Sometimes she’s too smart for her own good.
I sit up and pull away from Tucker. “This really isn’t a good time. I’ll call you back.”
She refuses to be sidetracked.
“You’re screwing it up, aren’t you?” she says. “You’re losing your focus at the time when you should be sharpening it, preparing yourself. I can’t believe you’re messing around with Tucker Avery now. What about Christian? What about destiny, Clara?”
“I’m not screwing up.” I stand up and walk carefully to the other end of the boat. “I can still do what I’m supposed to do.”
“Oh, right. Sounds like you’ve got it all under control.”
“Leave me alone. You don’t know anything.”
“Does your mom know?”
When I don’t answer, she gives a short, bitter little laugh.
“This is perfect,” she says. “Wow.”
“It’s my life.”
“Yes, it is. And you are totally screwing it up.”
I hang up on her. Then I turn and face Tucker’s questioning blue eyes.
“What was that all about?” he asks softly.
He doesn’t know about Angela’s angel-blood status, and it’s not my secret to tell.
“Nothing. Just somebody who’s supposed to be my friend.”
He frowns. “I think we should go in. We’ve been out here long enough.”
“Not yet,” I plead.
Overhead there are storm clouds darkening. Tucker gazes up at them.
“We really should get off the lake. We’re starting into storm season, when the thunderstorms pop up out of nowhere. They only last for like twenty minutes but they can be brutal. We should go.”
“No.” I grab him by the hand and tug him to the end of the boat, where I pull him down and sit curled against him, arranging his arms around me and retreating safely into his heat, his familiar, comforting smell. I press a kiss against the pulse that beats in his neck.
“Clara—”
I put a finger to his lips. “Not yet,” I whisper. “Let’s just stay here a little longer.”
The next time the phone chirps at me I’m eating pork tenderloin with apples and fennel, one of Mom’s more impressive recipes. It’s delicious, of course, but I’m not thinking about the food. I’m not thinking about Angela either. It’s been two days since the phone call on the lake and I’m doing my best to forget about it. Instead, I’m all wrapped up in some Tucker daydream. He’s been out on the river for the last couple days, working so he’ll have the money to buy his girlfriend a steak dinner for our monthiversary, he said. We’ve been together one entire month, which is crazy. Every time he calls me his girlfriend I still get a thrill. He’s going to take me dancing, teach me how to two-step and line dance and everything.
“Aren’t you going to get that?” Mom asks, arching an eyebrow across the dinner table. Jeffrey stares at me, too. I try to collect my jumbled thoughts. I pull the cell out of my pocket and look at it.
It’s an unknown number. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I hit the TALK button.
“Hello,” I say.
“Hey there, stranger,” says a familiar voice.
Christian.
I almost drop the phone.
“Oh, hi. I didn’t recognize your number. Wow, so how are you? How’s your summer?
How’s New York?” I’m asking too many questions.
“It was boring. But I’m back now.”
“Already?”
“Well, it’s August. We’ve got to go back to school soon, you know. I actually plan to show up this year. Graduate and stuff.”
“Right,” I say, and try to laugh.
“So, like I said, I’m back, and I’ve been thinking about you all summer and I’m asking you to have dinner with me tomorrow night. An actual date, in case that wasn’t clear,” he says in a voice that’s deliberately light but has so many serious undertones that it feels like the air suddenly got sucked out of the room. I look up to see Mom and Jeffrey staring at me.
He waits for me to say
“You still there?” he asks.
“Yeah, sure. I’m sorry.”
