Skittles, my white Ragdoll cat, purred loudly in my ear, and I knew I’d slept in past her breakfast. She was my go-to cuddle buddy, although lately, all I saw when gazing into her big chlorine eyes was the catlike boy with mismatched eyes. After a groggy stretch in bed, I sat up and stared at the stack of covered canvases in the corner of the room. The disturbing memories from the carnival three nights before resurfaced for another nerve-wracking day.
Dragging myself from the covers, I slogged over to the bathroom to toss cold water onto my face. In the mirror above the sink stood a ghost, a frightened girl I couldn’t recognize.
“You’re stronger than this.”
I stormed back into the bedroom, ripped the blanket off the stack of canvases, and launched into cleanup mode. By the time I was done, the garbage was overflowing with frames. Outside, I flung them into a big trash can at the end of our driveway and threw up a middle finger.
Ha.
Despite the container of melatonin and bedtime tea next to my bed, I was starting to accept that sleeping at night in general was no longer a possibility. When I would fall asleep, the abysmal nightmares I’d had for weeks worsened, to the point where I now woke up screaming, drenched in sweat with my limbs twisted in my sheets. Lying absolutely still, I’d retrace the events of the nightmare but could never remember all the contents. Only the shadowy mass that would consume me, trapping me between awake and asleep in a cocoon of smoke. Faded went the dream with a kiss. Wicked lips caressing mine like silken trickery, marking my brain with one unforgettable name. Death.
School that day went by in a blur. To avoid dreaming, I made up for my sleepless night by snoozing away in patchy cycles during my classes.
David had texted me Wednesday, the morning after the carnival, to make sure I was feeling better. I hadn’t texted back, and he’d called and left a voicemail yesterday. I assumed he’d gotten my number from my portfolio. Several times my finger itched to push the Redial button to call him back. I never did.
I was afraid to get close to him. For obvious reasons.
I wanted to tell David the truth about what’d happened at the carnival, but who would believe such an absurd story? Hell, I was having trouble believing it myself. None of what happened in the fun house made any logical sense, so unless I wanted a cool new bedroom with white padded walls, David, Marcy, and even my family all had to be left in the dark.
When I entered my house again, Skittles weaved between my feet, and I carried her like a baby into the kitchen to set her down on the hardwood floor.
“Sorry about that, princess. You just want your meow-meow food, don’t you?” I scooped a cup of food into her bowl, wondering when I’d eaten last. “If I’m going crazy, at least I have you to keep me company. Right?”
Skittles continued to eat her food.
“Good talk.”
Sighing, I chose a stool at the kitchen counter and scrolled through the notifications on my phone. Marcy had texted me several times. She knew something was up the past two days at school, especially when I dismissed any conversation about “the guy who asked me out,” but like I said, she wasn’t one to press, and I didn’t want to talk about it. Maybe it’d make me feel better to tell her a tall tale version of why I left David alone at the carnival. At least then, I could tackle a fraction of my current problems.
Dodging Marcy was like dodging a boomerang. She always came right back.
My phone alerted me about a text message. I thought it would be Marcy or my parents, but it was an unknown number. My heart picked up as I read the first line.
I’ve been thinking about you. I had fun on our date. More fun than I’ve had in a while, honestly. I feel like I did something wrong and scared you off. I’m worried about you. At least text me back and let me know you’re okay.
I set down my phone, torn. David complicated things, but I’d had fun on our date too.
I invited Marcy over.
“And you left him!” Marcy cried, after I rehashed a drastically edited version of the time I spent with David. We were sitting on stools at the breakfast counter in my kitchen. I excluded anything having to do with
Death and the fun house, of course. “Rewind. You went on a whole date with David Star. A whole date and you didn’t give me a crumb of information about it all week? No, you let me dangle from a cliffhanger of delicious mystery! You are an evil, evil woman . . . ”
“You should be in theater.”
“I can’t believe this. What am I lately, chopped liver?” She inhaled sharply and pressed a hand to her chest. “Am I olive loaf ?”
“What’s so bad about olive loaf?” I pursed my lips and gave a little shrug. “I like olive loaf.”
She gagged and held up her palm. “Girl, I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”
“I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d freak out. I had no idea how the date would go, and I was so nervous.” Technically the nervous part wasn’t a lie. It was no walk in the park to converse with a guy who could probably toast marshmallows on his own blistering hot abs. “The entire night, I could literally feel the droplets of sweat amalgamating into one big swimming pool of anxiety in my bra,” I told her.
“Amalga- huh? Babe, what language do you speak? To hell with your nerves! Have you seen his lips? They’re luscious. You should have grabbed him by his hunky shoulders and tongued that beautiful model mouth!”
I grimaced a little at the “tongued” part, although David’s lips were the Bermuda Triangle of kisses. I’d felt his lips on my cheek, soft and enticing. One could get lost kissing lips like those . . .
Shaking myself from my thoughts, I seized Marcy’s empty cereal bowl and placed it in the dishwasher. Damn you, raging hormones.
This would be so much easier if you’d stop swooning over David and loathe him again!
“I need a moment to process,” Marcy said, slumping miserably on her stool. “I can’t believe we ditched David Star.”
“We?”
“I’m dating him vicariously through you,” she explained.
“We’re not dating, Marcy.” With a roll of my eyes, I drew open the double doors to the food pantry. Cue the angel’s chorus. I marveled at the rainbowesque display of cereal boxes and junk food crowding the shelves Mom had stocked before flying to Hawaii with Dad. Too bad I couldn’t stomach anything all week. I felt so weak and restless; maybe eating would make me feel better.
Resurrecting my lack of appetite required sugar. I thought about the strawberry frosted cupcakes Marcy made for my birthday and strode across the kitchen to open the freezer. Take a wild guess, cupcake.
I slammed the freezer door shut.
“Yeah,” I said, dragging in an unsteady breath. “No more cupcakes for a while.”
I twisted around and there was Marcy, eyeing me like I was batshit crazy.
“Maybe it’s better I don’t contact David,” I said, as I rubbed the back of my neck. “I’ve got a lot of stress with applying to college and an AP Chem test next week . . . ”
“I love you, but you’re overreacting. Honestly, it sounds like you had a great time.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “I think you liiike him.”
Spending time with David had changed my perception of him, and now I knew he was so much more than what the tabloids claimed—funny, playful, and hardworking. He was a great listener, too, and drank in every word I said. If it was all an act, I’d almost bought it hook, line, and sinker.
However . . .
Although David’s unusual behavior during the interview was forgiven, it was not forgotten. A part of me still didn’t understand his interest in me either. A rich celebrity who liked me? Come on.
Call it paranoia, call it intuition—whatever it was, I had a feeling my rejection at Thomas’s party and then again at the interview was what drove David to the carnival. I didn’t have the energy for some two-faced megalomaniac who was toying with me to see if he could get into my pants.
“I have an idea,” Marcy said. “It’s an hour train ride, right? Why don’t you visit David at the D&S Tower and talk with him in person?”
“And what, show the broad-shouldered brooder with ego issues that my love is his redemption? This isn’t a romance novel.”
“Broad-shouldered brooder with ego issues? Yummy.”
“You are on another level, sister. I hardly know the guy, and I’m going to show up at his office again? It’s too late in the day, plus it’s Friday and my parents get back from their trip at nine tonight.”
“If you get dressed, I can drive you to the train station and you’ll be at the tower by five. You can totally be back by eight. His father is a workaholic, he probably keeps David there past five anyway.”
“Even if I wanted to go, I don’t have enough money for a train ticket.”
“I’ll spot you!”
“Marcy, no—”
“It’s totally fine, babe. This is bothering you, and I’m not the one who will make you feel better or find closure.” She was doing that creepy best friend thing and reading my mind. “You need to go talk to the broad-shouldered brooder with mommy issues.”
I stifled a laugh. “Thank you for offering your help, but I can’t.
I have enough going on already. I’m not going to get myself tangled in a messy tryst, when I should be figuring out what I want to do with my life.”
A tiny, crumbled piece of paper hit my face. Marcy was riffling through her purse, tossing various pieces of trash and gum wrappers over her shoulder, while she sang an off-key song under her breath.
“A-ha!” She thrust a handful of bills at me. “Bam.”
I backed away with a glare. Marcy followed with an outstretched fistful of cash, raising an eyebrow at me in challenge. “You need this, and you know it. I see right through your insults of him. You like David.”
Her words rang true in my head. What she didn’t know was that she gave me a ticket out, not in. I needed to figure out if I was cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs with all these head trips to Paranormal Land before I could even begin to consider a relationship with David or anyone else.
The tip of the D&S Tower impaled the violent blackened sky as rain pelted the pedestrians on the sidewalk with icy droplets. Mouth breathing like I’d run a marathon (I practically had), I took refuge in the lobby. I glowered from under my hood at the beautiful and dry businessmen and businesswomen sauntering around the lobby and discreetly wrung out the ends of my hair like a mop into a potted plant.
Partly cloudy with a chance of an afternoon shower, my butt.
My impromptu outfit of a graphic T-shirt, jeans, and Converse was completely waterlogged, so I considered turning back and taking a taxi home. But I’d come too far now. Tugging the zipper of my drenched hoodie up to my neck, I wrapped my arms around myself and trudged through the lobby.
At the security area, I pulled down my hood to show my face to the guard. Although I looked like some punk teenager who was about to spray paint the nearest bare wall, he let me pass without any questions. Security had done the same thing the first time I was here.
When I turned back over my shoulder, one of the guards stopped a woman dressed considerably nicer than me and asked for her name.
I wondered if David or Devin had shown them a picture of me or something. Weird.
Trepidation slid down my spine as I glided into an elevator with four other people. I felt jittery and wired, and not just because of the nervousness of seeing David again. This whole building was intimidating. I walked down the hallway to his office with squeaky sneakers.
A woman wearing a stunning lace blouse strutted past, glancing down at me over her thin nose. What the hell had I been thinking wearing my turd of an outfit? Sure, David and I had seen each other in casual clothes, but were we at casual turd outfit level yet? I guess I’d find out . . .
I heaved in a deep breath and yanked open the doors to an empty waiting room. Tiara, David’s witch of a receptionist, wasn’t perched behind her desk. Heart in my throat, I crossed the waiting room and lifted my hand to knock on David’s door, when I noticed it was slightly ajar.
I nudged the door open. “David? It’s me, Faith.” When he didn’t respond, I peeked through the crack in the door, the faint light of the shadowy room haloing the outline of his large mahogany desk.
“Yo, anybody home?” I pushed the door open farther and took a guarded step forward. The room appeared significantly different than the last time I’d been in it. It was colder, darker. Everything fell to a hush as I took another step inside.
Untouched, opulent furniture was scattered around the room with the potent smell of new leather, like the couches were brand-new. The carpets were indented in certain places, indicating furniture had recently been rearranged. The damaged coffee table was gone, replaced with another sleek glass table. There was not a trace of anyone ever inhabiting the office, not even a single food wrapper from David’s desk. Everything was spotless.
Snooping around, I picked up the remote to the television and tried the power button. The television didn’t work. I studied the wall next to the TV, and my head tilted. The black-and-white photographs of New York hanging there were cardboard demo photos the frames came with. Now that I was thinking about it, there were no photographs of him or his dad anywhere in here.
This is weird. There must have been a reasonable explanation.
Maybe it was a new office for him, and he was still decorating.
I crossed a pocket of air where I could smell the ghost of David’s cologne and hesitated walking any farther. This was wrong. I was trespassing. Coming to my senses, I began to exit the room. As my hand touched the door handle, it occurred to me to look back over my shoulder, and I saw something gleam like a wink under the lamp on his desk.
I checked to see if the coast was clear in the waiting room and left a crack between the door and the frame. Striding toward his desk, I searched for the sparkle that had caught my eye.
Various papers were stacked neatly on his desk, my portfolio included. Clipped to it, the pros and cons list with a scribbled-out drawing of boobs. I noticed he’d written a lot less cons than I assumed.
Cons: Killed Rudolph. Doesn’t drink (Narc?). Sassy. Uptight. Wore slacks . . .
Now I was disgusted with myself for giving David another chance, until I read the pros list.
Pros: Punctual. Organized. Funny and quirky. Hardworking.
Dedicated. Intelligent. Bold. Self-motivated. Honest. Reliable. Creative.
Listener. Perceptive. Opinionated. Courageous. Vibrant. Doesn’t like to lose, will surrender if her pride is at risk. Will not fangirl over you under any circumstance.
I set the loose-leaf down and a small smile edged my lips. He’d gotten all that by being in a room with me for less than thirty minutes?
Rummaging through the crowd of papers on his desk, I tried to find the source of the sparkle again. Wedged between files lay the end of a dainty silver chain. I began to tug on it when the dim room flashed with light. Through the massive tinted windowpanes, a purple lightning bolt zigzagged across the sky, followed by a muted crash of thunder.
“Faith?”
Startled, I honed in on the figure standing in the office doorway.
Droplets of water cascaded down David’s straight nose and full lips.
Sopping wet, his white dress shirt clung deliciously to the hard muscles of his arms and the deep ridges of his abdominals. As I gawked at his physique, he raked his fingers through his chestnut hair, combing it back. My mouth went bone dry.
“What are you doing in here?”
He’s talking to you! Say something, idiot!
“Hey . . . you,” I said.
David checked his watch as he leaned against the doorway. “Did you come here straight from your classes?”
“No, I was home first. Seniors get out at two fifteen. I was hoping to catch you before you left work. I was just, um—”
“Snooping through my office?”
“No, I—well—” I lifted my arms and then let them slap to my sides. “Yes.”
The harsh panels of his face softened. “Find anything juicy?”
“I wish. It’s pretty boring in here. I take it you’re not a fan of livening up the place?”
“Hey, I just moved into this office. Give me time.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “If you’re so disappointed, you should try the bottom left drawer. You will find my stash of Twinkies and a remarkable bag of spicy Funyuns.”
“Is this a test?”
“Possibly.”
“For the record, I didn’t read any papers on your desk, except the pros and cons list. Didn’t open any drawers, or anything. You can dust for prints.”
He simpered. “Faith, it’s fine. I believe you. I’m really glad you’re here. I was starting to think you were ghosting me.”
Heat climbed up my neck. “I should have texted you before I came by. Now you probably think I’m nuts.” Way to let that cat out of the bag.
“Please, I already thought that. I’ve seen the way you Frog Bog.”
He flashed another warm, attractive grin. But like the previous one, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
I offered a timid smile in return and wiped my clammy hands on my leggings. Not the finest solution, considering the leggings were damp from the rain.
“It’s brutal out there.” He cast his eyes to the charcoal sky outside. “You should stay here for a while, until the storm clears.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” I plucked at my sodden sweatshirt. “Looks like we both got assaulted by rain, huh?”
As if now getting permission, David raked my frame once. His eyes intensified, but he hid his satisfaction almost impeccably. “You’re shivering. I’ll get you dry clothes.”
I wished I could blurt out an apology and clear the air with a joke, but I felt too shy. It wasn’t in my nature to attack emotional situations so directly. The fact that I had mustered up the courage to travel to the D&S Tower again to see David in person was a big step for me.
Crossing the opposite side of the room in a few strides, David pressed a touch panel in the wall, revealing a hidden door. He disappeared into the doorway and emerged with a stack of clothes. As he neared again, my heart picked up. Apologize already!
“Sweatpants shouldn’t be too big, I purchased the wrong size a while back,” he said absently. “This jersey is the only shirt here that won’t be a dress on you.”
David handed me the stack of clothes and our fingers brushed. A jolt. My nerve endings resuscitated. Our eyes locked, and there was an ineffable exchange between us.
He jerked his hand away. I rocked back with the clothes like a total klutz.
David rubbed the back of his neck. “I should probably get changed too.” The corners of his mouth twisted in an evanescent smirk. “Would you like to get dressed in here? In that case, I’ll leave the room. Or you can use the bathroom?”
“I’ll use the bathroom, thanks.” Had he felt that weird shock when we’d touched too? With downcast eyes, I speed-walked out of the room like a determined soccer mom with weights.
How had I managed to have an entire conversation with David last weekend, when now I was a gawping mess in front of him? Not to mention the charged tension in the room and his bizarre mood.
What had changed between us?
I’d totally forgotten my purpose of being at the D&S Tower. I peeled off my damp clothing, my bra and underwear soaked through with rain. Eyeballing the convenient electric hand dryer on the wall, I crouched down and aimed the hot air at my chest.
Now was not the time to be dating, especially when I was skeptical of David’s objective with me. The more I reeled over my thoughts, the harder it became to return to the office and face that beautiful man and his chocolate puppy dog eyes.
The sweatpants he’d given me were soft cotton with the D&S Tower logo on the upper thigh. The waistband had to be rolled over three times with the drawstrings pulled as tight as possible so they wouldn’t sag off my hips. I slipped the Chicago Bears jersey over my head, dried my hair a little bit with paper towels, applied some watermelon lip gloss from the pocket of my discarded wet jeans, and gathered up all my bravery to enter his office again.
David was resting against the edge of his desk and peering out into the thunderstorm. He had his cell phone to his ear, and although his back was to me, I could tell he’d styled his damp hair away from his face with a comb. He’d also exchanged his waterlogged clothes for another Armani number.
“Your phone is breaking up,” David susurrated. “Tell me again what happened. Slower.”
A pause.
“No,” he said firmly. “Do not show up here. I’m unavailable.”
He cracked his neck to the side as he listened to whoever was on the other line. Well, shit.
“I’m not mad.” The displeasure in his body language and the leisurely way he drew out each word said otherwise. He adjusted his position on the desk, his fist tightening against his thigh. “Enough.
We’ll discuss this later.”
He hung up.
“Sorry about that,” he said, without turning around. My sneakers must have been squeakier than I thought. “One of the creative directors has been testing me all day.”
“About?”
“An external conflict in the agency he hasn’t resolved yet.” He gave a half shrug as he pushed off the desk, pivoting toward me. His expression closed off any visible emotion. “I don’t want to bore you with the details.”
I pressed my lips together. Now, there’s a line he replays like a broken record.
“Do you need anything? Water? Food?” He scratched his jaw. “I can head down to the refectory and get you a sandwich and chips?”
“I’m good, thank you.” I ran my hands down the sides of his jersey a few times. “So Chicago Bears?” In the bathroom, it’d been my decided-upon transition into a conversation. Now it was my saving grace to assuage the tension in the room. “Not a Giants or Jets fan?”
He crossed his arms. “Nah, Chicago’s my team. Through thick and thin, I stick with Da Bears.”
“I don’t know why you torture yourself,” I said in a teasing way.
“The Bears haven’t won a Super Bowl since the eighties.”
David blinked a few times, taken aback. “You follow football?”
I couldn’t help but smile. “I watch football and hockey with my dad. Football is religion on my dad’s side of the family. He has five brothers, and they’re each loyal to different teams. I can’t tell you how many times a sports argument has ruined a holiday family dinner.”
“You’re into sports.” His disposition transformed as a slow, radiant grin stretched across his mouth. This man had me wrapped around his finger. “How do you not have a boyfriend?”
I gave a mirthless laugh, reciting the only answer I knew. “I’m intimidating.”
He cocked his head with a quizzical look.
“The way I dress at school, the makeup I wear.” He stared at me so intensely as I spoke that a flush crept up my neck. “I’ve been told I’m intimidating.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Who told you that?”
Myself. I tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Faith, there is not a single intimidating bone in your body,”
David said with conviction.
“Not even one?”
He closed the distance between us. “At least not any unattractive ones.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re attracted to my bones.”
His eyes smoldered with mischief. Leaning in close, as if to tell me a secret, he whispered, “You know, it’s not what’s on the outside that counts, but I have to think a girl as outwardly mesmerizing as you would have one sexy fibula on the inside.”
“Mesmerizing, huh?” I teased. “You’re making me sound like an enchantress.”
David’s lips arched, his fingers grazing the sides of my jersey. “It would explain the effect you have on me.” My heart raced as our eyes connected in a warm, meaningful moment. His smile fell a little as he slid his hand to the narrow of my waist. My stomach fluttered and I waited with bated breath for him to kiss me.
A phone buzzed on David’s desk, directing his thoughts elsewhere. His expression darkened. Coming around the desk, he read the lit-up screen and enclosed his big hand around the device to turn it off.
He obviously wasn’t taking the call because I was in the room, which made me feel like I was getting in the way of an issue that was troubling him. If I was going to say my piece, it had to be now. I had to remember what was at stake, the danger I could place him in with Death on my tail.
“I want to apologize,” I began, messing with my fingers as I strolled to the front of his desk. “About leaving so suddenly at the carnival and not texting you back.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for.” He bowed his head a little and leered at me from across the desk, his brown eyes two dreamy elixirs tempting me closer. “Unless you’ve come here to deepen my wounded pride?”
Actually, yes! I came here to tell you I want to be friends!
“David, I need you to know—”
“How’s your head anyway?” he asked at the same time.
My eyes widened. “My head?”
David turned a paper over on his desk to read it. “You said something about your head hurting before you left the carnival?”
“I did? I thought I told you I was nauseous?”
“You were nauseous?”
“Yes,” I said, with a shallow inhale. “I told you I was nauseous.”
How would he know about my head?
“Oh, right.” He picked at a button on the cuff of his dress shirt.
“You were touching your head before you left. I thought you might have a migraine. I get them occasionally.”
I vaguely remembered touching my head in his presence, but it wasn’t enough to shake the awful feeling brewing inside of me.
Flattening his palms against his desk, David parted his mouth to speak, when suddenly, his head slanted to the side, like an animal hearing a sharp noise. His eyes narrowed as he darted his gaze to the right, to the massive windows.
“You have got to be kidding me,” he said.
He moved too fast for me to comprehend. One moment, there was a desk between him and me, and the next, David had me pinned to the floor, shielding me with his body.
There was a deafening explosion of glass as an enormous mass crashed through the windows.
