The Awakening by Marley Gibson Page B

next to his nose on the left side of his face. I resist the urge to reach out and feel it just to make sure it's real. Yeah, I need some oxygen.
    "Uhh, I think I'm—ugh," I blurt out. My head is pounding with the now-familiar psychic headache. There are flashes and lights and images, but nothing's concise or coherent. I press the palms of my hands into my eyes and rub—but not so hard that I smear my mascara. Dasani-Blue-Eyed Boy is no longer a figment of my imagination.
    Taylor squats down next to me. "Oh, poor Kendall." Then she turns to the mystery man who saved me from cracking open my skull on the cafeteria's linoleum. "This is all your fault, Jason!"
    Jason? His name is Jason. That's a noble name. Like Jason and the Argonauts, bringing Pelias the Golden Fleece. (So I know some Greek mythology on top of all the Shakespeare.)
    "How on earth is this my fault?" he asks. "I caught her, didn't I?"
    "You scared her senseless with your bullishness," Taylor accuses.
    "I'm just looking out for you."
    "I don't need you to look out for me, Jason."
    "You certainly do," he growls. "Especially when you're talking about shit like ghost hunting. Are you insane, Taylor?"
    I zone out for a moment, away from the hubbub swirling around me. My headache intensifies and I start seeing full-color images flickering through my mind, like a PowerPoint presentation. They're of the two of us—Jason and me—together. Like, doing couple things. Walking together. Talking on the phone. And me falling again. He's catching me, but it's different from just now. I sense anger and resentment in the air around me, trying to hurt him ... or me. Then we're kissing. Whoa! What an amazing vision this is.
Come back.
    Taylor is still going at Jason full steam. "You can't tell me what to do."
    "Someone should so you don't act like a jackass."
    "You're the jackass, Jason."
    "Y'all—" Celia tries with no success.
    "Nice mouth, Taylor. Do you kiss your mother with it?"
    "You should know."
    From the tone of this argument, I gather that golden blond Jason is Taylor's boyfriend. Of course, the beautiful people pair off together. Such is the way of the world. It's been occurring since the dawn of time. That leaves outsiders and geeks like Celia and me to watch in envy and wonder what their children will look like someday.
    I try to sit up and find myself nestled between this Jason's muscular blue-jeaned thighs. His warmth radiates against my back, and I feel quite natural up against him like this. Rather a precarious position, I must say. I'm sure Taylor doesn't appreciate me being snuggled up to her honey like this.
    She flattens her lips and death-glares at Jason over my shoulder. "I'm sick of you constantly telling me what to do! You're my brother, not my father, Jason. When are you going to get that straight?"
    Brother?
Ohhhhhhhh ... iiiiiiiiiiiinteresting.
    Celia steps forward and extends her hand to me. "Here, Kendall. Get up."
    I clasp on and let her pull me to my feet. Oh my God! While she's tugging, Jason gives me a shove on the ass for good measure. My entire being tingles, from the roots of my hairs to my in-need-of-a-pedicure toes. And it has nothing to do with my psychic abilities. It's like I've been Tasered by his gorgeous looks and the crooked smile that he gave me when I was supine in his lap. I scramble away from him and mutter my thanks under my breath.
    "What happened?" Celia asks in a whisper.
    I don't want to tell her about my dreams of Dasa—urr, Jason yet. She's been a good egg accepting my psychic awakening and the quest to ghost hunt, but I don't want to freak her out too much. "I think it's all part of coming to grips with my abilities."
    She places a hand on my back and says, "Next time you want to play fainting goat, give me a heads-up."
    I chuckle. "I'll do my best."
    Jason stands as well and brushes off his large hands on his jeans. "I know you just got sick or whatever, but are you seriously talking about ghost hunting