“I knew you wanted me,” Rafe says with a wink.
“Don’t get cocky fox-boy.” But I can’t keep the smile off my face either, which makes pretending to punch him feel a bit stupid. Still, I respect the exercise, lifting a fist to give Rafe the setup he needs.
He bucks his hips, sending me forward, but not quite far enough. I catch myself on my forearms and we’re face to face. Inches away from each other. He stares up at me with his lips parted. His cold breath fans across my cheeks and sends goosebumps through my body. If I leaned forward just a little bit, I could kiss him, feel that odd combination of cold and heat all at once.
But this close, the scars around his eyes are more jarring than usual. My fingers itch to trace them, the question about where they came from perches on the tip of my tongue.
“You two done with your moment?”
I flinch at Landon’s voice and look up to meet his glower with my best grin. “Actually no, could you give us a minute?”
Rafe laughs, his stomach bumping against me, an incredibly strange feeling. Strange and pleasant. With a snort, I shift to the side, trying not to giggle when Landon’s glare darkens, and he crosses his arms.
“This isn’t a joke,” he says. “If you ever want to pass on you might just have to face the Xers, or some renegade ghost bent on causing trouble. You have to be ready for anything.”
I shouldn’t be obnoxious — especially considering the fact that his girlfriend might have gotten twisted — but his gloom and doom attitude is about to drive me batty. So I do the worst possible thing and give him a little mock salute.
“Sir, yes sir.” Face hardening, Landon stalks off to harass some other poor duo, and I look back at Rafe. “Such a sunny personality.”
Rafe snickers. “Ready to try again? I solemnly swear to do better.”
“Well if you swear.” I climb back on, and this time he does, in fact do better.
For the rest of class, I keep singing that jingle in my head — I think it was for some brand of gum — and manage to earn praise from Coach Richards for my technique. He even confirms my suspicion that I must have had some kind of combat training when I was alive. As Rafe and I walk out the door, the fox shifter gives me a little bow.
“All hail the queen of the mats.” He chuckles. “You’ll have to tutor me, because as you can see, I’m trash at combat. Sucked at it at Blakemore and death hasn’t changed much.”
“Hmm.” I tap my chin. “I don’t know. That sounds like an awful lot of work. What’s in it for me?”
Rafe gives me this ridiculous pouty look, and I can’t keep it together.
Tilting my head back, I let out an obnoxious bark of a laugh, and bump him with a shoulder. “Don’t worry, Warren, when we’re done with our training, no Xer will even think about trying to tangle with you.”
Chapter Twelve
Weekends at Locklear are anything but boring. With the pressure of waiting for an invisible axe to fall a la our friendly neighborhood Xers, everyone likes to straight up party. The first few times I went, I hung out in a corner, just observing the antics, but tonight I plan to join in on the crazy.
Because another week has gone by with no word from Theo, and I’m kind of panicking.
Haya sits on the end of her bed as I stand in the middle of the room, trying to come up with a good party outfit. She’s already dressed in a sparkly peach strapless thing. Even her glasses work with the outfit somehow. Maybe she came up with some specific calculation for it. I could never in a million years wear that color because my mother always told me it would wash me out.
I screw my eyes shut as the memory of her voice flits past me. Though the words are very distinct, I can’t quite grasp the sound or tone of her voice.
When my temples throb, I give up and focus on my own outfit. Haya claps a second later. I glance down to make sure I succeeded, relieved to find the freaking gorgeous green sequin dress I’d imagined. It dips in a low V and shows off my long legs. No hope of a tan when you don’t have a body, but oh well.
Haya floats up, glides across the floor to grab my hands, and spins me around. “That is so cute. I love it. That shade enhances your coloring and the cut is perfect for your shape.” She hooks an arm through mine. “You ready?”
I give my shoulders a little shimmy. “I died ready.”
Haya giggles. “That really doesn’t work.”
“Yeah, I was trying a thing. Go big or go home.”
“I approve of how you think.”
Together we make our way to the fourth floor. Before we’re even halfway up the stairs, we can hear the music. It vibrates the walls and jitters through my spirit like an involuntary shiver. We slide through the door into a crowd of ghosts, all moving in sync to the beat. Neon glow sticks light up arms, strobes blink across the ceiling, but Rafe Warren’s smile outshines them all.
I hate to be a cliché, but everything else legit fades in the wake of it.
Haya shoulders me toward him. I drift a few feet before I force myself to pause and glance back at her. She waves her hands, nudging me in his direction, a grin spreading across her face as she mouths the phrase “get ‘im, girl.” Before I can protest, she snags a partner of her own to dance with.
“Hey Billie!” Yasmin waves from a couch in the corner.
Quinn sits with her, pressed up against
