Hourglass (Hourglass #1)

Hourglass (Hourglass #1) Page 45

“What?” He lowered his hands, his voice soft, incredulous.

“Your best friend is an empath. And he didn’t kiss me because of you.” It was out before I could stop myself. Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut? I growled in frustration and dropped down to sit on the top porch step.

“Um … I thought maybe … But then Kaleb …” He trailed off awkwardly. “I didn’t know if you were confusing the way we make each other feel … physically … with actual feelings.”

“Maybe I am.”

“Nothing can happen between us, Em.” At least he sounded sad about it.

“I know that.” I stared down at the white paint flaking up from the porch steps. I leaned over, scratching at it. “I should go find Kaleb and take him up on his offer to distract me.”

“Don’t.”

“Why? ‘Nonfraternization’ rule or not, I’ve practically thrown myself at you. One second I think you want me back, then the next I don’t know. I barely recognize myself when I look in the mirror because I don’t ever act like this, and then I meet Ava and—”

The screen door opened behind me, the hinges in desperate need of oil. Grateful for the interruption and an excuse to end my humiliation, I pushed up forcefully from my seat on the stairs, cracking my head on something hard before feeling the sensation of cold slime sliding down my back.

I twisted around to see Dune holding a cooler half full of mud and crawfish heads.

The other half was all over me.

Chapter 38

For a horrible second, no one moved. Everything around me stood out with startling clarity. The dismay on Michael’s face, the sludgy water dripping from my tank top, the crawfish heads in my hair.

Michael jumped into action. “Dune, go inside and grab some paper towels. Have Kaleb bring us some ice. She hit her head pretty hard.”

“Emerson, I’m so sorry.” Dune dropped the cooler onto the porch and reached out to me. Michael waved him away and he took off in the direction of the kitchen.

“Are you all right?” Michael asked, peering into my eyes as he rested his hands gingerly on my shoulders. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to avoid the slime or my skin. “Your pupils look dilated. Does your head hurt? Tell me your name.”

“Of course my head hurts,” I snapped. “Ask me my name again, and I’ll turn you into a soprano.”

His eyes filled with relief as he let go of my shoulders and stepped away. “At least you’re okay.”

I was so far from okay.

Pulling a mud-caked strand of hair in front of my face, I crossed my eyes as I looked at it. “Do you have a garden hose somewhere? I can’t drive home like this.”

“I’m not going to let you wash off with a garden hose,” he said, shaking his head. “You can go up and take a shower. I’ll wash your stuff.”

“So I’m just going to sit somewhere naked while I wait?” I asked. Then I blushed.

Thankfully, at that moment Dune appeared with a whole roll of paper towels. He started ripping them off and dabbing at my hair and my shirt, all the while mumbling under his breath about how sorry he was.

“Dune,” I said, grabbing his wrist when his dabbing got a little too personal, “it’s fine. I know you didn’t do it on purpose. Accidents happen.”

His serious sea-colored eyes were full of apology. “I really am sorry.”

“How hard did she hit? Do I need to call 911?” Kaleb asked as he burst through the screen door, ice in hand. When he saw me he froze for a few seconds before exploding into laughter.

“Knock it off,” Michael said, scolding. “She could’ve been hurt.”

“Are you all right?” Kaleb asked, with tears in his eyes.

I pursed my lips and crossed my arms, surprised to feel a giggle bubbling up in my chest. “Peachy.”

He started laughing again. I wondered if I really had hurt myself when I hit my head, because I joined him.

“This really isn’t … funny.” I sat down to try and catch my breath, landed on a particularly slimy pile of crawfish heads, and slid to the bottom of the steps, hiccuping on impact.

Dune gave in, the concern in his eyes dissolving into humor as he doubled over in a deep belly laugh, sinking to the ground beside Kaleb. Michael still stood in the exact same spot, watching the three of us with something that looked like longing in his eyes.

I wiped away the leftover tears of laughter and threw my sopping hair over my shoulder, accidentally dislodging several shells that took flight and landed next to Kaleb.

He and Dune started giggling again, sounding like oversize preschoolers who’d eaten too much cotton candy. I covered my mouth so I wouldn’t join them and looked at Michael.

“What?” I asked through my fingers.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “Nothing at all.”

Freshly showered, I sat on Michael’s bed, waiting for someone to bring me my dry clothes. I’d insisted on keeping my underthings and washed them in the sink, drying them with a hair dryer.

I’d been alone with my thoughts for too long. I kept picturing Michael’s expression before he’d left Dune, Kaleb, and me outside. Almost like he was giving something up.

A knock sounded at the door, and I jumped up to answer, barely cracking it and sticking my head out. “Ava.”

She was dressed in a tiny pair of sleep shorts and a white spaghetti-strap tank top. Opening the door wider, I stepped out from behind it, wearing one of Michael’s Red Sox T-shirts.

Her eyes took in my damp hair, his T-shirt, and my legs, bare from just above my knees down to my pink painted toenails. I couldn’t help wondering how often she made evening visits to Michael’s room wearing skimpy pajamas.

“Where’s Michael?”

“He’s downstairs,” I answered, not revealing the specifics of why I was in his room. He could tell her. They could laugh about it together.

“What are you doing in here?”

I had no idea how to explain the crawfish debacle. “Um—”

“Never mind.” She shook her head and waved her hand, dismissing both her question and my answer, before leaning down and saying conspiratorially, “Can I give you a little friendly advice?”

“Sure.”

“Michael and I have been close for a really long time. I wouldn’t want you to do anything that would cause you … embarrassment, if you understand what I’m saying.” She gave me a pointed look, and her eyes strayed to the hem of Michael’s T-shirt.

I desperately wished I wasn’t having this conversation in my panties.

“I’m not doing anything … This is just … I’m only here to help.”

“Help who?” she asked. Her eyes stayed on my face, but I could feel her giving me the once-over in her mind. “Exactly?”

“Help … to help …” The truth hit me like a sledgehammer, and I physically took a step back. She didn’t know about the plans to save Liam. I scrambled to come up with an explanation instead of standing there catching flies. “I’m here to help Cat with some things. That’s all.”

“Oh.” Her mouth softened into a suggestive smile. “Well, maybe you should be in her room instead of Michael’s. He might … need it for something. Later.”