Seven Weeks to Forever, page 3
I keep walking until I find my path blocked by one of the guys. He reeks of booze and cigarette smoke. I try to twist my lips into a smile, but keep walking. Smiling and saying nothing used to work just fine when I was Anna.
The guy grasps my shoulder, forcing me to stop. His fingertips dig into my skin.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry, beautiful? All the action is that way.” He motions in the direction I came from with his free hand.
I hold my breath, trying not to inhale the stench coming off of him. There’s sweat dripping down his forehead, and the look of his eyes tells me he’s been doing a lot more than drinking. It takes me a split second to focus and tune into his energy, and I’m careful to keep my energy from connecting with his. The energy I see surrounding him is weak, almost transparent, even if his physical hold on me is strong. It tells me that I need to keep walking.
I gently lift his fingers from my shoulder, leaving him with a polite smile. I get only two steps away before I find myself being spun around. I wince as the guy wrenches my arm.
“No need to be so rude, darlin’. Stay and talk a while.”
“I’m meeting someone,” I tell him, trying to free myself again. He leers at me, digging his fingers deeper into my skin. My arm will probably bruise, but that’s nothing compared with what I could do to him if I wanted to. Energy can be a powerful thing. There are other people watching, though, and I can’t risk one of them figuring out that there’s something different about me. I have a feeling that would be breaking one of the rules.
I open my mouth to speak instead, fighting against what I really want to tell this guy. Running my mouth will only make this get ugly, and fast. Before I can say anything, though, someone else beats me to it.
“She’s with me.”
I turn my head in the direction of the voice at the same time my friend with the iron grip does. He looks annoyed, but it’s all I can do to keep my jaw in place. Riley Davis, it seems, shows up in the strangest places.
The guy holding my arm releases me and takes a step back. “You should teach your girlfriend some manners,” he mutters.
Riley raises an eyebrow at him, but he doesn’t respond. I look at the guys still standing by the apartment building, wondering if Riley just got us into more trouble than what I was in on my own. They stay where they are, though, and the guy who grabbed my arm takes another few steps away from me.
Riley grabs my hand and pulls me in the other direction without saying a word. A surge of energy shoots through me, and I fight to keep my balance. It’s almost impossible to hold my hand steady in his. A tingling feeling spreads through my body, making it hard for me to think.
This has to be an energy drain, somehow caused by the guy who grabbed ahold of my arm. I tried hard not to let our energy connect, though, and that doesn’t explain why this is happening now that I’m holding Riley’s hand. I doubt his energy is at rock bottom like the other guy’s is.
I take a few breaths, trying to clear my mind. We walk for three blocks in silence before I get my bearings and finally find my voice.
“Thank you,” I tell him. I swear I hear him snort.
“Yeah, no problem.” He sounds put-out and doesn’t even try to hide it. If he recognizes me from the concert last night, his face doesn’t show it.
We walk a few more steps and then he stops so abruptly that I almost plow into him. He drops my hand.
“Do your parents know you’re out roaming the city in the middle of the night?”
His jaw is set, and I’m pretty sure that’s irritation I see on his face. Well, that’s interesting. I wonder if getting mad at strangers is something he does a lot.
“My parents died when I was six.” I regret my words the instant they leave my mouth. Surprise replaces the irritation in his eyes, and then I see exactly what I didn’t want to see. He’s uncomfortable now. Talking about death seems to do that to people. Discomfort isn’t exactly what I was going for, but maybe I shouldn’t care. It’s better than being lectured.
“I’m sorry.” His eyes drop to the sidewalk and stay there.
“Don’t be.” I start walking again.
“Do you make a habit of walking alone down dark streets at night, this close to bars and people drunk out of their minds?” he calls after me.
Oh, joy. Here we go again.
I stop and turn around. He sounds angry, and a quick check of his energy shows me little red sparks shooting everywhere. Yup, that’s definitely the color of anger.
“I got to town a week ago. What am I supposed to do, leave a breadcrumb trail to my house and stay there until new friends magically show up at my door?” I stop talking when something occurs to me. He’s out here alone, too. I put my hands on my hips and glare at him. “Why are you giving me a hard time, anyway? I don’t see you working the buddy system for safety.”
He narrows his eyes. It’s completely the wrong time for me to notice that they’re this incredible shade of deep brown, lit up with little golden flecks here and there. I didn’t notice his eyes last night, but they sure have my attention now.
Stop staring, I tell myself. Easier thought than done.
“I’m a little bigger than you,” he tells me. I think he’s noticed me staring, because he’s staring right back. I feel warmth run through me and am about to check my energy when I realize energy has nothing to do with it. The heat is in my cheeks. Curse him, I’m blushing.
“And I’m just some weak girl who can’t take care of herself?” I challenge, hoping he won’t notice that my face is turning pink. “That’s what you mean, right?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. Do you usually lecture complete strangers?” I tear my eyes away from his.
“Only when I need to rescue them.”
“You didn’t need to res—” I stop. Arguing with the guy probably won’t make my job any easier. I silently count backwards from five and then open my mouth to speak. “Thanks again for helping me, Riley. Most people wouldn’t bother.” My eyes lock with his and I can feel my face flaming, but at least my voice sounds nice and calm.
He’s staring at me again. It takes a second for me to notice that he looks puzzled.
“How do you know my name?” he asks.
“Uh.” I bite my lip, searching my brain for a reason. I’m about to say that he told me his name when I realize I don’t have to lie. I open my purse and dig through it, pulling out his student card a few seconds later.
I dangle the card in front of him. “Missing something?”
“Where did you find that?” He reaches out and takes it from my hand.
“On the ground at the Lazy Monday concert we were both at last night. Don’t thank me or anything.”
“I’m getting attitude from the girl who’s roaming the dark streets of L.A. at night?” He raises his eyes skyward. He’s smiling, though, and a quick check of his energy shows me that the red sparks are starting to sputter out.
I extend my hand to him. “I’m Cassidy, in case you like to know the names of your damsels in distress once you’ve delivered them to safety.”
He takes my hand. It only takes a second or two before the tingling starts again. “I guess you already know who I am. For the record, though, I don’t really make a habit of giving damsels much attention.”
I want to ask what made him stop for me tonight, but the tingling distracts me. It’s growing stronger. When I tune into my own energy, I see that it’s connected with his. Strange. I pull my energy back in toward my body and the tingling stops.
“Not the knight in shining armor type?” I ask, once I can force myself to focus. He shakes his head, releasing my hand. “What made you start with me?”
He shrugs. “You caught me in the right mood, I guess. And you seemed kind of cute and all.”
I feel my cheeks getting warm again. “Kind of?” I try to look insulted, but I can tell that I’m failing.
A grin spreads across his face. I smile back, since I’m not sure what else to do.
“Where were you coming from, anyway?” he asks. “You look a little young for the bars.”
“The Lazy Monday show at the Roxy. Is that where you were?”
“I tried to get in, but the place was full when I got there. I ended up grabbing food at Duke’s.”
He takes a few steps down the sidewalk, but I don’t follow him. “I’m going that way,” I call out. When he looks over, I point in the direction opposite from where he’s headed. “My car is parked over there.”
“Yeah, but I’m parked just past that stop sign, and I’m driving you to your car.”
“You don’t have to do that.” My face still feels hot, although I’m not sure why.
“What kind of knight in shining armor would I be if I let you go back to your car alone?”
I smirk at him. “I thought you weren’t a knight in shining armor?”
“I’m not. Are you coming?”
“Yeah, yeah.” I walk a little faster to catch up to him.
He opens the passenger door for me when we get to his car, and I slide inside. He gets into the driver’s seat a few seconds later. A minute passes before I realize that he’s not starting the car.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, looking over at him.
He looks thoughtful. “Can I see your phone for a sec?”
“Yeah, sure. Do you need to call someone?” I reach into my purse and pull out my phone. It’s strange that he’s not carrying his phone, given that he wouldn’t put it down last night.
He takes the phone from me and starts tapping the screen, then pauses for a few seconds.
“Need help using it?” I ask.
He shakes his head and starts to type something. When he finishes, he hands the phone back to me.
“I don’t know,” he says. “You tell me.”
I look down and see a new entry in my contacts list. Riley Davis. Call for emergencies. His number is below that.
“Call for emergencies?” I ask.
He starts the car. “You said you’re new here. You need someone you can call if something happens.”
For someone who doesn’t want to rescue strangers, he sure seems concerned about my safety. I’d point this out to him, but something tells me not to push it.
“Thanks,” I say instead, slipping my phone back into my purse.
“No problem. Where’d you say your car was?” He glances at the rearview mirror and then pulls out onto the street.
“It’s over on Melrose.”
The only talking I do for the rest of the short ride is to give directions. It’s not long before we pull up to the curb behind my car.
“Thanks,” I tell him. I wonder if I should hug him or something.
Since when do you hug anyone? I remind myself. It must be the energy surges messing with my mind. I reach for the door handle.
“Drive safely,” he says. “And be safe.”
I look back at him and smile, then get out of the car.
He stays parked behind me until I’m inside my own car. Once I’m in the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel, I notice that my hands are shaking. When Riley pulls away from the curb and passes me, I drop them to my lap so he can’t see that I’m trembling.
I’ve found him again, and I even have a way of reaching him now, but I’m still in the dark about what comes next. I always thought that when I found the person I was sent here to help, everything I needed to do would become obvious. After that, getting back to The Life-After would be a piece of cake. Unless I have some kind of epiphany in my sleep tonight, it’s clear that I was wrong. If I don’t figure this out soon, I’ll fail both of us.
This is the only chance I’ll get. I just wish I knew where to begin.
* * *
The little orange light on my phone is blinking when I get home and walk into the kitchen. I set my purse down on the counter and scan through the call log. The only entry there is my aunt and uncle’s home phone number, a call I must have missed by just a few minutes after leaving for the Lazy Monday show. It was still evening here, but considering the time difference, that was pretty late for anyone to be calling me from Boston.
I pick up the phone and press the voicemail button. My uncle’s voice comes through the speaker.
“Hi Cassidy, it’s Uncle Mike. Call me back when you can. There’s a letter here for you from Harvard. Your aunt opened it in case it was important, and it’s a good thing she did. There’s been some kind of mix-up with the admissions office, since they seem to think you won’t be starting classes in the fall. We should get this straightened out first thing Monday morning.”
I hold the phone out in front of me, listening to the beep when the message ends. There are a few choice words I could use right now, but none of them would come close to being the right one for this.
I wasn’t counting on a follow-up letter from Harvard, or at least not this soon. The information in the letter isn’t wrong. The mistake is my aunt and uncle finding out that I have no plans to start college in a few weeks, and it’s a big one.
At least it’s the middle of the night in Boston. That gives me some time to figure out my story, since I definitely can’t tell them the truth.
Chapter Four
I push open the door of Amoeba Records and walk inside, coming to a dead stop three steps past the entrance. I was just looking for a decent indie record store when I found this place listed online, but this is more like some kind of music palace. There’s way more vinyl than anywhere I used to sneak off to in Boston. Holy cow. This could take me all day.
Some guy who clearly knows where he’s going brushes past me. Oh right. I’m blocking the door. I take a few more steps into the store, and then spot the signs hanging from the ceiling. Okay, good. I can find things here kind of like I can at the grocery store. I scan the signs until I see one for the rock section and head in that direction, breathing in the scent of the plastic album sleeves. It might be the best smell that exists in The Before. Not quite The Life-After, but this will do for a couple of hours.
I stop in front of one of the shelves, and then turn around to see what else is behind me. That’s when a blond head one row over catches my eye. There’s only one person standing in that row, and that hair looks mighty familiar. Hmmm.
I tiptoe closer, watching as the guy I’ve spotted plucks an album out from one of the racks to examine the cover. It’s definitely Riley, unless he has a twin brother. I try to get a closer look at the album in his hands, and then have to smother a laugh when I realize what he’s holding. I wouldn’t have pegged him for a fan of Top 40 tween pop.
I take a step toward him, thinking about appearing at his side and teasing him about what his favorite song on the album is. Then I stop, another thought crossing my mind. I can have way more fun with this.
I quietly move to stand by a nearby wall, concealing myself behind a rack of magazines. After I dig my phone out of my purse, I find the number he put into my phone last night and tap out a text message.
It’s Cassidy. You said to get in touch if there’s an emergency, and there’s definitely an emergency. Send. I hear a quiet chiming sound a second later.
I watch him put the album down and reach into his pocket to pull out his phone. He glances at the screen and frowns, then starts typing. I look down at my phone to make sure I have the sound turned off.
His message appears on my screen a second later. Where are you? Are you okay?
I clamp a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Once I’m sure I have it under control, I remove my hand and type a reply.
I’m fine. Your taste in music might need a 911 call, though. I send the message and look over at him, waiting to see his face when he reads it.
His phone chimes again and he raises it closer to his face to see the screen. He jerks his head to the left and then to the right, squinting when he looks at the far end of the store.
“Behind you,” I say, stepping out from my hiding spot by the magazine rack. He turns around. I can’t keep the grin off of my face when he shoots me a dark look.
“Not funny. I thought you were in trouble.”
“Nope. I’m here to rescue you this time, from your tragic taste in music.” I point at the album he’s put down. “Tweeny girl pop on vinyl? Here I had you as more of an alt-indie kind of guy.”
“It’s for my niece.” I can tell he’s trying to keep a sour expression, but the corners of his lips twitch up into a smile.
“Well then, she’s lucky to have an uncle who’d risk being spotted with that. That can ruin a guy, you know.”
“Impressed now, are you?” he asks. I can see he’s trying not to laugh.
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He slings his arm around my shoulder, turning me in the direction of the cash register at the front of the store. Just like last night, a tingling feeling spreads through me at his touch. It makes me dizzy.
Once he pays for the album, he steers me out of the store. I’m not really sure where we’re going, but he’s not telling me adios or anything, so I go with it.
“That was rude, you know,” I tell him.
“What was?”
“Cutting my shopping trip short. You didn’t even ask if I was finished looking around.” He looks at me, probably to see if I’m serious. The expression on his face makes it impossible not to laugh.
“Damsel in distress one night, and a sarcastic pain in the you-know-what less than twenty-four hours later,” he mutters. “How exactly do I keep running into you?”
“You’re just one incredibly lucky guy.” I punch him lightly on the shoulder, and I swear I hear him grunt.
“Lucky isn’t really the word I’d use.” He tries to sound grumpy, but I can tell he’s amused. He seems more relaxed than last night, anyway.
