Chapter 112: Football
I woke up to a sunny morning and the realization it was Tuesday and I had to go to school.
Screw that. I rolled over on my right side and looked at my book bag. Just the thought of dragging myself to that miserable hole yet again for another day of ritual avoidance by my former friends wasn't the kind of thing I wanted to heap on myself right then. I'd been tough last week, but now, with Mom missing and everything going to hell?
They could keep it.
Someone messed around in the kitchen. The sound of pots and pans being shuffled indicated the perpetrator had no intention of being quiet about it. I reached out to find out who it was and remembered in a flash who slept on my couch the night before.
Quaid. Was he making me breakfast? Really?
Okay, that was something to get out of bed for.
I peeked in on Meira and found her still sleeping. Sassy lay curled up next to her, staring at her like he was scared she would disappear again. He glanced up as I approached.
How is she?
Bad dreams, Sassy sent. But the normal kind. I'm watching her.
I know. Thanks. I'll bring you up some breakfast?
He settled his chin back on his paws, eyes fixed on my sister. Later.
I made a quick trip to the bathroom and found a ponytail and a vigorous face washing did a lot to erase a night full of the wrong kind of excitement. I brushed my teeth extra hard, trying to convince myself I had to because plaque was the enemy, not because the guy I was now pretty sure was my destiny waited downstairs for me.
Three steps down I heard a knock at the kitchen door. I picked up speed, hoping it was Erica, then shook my head. She would just walk in, not knock. Who could it be?
Someone, presumably Quaid, opened the door before I cleared the hall. I heard his deep voice say, "Football."
Whoops.
I careened around the corner and into the kitchen to see Brad standing there in my doorway, glaring at Quaid who adopted his familiar smirk.
But it wasn't Quaid's annoying smile that had Brad turning red in the face and his hands forming fists. It was the fact the tall, lean and very attractive Quaid stood in my kitchen in just his jeans.
That was enough of a distraction I came to a halt, my mouth hanging open, staring at the lovely muscles making ripples across Quaid's stomach and the way his lean body curved across his broad shoulders, how his narrow hips peeked out from the top of his waistband and how no one alive could possible have bare feet that sexy and live.
Did I mention the pentagram tattoo? I think I had drool on my shirt. Yup. Drool.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Brad's voice cracked. It snapped me out of my eye feast and into reality.
"What does it look like?" Quaid glanced at me, mischief in his eyes. And winked.
Oh crap.
Brad lunged for him just as I surged forward, coming between them just in time.
One hand on either chest. Chiseled blond versus molten chocolate. I was in huge trouble.
"My mom is sick," I said quickly, blurting the first thing that came to me. "Quaid is just staying here so I won't be alone."
Brad finally looked at me. "Is she going to be okay?"
I didn't plan on the tears, but they came anyway. "I don't know," I said, completely honest.
All the fury went out of him. He backed off a step. "I'm sorry," he said. "I've been such a jerk to you lately. I didn't know your mom was ill."
I remembered suddenly he lost his to cancer when he was little.
"Thanks," I said.
Quaid didn't move an inch and I was very aware of his skin under my hand, the crawling joy of his power over me, the heat he radiated.
"I hate to be rude," I said to Brad, "but what are you doing here?"
He shrugged like a lost little boy. "I wanted to see you. Maybe drive you to school?"
"Brad," I said gently. "It's three blocks."
One sneaker scuffed the floor. "I know. Then I saw his bike," his rage snapped up for a moment, "and I had to make sure he wasn't bothering you or something."
"He's not," I said. "But thanks for thinking of me."
He nodded. Didn't move. It was really, really awkward.
"Don't you have somewhere to go, Football?" Quaid was not helping. I glared at him before turning back to Brad.
"I don't think I'm going to school today," I said.
He bobbed his blond head, green eyes full of hope. "I could stay, keep you company?"
"She has company." Quaid moved forward, pushing against me, which in turn shoved Brad backward out the door.
They exchanged a very barbaric moment of scowls. Boys.
"Call me, okay? About prom?" Brad just had to get his own dig in.
"Sure, I will, bye." I hated to slam the door in his face. Hated to. But there was no other way to make him leave.
I spun and pressed my back to it. Waited to hear his footsteps retreat, the rumble of his truck engine as he climbed in and drove away.
"That was awful," I said.
"Prom?" Quaid's right eyebrow quirked.
Double crap.
"Um... yeah. Guess I'll have to do something about that."
Quaid's smirk wasn't so annoying anymore. "Guess so."
Okay, back to his chest. And feet. And the tattoo of a pentagram on his right bicep. The way his collarbone rounded to the smooth skin of his...
"Quaid," I said, throat thick.
"Yes, Syd?" His dark eyes couldn't have been more bottomless.
"Go put a shirt on."
He laughed. But he did it. And I wished I hadn't said a thing.
The morning was quiet, punctuated by feeding Meira and Sassy before taking Gram some breakfast. She seemed really off, distracted, not her usual mercurial self. I was used to her giggling evilly one minute and looking like a mournful child the next. But whether she was really aware of what was happening or not, she just sat there in her room, a frown on her face, staring out her window and muttering things I couldn't understand.
I had just set down her tray when she grabbed my wrist.
"You need to give it back." She looked so fierce and determined I was actually afraid. She'd never asked for whatever it was she was looking for like this before. "I need it. For Miriam."
"Gram," I said softly, working her hand loose. "I don't have it. I'm sorry."
For a moment her scowl held before melting. "You don't?"
I shook my head, stroking her wispy white hair. "I don't."
She nodded and went back to her muttering.
I turned to leave and saw Quaid standing in the doorway, watching.
He didn't say anything until I closed the door and resealed the wards. It was clumsy, the job I did, but would hold.
"What did she want?"
"I don't know," I said, going back to the kitchen. "She's been asking the same question forever. Do I have something for her." It triggered a faint memory as I said it, of how personally familiar her power felt when I walked through her shield at the site. I shook it off. Of course it felt that way. She was my grandmother. I let it go with a sigh. "She's nuts, right?"
He didn't say anything, just glanced back at Gram's door like something wasn't right.
True enough.
"I'm going to run home for some fresh clothes," he said. "I'll just be a minute." He hesitated by the door, helmet in hand.
"I'll be okay," I said.
He nodded. Paused. Came to stand beside me. Bent and kissed me. Kissed me again. Put some power into it. My hands found his neck, then his hair. My demon purred and welcomed him in, the tingle of him traveling from my very happy lips through my cheeks, down my throat and to some very private places.
He finally pulled away, face hovering over mine. "Be right back."
I tried to talk, but couldn't.
Damn, I hated that he knew it.
The sound of his motorcycle engine had just faded as I started off to take a shower, a long, cold shower, when someone knocked on the door.
Brad. Had to be. Bet he waited somewhere close by until he saw Quaid leave then came back. Yes, it was over an hour later. I really had to find out how to sever our connection before the poor boy was seriously hurt.
Imagine my surprise when I pulled open the door and found Alison standing there.
Man, did she looked pissed. Before I could open my mouth to say anything, she jumped right in as if she'd been having this particular conversation with me in her head and finally had it the way she wanted it.
"I used to think you were really nice," she said. "That you cared about people. That feelings mattered. You put on a great show, Syd."
I was floored. "What did I do now?"
Her blue eyes snapped fire at me, even through the contacts. "You don't even know, do you? How hurt he is? How much he cares about you? You don't give a crap about anyone but yourself."
Had to be Brad. What did he tell her?
Her tone really bothered me. Here I was facing a major family crisis, my mom at risk. And she had the nerve to bring this crap to my house?
"Maybe you and your little pack of back stabbers should just mind your own business." I hadn't meant for all that venom to pour out on her. I really didn't. But I couldn't help it. She flipped a switch and I was on.
She looked like I slapped her and she wanted to return the favor. "You did not just say that to me," she hissed. "You did not. Who's the back stabber, Syd? You abandon all of us, why? Because all of a sudden you aren't the center of attention anymore?"
"I'm not the one who always wants the attention," I said. "And maybe if you guys had stuck up for me instead of letting that jerk Benjamin ruin everything we wouldn't be having this little talk."
"Oh no," she said, "we would. I'm grateful for Benjamin. He showed me who you really are." She was so angry she shook. "Selfish, self centered, arrogant and just pure mean. Thanks for proving him right, Syd."
"Go to hell." I could not take her accusations right now, especially since they were the same ones I wanted to fire at her. My temper snapped, my demon roared her outrage and I drove the last nail in to the death of our friendship. "And take your stupid, pathetic friends with you."
Alison turned very red before going sheet white.
"Screw you, Syd." She stomped her way down my driveway to her car and I just simmered and watched her go.
***
