look. Oh God, what's his name?
"I saw you coming in. You look a bit—" He stopped talking. I guess because what I look like isn't something you call a lady. Because if I'm nothing else, I'm a lady. "Well, you look tired."
"I've slept all day." It's true. I've slept most of the day. Had nightmares of Hart. Fought with Sam. Had weird Tina messaging visions. Yeah. A peachy, typical day. "I guess I just needed extra sleep today."
He sits across from me, and I didn't even invite him to. Just plop. There he is. In all his blue-eyed glory. "Nightmares?"
Whoa… just whoa. "Who said anything about nightmares? I didn't mention nightmares. Why would I sleep so much if I'd been having nightmares?" Could I say the word nightmares more?
He clears his throat and his cheeks tinge pink as he looks down at his hands, which are leaning on the table. I think I've embarrassed him. Him, a very much upperclassman. Wow, I've really got to learn how to use my powers for good on Sam.
My powers? I don't have powers.
"I'm sorry. I just assumed. I thought if you needed a nap in the middle of the day, either you were a very big preschooler or a person with nightmares who doesn't sleep well at night."
I wait a beat and squint my eyes at him. "Are you calling me fat?"
"What? No. I didn't mean that."
I laugh. I mean, it isn't a huge guffawing laugh, but it is a laugh nonetheless. I should ask him about my hand and Hart and whatever happened in Professor Mitchell's classroom yesterday. But I don't… not yet. I'm not ready for the crazy to come out. "I'm kidding. I know what you meant. And yeah, you're right I guess."
When he looks up at me, his eyes are soft and kind. They are warm and inviting. Again, I feel that warmth I felt earlier in the day. Like I can trust him. I stay so cold all the time and this is… well, this is nice. He smiles at me. Just a bit. Just enough to sort of make my toes curl. It's nice to be smiled at. To be looked at like that. Like I'm a pretty girl worthy of being smiled at. Not like how Sam looks at me now. With all that damn baggage he sees. All the disappointment and pent up… something.
Thinking about Sam makes the warmth cool a bit. I want it back. I need it back. The dude in front of me tilts his head a little to the left and smiles ever so subtly, and there it is again. Warmth. I could get used to this.
LUCIEN!
His name is Lucien. I remember now. Lucien…
Lucien, the guy Hart gave me the message about. Or the guy Hart told me to give a message to anyway. He stabbed my hand and then… My eyes automatically go to my hand. Not a scar. Not a scratch. Nothing. But it had been. I saw the blood myself when I'd been in the office with Lucien.
Danika had the same cut on her hand.
I guess I need to ask him about it. Seems the thing to do. Except he might totally think I'm off my rocker and tell me there never was a cut. Never was any blood. Wouldn't be the first time I saw a wound or blood that wasn't there.
Why did everything feel so off?
A very pretty blond haired waitress with the tiniest waist I've ever seen comes over to our table. She smiles really big, exposing her perfectly, white teeth and takes her pen from behind her diamond-studded ear. "What can I get ya?"
"Just coffee. Please." I answer and wait for Lucien to order.
"All right, darlin'. Give me a sec." She jots it down and disappears behind the counter. Weird. She didn't even ask Lucien.
"Are you sure you're okay?" he asks again. The stupid puppy dog eyes draw me in.
"I'm fine." It should be my motto. I should tattoo it on my forehead so people would see it, so I won't have to say it all the time. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine.
"Do you want to talk?"
"I'm so not fine," I blurt out, then clamp my traitorous lips shut..
Why would I feel like I could talk to him? Because he makes me feel warm? Geez, that's creepy. And not healthy. And… who cares anymore? Gotta talk to someone, right? Yes! Yes, I want to talk, but I have no earthly idea where
"I saw you coming in. You look a bit—" He stopped talking. I guess because what I look like isn't something you call a lady. Because if I'm nothing else, I'm a lady. "Well, you look tired."
"I've slept all day." It's true. I've slept most of the day. Had nightmares of Hart. Fought with Sam. Had weird Tina messaging visions. Yeah. A peachy, typical day. "I guess I just needed extra sleep today."
He sits across from me, and I didn't even invite him to. Just plop. There he is. In all his blue-eyed glory. "Nightmares?"
Whoa… just whoa. "Who said anything about nightmares? I didn't mention nightmares. Why would I sleep so much if I'd been having nightmares?" Could I say the word nightmares more?
He clears his throat and his cheeks tinge pink as he looks down at his hands, which are leaning on the table. I think I've embarrassed him. Him, a very much upperclassman. Wow, I've really got to learn how to use my powers for good on Sam.
My powers? I don't have powers.
"I'm sorry. I just assumed. I thought if you needed a nap in the middle of the day, either you were a very big preschooler or a person with nightmares who doesn't sleep well at night."
I wait a beat and squint my eyes at him. "Are you calling me fat?"
"What? No. I didn't mean that."
I laugh. I mean, it isn't a huge guffawing laugh, but it is a laugh nonetheless. I should ask him about my hand and Hart and whatever happened in Professor Mitchell's classroom yesterday. But I don't… not yet. I'm not ready for the crazy to come out. "I'm kidding. I know what you meant. And yeah, you're right I guess."
When he looks up at me, his eyes are soft and kind. They are warm and inviting. Again, I feel that warmth I felt earlier in the day. Like I can trust him. I stay so cold all the time and this is… well, this is nice. He smiles at me. Just a bit. Just enough to sort of make my toes curl. It's nice to be smiled at. To be looked at like that. Like I'm a pretty girl worthy of being smiled at. Not like how Sam looks at me now. With all that damn baggage he sees. All the disappointment and pent up… something.
Thinking about Sam makes the warmth cool a bit. I want it back. I need it back. The dude in front of me tilts his head a little to the left and smiles ever so subtly, and there it is again. Warmth. I could get used to this.
LUCIEN!
His name is Lucien. I remember now. Lucien…
Lucien, the guy Hart gave me the message about. Or the guy Hart told me to give a message to anyway. He stabbed my hand and then… My eyes automatically go to my hand. Not a scar. Not a scratch. Nothing. But it had been. I saw the blood myself when I'd been in the office with Lucien.
Danika had the same cut on her hand.
I guess I need to ask him about it. Seems the thing to do. Except he might totally think I'm off my rocker and tell me there never was a cut. Never was any blood. Wouldn't be the first time I saw a wound or blood that wasn't there.
Why did everything feel so off?
A very pretty blond haired waitress with the tiniest waist I've ever seen comes over to our table. She smiles really big, exposing her perfectly, white teeth and takes her pen from behind her diamond-studded ear. "What can I get ya?"
"Just coffee. Please." I answer and wait for Lucien to order.
"All right, darlin'. Give me a sec." She jots it down and disappears behind the counter. Weird. She didn't even ask Lucien.
"Are you sure you're okay?" he asks again. The stupid puppy dog eyes draw me in.
"I'm fine." It should be my motto. I should tattoo it on my forehead so people would see it, so I won't have to say it all the time. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine.
"Do you want to talk?"
"I'm so not fine," I blurt out, then clamp my traitorous lips shut..
Why would I feel like I could talk to him? Because he makes me feel warm? Geez, that's creepy. And not healthy. And… who cares anymore? Gotta talk to someone, right? Yes! Yes, I want to talk, but I have no earthly idea where
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