Trace held Adam’s eyes as Adam made his way back to the kitchen. I glanced to Brady and saw a small frown pucker the skin between his brows, but otherwise, he seemed to have no problem with Trace’s challenge. I sent up a silent prayer that he would just think it was friendly competition and nothing more.
As Trace signaled Brady to start the stopwatch, he began drinking, never taking his eyes from Adam. The longer he drank, the rowdier the small party crowd became. Soon, everyone was chanting Trace’s name, even Lacey where she stood to my right. And me. I was rooting for Trace, too, despite my best intentions to appear unaffected by him.
When he’d surpassed Adam’s time, Brady raised his hand to indicate as much. In unison, the group began counting the number of seconds Trace continued to drink. Although I saw his eyes water, I knew that Trace was putting as much distance as he could between himself and any other challengers. My heart swelled with a strange blend of pleasure and pride, mainly because I knew why he was doing it, for whom. Although on this day Trace had yet to make any declarations and we had yet to share that insane moment out on the deck, I knew the connection was still there. I could feel it in him as if those things had already happened, which in a convoluted way, they had.
It almost made me dizzy to think about the way events had unraveled, some only once, some twice. I was very anxious to go back to living each day only once. This freakish perversion of déjà vu sucked!
Finally, Trace pulled the tap away from his mouth. He put the back of his hand over his lips as if smothering a burp (which he probably was), but behind it, I could see them curve into a satisfied smile. His eyes crinkled at the corners and flickered up to me for just an instant before he turned his attention to my brother.
“Looks like the best man won,” he gloated teasingly. “Now, let me show you how this is done, guys.”
With a determined gleam in his eye, Trace didn’t wait for anyone’s permission or encouragement. Without a moment’s hesitation, he walked calmly out of the kitchen, through the living room and straight to where I stood. I was mesmerized and completely paralyzed by the fact that he was coming for me, coming
to
me.
Trace stopped in front of me, his glowing amber eyes looking warmly into mine where I stood at nearly his height on top of the coffee table. He didn’t lift me down or ask me to step down, he simply grinned, slipped one arm around my waist and one hand into the hair at the back of my skull, exerting just enough pressure to tilt my head to the side.
His face was so close, I could almost feel his lips, as if they already touched mine. Almost. But almost wasn’t enough. I craved the contact like I craved life. I harbored an unbearable, unquenchable thirst for Trace, for his tongue in my mouth, for his body pressed tightly to mine.
Yet I was to be disappointed one more time. And again, by my brother’s interruption.
“Dude, you can’t be serious!” Brady called angrily, his voice much closer to us than I expected to hear it.
I jerked back from Trace, although not by much, as his big hand still cupped the back of my head, preventing me from going too far. I glanced guiltily past him to my brother, who stood right behind Trace, his face mottled with fury.
“Brady, your timing is terrible!” I quipped. “Whatever happened to ‘to the victor goes the spoils’?” I asked in a calmly teasing manner, trying my best to project a nonchalance about the kiss that I didn’t feel. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to make my brother and everyone else in the room disappear so that Trace and I could continue what we’d twice now started. But Brady wasn’t having any of that.
“Shut up, Peyton! He’s my best friend. And you’re my sister. You don’t joke about stuff like that. Not cool!”
Reluctantly, I pushed gently against Trace and, obligingly, he released me and stepped back.
“All right, psycho! You’ve made your point. No kissing. Got it. Now, can we get back to having some birthday fun?”
Brady’s lips were still tight with anger and I saw him glance at Trace as if he wanted to say something. But he didn’t. I could see that in this version of the previous night, his anger, his new nature was not going to get the better of him. The insult had not been as severe, at least in Brady’s mind. And that was all that mattered because the goal was still accomplished. The friendship between Brady and Trace was still preserved and that was all I wanted. I knew how important their alliance would be. No, I didn’t know specifics yet, but I knew deep down that their role—their joint role—in what lay ahead would be integral.
“Yeah, but no kissing,” Brady declared, still obviously prickling.
For a few seconds, I felt my panic melting away. But then the rowdy crew of partygoers began to chant
Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!
They weren’t satisfied with the results of the competition. And I was at a loss as how to provide them what they wanted without it causing more friction.
But then, God bless her, my zany, impulsive best friend stepped up to save the day without even knowing it.
“Move it, Peyton,” Lacey said, nudging me off the coffee table so she could step up onto it and replace me. Reflexively, Trace backed up even further, inadvertently allowing Lacey perfect access to my brother, which she took full advantage of by grabbing the front of his shirt and hauling him toward her.
Brady, like pretty much everyone else in attendance, was taken by surprise. He stumbled toward Lacey and then she, without a second’s hesitation, planted her lips on his in a sizzling kiss.
It would’ve been a cute tension breaker had it stopped after a few seconds. But it didn’t. Instead, Lacey turned her face to the side, wrapped her arms around Brady’s neck and went after it for all she was worth. The crowd responded accordingly, whistling and shouting encouragement.
It was plain to see that Brady wasn’t unaffected either. His arms wound around her waist and he pulled her body in even closer to his.
While I appreciated her salvaging my entire plan-gone-awry, all I could think about was whether or not Lacey was going to hurt my brother. I watched her back for any sign of the bizarre plumage that had appeared that afternoon and was exceedingly grateful when I still hadn’t seen any by the time the kiss ended.
Although I was definitely relieved, I couldn’t help but feel a bit worried that, if something more than friendly started up between them, my brother’s life would be in danger. Of course, considering that he was a vampire, Lacey’s would be, too. Only neither of them knew it.
Thankfully, the rest of the night played out smoothly. No one tried to kill anyone else, no new enemies were made, no new creatures were revealed. All in all, it seemed that I’d successfully managed to change what had happened. For the better. Well, except for the incredible encounters between Trace and me and him coming clean about his feelings. Those didn’t happen either, and those were practically the only things I
wanted
to have repeated. But I knew that they were a small sacrifice in order to keep things peaceful between Trace and my brother. Their alliance took priority.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It had been just over a week since the party, since I’d lived the same night twice. Aside from the blessed lack of hunger surges from my brother and my best friend, the most noteworthy thing seemed to be the soul-deep ache that I had for Trace, an ache that wouldn’t go away no matter what I did. It wouldn’t leave my mind no matter what I thought of. It wouldn’t leave my heart no matter how much I wished it. It was as though I craved him on some spiritual level that was impervious to rational thought or conscious decision. It far surpassed any feelings I’d harbored for him all these years and it was threatening to consume me.
It didn’t help that he was avoiding me. I knew he was. He would see me and purposely turn in the other direction. I would catch him watching me, almost longingly, in the cafeteria, but when our eyes would meet, he would avert his eyes after only a few seconds.
I had no idea what he was feeling, but I could tell by the tiny frown he wore almost constantly that it was affecting him, too. He was even beginning to look a little worn, physically.
Neither of us did anything about it. We couldn’t. Our hands were tied. And I was miserable.
Other than that, nothing out of the ordinary happened that week. Of all the things I might’ve expected after such strange and amazing events, peaceful serenity was not even on the list. And yet that’s what I got—a completely normal, average, run-of-the-mill, quiet week.
And then came the following Monday.
“I can’t believe that kiss didn’t win him over,” Lacey balked as she stood beside my locker, lamenting the incident’s apparent inability to make Brady fall immediately in love with her. “I mean, dude! That kiss was…it was…” she trailed off, that familiar wistful look sweeping in over her features. “It was world class. Epic!”
“Can I just interject right here how wrong I think it is that I have to continue to listen to anyone talk about how great a kisser my brother is?”
“No,” she answered, her voice comically soft and dreamy. “You’re my best friend and, therefore, required to listen to me talk about any and all high school drama, including but not limited to anything to do with your hot-n-sexy brother.”
“Blech,” I muttered under my breath. I kept hoping that Brady’s lack of interest and my lack of encouragement would snap Lacey out of it. But, alas, it seemed she was no closer to getting over Brady than she ever had been.
Shaking her head as if waking from a daydream, which is likely exactly what she was doing, Lacey turned to me, determination alive and well in the firm set of her plump lips.
“Fine. I’ll just have to show him what he’s missing.”
I rolled my narrowed eyes toward her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I’m bringing out the big guns. He needs an encore. Maybe he missed the first act,” she reasoned. “How, I don’t know, but still. It’s possible. So, what else can I do but show him again?”
“Lace,” I began carefully, chewing my lip uncertainly. “Maybe Brady just doesn’t see you that way.”
I’d never even suggested that in her presence before, afraid that it would hurt her deeply. But at this point, I was looking out for her heart as well as both their lives. I couldn’t afford to pull any punches.
“Okay, Peyton. Spill. What’s the deal?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why have you been trying to keep me away from Brady? Talk me out of liking him? “
I had hoped I’d been a little more circumspect in my machinations, but apparently I had not. Evidently she’d seen right through my various maneuvers to keep as much distance as possible between her and Brady.
“I didn’t…I’m not…uh…” I stammered, feeling cornered and guilty.
“Look, you didn’t feel that kiss,” she began.
I interjected with, “No, thank God!”
“Hush!” she snapped lightly. “It was stiller!” To this, I said nothing, knowing now was not the time to correct her word choice. Instead, I waited for her to continue. “There’s something there, Peyton. Seriously. Whether he admits it or not, it’s there. I felt it.”
I wanted to rationalize with her that, considering how badly she wanted it, she might’ve imagined it, but the ring of the bell brought our conversation to an abrupt end.
“Oh sh—”
“Language, Ms. Roberts,” Mrs. Jonas interrupted smoothly as she walked by. “Get to class, ladies.”
“Going, Mrs. Jonas,” Lacey ensured in a sing song voice. “We’ll talk after school. If I’m late for Mr. Brittain’s class again, I get points deducted from my final.”
With that, she was gone like a puff of smoke.
********