her own inimitable style.
Blushing a little, Ciaran smiled. It was not at all what he was going to say, but his sister’s less formal approach might actually work better. Just as Saoirse was about to shut the door behind him, Ciaran whipped around and held it open. “I almost forgot.”
“What now?” Saoirse cried, unable to hide the exasperation in her voice.
“You need to come to the lab so I can run another test.”
Thankfully Saoirse had years of training hiding her true emotions, so she was able to keep her expression blank and not offer her brother a clue that his suggestion was inappropriate in-the-hallway conversation. “I don’t know, Ciar,” she whispered. “I think I’m done with all that.”
Ciaran pushed on the door a bit harder, but Saoirse held tight to the doorknob and pushed back. She even went so far as to raise her hand against the doorjamb so Ciaran would understand that she didn’t want him to come back in her room so they could continue their conversation in private either. It worked; Ciaran got the signal, but he wasn’t yet finished with the topic. “You have to,” he persisted. “I found out some stuff about Michael, and I need to run another test to compare the two of you.”
Knowing that Ciaran wouldn’t leave until she agreed to once again be his guinea pig, Saoirse reluctantly conceded to his request. “Fine! Make an appointment with my girl, and she’ll put you on my calendar,” she joked. “Now go!”
Not taking the chance that Ciaran would ask another question or come up with another reason to prolong his visit, Saoirse slammed the door in his face. She held her breath and pressed her ear against the wood to make sure she heard him bound down the stairs. Only when she heard the outside front door shut did she turn around, just in time to see another boy come out of her closet. “I thought he’d never leave!”
“Sorry,” she said, awkwardly shoving her hands into the side pockets of her school skirt. “I didn’t want to be rude.”
Maybe it was because of the easy way he leapt onto her bed and fell back against the pillows or maybe it was because he wasn’t her brother, but Saoirse had no desire to tell him to get off. She didn’t care if he had his shoes on; she didn’t care if he rumpled up her bedspread. He looked good sitting there, like it was where he belonged.
“You didn’t mind lying, though,” he said. “You didn’t tell him the real reason you haven’t seen much of him lately.”
Slowly, Saoirse walked over and sat on the foot of the bed. She was self-conscious that her skirt rode up a few inches above her knee, but she stopped herself from pulling it down. That was something a less confident girl would do, and she was determined to prove that she wasn’t nervous. “I thought you wanted to keep things between us a secret,” Saoirse replied, her finger tracing some imaginary pattern on the bedspread. “Until we know for sure that this isn’t just a passing fancy.”
The boy smiled, and his hazel eyes gleamed, green and brown and even amber all sparkling together. He ran his fingers through his loose curls for no other reason than because it felt good and latched onto one exceptionally curly strand of hair, straightening it and then letting it go, letting it bounce back against his cheek. If his jaw hadn’t been so square and his nose so thick and flat, he would have looked like a girl. When he spoke, however, there was no denying that he was all guy.
His voice was deep for a seventeen-year-old, a rich baritone, and Saoirse thought he could be an opera singer or someone who talks on the radio for a living, the sound was so beautiful. She loved to listen to him talk. Because English wasn’t his first language, he would often put the accents on some words in the wrong places. So even on those occasions when he talked about himself for way too long, rambling on about his Scandinavian heritage or his opinions about world politics, she wouldn’t listen to the words, but only to the sound. It was sometimes more interesting. “And until I’m more than just the new kid on the block.”
“Which should be any day now, right?” Saoirse asked. Part of her enjoyed having a secret life, but the other part wanted to let the whole wide world know that she had a boyfriend.
“Well, I have some tryouts today,” he said. “So if I make one of the teams, I guess it’ll mean I’m part of the ‘in’ crowd.”
Looking at his body, Saoirse had no doubt her boyfriend would make any team he tried out for and possibly give Ronan competition as unofficial top athlete on campus. He wasn’t as muscular as Ronan was; he actually looked more like Michael, but way more defined. He had broad shoulders, a small waist, and long legs with lines and lines of fine blond hair all over his thighs and calves that Saoirse had found herself staring at all summer long. Shaking her head, she focused on the boy on her bed who was dressed in the Double A uniform and not the one in her mind who pranced about in a tank top and shorts. “Even if you don’t make it, you’ll still be part of the ‘in’ crowd,” she said. “I’m sure of it.”
Unexpectedly, he sat up and pushed Saoirse down on the bed. She was startled by the sudden movement, but when she saw his face smiling down at her, adorned with a crown of curls, looking like a cross between an angel and a scalawag, she knew he was only being playful. His question, however, was a bit more businesslike. “What kind of secret lab work are you doing with your brother?”
“Seriously,” he continued. “Sounded rather cryptic. What’s up?”
Desperate to change the subject, Saoirse thought that if his smile could work wonders on her, hers might put a spell on him as well. “Why so many questions?” Saoirse asked, smiling as seductively as she knew how.
It didn’t work. “Why aren’t you answering me?” he retorted.
Boys! They really could be infuriating. Always wanting to have their way, always thinking their questions were super important, never considering for a second that they didn’t have to know everything in the entire world. Infuriating, but really cute too. If only Saoirse’s hands weren’t being held down, she could just reach up and touch those curls, marvel at their softness. And then touch the little bit of stubble on his chin and marvel at its roughness. Infuriating, cute,
“Well, you know us spies, we don’t like to be interrogated.” And if her words didn’t do the trick, her actions might. In one easy move, Saoirse flipped her boyfriend on his back, his curls spilling out onto the bed like little curlicues of sunshine. The sight made her heart skip a beat, even though she knew she had to keep her wits about her until all talk of lab work and experiments had passed. When she felt his chest and stomach move underneath her and heard his deep laugh, she knew she was safe.
“That’s what I like about you,” he said. “You’re not like other girls; you’re fearless.”
Suddenly self-conscious about lying on top her boyfriend, she rolled off of him. She stared at the ceiling and wished there were a mirror up there so she could see how they looked lying side by side, their hair freely mingling together, his a few shades lighter than her own blond hair. It must be a beautiful sight. “I’ve learned this past year that there isn’t anything in this world that I need to be scared of,” Saoirse admitted.
“Except maybe a boyfriend.”
Saoirse wasn’t completely honest when she replied, “I’m not scared of you.”
“Not yet,” he said. Turning to face Saoirse, her boyfriend wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. He closed his eyes and let instinct take over so his lips could find hers.
Saoirse kept her eyes open, but only because she liked how weird his face looked so close up. His eyelashes were outrageously long, and the pores on his nose looked huge. The examination was brief because the kiss ended as quickly as it had begun. “Let’s just keep us a secret for a little while longer,” he said.
Nodding, Saoirse touched the side of his face and slid her fingers deep into the labyrinth of his curls. She pulled her hand away and was transfixed by how white some of the strands looked. “I’ve got a lot of secrets, Morgandy,” she said. “Why not one more?”
chapter 9
So this was what it felt like to be blind.
