she read my mind? Known who I was really thinking about?

“Oh,” I said, trying to mask the sinking in my chest, the strange blend of hope and despair that Michael brought up in me. “What did he want?”

“To know where you were,” she said. “That’s all he said.”

I could have taken his asking about me to mean he cared a little, but really I wished he would forget about me. Or at least forget everything I said in the car yesterday. How could I face him after that?

When I didn’t say anything, Heather added, “Hey, lunch is over. I gotta go to class. I’ll e-mail the math homework to you.”

I thanked her and hung up. I’d been sitting around in my pajamas all day and needed to wash up, so I ran myself a bath. I couldn’t help but remember Heather’s praise of Damiel. He
was
hot. The situation with Michael may have been bleak, but at least I still had hope of a social life.

I lay in the tub trying to visualize Damiel’s features, not Michael’s, nor those blue eyes that had burned themselves into my thoughts. I focused on Damiel, the way he looked at me like I was the only girl in the room. It wasn’t as easy as I’d hoped. Thoughts of Michael would soon interrupt and I would be looking at his face, not Damiel’s. But I was determined to commit Damiel’s features to memory. The bath water cooled, so I refilled the tub several times. Once my skin had completely wrinkled, I got out.

After this exercise, though, I was sure Michael wouldn’t be able to faze me again.

***

The next day, Damiel found me at my locker before math class. His black cashmere sweater looked so soft I wanted to curl up in it.

“Feeling better?” he asked, sidling up to me.

“I am now.” I dared myself to meet his gaze.

He moved in a little closer and placed his hand on the top of my hip. Reflexively, I held my breath. I’d forgotten how disarming he could be. Behind him, two sophomore girls glanced at us, whispering to each other. Wherever he went attention would follow, and I wasn’t sure what to do about that part. I only hoped it stayed out of print.

“It wasn’t serious?” he asked, smiling.

“Not deadly, anyway.”

He looked me up and down with such heat it warmed my skin. “Oh, I’m sure you could be deadly if you wanted to.” Leaning in closer, he whispered, “Wanna do something later?”

I didn’t know how to react. I was flailing in an ocean, learning to swim, and had just been hit by my first big wave.

“I–I’m still catching up on what I missed yesterday. Lots of homework.”

As though sensing my apprehension, he took a step back and grabbed my hand, half-pleading, half-teasing. “Have lunch with me then?”

That I could do. Besides, if Michael was having lunch with Jesse and Heather, who was I to cramp his style by having lunch with my
own
friends? It also helped to know that in a public place Damiel wouldn’t move things along too quickly. After all, he was a difficult person to say no to. “Sure,” I said. “See you in the cafeteria?”

He squeezed my hand. “See you then.”

At lunch, Damiel held a table for us near the middle of the room. The three girls I’d seen talking about him the other day stood by his table with their lunch trays as though they wanted to join him. When he saw me and waved, they shot me dirty looks. That alone was intimidating. He already had his lunch with him, so I pointed to the concession stand, where I needed to get mine, and he gave me a nod.

Hurrying, I grabbed a panini sandwich and an iced tea. Heather caught up with me in line. Her hair in a messy ponytail, she wore a baggy sweatshirt and jeans, not her usual stylish gear. Grayish rings circled her eyes.

“What’s with the outfit?” I asked.

She flushed and said apologetically, “It’s Jesse’s. I was up most of the night studying for a huge Spanish test and I’m a bit shaky. Spilled coffee all over my shirt.”

“How was the test?”

“Okay I guess.” For Heather, “okay” was at least an A. I wasn’t far behind, but I didn’t stress about things the way she did.

“I’m having lunch with Damiel today and he’s got us another table.”

“You won’t sit with us? Is it the sweatshirt?” she teased. “No, seriously. That’s great. I’m happy for you. I didn’t know you were into the bad-boy type.”

Was that what Damiel was, a bad boy? Come to think of it, who was I kidding? “He’s nice to me.” I had always figured “bad boys” didn’t treat girls very well.

“That’s the best kind,” she said. “Remember the movie on Friday? Dean already got tickets online. Do you want him to get one more?”

“Um, not sure yet.”

“Good. You want to make him work for it. But from the way he looks at you—”

“What do you mean?”

Heather raised her eyebrows suggestively. “I think you know.”

I blushed. There was something in the way he looked at me that was all-consuming. I wondered what exactly that was as I paid for my lunch and went to join Damiel. The cafeteria was getting crowded and I noticed a few people eyeing our large table enviously.

He was looking at me that way again, and I realized it would be so easy to get pulled right into him, as though his world was all that mattered.

“Wow,” I said. “You got us a private table?”

“I do what I can,” he said with a flourish.

I sat beside him and opened the can of iced tea, trying to act casual. “So, how’ve you been?”

“Good,” he said with a slow, sultry smile. “Better now.”

A fluttering in my stomach made me not want to eat. Unwrapping my sandwich, I hoped my appetite would return once I had actual food in front of me. It didn’t.

The lasagna on Damiel’s plate must have been the special, but I hadn’t even seen it on the menu. As he cut a forkful and put it into his mouth, I noticed he was staring at me. He didn’t even try to hide it.

Then again, why would he? With Damiel, I always knew where I stood, but what surprised me was that I couldn’t help but stare back. When he smiled at me, his eyes weren’t just brown, they had shimmering bronze flecks that caught the light. As I gazed into them, the rest of the cafeteria faded and blurred into the background.

“You should eat something,” he said after swallowing a few bites.

Suddenly realizing I’d been staring way too long, I focused on my dry, unappealing sandwich.

“Here,” he said, holding up a forkful of lasagna for me to taste. “Try this. It’s the food of the gods. I swear.”

Was he seriously offering to feed me in the school cafeteria? Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a few girls glaring at me. Good thing I didn’t know any of them.

He leaned in closer, raised his fork slightly, and nodded. A voice in my head said
C’mon, live a little
.

Slowly, I inclined toward him and opened my mouth. It was the most perfect lasagna I’d ever tasted.

“You weren’t kidding, were you? That’s a drug,” I said. “I didn’t think the staff here could actually cook.”

The corners of his mouth curled into a grin. “They can’t cook a damn thing. I got this at a restaurant last night and they just heated it up.”

My sandwich was now seriously outclassed, but I took a bite anyway. The lasagna had sparked my appetite. The butterflies in my stomach had subsided, too.

He offered me another forkful of food. I accepted readily, not caring as much this time about what people were thinking, because he was looking at me even more intensely than he had before. He practically smoldered, and I suddenly got how intimate this gesture of sharing food was meant to be. I could feel it all the way to my toes.

“It goes better with a bit of Chianti.” He took a swig from a stainless steel water bottle, then held it up for me. “Want some?”

I didn’t accept it and lowered my voice. “You brought
wine
to school?”

“They had it at the restaurant, too. It’s great what you can get at a restaurant. You should try one sometime.” He took another bite of his food, savoring it. “It’s even better fresh out of the oven. How about it?”