“Do you think he liked you?”
I look up at her, realize she’s serious, that she wants a real answer. “Yes. I mean, I think so.”
Her lips curl into the faintest of smiles. “Then, no, it doesn’t bother me. I like the idea that when he . . . when he left us, that something happy, something romantic was happening.”
I frown. “It never really happened though.”
She shrugs. “But if he liked you, he probably thought about it a lot. Thought about you a lot. My brother was a world-class flirt, but if he really cared about a girl, it took him a while to work up the nerve.”
My emotions rage, back and forth and up and down. Sadness for losing Steven. Happiness for sharing a conversation like this with Sienna. Despair for knowing she’ll never know why he really died. Optimism about the idea that our friendship could be repaired. Fear for what could happen if we really do become friends again, and I lose her. I can’t do it twice.
“What about you and Patrick? You guys have been dating, like, eighty million years.”
“One year,” she corrects. “And twelve days.”
“He seems super into you,” I say.
“You think?” She picks up a strand of hair and twists it around her finger.
“Definitely.”
“What’s going on with you and Cole?”
I pick up the stray kernels of popcorn that landed on my lap. “Uh, we kind of went out last weekend.”
Sienna’s jaw drops. “Seriously?”
I nod.
“We should do a double date or something, sometime,” she says.
“It’s kind of ... early still. For me and Cole.”
Sienna shrugs. “Maybe in a few weeks then.”
I nod. “That would be . . . great.”
And the scary thing is that it would be.
Chapter Seventeen
After Sienna leaves, all I want to do is swim. I want the water to clear the thoughts away, to somehow make everything make sense. The whole bumpy drive up to my lake, I can feel the anticipation. Every time my car splashes through one of the deep mud puddles, it reminds me of the lake, the feeling of the water on my skin. It’s building in my stomach, churning, growing, until all I want is to leap from my car and run the mile-long trail to get to the water.
I settle for a brisk walk, coupled with the occasional flying leap over downed trees and twisted, gnarled root systems. The ground is dark, moist from the evening rains. Occasional drops from the overhead fir trees hit me on the shoulders or cheeks, but I just wipe it away and keep going. Tonight, nothing will keep me from the hours of mind-numbing swimming. Not when everything in my life is changing so quickly.
By the time my lake comes into view, I’m already peeling off my clothes. It’s darker than usual today; the gray clouds still cling to the skyline, blotting out the moon and the stars.
I wade into the shallows and then dive, relishing the sluice of the water over my bare skin, ignoring the bite of the cold. I surface moments later and the song bursts out, just as it always has for the past two years.
But something doesn’t feel right. I blink up at the dark night sky, trying to figure out why the lake feels different tonight.
It’s as though the shadows have rearranged themselves.
I whirl around, look in every direction. As I tread water, I force a few weak notes out, but they feel off. It’s no longer like a bottle uncorked, but like a forcefully chosen melody, one I don’t know the words to and can’t seem to find. I tread water, my brow furrowed. The frigid water laps against my arms, my chin. This doesn’t make sense.
I clench my jaw and force the song to quiet. The water feels as if it has dropped forty degrees, but I know it hasn’t changed. I’m just freaking out. As the icy water slaps against my skin, the feeling of wrongness just won’t leave. For a reason I can’t quite name, I twist around to see behind me, and look into the woods.
Eyes.
Thirty feet away, under the canopy of evergreens, is a set of deep blue eyes, expressionless, staring back at me. Familiar eyes. I would know that vivid Caribbean blue anywhere.
Fear and shock coarse through me. It’s Erik. My mouth goes so dry I could choke, and my breath comes in weird shallow rasps. Panic consumes me. I want nothing more than to flee.
How long has he been standing there, watching me from beyond the tree line? Can he see the luminescent glow of my skin from that far away?
Then it dawns on me: How has he not followed me in yet? How has he not been lured by the siren’s call?
I find my voice, raspy and uncertain, and I call out to him. “What are you doing here?”
He doesn’t acknowledge me, just continues to stare. And then he takes a slow step backward.
“Why are you here?” I yell. But he takes another slow step, and then another, and another, until he’s disappeared into the shadows. Soon it is as if he hadn’t been there at all, as if I’d imagined the whole thing, because all I see is the shadowed tree line, jet-black under the canopy of the evergreens.
But I know I didn’t hallucinate.
I paddle to the shoreline and burst out of the water in seconds, grabbing at my clothes. I don’t pause to put them on until I can no longer see the lake, and even then, I struggle to get my shirt over my head while running. My arms are twisted up in my shirt when I collide with something hard. I cry out as I fall. Then I right myself.
It’s just a tree.
I yank my pants on but don’t bother with the shoes, just grip them harder in my hands. I sprint down the trail to my car, barely breathing until I throw myself into the seat and lock the door behind me.
My chest heaves faster and faster, but I can barely get air into my lungs. It’s as if there’s no oxygen inside my car. I jam my key in the ignition and throw the car into gear, spraying gravel as I gun it and head back down the mountain.
It’s barely ten thirty, but I can’t possibly swim.
The whole way down the mountain, the image of Erik watching me keeps floating in the darkness ahead.
Like there’s another one of him standing under every tree.
Chapter Eighteen
The following day at school, I’m freaked out, totally on edge. Why did he just . . . stand there like that? How could he listen to my song and not follow me in? What am I going to do when I see him today? And has he already told everyone what a complete and total freak I am?
Those unnatural bright blue eyes just keep coming back to me. Even in the shadows, I could see them, eyes like mine, almost glowing.
By the time I reach English class, I’m exhausted, a combination of worry and pain from only swimming for mere moments last night. I’m so caught up in thinking about last night I almost don’t register that the blue eyes staring at me are real. When it finally does click that the eyes staring at me aren’t a figment of my imagination, I yank backward so fast my chair lets out a wild screech on the tiled floor.
Erik smiles without looking away, a tiny lift of his lips. I blink and rip my gaze away from his. He steps away from the door to our classroom and makes his way back to his usual desk, glancing over at me once more, concern replacing his smile.
Just as he’s sitting down, I jerk out of my chair. My binder and English book fly off my desk and land with a loud smack on the tiled floor. “Uh, can I go to the restroom, please?” I ask, scrambling to pick up my book and binder.
Why is he acting so normal? He was at my lake last night. He knows what I am. And he’s just sitting at his desk like nothing is out of the ordinary.
Mrs. Jensen raises an eyebrow at me and looks at the clock. “You couldn’t have gone between classes?”
I shake my head so fast I think my brain must smack around inside my skull.