"You wouldn't have," Kylie said.
"Not on purpose, but she lunged at me from nowhere. I had no idea it was a hot chick latched on to me."
"So." Kylie pointed a finger at him. "You thought she was hot. I knew you did. I saw the way you two looked at each other there."
He shrugged. "I didn't look at her any way."
"Yes, you did. You were checking her out. And she was checking you out."
He arched a brow. "Was she really?"
Kylie laughed. "Yes, she was."
"Then I'll have to look her up, I seem to have a thing for chameleon chicks.""Good luck with that," Kylie said. "I hear her kind can be difficult."
"That's true," he said, and chuckled. They walked a few feet in silence.
"How bad is it really for them, for the teen chameleons?" Derek asked.
"They basically aren't allowed to go in public until they can change their patterns. And that doesn't happen until like their late teens or twenties."
"You can change yours."
"Yeah, I'm different for some reason." She frowned. "It seems to be the story of my life."
"That does suck for them," Derek said. "Why don't you see about bringing them here? I'll bet Holiday would allow it."
"Believe it or not, I've given it some thought, but it's not going to be that easy." First Kylie had to figure out how to get the chameleons to come out of the closet.
"Well, if I can help, you know I will."
"I'll remember that."
When they got to the cabin Della was already there. So was Miranda. They sat at the kitchen table, sodas in their hands and troubled expressions on their faces.
"Good, you're here," Miranda said as if they'd been waiting for her to hold some important roundtable, Diet Coke discussion. Then both her roommates looked at Derek as if it was a party and he wasn't invited.
Derek looked at Kylie and half chuckled. "The last time I saw that look from girls, there was a handwritten note on my neighbor's tree house that read 'No boys allowed.' I'll see you. And if I get anything from my computer research, I'll let you know."
Kylie watched him leave. Then she turned to Miranda and Della and tossed out her own roundtable, Diet Coke issue to discuss. "Why couldn't my heart have picked him? Life would have been so much easier."
"Because hearts are ornery, sneaky little bastards, designed to cause misery. They want what they want, and they don't give a damn about what would make life easier or harder for the heart's owner,"
Della snapped. "It sucks big toads!" she screeched, and hit the table so hard, Kylie wouldn't be surprised if it had cracked. "I say we get drunk on chocolate again. Do you think you could score another bottle of chocolate syrup from Holiday?"
Kylie looked at Miranda with the unspoken question: What the hell is going on?
Miranda shrugged and obviously read Kylie's silent inquiry, because she answered it. "Steve's been calling her about twice an hour and she won't even answer the phone."
Chapter Twenty-nine
The next day after school, Kylie still sported a chocolate hangover. Yes, they did exist. She was living, breathing, nauseous proof. Holiday, claiming they all three deserved to drown their sorrows in cocoa, had not only come through with the chocolate syrup, she'd had Burnett buy them a gallon of chocolate ice cream and a pack of Oreos.
Of course, more than half the Oreos were gone by the time Burnett and Holiday dropped them off, and Holiday still had crumbs on her chin. "I'm eating for two," she said, excusing herself.
Della had stuck with just her Bloody Chocolate Marys, but Kylie and Miranda had gorged on everything. Kylie wouldn't be surprised if she never touched the stuff again. She couldn't deny that the chocolate had managed to temporarily soothe all their issues. Soothe, not solve.
Della had bitched about Steve not accepting it was over. Miranda had whimpered about having to apologize to Nikki. Kylie had almost gone into a serious whine about how all guys were no-good cheats.
But no sooner than the words were about to leave her lips did she recall what Derek had said about her dumping all her past anger on Lucas. Again seeing truth to the statement, she bypassed that rant and talked about being pissed she was a holy warrior.
Of course, after bringing up the warrior issue she had to go into the whole thing of what happened with the sword, making them vow not to repeat it. Miranda, of course, thought the whole holy warrior thing was cool, and Della was jealous. Kylie was still pissed and downed another bowl of ice cream to help deal with it all. Ahh, but before the night was over, they were laughing themselves silly over all things stupid. Among the topics they discussed were sex, boys, and what was more appealing on those boys, briefs or boxers.
Boxers won.
"Okay, so maybe chocolate and blood don't go so well together," Della said, looking pretty gloomy this afternoon as well. It was Kylie who should be in the worst mood. She was about to meet Lucas to have her first sword fighting lesson. By the lake, too.
Why had he chosen that spot to practice?
Oh, damn, she knew why-because that was sort of their make-out spot. But what she didn't know was if he thought there was a chance in hell that they'd be making out today. If he did, he had another think coming. She'd come here to fight, not French-kiss!
She spotted Lucas waiting, leaning casually against a tree. She hadn't seen him since yesterday in the office, but for some reason it felt like a long time ago. He had missed school. When Ms. Cane asked about his absence, Fredericka popped up and said he'd had to go pick up something from his grandmother.
Kylie figured it was the books Burnett had wanted.
Moving closer, her gaze continued to shift toward him. He stood there appearing as natural and rugged as the woods behind him. For some reason, he came off more were than human, and she surmised it wasgetting close to the full moon. About two weeks before a full moon she started noticing he would appear more masculine. The closer she got to where Lucas stood, the more she realized just how hard this was going to be.
His jet black hair needed a trim and flipped up in places. Those tiny almost-curls stirred in the breeze and made her want to run her fingers through them. He wore jeans that were just tight enough to showcase a lower body of a man, not a boy. The aqua blue T-shirt fit snug across his wide shoulders and defined the shape of his chest beneath the thin cotton. The hem of his short sleeves landed perfectly to draw attention to the muscles in his arms. And the color of his shirt just made his blue eyes look a tad untamable. He looked like he'd just walked off some magazine ad selling some super-masculine product.