Captivate Me (Book One: The Captivated Series) (8 page)

I searched his eyes with a scowl, and
his own expression melted into a frown. He didn’t like the
distance, either. “What’s your name?” I asked. If I couldn’t touch
him, perhaps I could hear him as a consolation.

He only stared back at me, sad and
apologetic.

My eyes welled with tears. So not
fair.

I looked down to my flower
and held it to my chest. When I looked back up at him, he’d
disappeared, and a foreign ache pierced my heart in agony. I’d only
seen him,
really
seen him for a matter of a short moment, and he’d left
me.

* * *

The sputtering of the
showerhead in our bathroom woke me from my slumber.
Anna.

My eyes fluttered open,
and I glanced at the clock.
Ten
o’clock.
I shot off the pillow, my eyes
hastily searching my bed for curved white petals. Disappointment
washed over me.
No flower.
No
new
flower, anyway. The one he’d given me last night
rested on my covers, wilted and browning.

On Anna’s side of the
room, her suitcase had finally been unpacked and she had hung boy
band posters amidst my paintings.
Ugh. Boy
bands.
My taste in music came from my dad
– rock, folk rock, classic rock. Basically anything with “rock” in
it. Don’t get me wrong, I was glad she was feeling more at home
here, just as long as I didn’t have to listen to the over-produced
smarmy drivel most girls went crazy for these days. I was glad I
had brought my iPod.

As Anna’s singing voice echoed through
the bathroom – one of the boy band songs, no doubt – I looked to my
closet. They quit serving breakfast at ten thirty, which meant I
needed to get up and going, but all I really wanted to do was stay
and work on my painting. I could eat a snack I had stuffed away in
our desk. I wasn’t in a social mood this morning, anyway. Even my
newfound chemistry with Levi didn’t motivate me to
leave.

Levi
, I thought, collecting the flower from my covers. Our
conversation about the mysterious flower yesterday echoed through
my mind;
“If it’s not from you… I don’t
want it,”
I had told him. Without knowing
it, I’d lied. I
did
want it, and I’d wanted another one this morning.

“You coming to breakfast?” Anna asked
from the threshold of the bathroom. She scrunched her hair in a
towel to soak up the residual water.

“I think I’ll stay,” I
replied.

Confused, she cocked her
head.

“I’d like to work on my painting,” I
explained.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you guys at lunch.” By
then I’d feel up to socializing.

“Okay…” she replied warily, making her
way to her closet to get a fresh uniform, “you all right?” she
probed as she rummaged.

Jeez!
“I’m fine. Just need some ‘me’ time.”

The idea seemed lost on her. She would
fit in with Sarah and Ivy better than I. They didn’t need any ‘me’
time either. They were always together or with a boy.

I slid out of the warm cocoon that was
my comforter and shrugged on my hoodie before escaping to the
bathroom for my morning business. “See you at lunch!” Anna squealed
and closed the door behind her before I had a chance to
respond.

After washing my face, brushing my
teeth, and pulling back my tangled hair, I rested on the stool in
front of my painting. The stillness of the room wrapped me in
tranquility. I sighed. Sweet, sweet, silence.

Now…
I thought, raking my eyes over the painting.
Where to start?
My heart
fluttered thinking of last night – footsteps and flowers. The woods
held a whole new meaning to me now. Visiting them would definitely
compete with stealing away with Levi for make-out sessions, and I
wasn’t sure which one would win out.

I dabbed my paintbrush into the white
paint, blending it with a hint of brown and pink to recreate the
porcelain skin of my admirer. That was where I would start – his
silhouette at the edge of the woods; the first and only time I’d
ever seen him in real life. I could never look at the woods again
and not think of him, so it only seemed appropriate that I add him
to my painting.

CHAPTER FIVE

___________________

Off

I’d finished painting my admirer and
part of the twinkling night sky before I decided to call it a
morning. Lunch would be here soon, and I needed to get ready. After
washing and dressing, I realized I needed to call my parents. I had
told them I would call again this weekend. I also wanted to ask my
dad about his prophetic dreams; mine seemed too real lately to be
coincidental.

The phone rang once, and my dad
answered in his familiar Irish accent.

“You knew I would call today?” I
beamed.

He laughed a heartfelt laugh.
“Actually, I didn’t. I just had the phone here beside me while I
painted.”

I glanced at my painting with
fondness. “I just finished painting, too.”

“That’s my girl. So how has your
weekend been?”

“Good… went and got a
dress yesterday and played a ping pong match last night.”
I also snuck into the woods and met an invisible
stranger who I think has been stalking me.

“Still a force to be reckoned
with?”

“Always!”

We lapsed into silence.

“What’s up, princess? I can hear it in
your tone today. Somethin’s up.”

“I’m okay,” I replied but
halfway wondered if he
had
seen something in his dreams; my tone was fine. I
think.

He paused, waiting for me to get it
out.

Or maybe it was our connection that
had told on me; we’d always had one – finishing each other’s
sentences, knowing when something was ‘off’ with the other. The day
I used my gift to close my locker at my old school and the rumors
had started swirling, he’d called me on my cell as I bawled in the
bathroom. He hadn’t dreamt it; he’d known something wasn’t quite
right. I guess you could call it our sixth sense.

I caved. “There was
one
thing I wanted to
ask,” I said, cutting my eyes back to the boy in my
painting.

“Shoot.”

“How can you tell the difference
between a normal dream and a prophetic one?”

“Well…” He coughed as he
contemplated his answer. I’d caught him off guard. “I guess
sometimes I can’t tell until it comes to fruition. But there
is
more of an element of
realness, if that makes sense. I’ll wake up and it will take a
minute for reality to seep back in. It’s hard to tell which is
which sometimes.” He paused for a beat. “Why?”

Sounds familiar.
“Just wondering.”

I couldn’t tell if it was fear or
excitement that laced his words. “You been havin’ weird dreams
lately?”

This part I wasn’t sure
of. The last thing I wanted to tell him was that my dreams were of
a gorgeous boy.
Awkward!
“You could say that.”

“Does it have anyone in particular in
it?” he probed.

Gah!
I now second-guessed my decision in asking him this at
all.

“I’ll take your silence as a yes,” he
chuckled. “You know…” he mused. “I dreamt of your mother before we
ever met.”

My heart stopped, and I’m
pretty sure the floor was spinning beneath me. I plopped onto the
edge of the bed.
What?!

“But don’t you be worryin’ about
boys,” he added.

I nodded numbly.

“Kat?”

I’d found my voice. “Okay,
dad,” I lied. That’s
all
I would think about now. Had I been dreaming of
this boy for a reason? Had I inherited my dad’s gift of
prophecy?

My mom’s voice trilled in the
background along with the rustling of plastic bags. Sundays were
her grocery shopping days. “Is that Kat?”

Mom!

“Bye, princess,” he said, knowing
resistance was futile in holding the phone away from my mom. She’d
wrestle it from him if she had to.

“Bye! Love you bunches.”

“Love you bunches.”

“She doing good?” she asked before
he’d even handed her the phone.

“Yes, my angel,” he replied, and I
gagged internally as I heard them smooching their “hellos.” They
probably hadn’t seen each other for a whole entire hour. My parents
– hopelessly in love after all these years.

“Hello, dear,” she said as she finally
brought the phone to her ear.

“Hi, mom!”

“You find a dress
yesterday?”

“I did… its beautiful!”

“The color?”

“Black.”

“Black?”

“It’s a pretty black, though, with
silver iridescent thread in it. And it’s strapless.”

“Shoes?”

“Some strappy black heels. I bought a
necklace, too.”

“I’ve taught you well,” she said
proudly. “You’ll take lots of pictures?”

“Of course.”

A familiar groaning voice echoed in
the background – a newly wakened Sam. I could picture him shuffling
toward the kitchen table with a box of cereal in one hand and the
biggest bowl he could find in the other. Thinking of my brother, my
eyes welled – a new trend lately when calling home, and it had only
been two weeks.

“Kat’s on the phone,” my mom informed
him.

“Kat?” The sound of his voice warmed
me. My sweet, sweet Sam.

“Bye, love,” she said. Resistance was
just as futile with my brother. We had always been inseparable…
well, until we’d had to separate when I came here.

“Bye, mom!”

He started as soon as the phone met
his ear. “Kat, you’ll never believe what Tinkles did last
night!”

Tinkles – my fourteen-year-old cat
that actually looked more like a four-hundred-year-old cat with his
mangy coat and foggy blind left eye. But I loved him, and Sam had
promised to take good care of him while I was away. I prayed the
night before I left that God would keep him alive for me until I
returned; he’d been having trouble walking lately. And as to why
I’d named him Tinkles, I honestly don’t remember. The imagination
of a three-year-old is an enigma. Or maybe I’d seen him tinkle one
day and thought it was funny.

“I’m surprised he
did
anything
,” I
teased.

“I know! But he jumped all the way up
onto your bed and slept on your pillow the entire night. He
wouldn’t let any of us move him.”

More tears filled my eyes and one slid
down my cheek.

“I guess he misses you!”

“I guess so,” I managed, and
contemplated asking to go home – the homesick ache in my heart had
grown to an unbearable size – but the thought left as quickly as it
had come. I liked it here with my new friends and Levi and the
other ‘recent developments.’ If I left, I’d miss it here,
too.

I glanced at the clock. Twelve minutes
until lunch.

“Well give him a kiss for me,” I said,
swiping the trail of the tear away, “I need to get
going.”

“Okay, sis.”

“Love you to the moon and
back.”

His voice cracked. “You too. To the
moon and back.”

“And tell mom and dad I love them
again for me. I’ll call soon.”

“Okay.”

“Bye!”

“Bye.”

* * *

I was the first one to our table, for
once. And although I was hungry, I just stared at my paint-stained
cuticles as I picked them and thought of home, my family, my
scruffy cat Tinkles, and my invisible admirer.

My invisible
admirer
, I mused, realizing I wasn’t
creeped out by it anymore. I think I actually
liked
it. I looked forward to the
next flower, even. Whenever that would be.
If
that would ever be.

I moved my blank gaze
through the window and into the trees – the trees that still called
to me. Or maybe it was the
who
inside the forest that called. I realized I would
continue to venture into them, despite the fact that I knew I
shouldn’t, despite the fact that I knew it could possibly be
dangerous and get me in loads of trouble of the unforeseen kind,
not to mention with the school. But until I graduated, I’d have to
scratch the itch that was my need to find out more… even if nothing
ever came of it. I wouldn’t feel satisfied unless I at least tried
to find him again and hopefully get a glimpse. And if he looked
like the boy in my dreams? Even better. Now that I’d talked to my
dad, that was looking like a big possibility. Could I have the gift
of telekinesis
and
prophecy? What were the odds?