Eternity

her chair and pulled it toward him, so close their faces were just inches apart. “If it’s impossible, why the hell do you think I showed up that night when I did?”

Em opened her mouth to speak, then realized she didn’t know how to answer that. Why was he there? The timing seemed suspicious. . . .

And then, all of a sudden, he was leaning in to kiss her. A piece of her wanted this—badly—but she couldn’t have everything. Em pulled away and felt the armrest jam awkwardly against her back.

“No,” she said shakily, placing her palm against his chest. “We—this isn’t right, Crow. You know that. We’re—we’re friends.”

He swayed backward a little. But not that far. His lips were still so close. . . . She could feel the heat from his body. “What’s the matter, angel?” he said. “I’m not good enough for you?”

“You know that’s not it,” she said quickly, softly—almost like she was pleading with him. “It’s just . . . ” She couldn’t finish. JD, she wanted to say. But she felt like an idiot speaking his name out loud, when he had barely even spoken to her in a month.

“You’re drunk, Crow. And I don’t want to mess up our friendship. . . . ” The bench dug into her shoulder blade.

“I don’t believe that’s all you want from me,” he said. His eyes were still on her. Burning. Sending a leap of warmth through her stomach, a spinning, dizzying heat through her head.

What did she want from him? Reassurance? Protection? Help? She didn’t know anymore.

He reached up and traced her face lightly with two fingers. Everywhere he touched was like fire. “Tell me,” he said in that low voice, like a song. “Tell me what you really want.”

What did she want? She wanted information. She wanted his secrets. To see his visions. To learn from them. To know the truth.

She wanted everything to be different.

Em tilted her face to his, trying to read his eyes, trying to understand what was happening—what his role in it was. And that one small gesture was all Crow needed. He reached out and grabbed the back of her head, pulling her slowly toward him. Their lips were so close that she could taste him—that smoke, that sweetness.

The booze.

“No,” she said, suddenly realizing how wrong it was. “Really.”

“Everything okay over here?” Suddenly a bouncer, big and thick-necked, was behind them, pulling Crow back by the collar of his plaid shirt. “I don’t think you’re wanted here, buddy.”

Every ounce of gentleness Crow had had just moments before was gone in an instant. “Get your hands off me.” He stood up, shrugging off the bouncer’s arm roughly.

Em put her hand on his arm. “Let’s just go, Crow.” Em needed to get him out of there in one piece.

“You hear that?” He ignored her, getting in the bouncer’s face. “She’s fine. Everything’s fine. So I suggest you stop acting like I’m some kind of criminal.” He punctuated the word with a nice, hard shove.

The bouncer was thrown off for less than a second, which was all the reason he needed. “You’re out of here!” he yelled, clipping Crow’s shoulder and herding him forcefully toward the door.

“What are you doing, man?” Crow argued. “It’s early. I’m not even that drunk.”

“You can’t kick him out,” Em said, chasing after them. “He’s in no shape to drive.”

“You’re right, he isn’t,” came the bouncer’s surly reply, “but he sure as hell can’t stay here.”

“Asshole,” Crow muttered. The doors burst open and Em was relieved by the crisp air.

“What the hell are you doing?” she asked.

“He started it,” Crow said pointing in the direction of the Armory. He got out a final round of expletives, then repeated: “I’m not even that drunk.”

“You are that drunk.”

They stood in silence. Crow looked up at the sky. He interlaced his fingers behind his head so his arms splayed out like wings. It was cool enough that Em could just barely make out his breath in the air. “Fine, I am drunk.”

“Good. We’re in agreement. Now give me your keys,” she said, holding out her hand.

“You know how to drive stick?” he asked aggressively. “I don’t want you bottoming out on the Ridge.”

She didn’t. Dammit. Why hadn’t she taken JD up on those lessons this summer? “Crow . . . I . . . ”

“You don’t,” he said smugly. He grabbed the keys out of her hand.

She still wasn’t going to let him drive, manual transmission or no. “Well, then, I guess you’ll have to call someone to pick you up.” Em went for the keys, which he held up high and just out of her reach. “I’m not letting you get behind the wheel like this,” she said jumping for them.

His eyes narrowed. “You can’t tell me what to do,” he said. “You can’t tell me you don’t want me and then tell me how to act.”

Em stopped jumping. The words stung. They were standing so close she thought he might try to kiss her again. But instead he turned and started stalking across the parking lot in the other direction. “Crow!” she called after him. “Stop! You can’t drive!”

“I feel like they’re poisoning me.” Crow wheeled around and his voice broke into the quiet. He threw the keys at her feet and winced, like he had a sudden headache. “The visions . . . I want them to stop. It’s like blackness inside me.”

A car came around the bend and waited for them to get out of the way. Illuminated by the bright white glow of the headlights, Crow looked almost otherworldly. “I want to help you, Em,” he said, “but I think I’m going to get hurt if I do.” ?Then he ran off into the night, leaving Em with his keys on the ground in front of her.

CHAPTER FIVE

“Yup, you’re totally becoming one,” Melissa said, standing in the doorway to JD’s room and pulling her strawberry-blond hair back with a headband.

“Huh?” he asked. He’d been in another world, thinking about Em, and specifically of that book on her nightstand and wondering if he should ask her about it. He didn’t even know how long Melissa had been standing there.

“See? Case in point,” Melissa said, putting her arms out straight in front of her and staggering theatrically around his room. “I said, you’re totally becoming a zombie. You need a life.”

“A liiiiiiife,” he said, sounding the word out for effect. “How does one procure such a thing? Teach me, oh social one. Does it involve faking injuries to make friends?”

“I was not faking it,” Melissa said. “I really twisted my ankle and you know it. It was pure serendipity that Ali and I met. Speaking of which, I need a ride to Pete’s. Ali invited me for pizza.”

“Didn’t she leave, like, two hours ago?” JD said. “You’re a little too young for an exclusive relationship.”

She chucked a pillow at his head. “I texted to thank her again. And she invited me.”

He swiveled back toward his computer. “Tempting, but no. First of all, I have homework to do. Second, I’m not—not—a chauffeur.” Even saying the word—Gabby and Em’s old nickname for him —made anger spark inside of him. He pushed it aside. “And last, there’s pasta on the stove. Why are you going for pizza?”

“Let’s start with the last one first,” she said. “I’m going for pizza because I’d love to get out of the house. Even zombies need to socialize, you know.” She plucked a hat off his bed and chucked it at him.

He didn’t want to admit that she was right.

“And I know you’re not a chauffeur,” she added. “You were invited.” She smiled brightly at him.

JD tried to keep his voice neutral, but he knew he’d already given in. “By whom?” he asked.

“By Ali, silly,” Melissa said. “She said she wants you to meet her cousin later or something. So let’s go already.”

* * *