Intertwined. Gena Showalter

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СКАЧАТЬ was wondering … I saw you outside the cemetery,” Aden said to Mary Ann. “Do you, uh … did you … notice anything that disturbed you?”

      So hesitant, he was. It was kind of cute. Sweet, too. The urge to hug him increased. But she merely blinked over at him, unsure she’d heard him correctly. Had he felt that bizarre wind, too? “Like what?”

      “Never mind.” Slowly he grinned, and it was a grin that not only rivaled Penny’s, but surpassed it.

      Guess he hadn’t, she thought. “Were you visiting a loved one there?”

      “Uh, no. I, uh, work there. Just so you know, news stations will probably be blasting stories about the desecration of several graves soon. I was … cleaning things up.”

      Was her mother’s grave okay? It had better be!

      “How wonderfully morbid.” Penny blew a puff of smoke in his direction. “Are you ever tempted to do a little digging and steal a little bling?”

      To his credit, he didn’t cough or flinch. “Never,” he said, turning to shield his face as a pudgy man walked by their table.

      Hiding? Maybe that was his boss and he wasn’t supposed to be on break.

      She studied him, wondering what he—Her gaze caught on the bruise on his neck and she gasped. “Oh, ouch! What happened to you?” There were two puncture wounds, both a mix of blue and black. Teeth marks, she realized then, and blushed. He could have gotten them from a girl. Probably had. “Never mind. That’s personal. You don’t have to answer that.”

      He didn’t. He covered the wounds with his hand, his own cheeks heating.

      “Great, two prudes at one table.” Penny released a long- suffering sigh. “So what do you do for fun, Aden? Where do you go to school, if not public? And do you have a girlfriend? I’m assuming the answer is yes, since you’ve been nibbled on, but I’m hoping you’ll tell us it’s about to end.”

      His attention returned to Mary Ann. “I’m more curious about Mary Ann. Why don’t we talk about her?”

      Way to dodge the questions, she thought.

      “Yes, Mary Ann.” Penny rested her elbows on the table, expression mockingly rapt. “Tell us about your exciting fifteen-year plan.”

      Mary Ann knew what her friend was doing: trying to force her to voice her supposed dullness so that she’d realize she needed excitement. How many times had Mary Ann told her that admitting a problem was the first step to fixing it? Penny must have been listening because, for once, she was acting as the shrink. “Another word out of you and I’m going to take you up on your earlier offer. Your tongue will look nice above my bed.”

      Palms up and out, Penny projected her innocence. “Just trying to lighten the mood, sugar.” Grinning, she dropped her cigarette to the concrete and smashed it with her foot. “Maybe the only way to do that is to leave. You two can get to know each other.”

      “No,” Mary Ann rushed out when her friend stood. “Stay.”

      “Nah. I’ll just cause more trouble.”

      Aden watched the exchange, head zinging back and forth between them, expression bemused.

      “You won’t.” Mary Ann gripped Penny’s wrist and tugged her back into the chair. “You’ll—” A thought occurred to her and she gasped. “Oh, no. What time is it?” She set her mocha on the tabletop, pulled her cell from her pocket and glanced at the clock. Just as she’d feared. “I’ve got to go.” If she didn’t hurry, she wouldn’t make it back to the Watering Pot in time.

      “I’ll walk you wherever you’re going. I don’t mind.” Aden jumped up so quickly, his chair skidded behind him and knocked into a man who’d been walking past. “Sorry,” he muttered.

      “I’m in a mad rush, so I … I think I should go on my own. I’m sorry.” Best this way, she told herself. Her blood was still burning in her veins, her stomach still clenching. She leaned forward and kissed Penny on the cheek before standing herself. “It was nice meeting you, though, Aden.” Kind of.

      “You, too.” He sounded despondent.

      She backed up a step, stopped. Backed up another step, a dark corner of her mind shouting for her to stay, despite everything.

      Aden moved toward her, saying, “Can I call you? I would love to call you.”

      “I—” She opened her mouth to say yes. That dark corner wanted to see him again and figure out why she felt both pain and affection in his presence. The rest of her, the rational side of her nature, listed all the reasons to stay away from him: School. Grades. Tucker. Fifteen-year plan. Yet still she had to fight to work, “No, I’m sorry,” out of her throat.

      Whirling, she headed back to the Watering Pot, wondering if she’d just made a huge mistake. A mistake she would regret for the rest of her life, just as Penny had predicted.

      THREE

      ADEN WATCHED as Mary Ann walked away from him.

      “Here’s her number. If you still want to call her, that is, considering her rudeness,” the girl named Penny said, sliding a piece of paper toward Aden. “The second number is mine. In case you decide you want someone a little more available.” Then she, too, stood and walked away from him.

      “Thank you,” he called. He grinned as he stuffed the paper into his pocket. The grin didn’t last long, however. He didn’t know a lot about girls, but he knew that he’d made Mary Ann Gray uncomfortable. Knew she’d wanted nothing to do with him.

      Had she sensed how different he was? He hoped not, because that would make convincing her to spend time with him impossible. And he had to spend more time with her. Had to talk to her, to get to know her. She really was responsible for his newfound sense of peace.

      It was strange, too. The more time he’d spent in her presence, the more he’d had to fight the urge to run away from her. Which made absolutely no sense. Up close, she was even prettier than he’d realized, cheeks bright, eyes a mix of green and brown. She was smart, well able to hold her own against her friend. Any other guy would have wanted to date her, yet when they’d begun talking, he’d first experienced a wave of affection, as though he should be mussing her hair and teasing her about boyfriends. (As if he needed more proof that he was weird.) And second, that stupid desire to flee for his life.

      He could think of no reason good enough to run from her. The moment he’d spotted her at the café, the voices had screamed again—he had hated that—then quieted again, and he had loved that.

      How did she do it? Did she even know she did it? She hadn’t seemed aware, her pretty face innocently unconcerned.

      He hadn’t decided yet if she was the girl in his visions or not. She certainly looked like her, but the thought of kissing her … he grimaced. It just felt wrong. So very wrong. Maybe, hopefully, after he got to know her, that would change.

      He kicked into gear, heading home, careful to stay first on the sidewalk above the graveyard, and then the main roads. Twice he tripped over trash, stumbling forward, and every wound on his body throbbed.

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