As I turn the corner, I hear someone yell, “Hey—Dru! Drusilla.”
My insides trip all over themselves, and I chance a glance over my shoulder. Jogging after me, his dark hair flopping up and down with his steps, is the same guy from last night. Surprisingly, his features are even more striking in the daylight. I’m oddly excited to see him again.
I continue walking, but despite myself, slow my pace a wee bit, just in case he really wants to catch up. After a moment, I feel a tap on my shoulder.
“Hey, didn’t you hear me back there?” he asks, matching my stride as we walk shoulder to shoulder.
“Yeah, sorry. I, uh, didn’t realize you were talking to me. Sorry, forgot about the nickname,” I lie, trying to sound more confident than I feel.
“Ouch. You already forgot about our tit-for-tat in the cemetery?” he says, pretending to jab a knife into his heart. “That hurts.”
“That’s life,” I say, quoting my mom without thinking. She says that no matter what crap thing goes wrong. Who knew I’d already be turning into her this young?
“Well, all right then,” he says.
I turn to look at him. He’s dressed in a casual button-down shirt beneath the same leather jacket as before. It splays itself open nicely, revealing an outline of his trim torso. His ripped-up blue jeans certainly suit his shape.
Goose bumps flash across the back of my neck and I shiver involuntarily. Most of the guys in town think they look like God’s gift in their baggy Champion shorts and t-shirt that could fit three of them inside.
“So, you look like you’re on your way to the cemetery again. Are you still sorting out whatever was bothering you last night?” he asks, watching me closely with those discerning silver eyes.
I nod. “Yeah, a lot on my mind.”
“Anything I can do to help? I’m a good listener,” he says, grinning broadly.
“No. Thanks, though,” I say, my gaze surveying the expanse in front of me.
“C’mon. Nothing I can do? Are you sure?”
“Nope. I think it’s pretty much screwed,” I say, covering my mouth with the crook of my pointer finger.
“That sounds dire…” His eyebrow twitches upward.
I let out a slow sigh and curse under my breath.
“Well, see, I just got a full ride to the Windhaven Academy, but my mom doesn’t want me to go. Last night we got in a big fight over it. I was trying to figure things out, but this annoying guy sorta derailed my thought process,” I blurt out. Shifting my gaze from his expectant one, I continue, “Of course, the fact that I don’t have an ounce of supernatural ability isn’t helping either. So, there’s that.”
“Hold up,” he says, grabbing my wrist. “You’re thinking of moving?”
I grin in a painful, wincing kinda way.
His eyes are serious, and he genuinely looks disappointed. “So, did you meet another guy? Or?”
I slap him across the chest with the back of my hand.
“It’s you, doofus,” I say, snickering softly to myself.
He breathes a sigh of relief and nods. “Oh, okay, good. That’s good.”
I can’t help but chuckle.
“So, Windhaven, huh…” he says, kicking at the ground in front of him.
“Yep,” I say, raising my eyebrows.
“Well, why do you think they want you then? I mean, if you haven’t shown any supernatural signs by now, I would have thought they would have passed you up.”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” I say, shrugging.
“Well, aren’t you the least bit curious? I mean, I know I would be.”
“Obviously, yes,” I say, turning forward again and continuing down the sidewalk. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about since I found out. Well, almost all I’ve been thinking about.”
He narrows his gaze, but doesn’t dig deeper, thank goodness.
When we reach the cemetery, he pulls my arm back and stares at me with the kind of serious expression that makes me self-conscious. “I know we just met and maybe my impression doesn’t amount to much, but here’s my two cents worth anyway. You need to figure out why you’ve been accepted, Dru. I mean, the Windhaven Academy doesn’t make those sorts of mistakes.”
“That’s what I was thinking too, to be honest. It’s just…my mom is pretty adamant I don’t go. She hates everything supernatural,” I say, scrunching my face.
“Are you living for you? Or are you living for her?”
I stare at him for a moment, unable to form words. It’s like he’s in my head.
“Fair point,” I finally say.
“A damn good point,” he laughs, pushing back strands of black hair from his eyes. “Besides, it would be pretty convenient for me since I’ll be going to Windhaven Academy soon, too.”
A strange sense of relief floods through me and I take a step back.
“Really? You’re supernatural?” I say, my mouth dropping open in surprise. He seems so…normal. Well, sorta.
“Yeah. I guess so. I mean, I don’t really know much myself. I guess I get psychic vibes, but they tell me I have to develop it,” he says.
“So, what are you waiting for? Why not go this year, too?” I say, quirking an eyebrow. “It would be nice to know another first-year student.”
His tongue grazes his lower lip, drawing my attention. “Unfortunately, I can’t. I have a few things I have to take care of here in Mistwood Point first.”
I tilt my head. “Like what? What’s more important than developing your psychic gifts?”
He inhales deeply, then lets out a sigh. “Like caring for my grandfather until he dies. He’s on hospice and I can’t let him die alone. He’s the only family I have left.”
“Oh. Oh—I’m so sorry. Is that what brought you here?” I whisper, not really knowing what else to say.
He nods.
“Well, this conversation has taken a turn,” I say, staring out over the tombstones beyond.
My responsibilities are niggling at the back of my mind, and I know I won’t be able to spend much longer here, let alone head deeper into the cemetery—or the conversation for that matter.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean for—” he begins.
I raise a hand. “Hey, no…no worries. I’m glad you told me.”
“Well, the point was to let you know that even though I won’t be at Windhaven this year, I will be there eventually. And if it were me, I would want to unravel that mystery of yours,” he says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I hear orientation is coming up in a few weeks. I could go with you, if you want.”
“Yeah, they’ve made a pretty big deal about it in my letter, actually,” I say, biting the inside of my cheek.
“So, it’s a date then?” he asks, standing so close I inhale a heady mixture of Dove soap mixed with sandalwood.
I consider for a moment, realizing that if this has the chance of going any further, I no longer want to be talking to an alter ego.
“Angel, er—” I splay out a hand, asking silently for his name.
He narrows his eyes, as if trying to decide whether or not to release his trade secrets.