Silver by Talia Vance Page A

woke me from my psychotic episode. I walked right through the flames to get them out. They said it was a miracle no one was hurt.
    After three days of the same questions went nowhere, the doctors prescribed me some heavy duty tranqs and sent me home. Nana came into my bedroom and sat at the foot of my bed. I was out of it, still in a sleepy haze that made everything seem like a fuzzy dream, but I was glad to see her. She put the bracelet around my wrist and told me that I should never take it off. That I would grow out of everything by the time I was seventeen, and then I wouldn’t need it anymore.
    I’m not seventeen yet, but I will be soon, and it’s obvious I’ve grown out of exactly nothing. I turn to Blake. “So you think that this flower charm hides me. From who exactly? Guys?”
    â€œSomething like that.”
    â€œFrom all guys, or just players like you?”
    Blake doesn’t take offense at my calling him a player. “I don’t know. I only know how it affects me.” He looks back out at the ocean. “Austin doesn’t seem bothered by it.”
    So he’s noticed that too. “What do you mean?” It feels good to hear someone else say it. Like I’m not completely insane.
    Blake runs a hand through this hair. “Just the way he looked at you tonight. You would know better than me. How do guys normally react to you when you’re wearing that?” He says the last word with definite disdain.
    â€œSame as always.” I sit down in the sand next to the firepit. Before I can stop myself, I add, “Like I don’t exist.”
    Blake sits down in the sand next to me. He forces his eyes to meet mine. “You can change that.”
    I should stand up and walk back to the car, end this now. With or without the bracelet, I’m still just me. Same crazy, blurting, pheromone-less me. It isn’t like a piece of jewelry can change that. My hand clutches the silver flower, forming a makeshift shield. There is no way this little charm can change me. The whole debate is pointless. And tonight I don’t want any more proof of my complete lack of desirability.
    But I don’t get up. I’m alone on the beach with Blake Williams, and he’s watching me. It’s an outlier to the tenth degree. And I like it more than I want to admit.
    I force myself to let go of the charm, letting my hands slide to the clasp. I fumble with it, my fingers shaking. When I finally manage to get it undone, I close my hand around the bracelet and lower it to my lap.
    The firelight reaches out from behind me, casting shadows on Blake’s face. He extends his hand, palm open.
    â€œJust for a minute.” I place my hand on top of his, my fist still closed tight. My hand shakes harder.
    Blake puts his other hand on top, holding my hand steady. “Okay?”
    I nod.
    He rubs my closed fist. “You have to let go.” His hands are gentle, his touch hot.
    I close my eyes. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore amplifies. I listen to the water churning and falling, churning and falling. I can taste the salt in the air. My breath slows to match the rhythm of the rise and fall of the cresting waves. Slowly, I open my hand. At the same time, Blake’s fingers close around the little charms. Then his hands are gone, and my own hand falls back to my side, empty.
    I wait to feel something, anything. I don’t.
    It’s official, Blake is a lunatic. I don’t want to open my eyes. I don’t think I can bear to see Blake’s face.
    â€œYes! I knew it!”
    My eyes open to Blake’s smile. I look down to make sure that I haven’t missed something. Same blue shirt and vintage Calvins. I grab a curl of brown hair, examining it closely in the firelight. The only thing that’s changed is the way Blake looks at me.
    And it takes my breath away.
    Blake’s eyes glow in the firelight. But it’s the flames behind his eyes