TORCH (4 page)

G
raham and I are lying on either end of our couch watching a movie when the front door creaks and we hear footsteps in the hall. A dark shadow falls across the doorway into the living room and stops. The handful of popcorn I was about to shove into my mouth scatters all over my T-shirt and the couch.

The shadow turns into a guy with a smile the width of the doorway. It’s Flynn Reilly. He and Nate only met when my brother moved here, but they quickly became great friends.

“Wow,” he says, seeing the spilled popcorn. “You really are a nervous wreck. Good thing Ray called me to baby-sit.”

I glare at Flynn, who’s an even worse tease than Nate used to be. “My dad did not call you to baby-sit. I’m seventeen.”

“So you keep telling me,” he says, grabbing the popcorn bowl from Graham and collapsing into Dad’s reclining chair. “Sounds like you’re hitting on me.”

“That,” I say, plucking popcorn from my shirt, “will never happen.”

Flynn’s smile expands. “Give it up, Phee. I’m hot and you know it.”

I pretend to give him an objective once-over. At 24, Flynn is tall, firefighter fit, and has chiseled features. Even with his new buzz cut, he’s undeniably hot. But he’s also arrogant and Nate said he juggled multiple girlfriends. “I suppose you’re someone’s type,” I say. “Someone who didn’t know you’re a player.”

Laughing, Flynn gestures for Graham to toss him the remote, and turns down the volume. “I’m down to one girl in Rosewood,” he says. “Just so you know.”

“And how many
outside
Rosewood?” I ask, dumping the kernels I’ve collected into a serviette.

Flynn winks at Graham. “She’s onto me.”

Graham offers his knuckles for a fist bump. Flynn is like Nate on steroids: bigger, bolder and more defined. He fills the room.

There’s a knock at the front door and I get up. “Huh,” I say, “Some people still knock.”

“Ray has an open door policy,” Flynn says. “For me, anyway.”

He extends a neon-striped sneaker in an attempt to trip me as I pass. I step around it and let Regan in. “Coincidence or conspiracy?” I say, as she cranes around me to peek at Flynn.

“I just wanted to see for myself how you’re doing,” she says.

I might believe the innocent smile if it weren’t framed by lip gloss and topped with eye make-up. Regan obviously heard from her dad that Flynn was making the hour-long drive to check in on me. She had a crush on him when he worked in Rosewood and no one’s come along to erase it.

“Hey gorgeous,” Flynn says, getting up to give Regan his seat.

Giggling, she accepts it, and Flynn takes my place on the couch, leaving me no choice but to cram in between the guys.

“So, Flynn was just telling me he’s got a girl in every county,” I say, picking up the popcorn to pass it to Regan.

He shrugs, deliberately knocking my arm so that more popcorn spills on the carpet. Graham snickers.

“I’m all about full disclosure,” Flynn says.

“To the girls, or us?” I ask.

“What, you’re not girls?” He directs the full force of his charm at Regan, who’s helpless to resist it. That’s the result of being an only child. Coming up behind Nate, who was nearly as popular as Flynn, helps me keep guys in perspective. “Regan’s definitely a girl,” he says. “Looking good tonight.”

“Her dad’s not your boss anymore so you don’t have to suck up,” I say. “Er, sorry Regan, I didn’t mean that like it sounds. You do look nice.”

“It’s okay,” she says. “You had a rough day.”

“Yeah, about that,” Flynn says, raising his eyebrows. “I hear you clubbed some guy like a baby seal and hauled him ashore.”

I sigh. “It wasn’t like that.”

“You don’t need to work that hard to get a date, Phee,” Flynn says. “You’re actually pretty easy on the eyes. Except for the freckles.” He inspects my cheek from close range. “They’re multiplying as we speak.”

“Can you shut up now?” I ask.

“I’m just saying that you could take your pick of the Rosewood guys. No need for extreme measures.”

“Dad told her to stay away from him, anyway,” Graham says. He always switches allegiance when Flynn’s around, probably because of the link to Nate. “Kai Seaver is bad news.”

“How bad can he be?” Regan asks. “Kai’s dad, Brett Seaver, works for my dad. He’s a good firefighter.”

Flynn shrugs, every gesture exaggerated to joggle me. “That doesn’t mean Brett’s good news. Or that his son’s good news. You think being a firefighter is an automatic pass in the character department?”

I do, actually, and Regan does, too. That’s how we were brought up. Firefighters put their lives on the line to save people. They’re heroes. “Except for you,” I say. “Your character’s still under review.”

I feel his shoulders shake. “Well, if you can resist me, you can resist seal-boy.”

“Not a problem,” I say. “So everyone can stop worrying.”

R
egan is waiting for me on a bench when I come out of the hospital. “Initiate plan B,” I say. “Kai’s not accepting visitors.”

Handing me her jacket and a floppy hat, she says, “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“I hit the guy with a pole,” I say, tying back my hair. The least I can do is apologize.”

“But your dad thinks he's trouble.”

I twist my ponytail up under the hat. “How bad can he be? Your dad hired his dad.”

“Dad’s never said anything bad about Brett Seaver, but I can tell he doesn’t like him. And Kai dropped out of school, left town for awhile and now he’s back to repeat senior year. What’s up with that?”

“So the guy’s got problems,” I say. “All I want to do is apologize.”

She hands me her sunglasses, grumbling, “Something weird is going on.”

“Well, we’re not going to find out what it is by sitting around.” I settle the sunglasses on my nose and grin. “Remember your role?”

Nodding, she repeats, “Flirt with the desk clerk and create a diversion so that you can get upstairs.”

“Right,” I say. “Unfortunately, the desk clerk is an old lady.”

“I like a challenge,” Regan says, as we walk toward the door. “By the way, we should try out for the school play.”

“Sure,” I say. “We could be stars.”

Regan smothers a laugh as she approaches the desk and starts chatting. I wait a few second before slipping by and into the stairwell. So far, so good. The only problem is that I have no idea what floor Kai’s on and the hospital is four stories high.

Luckily, names are posted beside each door, so I can scan quickly. I pull off the hat and shades, and walk with purpose.

The name “K. Seaver” is outside the last room on the second floor. Peeking in, I see Kai lying in bed, with an IV in his arm and monitors flashing beside him. He’s propped up, flipping through a sports magazine and looking a lot healthier than the last time I saw him. His skin is pale with blue undertones, a contrast to his dark, curly hair. He’s even more gorgeous than I thought, and in a turquoise hospital gown, he doesn’t look remotely dangerous.

Stepping into the doorway, I say, “Hi.”

Kai looks up from his magazine and scowls when he recognizes me. “What are you doing here?”

I wasn’t expecting a hero’s parade, but still. “I just wanted to visit.”

“Why, so you can finish me off?”

“I barely tapped you.”

“It’s your fault I’m here. So just stay away from me.”

I take one step back, change my mind, and stop. “That’s just rude.”

“No,
rude
is dropping by when someone has a ‘no visitors request. It was meant for you.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough.”

There’s nothing
to
know. Except for this one incident, there is nothing noteworthy about me. Unless our parents have some feud going on, in which case it’s unfair to tar me with the same brush. “You shouldn’t judge someone you’ve never met. Especially when she just saved your life.”

He glares at me. “You knocked me out.”

“It was a plastic net, not a harpoon,” I say. “I tapped you by accident, and then I saved you.”

“I didn’t need saving,” he says.

“Face down plus not breathing equals dead. Cue the lifeguard.”

“I was happily doing my laps until I got whacked.” He stares at the ring around my mouth. “Is that a blister?”

“Whatever it is, I got it saving your life,” I say. “Any diseases I should know about?”

His face gets even paler, if that’s possible. “You’re the disease. And you’ve infected Rosewood.”

I feel a hot flash starting and try to force it back down with deep breaths. I don’t want to give Kai the satisfaction of seeing me like that. “All this because you can’t swim?” I say.

He throws back the covers and swings his bare legs over the side of the bed. Luckily the IV pole is on the far side of the bed and he’s stuck there. “Get out.”

Behind me, someone says “Kai.” The woman has his curly hair and blue eyes. She’s pretty, but worn looking. “Is that any way to behave with a guest?”

“Mom, this is the girl who tried to kill me,” he says.

He has no idea. I tried
not
to kill him, or at least leave him to die. “I’ve got a great idea,” I say. “How about the next time you drown you do it in someone else’s pool? See if they can work as fast as I did.”

He drops back on the pillow and stares at the ceiling.

I take a few steps closer to the bed and stand over him so he’ll be forced to look at me. “You’re welcome for saving your life.”

One of the monitors starts beeping and I hear quick footsteps in the hall.

Kai’s mom takes my sleeve and leads me away. I turn to see him wiping away sweat that’s rolling down his face.

“Why is he so mean?” I ask, flustered. “I don’t get it.”

“I’m sorry… Phoenix Forsythe, right?” Kai’s mom says. “I know what happened was an accident and I’m glad you reacted so quickly.” She squeezes my arm. “I can’t thank you enough.”

I look down, embarrassed now. “I’m sorry I hit him. And I don’t understand what happened, because he’s an excellent swimmer.”

“That’s why his pride’s in rough shape right now,” she says, smiling.

She turns to go back and I call after her, “Is he going to be okay?”

“He’s being discharged today, after they run more tests.”

“I didn’t mean to upset him. I just wanted to be nice.”

Waving, she turns into Kai’s room.

I did want to be nice. Unfortunately, I was a complete and utter failure at it.

“
F
orget about that jerk,” Regan says. “You know what’ll take your mind off it?”

“Ice cream?” I say, since she’s paused under the ornate sign outside the Jubilee Ice Palace. “Agreed.” Despite what just happened, I’m hungry, so I push open the door and call, “Hey Paloma.”

A short woman with black hair and olive skin is behind a counter lined with huge jars of candy. “Sweetie, how are you?” she says. Paloma calls everyone “sweetie,” but it feels genuine. Even though I only spent a couple of weeks here a year, she’s always remembered me—and my order. Piling two scoops of my favorite vanilla bean ice cream into a waffle cone, she glances up at me. “You’re settling in?”

I take the cone and hand her the money. “I guess.”

Tapping a key on the cash register, she plucks out some coins. Dropping them into my palm, she squeezes my hand. “Change is never easy. But Rosewood is special. You’ll see.”

She keeps squeezing my hand until I meet her eyes. For a moment, her smile seems as false as the facade on her storefront. Forcing a smile of my own, I pull my hand away, and mutter, “Hope so.”

Regan must pick up on something odd, because her voice is higher than usual when she orders her cone, which is a different flavor every time. After she pays, she tells Paloma we have to hurry back to school in time for our dance audition.

Outside, Regan says, “Did I miss something in there?”

“I’m not sure.” I chase a drip down the cone with my tongue. “It felt like a warning or something. I guess putting someone in the hospital doesn’t make a great impression.”

“Everyone knows it was an accident. Stop worrying.”