True Intentions (18 page)

Just thinking about that scenario makes me apprehensive.

Maybe he feels that way too. Maybe, this very second, he is reconsidering the whole idea of protecting me or even worse—
being with me.

* * * * *

For the rest of the morning, Sam is unusually quiet. He says nothing. Instead, he looks like he is itching to get out of here.
Something is definitely wrong
.

It's been impossible to get him alone for a single moment, so I can find out the reason for his evasiveness. If Mallory isn't by my side, Julia is.

We arrive at Wrigley field late enough to avoid the long lines. Luckily, Mallory didn't purchase bleacher tickets, so it doesn't matter what time we arrive. The bleachers are always fun, but like everything else, they have disadvantages. Every time we sat in the bleacher section, we'd wait in line for hours to get a good seat.

During the car ride to Wrigleyville, Sam mentions he's going to check out the confines around Wrigley Field while we're at the game. I was a little edgy about being without Sam by my side, but he assured me I'd be safe in a public place. Satan doesn't make scenes.

Mallory is pumped meanwhile. Ever since I can remember, we've loved going to Cub's games together. That was the part of Chicago I missed the most, watching my Cubbies.

The Cubs are playing the L.A. Dodgers. Mal and I quickly grab some ballpark hot dogs and large cold drinks and head to our grandstand seats. Our tickets are nine rows up from the third base line, almost behind the dugout.

Not Bad, Mallory
.

We make our way down the aisle until we hit the ninth row. Just as we attempt to sit down, a foul ball soars in our direction. Everyone around us jumps up, hoping to catch the first ball of the season. A fan in the row behind us jumps, flinging his hands in the air. He knocks the large soda out of my left hand. Most of the cup's contents fall on the two young guys sitting in front of us. I watch in horror, unable to stop my gigantic drink from spilling.

"Ahh," the guy straight in front of me screams. I can only imagine how cold the drink feels against his skin. After all, most of the ice-cold drink has ended up on his back and shoulders.

"Oh my . . . I'm
so
sorry!"

He turns around, immediately grabbing my complete attention. He is rather stunning. Not quite in the way Sam is, but not far off. He has to be college age. His light blond, curly hair reminds me of an Australian I once saw in a commercial. His eyes are a deep, dark brown—unusual for a fair-skinned, natural blond. He stands up and shakes the ice cubes off his T-shirt by pulling the cotton fabric away from his skin. I can see he is nicely toned and has an athletic build. In some creepy way, he reminds me of Aiden.

"I am really sorry."

I look over at my best friend.

Mallory is speechless, sitting with both her eyes and mouth wide open in dismay. The blond boy glances at her, and then turns his attention toward me.

"It's okay, it was an accident," he says, his tone calm and collected. "But, I think you owe me a beer . . . for pain and suffering."

He must be at least twenty-one if he wants me to get him beer.

"I would be glad to,
except
I'm only sixteen, and they tend to not want to serve me," I joke.

"Well then, how about I get my own beer, and you can just pay for it. I'm not twenty-one either, but my fake ID has been working like a charm all day." He flashes a smile.

So much for him being twenty-one.

"Deal," is all I manage to spit out.

"I'm William . . . by the way. Nice to meet you." He holds out his hand.

I shake it without hesitation.

"I'm Ava . . . and this is my friend, Mallory," I add while glancing over at Mallory. She has thankfully closed her mouth, but her eyes remain wide open, probably in shock about how good looking William and his friend are.

"I'm Theodore, but my friends call me Theo," his friend chimes in. He winks at Mallory like they have met before.

His flirty expression gives me a weird, uneasy feeling.

Does she know him?

Chapter Twenty-Two - Mallory

Sam paid for his overpriced, bleacher tickets and made his way inside Wrigley Field. His goal: keep watch over Ava and Mallory. Wrigley is one of the most historic, unique ballparks; it's filled with oodles of character. Even the ivy-covered walls are an impressive representation of the old-school personality of Chicago. It is hard to find well-kept historic buildings nowadays. Another wonderful gift of mankind: the destruction of everything with value.

He finds a seat where he has a good view of Ava and Mallory. He adjusts his baseball cap he purchased from a vendor outside the stadium. It's a great disguise.

Although he seriously doubts Lucifer will attack Ava in broad daylight in a public place, Sam isn't taking any chances.

It has been extremely hard for him to be in her presence recently. He wants to be close to her, but he is uncomfortable. His interaction with Mallory on Sunday while Ava was at the cemetery has changed things. Part of him wants to tell Ava everything; the other part dreads the idea.

How can he explain to Ava that Mallory is not her true friend?

Sam knows better.

Of course he knew Mallory wanted him from the first moment she saw him. He got that response all the time. It was all part of Lucifer's plan to cause temptation.

But as far as Sam is concerned, he has no desire to offer Mallory any temptation whatsoever. Ava's gay comment had been a perfect excuse. He thought it would keep Mallory under control. But instead, it intrigued her even more. While they sat waiting for Ava at the park on Sunday, Mallory made her move.

"So, I figured it out. You're not Ava's cousin, that's for sure," Mallory said. Her voice was suspicious and cold as ice. She stood by the bench and glared at him with her arms crossed.

Sam assumed she was upset because Ava hadn't been completely honest with her, but he wasn't going to be the one to tell her the truth.

He turned to face her, hoping to add sincerity to his response.

"What? Yes I am. You're mistaken," he said.

"Bullshit Sam! I read through some old emails after I met you the other night,"

she confessed, her eyes not leaving his. "I knew Ava said Mr. Mysterious' eyes were teal. I knew when I saw you; you had to be him. Don't play me as a fool." Her voice broke. Although she looked aggravated with his demeanor, she continued her allegations, "I know I'm right. She described you in enough detail to figure out your lie."

"Okay, and?" Sam asked, not really sure where she was going with this conversation. He assumed she'd be willing to keep their secret because she was Ava's best friend.

"I'm willing to make a deal."

"A deal," he hissed. "What are you talking about? What kind of deal?"

Mallory cracked her lips into a naughty smile, "I won't tell anyone, not my parents or Ava's mom
,
on
one
little, tiny condition."

She was actually going to blackmail her best friend?

"You can't be serious."

"I'm as serious as a heart attack," she growled. Her smile vanished. She watched him for a reaction intently—carefully—her eyes showing a deceptive glare.

Anger boiled under Sam's skin. He swiftly turned and increased the distance between them while he tried to calm down. He knew his temper could get out of control quickly. It was difficult to keep his anger from boiling over. He'd rather rip her heart out. After all, this girl was supposed to be Ava's best friend, yet she was willing to throw Ava under the bus.

What could she possibly want to stay silent?

Chapter Twenty-Three – Searching for Answers

Mallory, Theo, William, and I sit in our great seats, talking about the game and our backgrounds.

"So, do you girls live in Chicago?" Theo asks.

"I do," Mallory says, breaking her silence.

Maybe she doesn't know him . . . .

He turns toward me, awaiting my response.

"I'm a Chicago native, but just recently moved to California," I confess.

His eyes widen, and his head moves back ever so slightly as if I caught him off guard.

"Really, is that so?" Theo probes. "What part exactly?"

Theo looks a lot different than William. He has warm, olive skin and dark eyes—

almost black—and matching coal-black hair. In my opinion, he is also good looking. He has a Southern accent, maybe from Mississippi or Alabama.

"It's a small town in the San Bernardino County, called Blue Jay." I finally answer after another brief silence.

"That's the Lake Arrowhead area." William jumps in.

I nod, shocked William would know that.

"We actually go to UCLA," William adds. A smile warms his handsome face.

"Really?"

What are the odds of that? No wonder they're good looking.

They'd fit in perfectly with the L.A. Barbies at Rim of the World.

All four of us continue to question each other, finding out other interesting facts.

William and Theodore are on spring break and here in Chicago to see their L.A.

Dodgers whip on the Cubs.

That's a negative—L.A. Dodgers, Yuck!

What team hasn't beaten the Cubs since 1908?

Theodore is a twenty-year-old sophomore studying law at UCLA, and William is a freshman studying elementary education. They both belong to the fraternity Sigma Nu.

Mallory and I talk to them throughout the entire game. Coincidentally, the Cubs are whipping the Dodgers, eleven to one, so it is easy to talk and not feel like we're missing out.

What a great Opening Day!

We chat about Chicago, Lake Arrowhead, my school, and my impression of all the students. I hold back from making any Barbie comments, partially afraid one of the guys might be a Ken wannabe. I'm stunned when Mallory asks them what they're doing the rest of the week. They promptly bust her bubble when they inform us they have an early flight on Wednesday morning. They are planning to spend the rest of their spring break in New York City.

Mallory doesn't waste any time collecting both of their phone numbers, claiming, when she makes it to L.A., she'll look them up.

At the end of the game, we say goodbye. Then Mallory and I walk around Wrigleyville searching for Sam. Addison and Clark Avenue are packed with fans leaving the ballgame. As we make our way through the crowd, Mallory chimes in to ask me more about my cousin.

"I really wish Sam wasn't gay." She sips on her pop she bought at the game.

I laugh.

"I'm sure you and every other girl on earth would be elated if he wasn't." I feel guilty lying to Mallory.
I want to tell her the truth more than anything, but I know that isn't an option.

As we stroll down the street, I start to get an eerie feeling as if we're being watched. I stop and turn around several times, looking for anyone acting suspicious.

Mallory watches me, raising her eyebrows in confusion. After all, I'm acting like a paranoid schizophrenic. The longer we stroll down Clark and Addison looking for Sam, the more I feel like I'm going to pee my pants.

"Mal, can we stop somewhere? I really need to pee," I beg, trying to keep the lookout for Sam at the same time.

"Let's go in there," Mallory suggests, pointing to a restaurant filled with people.

The patrons are shoved together like sardines. I wonder if it is already packed to maximum capacity.

She grabs my right hand and sneaks us inside by ducking under a rope being used as a barrier for the patio area. This place isn't a restaurant, it's a bar. There would have been no way we could get past security without ID. But leave it to Mallory.

Once past the rope, we blend into the crowd on the patio, and she leads the way through the thick mob of fans as we head to the rear hunting for restrooms.

I see the restroom sign and am relieved knowing soon I will get the chance to empty my overfilled bladder. There are a few other girls in line waiting outside the bathroom door.

"I'll wait right here," Mallory says, leaning against a wooden wall.

I look around the bar. I've never been inside a real bar before, and I'm pretty curious about what goes on in these establishments. I see numerous beer and other advertising signs covering the walls. Some of the signs are neon, others are metal, and the rest are unique items, a race car hood for instance. Each has a different logo. I make my way through the bathroom line and empty my overextended bladder. I quickly wash my hands and head out the restroom door.

I last saw Mallory leaning against a wall. I look over in that direction but don't see her anywhere. I survey all the girls, trying to find her within the thick crowd. My search leaves me empty handed. Frustrated, I move through the crowd hunting for Mal.

She's wearing a Cub's T-shirt, but that's no help since every girl in here is wearing Cub's attire. I'm at the point of going outside to search, when I catch a glimpse of a boy by the bar that takes my breath away. I close my eyes for a moment, certain I'm going crazy.

I stare in awe, unable to look away. He resembles Aiden in almost every way; he has the same hair, facial appearance, and is even dressed similar to Aiden's style. My focus switches from finding Mallory to getting a closer look.

I feel my heart pound rapidly in my chest, beating faster the closer I get. What will I say when I reach him?

Without warning, someone grabs my arm from behind. I turn around, nervous it is some follower of Satan.

Luckily, it's Mallory.

"Follow me," I say, not willing to explain my intentions. I turn to head toward Aiden, but come to a screeching halt. The boy is gone, missing without a trace. I stand still, surveying the entire room. I search for my Aiden look-a-like within the massive crowd.

Nothing.

I stand motionless in the middle of the room; my heart feels like it has sunk to the bottom of my stomach.

Am I losing my mind?

Chapter Twenty-Four – Deal or No Deal

Sam stared at Mallory in disbelief.

"What's your condition?" Sam asked dryly.