Oliver saw me looking at him, and his face tightened with anger. From the way he was glaring at me, it looked like he was still pissed I'd brushed him off on the bus ride over here this morning. Whatever. I still didn't know why he'd sat down beside me to start with. I certainly wasn't the person he had a crush on, so what was the point of trying to chat me up? I might not have gotten a crystal-clear picture of his mystery crush in my head when I'd accidentally touched Oliver's supersecret notebook during weapons training, but I'd seen enough to know it wasn't me.
Although the Spartan's hard stare made me wonder why he was talking to the other girl in the first place. After all, she had white blond hair, not black hair like Oliver's mystery crush had in my hazy flash.
I pushed away all thoughts of the Spartan and stepped outside. The night air felt cool and crisp against my cheeks, and a few flakes of snow fluttered in the air. A soft breeze carried a sharp metallic tang with it, whispering that even more of the white stuff was on the way. I looked up. There weren't any stars out tonight, but a silver sliver of the moon peeked down at me for a few seconds before the thick clouds swallowed it up again. The Christmas lights that had been strung up in the alpine village winked on and off, flashing red, green, and gold against the blackness of the night.
I leaned against the coffee shop window, tucked my hands into my jacket pockets, and just breathed. In and out, in and out, the way my mom had taught me to whenever I was feeling scared, panicked, or upset. The slow, steady rhythm soothed me, chasing away some of my anger, frustration, and heartache. The music from the party still thumped, but the sound was muffled out here-just a low, growling rumble through the brick and glass of the building.
My peace and quiet lasted maybe two minutes before a Valkyrie wearing a tight, white turtleneck sweater, a green leather miniskirt, and ridiculously high-heeled boots teetered outside, stumbled away about thirty feet, bent over, and puked up all the beer she'd just drunk. I wrinkled my nose. Ugh. Isodid not need to see that.
She straightened up and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and I realized it was Morgan McDougall. The Valkyrie sensed me watching her and turned in my direction. We stood there staring at each other. Maybe it was just the flashing lights, but Morgan's face looked as green as her skirt and matching boots.
"Do you, uh, need some help?" I asked.
Morgan opened her mouth like she was going to say something, but then she clamped her lips together and shook her head. Without another word, she turned and tottered off toward the hotel, her stiletto boots digging into the snow like spikes.
Morgan puking her guts out seemed like a clear signal that it was time to leave. I turned around and glanced through the window. It took me a minute to spot Daphne and Carson, who were still dancing. Well, Daphne was dancing. I wasn't quite sure what Carson was doing.
I thought about going inside and telling them that I was all partied out for the night. But I knew if I did that, Daphne would insist on leaving the party, so she and Carson could walk me back over to the hotel. She was just that good a friend, and so was Carson. The two of them had basically been babysitting me all day-they deserved to have a little time to themselves tonight.
Besides, there were plenty of other Mythos kids wandering around outside, laughing and talking and stumbling from one shop, or one party, to the next. I'd be safe enough walking back to the hotel by myself. I could see the entrance from here, lit up with strands of Christmas icicle lights. I doubted that even a Reaper would be stupid or brave enough to try to kill me in the middle of the alpine village, especially since it was full of drunk students.
My decision made, I pushed away from the building, heading back toward the hotel-and ran right into Preston.
One second, I was alone. The next, Preston appeared in front of me.
"Oof!"
I hit Preston square on and bounced back off his chest. And, of course, my boots skidded on a patch of black ice on the sidewalk. I would have fallen on my ass right in front of him if he hadn't leaned over and caught me, clutching me to his chest.
"Nice reflexes," I said, staring into his blue eyes.
He grinned. "Good to know all those long hours in the gym have finally paid off."
We stood there like that for another moment, the two of us frozen in this strange, intimate embrace. I cleared my throat and looked away. Preston got the message and pulled me back up onto my feet.
"Are you okay?" he asked in a concerned voice.
"I am now," I said, smiling at him.
Preston grinned at me again. "Good. You know, I was hoping I'd see you here tonight, Gwen."
Gwen. Even the way he said my name was sexy, as if his good looks and muscled body didn't make him cute enough already. Okay, okay, so maybe part of my heart stubbornly insisted that Preston's voice didn't have quite the same husky ring to it that Logan's did whenever the Spartan called me "Gypsy girl." But Logan was inside with another girl, and I was out here with Preston. Maybe Daphne was right. Maybe it was time to find someone to take my mind off Logan-and I thought Preston would do quite nicely.
"I was hoping that I'd see you, too," I said.
We stood there staring at each other. The glow from the coffee shop and the Christmas lights highlighted Preston's smooth skin and perfect features, making him look older, more handsome, and slightly dangerous. He just kept staring at me, as if he thought I was just as gorgeous as he was. I wasn't, of course, but I still liked the attention, even if a hot, furious blush worked its way into my cheeks as a result.
A few feet away, a couple who'd been making out on an iron bench next to the coffeehouse finally got up. Their lips never broke contact as they walked toward the hotel.
Preston jerked his head in that direction. "Shall we?"
I nodded. We walked over and sat down on the bench. Preston leaned back and stretched his arm out across the top of the bench, almost like he was putting it around my shoulders. We both had on jackets, and he was wearing gloves, so there was no danger of me getting any kind of vibe off him. Still, I liked being close to him.
For a moment I wondered what would happen if I leaned over and brushed my fingers against Preston's face. What I would see and feel if I used my Gypsy gift to flash on him. Guys were so hard to read, especially supercute ones like Preston, and my magic was basically my own personal, built-in lie and bullshit detector. My psychometry would let me know what he really thought of me. If he thought I was pretty or funny or a total freak. If he really liked me or was thinking about someone else or was just sitting here with me because he thought he might get laid.
The temptation to find out the answers was so strong that it made my fingers twitch with anticipation, but I forced myself to stick my hands into my jacket pockets. I wasn't going to do that, I wasn't going to use my magic that way. I wasn't going to pull secrets out of people just because I had the power to do so, just because I wanted to know what they were up to. It was a decision I'd made a few weeks back, when I'd realized Logan had a secret he was hiding from me-one that was keeping us apart.
Besides, tonight I wanted something-something simple, easy, uncomplicated, and yeah, totally romantic, too. I thought that sitting on a bench with a cute guy and watching the flakes of snow gather in his white blond hairde finitely qualified as romantic.