Flirting With Maybe
something.”
    He sounded excited. Maybe he was finally getting used to my changes.
    “Sure, I’ll be there in about . . . twenty?”
    “See ya then.”
    When I hung up, Patti peeked into my room.
    “It’s safe,” I told her.
    She grimaced at the impaled target. A sheen of blue sadness tinged the aura around her torso, but when she turned her face to me a pretty vapor of pale pink surfaced in its place. She crossed her arms.
    Patti’s strawberry curls were held back with a clip, although some had escaped and framed her lightly freckled face. As always, a mist-like guardian angel stood just behind her, watching our interactions with calm assurance. The silent observations of humans’ guardian angels were a reassuring staple in my life.
    “Good morning,” I said.
    “Are you going somewhere?”
    “I’m going to Jay’s.”
    “Oh, good.” I heard a smile in her voice. “I haven’t seen that boy in ages. Tell him I miss him, would you?” She smoothed my hair back into a neat ponytail and kissed my cheek.
    I turned and gave her a big squeeze. This was one thing other Neph didn’t have—a loving nurturer to accept them without condition. Patti had picked me up from many parties in the middle of the night over the past few months. I hated that she had to witness all of it.
    “I will, Patti. Thanks. Love you.” I grabbed my car keys from my dresser, eager to get some fresh air.
    It was weird driving to Jay’s house. I hadn’t been there in a while. Things were different since he’d gotten a job and a girlfriend, and since I’d become party Anna. I guess nothing could stay the same forever. Jay still kept his hair cropped short or else it would turn into a thick, blond sponge. The primary change in his appearance came when Jay grew two inches this spring and his softness disappeared.
    He stayed busy as an assistant deejay, and he’d just started an internship with an Atlanta radio station for the summer.
    The car crunched over pinecones as I pulled into the driveway of the one-story rambler. A giant weeping willow stood hunched over, its curtain of leaves dragging the sparse grass of Jay’s front yard. I regarded it like an old friend as I walked to his door, breathing in the summer scent of honeysuckle.
    Nobody ever knocked at Jay’s house. I let myself in and took the worn-carpeted hall to his room.
    “Nice,” he said when I walked in. He was sitting at his computer with his guardian angel standing directly behind him in soft, white light. The angel nodded at me in greeting, but otherwise kept his attention on Jay. I sat down in the empty chair next to him and got a case of the raging tingles at the sight of the word on the screen: Lascivious .
    Jay smiled and said, “Their debut single is finally out. The album’s almost done.”
    “They really made an album?” Last time I’d stalked them online, there wasn’t much to be found. But this was good. It meant he was losing himself in the music. He was okay.
    Jay laughed. “Well, yeah . What’d you think they were doing out there in L.A.? Actually, it’s only being released in California to start, but I got my hands on the censored radio version. Wanna hear it?”
    I shrugged as if I didn’t care. “Um, sure.”
    I wondered if Jay could hear how loud my heart was thumping. He clicked on a link, and my plan to act uninterested disintegrated at the sound of the first note. I leaned forward, hanging on every beat like it was a lifeline to the person holding the drumsticks.
    The sound was more mainstream than their usual stuff, but it still rocked. I held my breath as the lyrics began.
     
I tried to warn you,
But girls never listen.
Got your innocence insured?
’Cause it’s ’bout to be stolen
Right out from under your nose.
Prepare to curl your toes.
I’ve got a one-track mind.
You’ve got a nice behind.
     
Chorus:
I had a good thing goin’
All numb in my shell,
Then you took me by surprise
And now I’m scared as hell.
I don’t wanna feel

Similar Books

Falling for You

Caisey Quinn

Stormy Petrel

Mary Stewart

A Timely Vision

Joyce and Jim Lavene

Ice Shock

M. G. Harris