Endless (4 page)

I pasted on a smile that was just as
insincere as hers. “I graduated last May. I’m a freshman here at
Perriman.”

“Really.” Cathryn was able to imbue that one
word with an amazing combination of condensation and dismissal.
“How nice for you.” She turned her attention back to Michael. “I
was hoping maybe you would help with some of my work for Dr.
Sorrel. I could use a really fabulous assistant, and you remember
how well we work together.”

Being ignored was one thing, but having a
gorgeous older woman flirt outrageously with my boyfriend while I
stood right in front of him was too much for me. Before I could
control it, a flare of fury shot out, and a crystal candy dish on
the end table next to me flew into the air and shattered against
the wall.

The room was silent. Heat flooded my face,
and I opened my mouth to apologize. But before I could say a word,
Michael spoke.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Sorrel. I didn’t see that
there and I must have gestured a little too dramatically. Here, let
me clean it up.”

Conversation resumed as Mrs. Sorrel hurried
over to us. Michael knelt to carefully pick up the larger pieces
from the polished oak floor, and I wished I could sink into the
ground. I wondered if anyone else had noticed what had really
happened, and without considering consequences, I dropped all my
guards and began filtering through the thoughts in the room.

My, what a mess. . .hope it wasn’t
expensive. . .poor boy, how embarrassing for him. . .Leslie is
handling it well, a good hostess. . .

And then my mind encountered that loud static
again. This time, instead of mentally running from it, I pushed
through the pain and into Cathryn Whitmore’s mind.

The noise grew louder, and I felt resistance.
Determined, I pushed harder, and for just a moment, I picked up few
stray words and fleeting images. Then the volume increased again,
along with the anger, and I actually reeled backwards against the
wall. Through the cacophony, I heard four distinct words.

Don’t mess with me.

Michael stood up, handing a brush and dustpan
back to Mrs. Sorrel, who was waving away his apologies. She
disappeared through a doorway that I assumed led to the kitchen.
Michael smiled at me, telegraphing his reassurance and telling me
through careful and well-enunciated thought that it was all
right.

“See you later, Cathryn,” he said, taking my
hand again. “We’ve got to say hello to Dr. Sorrel.” With that, we
turned and moved across the room. I could feel Cathryn’s annoyance,
but I didn’t look back.

The rest of the party passed quickly. We made
small talk with Dr. Sorrel, and he introduced us to Mr. Tyler, the
head of the Hamilton award committee. He was an easy man to read,
and so I knew that Michael had made a wonderful first impression.
All I had to do was smile and nod and pretend to know what they
were all talking about. I performed perfectly.

Outside, we didn’t speak until we were in the
Mustang with the doors closed and windows up. As he pulled away
from the curb, Michael slid a glance at me.

“So. . .what was that all about?”

I sighed and shook my head. “Cathryn
Whitmore. There’s something about her. Do you remember when I first
met her at the dance? I couldn’t hear her. I mean, her mind was
just static.”

Michael’s lips tightened. “I remember. Was it
the same this time?”

“Yeah, only more so. I tried to push a
little, to read her, and she pushed back. I’ve never really heard
anything like that—except with—with Marica.” I stumbled over the
name, not wanting to bring up that subject tonight.

“And that’s what broke the candy dish?”
Michael was working to keep his tone neutral, but I knew he was
worried.

“No. That was me being annoyed that she
thought she could flirt with my boyfriend right in front of
me.”

Michael grinned. “Ah, a little jealous, were
you?”

I arched my eyebrows at him. “Do I have
cause?”

He laughed. “Of course not. Cathryn’s
just—well, she’s Cathryn. I enjoyed some of the work we did last
year, and she really helped me with my papers. Nothing more than
that.” I knew he was being honest, but there was something else
that lingered.

“Maybe not on your part, but she wants more
than a study partner.”

Michael didn’t answer right away. “Well. . .”
he stalled. “She did kind of make it clear. . .last spring, I mean.
. .that I didn’t have to be lonely. Without you.”

I willed myself to ignore the stab of pain.
After all, the blame fell squarely on my shoulders. I couldn’t
fault Michael for hanging out with a beautiful, intelligent girl
when I was spending all my time with Marica and Rafe, doing things
that I never should have done.

“Did she know?” I asked in a small voice.
“About me. About. . .us.”

Michael shrugged. Neither of us was enjoying
this conversation. “I just told her we were taking a break. I
didn’t go into any details.”

We didn’t say anything else as Michael drove
back onto campus. I stared out the window, not seeing the subtly
lit brick buildings and the groups of students walking along paths
and sidewalks.

“Hey.” Michael touched my arm, and I realized
we had pulled up in front of my dorm. I turned to look into his
eyes.

He ran a finger lightly over my cheek and
kissed me softly on the lips. “I have an idea.” His words were
tentative, and I heard the gist of his thoughts before he spoke the
words. “What if you just call Sophie and tell her. . .you’re not
going back to your room tonight? You know, so she doesn’t worry.
And then you could come back with me.”

I was confused at first, and then my heart
pounded so that I could barely hear myself answer. “Do you
mean—stay the night with you? At your dorm? In your room?”

Michael flushed, so rare an occurrence that I
had to smile. “Well—yes. I mean, you don’t have to stay in my
room—or I don’t have to. Charlie is away tonight. They have a game
in Tampa tomorrow, and the team drove down there this afternoon. I
could sleep out on the sofa. Or . . .not.”

I looked at him in disbelief. “What are you
saying?”

Michael rubbed the large plastic steering
wheel with the heel of his hand, a sure sign that he was
uncharacteristically nervous. “I’m not saying we’re going to do
anything. I’m sticking by our decisions. But I don’t want to leave
you yet either, and I don’t want to have to walk you back across
campus, or sit in your room with Sophie there.” He reached across
and swept a lock of hair out of my face. “I would love to just. .
sleep near you. I promise, I can behave like a gentleman. And no
one has to know. Everyone at my dorm will just think you left late
and got over early, if they even notice.”

Sophie would notice, I thought, but I didn’t
say it out loud. I didn’t want to say anything to discourage
Michael from this plan.

I smiled at him and nodded.

It was a dream. I knew that right away, but
it didn’t stop my vague uneasiness and the sick feeling that rose
in my throat.

I couldn’t tell where we were at first, and
then a few things came into sharper focus. The clearing. We were in
the wood by Lake Rosu, in the clearing where I had almost lost my
life and where I had practiced elemental magic last spring.

Still, the setting wasn’t what made me
nervous. It was the fact that I was lying on the forest floor. .
.beneath Rafe.

He was over me, kissing me senseless. One of
his knees was between mine. My arms were wrapped around his back.
One of his hands was up beneath my shirt.

My heart thudded as confusion flooded my
mind. Why was I dreaming about Rafe? I hadn’t thought about him,
not really, in weeks. This definitely wasn’t a memory. We hadn’t
been together at the clearing much, and when we had, I could only
remember us fighting.

Pain struck and intensified until I wanted to
double over, but it wasn’t the familiar guilt and confusion.
Gradually it dawned on me that I was watching myself from a
distance; I couldn’t feel Rafe’s lips or his hands. It was as
though I were seeing it happen through someone else’s eyes.

And when I felt that pain again, I knew it
wasn’t mine. The realization jerked me awake and left me
gasping.

The room was dark and unfamiliar. I reached
out to touch the slick bumpiness of the often-painted cinderblocks
that were next to my bed in the dorm, but they weren’t there.
Instead I felt the solid warmth of another body.

After a disorienting moment of panic, I knew
where I was—in Michael’s suite, in his bedroom, in his bed. I drew
in several steadying breaths, remembering the night before and how
I wound up sleeping next to Michael.

He mumbled in his sleep, and I sat up, trying
to see his face in the dark. My eyes adjusted, and I could make out
his frown. His lips moved again. I heard my name, and I felt the
raw pain behind it.

I reached out tentatively, skimming his
shoulder with the tips of my fingers. He stilled, and I touched his
face, smoothing the wrinkled forehead. Michael relaxed, and I heard
the dream float away from his mind, saw the images shift to a
classroom here at Perriman.

Once I was sure he was okay, I eased away and
out of the bed. The crocheted afghan that Michael’s grandmother had
made for him was tossed over a chair, and I grabbed it before
slipping out, closing the door behind me.

The living room was quiet and dark, but I
managed to find my way to the worn and comfortable sofa that used
to belong to Michael’s parents. Marly and Luke had sent it up with
us as part of Michael’s contribution to the furnishings in the
suite, and I loved having this little piece of home here.

Michael never mentioned Rafe, but if this
dream was any indication, he was still dealing with some doubt
about me and what had been between the two of us last spring. I
flushed, remembering the intensity of Rafe’s touch and his own
misconceptions about Michael and me. Boys and their insecurities. .
.

I pushed away those memories and instead
focused on Michael again. His dreams remained tranquil, and I
smiled in relief. Clearly, though, spending the night with him was
a lot more complicated than I had anticipated.

The drive back to Michael’s dorm after I had
agreed to his plan had been a quiet one. Michael was
second-guessing himself, worrying about what I was thinking, and I
had no idea what to say or do. This was new territory.

When we got to his suite, Michael pulled out
sweats and a t-shirt for himself and then turned to me. “I didn’t
even think. . .you don’t have any clothes here. I’m sorry. This was
kind of. . .” He ran his hand through his hair and blew out a
breath. “I guess, kind of spur of the moment.” He glanced at me
uncertainly. “Do you want me to drive you back to your room?”

I smiled and shook my head. “Nope. You may
not have thought of clothes, but I did. Remember, I keep some extra
in my backpack, in the car. Ever since the day of the big rain,
when I got soaked getting here from class.”

Michael laughed, relaxing. “Oh, yeah. Well. .
.good. Want me to run down and get it?”

“Nope. You can just bring it up tomorrow. Can
I borrow one of your t-shirts to sleep in?”

Eyebrows raised, Michael shot me a leering
grin. “Why, of course you can. Let’s see. . . I know I have a nice
short one in here somewhere. “

“Michael!” I swatted at his arm.
“Behave!”

After that, we both fell into our regular
easy rhythm. I ducked into the bathroom and changed into an
oversized tee and a pair of sweats that I had to roll up a few
times. We sat on the sofa and watched some old
Buffy the Vampire
Slayer
episodes with a bowl of popcorn between us. It felt
good, normal and just
right
.

When I began to nod off, Michael switched off
the television and leaned over to kiss me lightly. “Hey,
sleepyhead. You ready for bed?”

At those words, of course, I was wide awake.
“I guess so,” I stammered. “I mean, sure.”

Michael skimmed his fingers over my cheek.
“Tas. Come on. This is me. If you’re uncomfortable, just tell me.
I’ll sleep out here, and you can have the whole bed to yourself. I
didn’t suggest this because I’m trying to force you into anything.
You know that, right?”

Of course I did. I took a deep breath. “Yeah.
I know. I’ve just never slept with anyone in the same room. Even
with my parents, when we were traveling, they got a separate room.
I’m not sure what it’s like.” I shrugged. “Maybe I snore. Or talk
in my sleep.”

He laughed and stood, stretching. “If you do,
I promise not to say anything. It’s not going to be any different
than when we stretch out at the lake after a picnic. Or nap on the
beach.”

But of course it
was
different. We
weren’t outside, where no matter how isolated our little spot was,
there was always a chance of someone walking by. We weren’t on a
crowded beach. We were alone, in a bed.