Forks Page 9

  “Mom, it’s only a dance. There will be adults there too.”

  “Oh well, in that case,” she exhaled. “I suppose it is all right. But don’t make a habit out of it. You have a curfew you know.”

  “How could I forget,” I muttered. I neglected to tell her we were going to a bonfire at La Push after the dance. She was on a need to know basis and as far as I was concerned, she didn’t need to know.

  “So, when is Ken coming over?” I changed the subject.

  She beamed. “Around seven, I think.” She hugged herself. “He’s bringing dinner.”

  “Wow. That’s nice.”

  “I know, right,” she gushed, sounding like she was my age. “He’s in Port Angeles, so he is picking up some Italian food from Bella Italia.”

  “I ate there today,” I said. “The food is really good.”

  “Did you have the risotto with mushrooms? That’s what I’m having.”

  Of course. “Nah, I had a veggie pizza.”

  “What did your friend have?”

  “The same as me, we shared.”

  “Well, I will tell you how it is.”

  “Kay.” I slid my phone into my clutch. It barely fit. Mom stepped back in front of the mirror. “You look great, Mom.”

  “I do, don’t I,” she said, adjusting her black sweater so it showed off her shoulders. She paired it with a pair of red skinny jeans and high-heeled ankle boots.

  I could never tell if she was asking a question or not, so I answered to be safe. “Yeah, you really do.” And she did. Mom had me when she was young so most people thought she was my sister. I didn’t mind though, it was kind-of cool…unless my dates hit on her, and then it kind-of sucked. She was much prettier than me and fairer complexioned with straight blonde hair. I looked more like my dad. He had dark curly hair. Unfortunately, I got his hair and I looked like a fuzzy frizz ball if it rained or was humid. I kept it long. I was afraid if I cut it I would look like Shirley Temple — so most days I wore it up, just to keep it out of my way.

  “What’s Ken doing in Port Angeles?” I asked distractedly, trying to figure out what to wear over top of my dress. It was either my kid rain slicker or my black pea coat. Neither would look good.

  “Oh…” She cut her eyes to the side, which was a sure sign she was about to lie. “He had something to take care of.”

  I didn’t press her. She would spill it to me sooner or later anyway. She couldn’t keep a secret.

  ten

  It was raining again when I pulled into the Visitor Center parking lot. I backed into a space so I could see when Glinda pulled in. There weren’t many cars and it was getting foggy again, so I kept the car running with the lights on. We were going to ride together to La Push and then head over to the dance. I wasn’t real sure where the dance was even going to be, but Glinda knew.

  Turning on the radio, I listened to the local radio station. As usual, it crackled, so I could only hear parts of the song. Frustrated, I turned it down on low and pulled out my phone. It was already 7:45. I called Glinda but it went straight to voicemail.

  :I’m here. Where are you?

  I hit end and tapped the steering wheel, waiting, staring out my windshield.

  A car pulled in and I let out a sigh of relief until I realized it wasn’t Glinda. A group of kids all dressed up in tuxes and real prom dresses unloaded from one car and climbed into another larger car and drove away. I looked down at my thrift shop special dress feeling stupid. Great.

  A ghostly face appeared in my window and a hand slammed against the glass. “Ahhhhhhhhh!”

  My door flew open.

  I lifted my purse, about to hit whatever was trying to get me.

  “Whoa, tiger,” he laughed, rearing back away from me.

  “Oh my God!” I stared into Vincent’s laughing face. “You scared me!”

  “I know.” He widened his eyes. “You should have seen your face,” his deep voice rumbled in his chest, as he continued to laugh hysterically.

  I narrowed my eyes, half-tempted to pull out my zapper and use it against him. “That was not funny.” I pushed against his chest but he didn’t even budge.

  “Oh, come on,” he said, his laughter evaporating. He stood back, his gaze assessing and he let out a low whistle. “Don’t you clean up nice?”

  I wasn’t sure if he was messing with me or not but my face warmed from the compliment. “Thanks…I think,” I muttered, embarrassed.

  He ducked his head back into the car and his sandy blonde hair fell forward over his brow—his face serious. “So, am I too late?”

  I swallowed hard, turning my head, not able to keep eye contact. He looked really good in his black suit. “Too late for what?” my voice came out barely above a whisper.

  He placed his finger under my chin and turned my face back towards his. “To do this…” He leaned closer.

  Lights flashed and a horn blared.

  I jerked back.

  He swore, and stepped back so I couldn’t see him anymore.

  Flustered, I lifted my hand to shield my eyes against the bright lights.

  The lights snapped off.

  Blinking, my eyes slowly came back in focus.

  “There you are!” Glinda yelled. She slammed her car door and ran over to the passenger side of the car. “I call shotgun,” she yelled over the top and jumped inside.

  “You look great,” I said. Her face sparkled in the dim overhead light. She looked like Cinderella. Her gown was a light blue, with a full skirt. I noticed it was also a very modern gown, like a real prom dress. I suddenly felt like her ugly stepsister.

  “So do you!” she gushed enthusiastically and then stuck her head out the door. “Vincent come on, we’re already late.”

  “He’s coming?” I gaped in shock.

  She spun around and adjusted her skirts. “Yeah, is that cool?” Her china blue eyes glittered.

  “Of course,” I said, recovering.

  His head popped in my door. “You going to let me in?”

  “Yeah,” I croaked and moved forward so he could get in the back seat.

  He climbed inside.

  I shut my door. “So where are we headed?” I put the car in drive.

  Vincent leaned forward, his head beside mine. “To La Push,” he said his breath warm against my neck. I shivered in spite of the heat.

  “Okay.” I waited. Neither of them said anything. “Which way do I go?” I asked.

  Glinda giggled. “I forgot you don’t know.”

  Vincent lifted up a piece of my hair, his fingers twirling the end. “Make a left and follow 101 down toward Bogachiel Way and then make a left on 110 which is the same as La Push Road.” He dropped my hair and sat back in the seat, which I was glad for. I didn’t think I could drive with him touching my hair like that. It was very distracting.

  “Vincent, doesn’t Amber look pretty?” Glinda asked, shifting in the seat so she could see in the back.

  “Yeah, she does,” he agreed, his voice gruff.

  I glanced in the rearview mirror and he was staring right at me. “You guys.” My face burned. I gripped the steering wheel tighter—my heart beating from my chest. “Glinda looks incredible.”

  “Thanks,” she beamed.

  I noticed Vincent didn’t agree with me and for some reason this made me blissfully happy.

  Glinda chattered non-stop all the way to La Push, which was a blessing. I was so nervous. Each time I looked in the rearview mirror, Vincent was looking right at me with an unreadable expression on his face. I was half-tempted to flip up my mirror so he couldn’t see me any longer but I didn’t want him to know it bothered me.

  The wipers squeaked, flipping back and forth, spraying the heavy downpour of rain off the windshield. I pulled into the resort parking lot. Putting the car into park, I turned off the engine and killed the lights. “So what now?” I asked, turning in the seat.

  “I think everyone is meeting inside,” Glinda said, turning the mirror and checking her ma
keup. She reapplied her lip-gloss.

  “It doesn’t look like many people are here,” I said. The parking lot only had a few cars in it.

  “Maybe everyone bailed because of the rain.” Vincent said, sounding hopeful. Sitting forward, he crossed his arms over the seat. His hand skimmed my shoulder and my stomach swirled.

  “I don’t care,” Glinda said. “I still want to go.”

  “What if the tour is cancelled?” I asked.

  “We will have to make our own,” said Vincent, quirking his brow at me.

  “What are we going to do, walk around in the rain?”

  I asked, skeptically.

  “I’m sure I can think of something to do other than walk around in the rain.”

  “No way, Vincent.” Glinda gave him a warning glare and shoved her lip gloss back in her purse. “I am sure some of the Quileute boys are around. They will have something to do.”

  “Joy!” Vincent made a face. “Not!” He shook his head. “You go and glom onto those boys if you want.” He glared back at her. “Me and Amber can check out the beach.” He pulled out a flask out and shook it in the air. “I brought drinks.” He waggled his brows.

  “I’m driving, so, I won’t be having any,” I said.

  “Neither am I,” Glinda said. “Who knows what you put in there?”

  “Jesus, Glinda,” he exhaled, irritated. “It’s just some whiskey.”

  “No.” She widened her eyes at him like they were talking in some kind of secret code. She crossed her arms defiantly.

  “Fine.” He put the flask back in his suit jacket. “Fun-Sucker!” he muttered.

  “At least I don’t suck other things.” She made a face at him.

  “Keep it up, Glinda.” He glared at her with menace in his eyes.

  “I was only kidding, Vincent.” If possible, her face paled even more.

  “Yeah, you better be.” He broke eye contact with her and glanced at me.

  I looked between them, not sure what was going on.

  “Let‘s get out of here.” He raked his hand through his hair.

  “Okay.” I grabbed the keys, put them in my clutch and opened the door. Lifting my jacket, I held it over my head waiting for Vincent to climb out of the back.

  Glinda jumped out and slammed the door. “I’ll meet you inside,” she called.

  When I looked over to her side of the car, she was already gone.

  Vincent climbed out of the back and pressed in closely to me, ducking under my coat. “Mind if I share with you?”

  “Not at all,” I said, shutting the door and lifting my jacket higher. He put his hand on the small of my back ushering me forward. I could feel the heat seeping through.

  “So, what was that about?”

  “She doesn’t know when to keep her mouth shut.”

  “Oh.” I wasn’t sure what that meant and I didn’t press it either. Maybe Glinda would tell me later. Even as I thought it, I realized I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know. “So, what did you do today?”

  He stopped and gave me a look of disbelief.

  Swallowing hard, I looked up at him. I felt very small in comparison. I shrunk back, still holding my coat up in the air.

  “I was watching you.” His expression was strangely emotionless.

  “What?” A shiver of unease spread through me

  “Kidding,” he said. His lips lifted into a slow grin.

  “You better be.” I bumped him, laughing it off.

  Once we were under the tall eaves of the resort I lowered my jacket He stepped away and I shivered, finally feeling the cold. I slid my arms into my jacket and shoved my hands into the pockets. Music wafted out of the one of the doors that stood slightly ajar.

  “Amber,” he said, stepping closer.

  “Yeah,” I said, turning fully.

  “I’m sorry I left you last night.”

  “Oh, it’s okay.” I had been wondering if he would say something.

  “I had to go, and well…I’m just sorry.”

  “It’s all right,” I told him. “My tire magically inflated itself anyway.”

  His lips twitched.

  “It was you.” I pushed against his chest. His muscles bunched reflexively underneath.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about.” He gave me a look of innocence.

  “Sure you don’t.” I cut him a knowing look.

  “Are you mad?”

  “No, but you better not do that again,” I said in a reprimanding voice and pushed him again.

  He grabbed hold of my cold fingers, wrapping them into his warm ones. “I’m glad you moved here,” he said suddenly.

  “You are?” I couldn’t keep the unexpected pleasure from my voice.

  “Yeah,” he breathed. “I am.”

  I looked up into his eyes, my heart picking up pace. “Me too, Vincent,” I said and was surprised I meant it.

  “Do you hear that?” He looked at some spot behind me.

  “Hear what?” My brow furrowed.

  “They’re playing our song,” he said, his eyes glittered and locked with mine. “May I have this dance?” his breath whispered over me.

  My breath hitched. “Su—uure,” I flustered.

  “Shall we?” He held out his arms

  I smiled. “Yes, I would like that.” I stepped up to him. He slid one of his hands around my back, pulling me into his arms and placed his chin on the top of my head, swaying in time to the lilting music.

  His hand skimmed down my back and then he loosened his hold on me, but not entirely. He dipped his head down and looked me in the eye. His look was so intense, his face inches from my own. “You and me…we…”

  I swallowed hard. Feeling like I had just wandered into a dream.

  He leaned closer…

  I pressed up on my toes…my eyes drifting shut…

  A loud bang sounded, followed by a gust of hot air.

  “Amber!” Glinda shouted.

  “I am going to kill her,” Vincent growled.

  eleven

  It was as if someone had turned off a switch. It was that fast. I felt like I should have whiplash. Vincent did a one eighty and I was still whirling from it.

  After Glinda made her impromptu appearance, of which I was starting to think was a bit more calculated then I had given her credit for, he kept his distance.

  To an outsider it would look like we didn’t even know each other, let alone, almost kissed.

  At least I think we were going to kiss. Maybe I was delusional. Maybe I conjured it from some misguided notion I had in my head for the perfect evening. It had seemed perfect too. Like a dream, I had wandered into.

  Now, however, I felt like I had walked into my worst nightmare. Lights flashed on the dance floor in time to the music pulsing throughout the room. The musky smell of sweat and too sweet punch resonated in the air.

  I lifted my glass of warm punch and took another sip. It tasted terrible but it gave me something to do while I stood on the sidelines and watched Glinda and Vincent dance with each other. I mean really dance. Like bump and grind dancing. It was uncomfortable to watch. But I did anyway. I guess I was a glutton for punishment.

  “You don’t like to dance?” a deep voice sounded at my side. I turned and stared into the blackest eyes I had ever seen.

  “Not really,” I lied. Actually, I loved dancing, mostly in my room when no one was watching. Still, I wouldn’t have minded dancing tonight too, that is, if someone would have asked me.

  “Yeah, me neither,” he said, his deep voice, low. He stuck out his hand. “Hi there…” He smiled warmly down at me. “I’m your resident wallflower.”

  My lips twitched. I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you…”

  “Resident wallflower,” he supplied, his eyes gleaming with amusement and holding my hand for a lot longer than necessary.

  It became uncomfortably warm, suddenly. His long glossy dark hair fell down to the middle of his back and he was wearing a pair of dark jeans and one o
f those glow in the dark tshirts, like Ravers wear.

  “Right,” I said smiling.

  His brow furrowed and he released my hand. Staring out into the crowd, he shoved his hands into his pockets and exhaled. His muscles bulged from his shirtsleeves.

  “You didn’t feel like dressing up,” I asked, making small talk.

  He lifted his brow. “It’s not my prom.”

  I laughed. “It’s not mine either.” I tugged on the hem of my thrift shop dress. “Obviously,” I muttered. I was the only one wearing something that didn’t reach the floor and still had on my high-top converse. I probably looked like an eighties reject.

  “I like your dress,” he said. “It’s cool.”

  “Thanks.” Color bloomed to my cheeks. I smoothed my hand over the full skirt.

  “So, you here from out of town?” he asked.

  “Nah, I live here.”

  “Really?” He quirked a brow. “I haven’t seen you before.”

  “I just moved here,” I said.

  “Oh, I get it.” He made a face.

  My ire rose. “What was that for?”

  “What was what for?”

  “The face, you just made.”

  He shrugged. “It’s a free country.”

  “Donkeyhole,” I muttered under my breath, so low he couldn’t possibly hear.

  He did a double take and then he laughed—like really laughed. “You’re trippy.”

  “Gee thanks,” I deadpanned and turned toward the dance floor, ignoring him. I took another sip of my drink and almost spit it back out. It was really bad. I set the glass down on the table behind me.

  He leaned down. “So, why are you here?”

  “It’s a free country.” I shrugged, giving him some payback.

  “Funny.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be.” I kept my eyes averted away from his face. He had a really cute face.

  “Let me guess…you’re here to meet a Werewolf?” he prodded.

  “How do you know I’m not here to meet a Vampire?” I snipped.

  His brows furrowed. “I hate to tell you this, but if that’s what you’re into, you’re in the wrong place.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked smartly.

  “You know where you’re at, don’t you?” He eyes filled with indignation.