Wicked Sense (26 page)

I turn and see Priscilla with her hands on her hips, looking at me admiringly. At her side, Skye suppresses a giggle.

Priscilla turns to Skye and says, “Seriously? Look at him! He should walk around shirtless!”

“I know!” Skye says.

Okay, this is going from flattering to embarrassing re
al fast. “Don’t you girls have Prince C
harm
ing to dream about
?” I yell.

“Oh, but we
do
,” says Priscilla. After Skye slaps her softly
on the arm
, Priscilla adds, “Okay, okay. I’ll leave.” She kisses Skye on both cheeks and
walks away
.

I approach Skye.
Self-conscious
, I cross my arms around my mid
riff. I’m not used to this
type
of attention.
“I think I just saw a live demonst
ration of what a BFF is,” I say when I get close to her.

“Isn’t it nice?” Skye asks, then she
mutters, “We’re going to the mall
tomorrow
.”

I fake a shocked expression. “Don’t turn into…”
But words fail me.

“Into what?”

“Someone
else.”

She smirks. “Don’t worry.”

We stand in front of e
ach other. I don’t know how to act, and I bet she doesn’t either
. Something crosses my mind. “Are you okay? I mean, being back here.”

She nods a few times while
scanning the pool area, as if reassuring herself. “I guess so. Besides, you’re here with me.”

All right, even I know I can’t pass that up. I lean forward and kiss
her
. She takes my face into her hands and prolongs our entanglement.

I’m about to embrace her, when I become suddenly aware of my attire. I gently break the lip
lock, hating myself for it.

“So, I wasn’t
sure if I should pick you up this morning,” I say, trying to disguise the awkward moment and failing epically. “You tol
d me
you’d cast a spell on me
.”

Her eyes dart around us, but we’re alone. She smiles. “I already did that.”

“I’ll say.”

Sky
e chuckles. “No, I mean, the
protection
spell. Even if you’re not there, I can do a weak one. But you’re right. You should drop by in the morning so I can do a proper one. Would you mind giving me a ride every morning?”

“I’d love to
.”

She looks at me obliquely for
a
moment. “Okay. We have to talk.”

Uh-oh.
“Yeah…”

“Don’t worry. It’s not
the
talk. But I need to know.
Are we a thing?”

“A thing?”
I ask.

“Yeah. I mean…”
She looks away.

This is hard!
“I guess we’re a thing. I just don’t know
which
thing.”

“
Okay
.
”

“Is that what you were asking?”

She nods.
“Pretty much.”

I put on my
mischievous
face.
“You know, being a thing brings some responsibilities.”

“Really?” She smirks.
“Like what? Do we have to hang out more often?”

I nod. “And for longer. And make out.
Making out is essential.
Don’t forget that.”

“Hard to forget. And maybe… flaunt it?”

“What do you mean?”

She does a
deliberate
cute
sy
shrug
. “Let’s not hide anymore.”

This is serious.
Our thing is now
an official thing. I’m all for it.

“I’m all for it,” I say, agreeing with myself. I lean forward for another
kiss,
wardrobe
be damned, but she puts a finger on my chest.

“Later,” she says. “Now I want to watch you
i
n the water.” She nods in the pool’s direction.

“Really?” I ask.

She slides her finger down to my abs.
“Come on, put on a show for me
.”

When she wants, she can melt a
stone statue. “Sure,” I say, turning and starting my strut to the pool.
Before I get away from her, though, she slaps my butt.
Softly, but still.

I hear her giggle,
but
I don’t turn to face her. She does
k
now how to turn me on. I just walk faster to the pool and dive
in
, welcoming the cold water. 

I’m glad my Jane alarm isn’t going off. She left right after the bell
, but
I
still
asked Priscilla to come with me to the pool. Despite what I said to
Drake
, coming here does make me uncomfortable. How could it not?

But I don’t regret
coming. Priscilla is right.
Drake should never wear tops
!
Ever. I have no idea why he doesn’t
show it off
, but his upper body is
yummy
. He’s not buff like those gym rat guys
, but lean—skinny and muscular at the same time. He
looks
a bit
stronger and taller with his shirt off. And his abs
, Goddess!
What is that?

Why do you hide it, Drake? Of all
of
Greenwood
High
’s
secrets, you are the most delicious.

Watching him
swimming soothes
me. Maybe it’s the repetitive movements, the cadence, the metronomic splashing sounds, but it gives me a center. I see his sinuous underwater figure do the same movements over and over, in a leisurely pace, never tiring or slowing down.

It gives me peace. I bet it does the same to him.

The minutes pass without me noticing, and soon he’s out
of
the water. His heaving chest and the w
ater glistening on
his body make him
look
even hotter.

He smiles at me, and I wonder if he’s aware of his effect on me. Either he’s a gentleman o
r
the most oblivious guy I’ve ever met.

“An athlete,” I say. “Who knew? I had you pegged as the couch-
and-
video
-
game type.”

“Why can’t I be both?” he
says, shrugging
, his words difficult as he
catches his breath.
He comes closer and shakes his head a few times, raining water everywhere, including
on
me.

“Stop it!” I say.

“Come on! You’ve been drenched yesterday and the day before. A few drops of water won’t hurt you.” He think
s
he
’s
made a bad joke, because he stops smiling and says, “Sorry.”

Before I can say anything, he adds, “Do you think you’d be okay going into the pool soon? I just thought
it would
be nice if we could enjoy the pool together.”

“I don’t swim,” I say.

He stares at me and then bursts out laughing.

“What?”

“A witch who doesn’t swim,” he says between laughs.

“Witches drown…” I say when I realize what he means.

“I’m sorry,” he says, raising h
is hand apologetically. “I just can
’
t stop.
”

I chuckle. “That’s not the worst thing,” I say. “I’m also allergic to cats.”

I love laughing with him.

***

S
omehow I end up in the men’s locker room. Drake wouldn’t let me
wait
alone for him in the lobby or in his car. We agreed I’d be close to the showers, talking to him the whole time so he knew I was around. The jury is still out
on whether
he’s over
ly
concerned or just
being naughty
.

“It smells worse than the women’s
locker room
,” I say
, my voice loud so he can he
a
r me over the shower running.

“I bet
the women’s
locker
smell
s
like
flowers
, and honey, and… angel
’s
breath
or whatever.”

“Not really,” I reply.

I’ve not been a ha
lf of a couple for a while. It’
ll
be interesting to see how I
mesh
with a personality so different from
Connor
’s
.

It doesn’t frighten me. Being in a relationship, I mean. I thought I’d be scared, but the reality is, I’m tired of being scared.

I’m looking forward to this. And to those abs.

This is my first official “dating situation.”
Of all the ways I imagined this, I
’ve
never expected the first thing in the morning would be pa
rticipating in
spell casting.

The one she ch
o
ose
s
is a howler. I have to
lie
down—on her bed, no less—while she does this cleansing thing all over my body.
She
never lays her hands on
me, b
ut knowing her touch is less than an inch
above my skin
is pleasuring and torturing at the same time.

I try to focus on other things, like the incense
burning
(sandalwood, she told me)
that wash
es
away the slightly moldy odor of
the
house.
Skye’s bed
sheets are soft and smell
like
her.

But then I hear and feel her breath close to me, and my heart
pounds
hard again.

The possibility that she’s teasing me
crosses
my mind.

“You can open your eyes,” she says. “We’re done.
” It’s
both a relief and a disappointment. She takes care of the disappointment part by leaning over me and giving me a
gooooood
kiss. I want more, but she breaks it up and says, “We’re
going to
be late.”

While I leave the bed,
Skye
snuffs out
her incense
,
and
a
brief
flashback
of my house fire come
s
to me.

“Magic feels awfully normal,” I say.

She shrugs while putting her things away. “If you think about it, it’s not magic. It’s just
knowle
dge that most of the world hasn
’t gained yet.”

“Who discovered it? And how?”

“I’m not giving you a history lesson.
But it was noticed by accident a
long time ago. A happy accident. L
ike
discovering gunpowder or penicillin
. You know what?
It’s
like science.”

I chuckle. “Way to remove anything magical from magic.”

“No, seriously. Magic is science. Imagine that centuries ago, if you were sick, you’d go to a witch doctor or shaman, who would poke and probe you. He’d give you a mysterious substance, tell you to drink it up at dawn and dusk, and to rest. Is that any different from a visit to the doctor today?”

I ponder her claim
while she
stuff
s
her backpack.
When she
reaches to the top shelf
to get
a book
, her
shirt goes up, and I see the tattoo the guys mentioned.
It’s a bird that resembles an eagle, only it has a crown, and its feathers look different.
A phoenix, I guess.
The
drawing
is silver with
a b
l
ack outline
. It
begins
waist-high
on
her
right
side
and
continues
down
her hip,
the rest of
the
design hidden by her jeans
.