I froze, and Luke sat back hastily, looking ill, as if his hand had moved of its own volition. His voice was uneven. “I’m sorry.”
I wanted to say I’m not, but I didn’t know if I meant it. I didn’t know what I wanted. Lamely, I said, “It’s okay,” which wasn’t what I meant.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I wasn’t trying to—” He closed his eyes for a minute, and then opened them. He released the parking brake.
My leg burned where he had touched it. I could still feel the desire in his touch, and I couldn’t stop shivering. I wanted him to kiss me again. I wanted him to start driving so I wouldn’t want him to kiss me again.
Luke pulled out onto the highway again, swallowing, not looking at me. He looked faraway and unfamiliar in the dim glow.
I reached across the console and took his hand, and without looking away from the road, he knotted his fingers tightly in mine
seven
I slept on the couch that night. The idea of sharing a room with some faceless faerie thingy wasn’t exactly appealing, and even though I knew it could just as easily be faceless downstairs in the living room, I slept easier on the couch.
I woke up giddy. Last night, I’d been weirded out by the experience in the church and the idea of faeries stalking me, but this morning, fully rested, with early pale light filtering in through the delicate white curtains, I felt on top of the world. All the negatives seemed far away, and my mind just kept replaying his kisses over and over again.
Upstairs, I heard movement and thumping in my parents’ room. Mom was awake. I’d seen the look on her face last night when Luke dropped me off at eleven and apologized for keeping me out so late. I wasn’t keen on having that conversation right now. Or ever, for that matter.
“Rye,” I whispered. He looked up from his post at the base of the couch. “Walk?”
He leapt up, tail whipping, and I followed him to the kitchen, wiping sleep from my eyes and pulling my hair into my usual choppy ponytail. I donned a pair of jeans from the laundry room, folding the bottoms into uneven cuffs so they wouldn’t get wet in the grass, and went outside into the morning.
God, the sun was gorgeous today, light trickling through early morning mist. The morning was still cool—dew hanging in spiderwebs, the air smelling of freshly mown grass. Everything was beautiful.
He kissed me. He kissed me.
Rye, oblivious to my inner fireworks, pushed past me, white tail high as he bounded through the still wet grass.
Not that way, faerie dog. We’re going this way. Down the road.
He stopped, ears pricked as if I had spoken out loud. Then he wheeled around and trotted toward the road. He paused, waiting for me.
Awesome. Everything was friggin’ awesome. I could call Rye in my mind, and Luke kissed me. With Rye, I walked out onto the road, sticking mostly to the side, though at this time of the morning I didn’t think I’d meet any cars.
My bare feet making no noise on the asphalt, I led Rye to a quieter back road near the house and together we walked down the dead middle of it, watching the mist move and shift slowly over the cow pasture to our right. I slowed, fascinated by a snowy white rabbit that was watching me. Its perfectly colorless ears were pricked, unmoving. Aside from the rabbit, I was alone with Rye and my thoughts.
So Rye was a faerie dog. And faeries wanted to steal me away. It was kind of flattering, actually. Nice to be noticed.
Where did that leave Luke? Why did he know about the faeries, anyway? Were they trying to steal him as well? And why had Granna talked to him like she did? It wasn’t the malice in her voice that was the most puzzling. It was the familiarity. Sort of like how Mr. Hill, the band director, had seemed to recognize him at the competition as well. My mind skipped carefully away from the subject. Remembering how little I knew about Luke definitely cut into my morning giddiness. I knew I ought to care who he was and what he was when he wasn’t with me, but I didn’t want to. I wanted simple.
Deep down, I knew he wasn’t a high school student. But was it wrong that that was part of what I liked about him?
By my side, Rye growled and dropped back, and I followed his gaze. Up ahead, backed into an unused dirt driveway, was a familiar beat-up Audi. My heart leapt—it’s Luke!—and my brain turned over the information a second later—what’s he doing here?
Padding quietly up to the car, I saw Luke in the driver’s seat. His arms were behind his head, his eyes closed. Sleep erased all care from his narrow features, making him look young and fresh—almost believable as a high school student. His raised right arm exposed a beaten gold band around his biceps, partially eclipsed by the edge of his shirt sleeve. I didn’t know why I hadn’t seen it before.
I glanced down. His doors were unlocked. When I pulled the passenger side open, Luke jerked to immediate life, his hand flying down to his ankle.
“Shouldn’t leave your doors unlocked,” I advised. “Never know what kinda weirdos will get into your car.”
He blinked at me for a long moment before pulling his hand away from his ankle and thumping his head back on the seat with closed eyes.
I pulled the door shut behind me, watching Rye glare at Luke and then retreat to the side of the road. “I didn’t sleep in my own room, either.”
He didn’t open his eyes. “It’s hard to sleep while you’re being watched, isn’t it?”
I wanted to ask him why They would watch him, but I was afraid he wouldn’t answer. I wanted to ask him why he was sleeping in his car a stone’s throw from my house, but I was afraid he would answer. I thought about his hand darting to his ankle and wondered if there was something hidden beneath his pants leg, something a bit more deadly than the golden band his shirt sleeve had obscured. Sudden doubts crowded in my mind during his silence, but then he opened his pale blue eyes and smiled at me, and the doubts were swept away like so many cobwebs.
“You’re a nice thing to see first thing in the morning.”
The giddiness came rushing back as if it had never gone. I grinned. “I know.” Why did I become this strange, light creature when I was with him?
Luke laughed. “Well, sing something for me, nice thing.”
Entirely shameless, I sang a made-up song about walking without shoes and strange men sleeping in cars, to the tune of “The Handsome Cabin Boy.” Seeing his face lighten, I added another verse about the dangers of cow pastures and men who stayed near them. “Lure” and “manure” rhymed nicely.