Promise

touch on my face.

''Night,' I breathed. He let go of me and when I opened my eyes, he was already half-way down the walk. Electricity still pulsed on my skin and throughout my body. Part of me wanted to call him back, but, with a heavy sigh, I turned and went inside instead. And I realized I didn't get to ask what he called me. It couldn't be bad, but it was annoying not to know. It had sounded like something in French. I made a mental note to research it.

The two-bedroom cottage was quiet and usually comforting. It was one of the few places we lived that actually felt like home. Usually, our moves required leaving everything behind except the bare necessities. Since we actually brought our belongings this time, they were at least familiar, if not nostalgic. Mom decorated in browns and beiges, but with leather and wood furniture and chenille and silk throw pillows, the variety of textures kept it from being boring. Rather, it was cozy and calming, like 'Mom's place' should be. And I was scared to death to be here alone.

I paced the cottage several times, mentally going through self-defense moves Mom taught me many years ago. They hadn't done me any good against those people last time, but I thought if I was ready for them now….

I whirled on a whispered sound, my heart hammering. It stopped when I did. Then I realized it was only my own feet sliding across the tile floor.

Feeling the emotional tolls of the day, I finally talked myself into going to bed. But while lying in my bedroom, my eyes wouldn't shut and my ears strained, my mind imagining various monstrosities lurking in the rest of the house. Eventually I curled up on the couch with all the lights on, and, somehow, sleep overcame me. I awoke several times, thinking I heard something outside, but when I listened, all was quiet and I fell back to sleep.

Chapter 6

The store felt empty and ominous when I first arrived, but I came early to have a little extra time before opening. Mom kept a small office in the back room and I thought she might be more likely to hide something there than at home, where I might find it. I tugged on all the drawers of her desk and filing cabinet, but, of course, they didn't budge, locked against intruders…and snoopers like me. There were no loose papers on her desk and only one large, flat envelope in her inbox. She was annoyingly organized.

I glanced at the single piece of mail and my eye caught on the corner where the return address should be. Instead of an address, though, there was a strange, yet vaguely familiar symbol and the word 'Amadis' embossed into the paper. I picked the envelope up and studied it closer, holding it to the light, but I couldn't read anything inside. I briefly debated whether I could get away with opening it and resealing it, but eventually just dropped it back into the tray. It was probably from a publisher and I had seen the symbol on a book's spine. Or, for all I knew, it was just junk mail, not worth the risk.

Curiosity gripped me all morning. As soon as Owen arrived and relieved me of my duties, I hurried home to search Mom's room. I didn't expect to find anything I hadn't already discovered while unpacking, but there was something right on her nightstand. A lone piece of paper with that strange word 'Amadis' printed at the top. The paper contained a list of names with numbers next to them. Some were obviously phone numbers; others had the wrong number of digits and I didn't know what they meant.

Two names stood out: Katerina and Stefan. Katerina because it was my middle name. Does the name on this paper mean anything? The number next to it wasn't a phone number. I wasn't sure why Stefan struck me. The name was familiar, but I couldn't place it.

A sticky note with Mom's handwriting clung to the bottom corner of the page:

Alexis, This is for emergency use only. If Owen can't help, call these people until you reach one. They will know what to do. If this is not an emergency, though, you put us at risk. SO STOP SNOOPING! Love, Mom

I snorted. She knew I'd be prying. I put the paper back and lay on her bed, thinking. What did Amadis mean? Who were the people on the list? Did she actually go to see one of them this weekend? And how would I be putting us at risk? That last question made me anxious. I knew Mom well enough to know she wouldn't joke about this. Is just calling them risky? Or is all of my research? I sighed. Regardless of the answers, my research and snooping only led to more unanswered questions.

I tried to study, but my mind drifted in various directions, eventually toward Tristan. I didn't know when I'd see him again and as the afternoon wore on and evening encroached, I really didn't want to be alone. As if in response to my thoughts, the sound of a motorcycle resonated right outside the cottage. I sprang to the window and my breath caught.

Tristan still sat on the metallic-blue crotch-rocket, looking like a dream. He ran his hand through his wind- blown, sandy-brown hair, slightly taming the wild look. His muscles strained against his just-tight-enough t-shirt, tucked into faded jeans cinched at the waist with a black belt. He slowly pulled the dark sunglasses off and studied the cottage, his eyes sparkling brightly. I almost expected to see cameras—he looked like a model in a photo shoot. Is he really here for me ?

He swung his leg over the bike. I beat him to the door.

'Guess I can't sneak up on you,' he said, smiling.

'I seem to be specially tuned to the sound of motorcycles.'

He chuckled. I hoped he understood my innuendo.

'So, I have these exams to study for and I thought it wouldn't suck so bad if I was sitting on the beach,' he said, then added with a smile, 'and if you were there, too.'

My stomach fluttered. 'Just give me a sec, okay?'

I hurried inside, threw my books into my bag and grabbed a beach blanket. Tristan took my bag from me and we walked again, but not in silence this time. We talked about how boring the day had been for each of us so far and how we'd both been procrastinating on studying.

Once on the beach, we spread the blanket out on the sand and then spread our women's studies books out on the blanket. We read in silence, stopping now and then to ask each other a question or make a comment. More than once we discussed the differences in how each gender thinks. He didn't act superior at all and seemed genuinely interested in learning the thought patterns of females…well, at least mine.

'Of course, I'm not exactly your typical girl, so take it for what it's worth,' I said. I packed up my books and stretched out on my back, staring at the white wisps overhead. My brain couldn't take another minute of studying and the sun was low in the sky anyway, hovering just over the horizon, like a timid swimmer not quite ready to make the plunge.

Tristan packed his things, too, and tossed his backpack to a corner of the blanket. He lay on his side, facing me.

'I think it's worth a lot,' he said. 'And I'm glad you're not the typical girl.'

He picked up my hand and turned it over, then traced the lines on my palm with his finger. I continued staring at the sky, the cloud wisps turning peachy-gold against a deepening blue background, wondering what he would think when he found out just how atypical I was. It was just a matter of time—one small cut on the finger was usually all it took. Of course, I reminded myself, he already knew more than he should, seemingly more than I even knew. Because I knew so little.

'What are you thinking?' he asked quietly. I turned my head to look at him. He watched his fingers on my hand, now moving them along my wrist and inner arm, light as a feather. I fought the urge to pull back from the tickle.

'About how you know more about me than I do about you,' I said honestly.

'Ah. But you're wrong. I know so little about you. You don't share much. I can't even tell how you're feeling most of the time.'

Good. I'm doing my job then. But I frowned because I could hear sadness and frustration in his voice.

'I think there's a reason for that shell you have around you,' he said. 'You have experienced betrayal and have a difficult time trusting people.'

Bam! Hit the nail on the head! So, although I was good at hiding my feelings and thoughts, I was, at the same time, transparent. I sat up and pulled my knees to my chest, wrapping myself into a protective ball. I stared