Deeper (The Deeper Chronicles #1) (11 page)

I miss you.

He dropped his head, blending in with the night.

I
t was two weeks after her disastrous date with Jayson, and Avi was yet again embroiled in a self-inflicted disaster. This one couldn’t be helped though.

“So, this bitch told me, ‘To look at you, you’d never know. You have a beautiful smile, but your roots are all bad’. Can you believe the nerve of that dentist?”

Ouch.
Avi was tempted to turn her head for a glimpse of the person who’d been sharing chunks of her personal life, and loudly too, for the last ten minutes. She knew about the woman’s cheating husband, and a cousin who was recently arrested on a parole violation. Way too much information from the woman’s life was now swimming in Avi’s head for so early on a Saturday morning.

“Yeah, girl.”

There was a pause, and Avi hoped the woman would have enough decency to end her call and wait for the privacy of her home before she divulged anymore of her business inside the crowded post office. The vestibule was already tight; people went to and fro from their mailboxes, while others with foresight and planning only had to slip their envelopes with the correct postage into the slots on the far wall. Avi needed the assistance of the sole postal worker ahead of her somewhere behind the thick plexiglass. Between the Chatty Cathy behind her and the line that stretched to the front doors, she was ready to leave the place.

“And I swear, I’m not sending no more damn care packages to this prison...”

That was Avi’s signal to tune her out. She peeped around the portly man in front of her, only to see that she was miles, or so it seemed, from reaching the front of the line. Her shoulders sagged.
Who knew coming to the post office would be this involved?

The woman behind her continued grumbling about this and that just as one of Avi’s reasons for standing in the infernal line flew out of her hand. She stooped, jostling the metal chain link to reach the envelope, yelping when her fingers were almost crushed by a passing customer.

The letter was smeared.

A sooty boot heel was imprinted on the front, right over her name.

Avi pulled the envelope toward her. With quickness, she dug into her bag for something to wipe away the grit. Her hand landed on a piece of Kleenex, which she used to brush the front. It didn’t help. Whatever was on the person’s boot was now good and stuck onto Avi’s envelope.
Damn.
Her name was blurred and dirtied, almost unrecognizable by the time the envelope joined the rest Avi was returning to its sender.

Of course my name would be sullied. Makes perfect sense.
She didn’t know why, but her eyes glassed over the longer she viewed the letter. Pin-pricks of remorse stabbed at her heart; she never got used to them, though they’d taken up residence in her chest for the last three years. If she didn’t feel them then she’d worry. She wished the letters would stop arriving, that her silent hint would finally sink in. But, down deep, what she wished was that her cowardice would shrink and she could open one of them.

Avi was pulled from her head by the vibration in her pocket. She slid the envelope back into place, adjusting the elastic around the rest of her package so none would escape before shoving all twenty of them back where they should have stayed: hidden and out of view.
Like me.

“Meet me at Chambers and Church.”

Avi stared at Sofie’s text with confusion. The line began to pick up its pace, dragging her gaze from her cell’s screen. She perked up at the sight of another postal worker.
Thank God,
Avi thought while she typed out a response.

After her drawn-out morning, she was going straight home, burrowing her head under the covers, and praying she would dream of a time when dirt and guilt weren’t part of her vocabulary. Even through the phone, Sofie was a persistent little thing, and her next text message gushed about them hanging out at
“the best crêpe restaurant in the city”
.

But Avi didn’t care. She fired off a final response, her steps lighter when she heard the bellowed, “Next,” and it was her turn.

“I can’t believe you,” Avi muttered, sliding down. She didn’t want to get used to the feel of the cushy seat under her, because she wasn’t staying. Any minute now, she was going to stand up and figure out which one of the city’s confounded trains would take her from Tribeca back to Harlem.

She continued fuming when she remembered how she’d strolled down her block, only to find Joe helping Sofie from the back of a car. Avi had considered turning around—it would be more like running—but Sofie had to possess superhuman sight that allowed her to see through Joe. It was too late, and Avi was face-to-face with the woman who’d squealed and clapped her hands in excitement, pushing her inside the car.

“Will you relax?” Sofie begged. Avi blinked, coming back to the present. “I’m still deciding what to get.” Her pushy friend tapped a polished finger near her mouth.

It was hopeless. Sofie wasn’t paying attention and was unconcerned that Avi didn’t want to be here. Even though
here
was an intimate bistro with cute, beret-wearing servers. The women were dressed in fitted black shirts and matching pants, while the sole male attendant wore a stripped black and white long-sleeved shirt with black pants. It was like Avi was an extra in Audrey Hepburn’s classic movie
Funny Face
.

“Sofie,” she growled.

Her friend’s beaming face and smiling eyes greeted Avi’s sour features, which drooped under the other woman’s cheerfulness.

“Yes,” Sofie drawled out.

“I have things to do.” Knowing Sofie, she’d need to give solid reasons when she stood and left. Avi wracked her brain for something that wasn’t necessarily a lie. “There’s my laundry I’ve been meaning to do, next week’s lesson plans—”

Sofie rolled her eyes, cutting short her list. “You have to live in the moment. Sit back, take your damn jacket off for goodness’ sake, and allow your friend to introduce you to Manhattan.” Sofie went back to perusing the menu.

Avi’s hand loosened her belt with reluctance. She shouldn’t sit back, unwind, or relax. The memory from the post office rushed back to her. She
was dirty...she’d caused dirt.

“Woot. Woot.” Sofie shimmied in her seat, drawing a half-smile from Avi. Without doing much, she was able to get Avi to be the young woman she was, even though Avi kicked and screamed all the way. “I know what I want. What are you getting?” Sofie slapped down the laminated menu on top of the table.

Avi’s eyes landed on the large blackboard on a back wall filled with handwritten, mouth-watering choices like ham and cheese, Nutella, apricot jam, and...

That can’t be salted caramel, can it?
She licked her lips in anticipation. Then her sight landed on Sofie’s bent head. She hated to admit her friend was right. “Thanks,” she mumbled. “I shouldn’t be so...”

“Are you looking for a word that rhymes with witchy?” Avi heard the smile in Sofie’s voice just as her friend’s head popped up and the server arrived. “Hello, good looking.” The little charmer didn’t hesitate to pull out all the stops. “I’m going to have the butter and sugar crêpe.” But then a frown replaced her grin. “I didn’t see a wine menu. Don’t you guys have anything stronger than Perrier and juices?”

Avi squinted at Sofie’s inquisitive gaze.

“No. I’m sorry.”

“Well, that won’t do—”

“She’s joking.”
At least, she better be.
Not knowing what had brought on that question, she ordered the salted caramel crêpe for herself and two cups of hot chocolate for the table. When they were by themselves, Avi was quick to ask, “What did you mean by stronger?” Her friend always had a drink too close for her liking.

A cool breeze played with her hair since Avi’s back was to the door. She waited for an answer from her friend, but Sofie was too caught up with what was going on at the restaurant’s entrance.

“Shit.” Sofie lowered herself into her seat. The whispered curse was laced with embarrassment.

Avi turned around as Joe shook the hand of a dark-haired man with small eyes and a nose ring. His hair was in one of those man-bun styles made popular by an actor who Avi secretly crushed after. The two men spoke before the trim-built man turned his head in their direction.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.”

You couldn’t forget a man with those high cheekbones or deep chocolate eyes. You most certainly didn’t want to be caught in a dark alley with him either. He strolled over, exuding grace and a whole lot of danger.

“Sofie?” Avi whispered from the side of her mouth.

“You’re slumming it in my neck of the woods now?” he asked, his attention on Sofie. The scar under his left eye became prominent when he grinned.

Her usually snappy friend reddened like a schoolgirl under the man’s intense gaze.

“Hi, I’m Avi,” she said, extending her hand.

He grasped it, her palm grazing over his roughened one. “I’m Gavin. I work with,” he tipped his head at Sofie, “her uncle and Noah.”

At that
name, Avi pulled her hand away, becoming hot all of a sudden. Then, she shrank down in her seat as her friend had moments ago.

He laughed. “Mind if I sit?” Obviously, it was a rhetorical question, because he’d already snatched a chair from a nearby table, swinging his limber leg over the seat. He leaned toward them over the back of the chair. “My morning just started looking up.”

Avi swore that Sofie mumbled, “I’m going to
so
need a drink now.”