Ripple (22 page)

He’s been so sweet, trying to fit into my clique, taking me on so many dates. He’s done everything I’ve asked for, and he’s never asked for anything of his own. So why don’t I feel more strongly about him?

Erik and I walk into a gift shop. He lets go of my hand and walks over to the saltwater taffy. He raises one of his dark, thick eyebrows at me and nods in the direction of the taffy. I shrug and then nod, so he grabs one of the clear bags and a big metal scoop, and sets to work dumping a mixture of flavors into the bag.

I wouldn’t have pegged him as a taffy kind of guy. For some reason that fact sticks in my head. I don’t know what kind of candy he likes. Whether he’s from a big family. What the last eighteen years have been like in his life, if they’ve been filled with as much tragedy and heartache as my own. He said his dad is a nix and his mom is a siren.... Are they still in love? Does
he
love
them
?

I turn away and walk across the room, picking up the various overpriced novelties. I start with a sand dollar. It’s smooth, flawless. I run my thumb over the top of it, staring at the star in the center. It was alive once.

I plunk it back down in the bin. This whole section is stocked with sea stars, shells, even dried-up puffer fish and sea horses. It’s ugly in its beauty. I want to throw the whole bin in the trash even as I want to buy everything, bring them to the beach, and find some way to make them alive again.

If sirens were smaller, more plentiful, maybe they’d dry me up and put me in a bin right next to the seashells.

Erik walks up, wraps an arm around me as if it’s the most natural thing in the world and holds up the bag of taffy. I nod. He doesn’t even glance at the bins next to me.

I watch him walk away and remember what he looked like in the tuxedo last night. And then I think about how I’ve spent the last hour with Erik, acting like a normal teen, the one thing I’ve always wanted.

And yet despite all of Erik’s promises, everything he’s given me, I feel strangely . . . unfulfilled. Restless. Sometimes, being with Erik is no different than being the ice queen. He doesn’t push me like Cole does. Doesn’t want to know what I’m afraid of.

He doesn’t even know who I am, and yet it doesn’t seem to bother him. It’s not about who I am to him.

It’s about
what
I am.

Erik takes his bag of taffy and leads me outside. My flats slap against the pavement as he pulls me up against his hip. Again, he smiles in that warm, inviting way of his that always seems to put me at ease. His smile is like wading into the water for the first time in hours.

I smile back at him as he opens the door to an ice-cream parlor for me, and I step into the artificially bright space. He’s talking. His lips are moving as he stares straight at me.

And then I realize I haven’t heard a word of what he’s said to me in the last ten minutes.

And then I realize he hasn’t noticed.

E
rik and I walk back to his place, taking the beach route as we stroll hand in hand. I feel weird about it, and want to pull my hand from his, but he seems to have forgotten about our awkward moment this morning and I don’t want him to think of it now.

My shoes dangle from my fingertips. My bare toes sink into the sand, the grains sticking in between them. The sand suddenly seems deeper, thicker, like it’s trying to suck me right into the beach.

Erik is the only way I can have everything I’ve ever wanted. The only way to guarantee I never turn into my mom. Without him, I’ll never be able to keep Cole and all the others safe.

It’s only with Erik I can be normal. But I wish he cared more about who I was. Wish he asked me about things that mattered. Favorite ice cream? That’s easy. What about my biggest fear? Greatest hope? Doesn’t he care about those things?

This only works if I can love him . . . and what if I can’t?

Because with Erik, it’s so easy to keep him at arm’s length. So easy to keep everything skin deep, never looking beyond that.

Never falling. With him, everything is about the curse, and nothing is about . . .

Me.

We get back to the beach house and thunk down on the couch, and I feel more tired than ever. Erik rubs my shoulders as we sit in the quiet, the sounds of the ocean rushing in through the open windows. I’ve never felt so totally worn down, exhausted. I want to curl up in a ball and let the world pass me by.

“You okay?” He leans forward, traces his lips along my neck, his breath hot on my skin.
You okay?
just reminds me of Cole. Of all his questions. Of the way he met my eyes and seemed to look deep into my soul, wanting a real answer. Why do I feel like Erik is asking that just because he thinks he should? Why do I feel as though he doesn’t want an answer at all?

I have no reason to think that. He’s never done anything wrong. Not specifically anyway.

I nod, but I don’t speak.

“You’ve seemed a little . . . off since this morning,” he says. He doesn’t add “since I said I love you,” but I know he’s thinking it. I look down at my hands, wring them together. My mouth is so dry it’s like someone jammed an entire package of cotton balls down my throat.

“Erik . . .” My voice trails off, weak and quiet.

“Yeah?” He gives me a squeeze, then leans back again, relaxes against the couch.

I relish that I finally have a little room to breathe. “Do you ever feel like . . . like maybe there should be something more?”

The air turns heavy, the silence deafening. I imagine him staring at the back of my head, blinking over and over.

“More than what?”

I twist the blue bracelet in circles around my wrist. “I don’t know. Like . . . like this should be . . . deeper or something.” I twist around to look him in the eye. “Like . . . chemistry. Some deeper pull, or desire, or . . . something.”

Jeez, I’m butchering this.

I shift around, trying to get comfortable, but there’s no position that makes this any easier. And it doesn’t matter anyway. Wherever I go, I can feel his eyes boring into my skin.

“Is this about seeing Cole with Nikki at the dance?”

“What? No. I mean ... not really. I don’t know.” I slide away from him and sit on the other side of the couch. I need to see him, to face him directly so that I don’t have to guess as at his expression. “Doesn’t it kind of feel like we’re trying too hard here? Would you even care about me at all if I weren’t a siren?”

His lips part, his eyes flaring a bit. “What? Of course I would. I told you . . . I love you. It’s not about you being a siren.” He sits back and looks away for a second, out at the beach through the big picture window. Then he looks back at me just as quickly. “Is that what you’re worried about? That I don’t care about you? Or that I only do because of what you are?”

“Well . . . yeah. I just don’t know if this is real, you know? Or if we’re just forcing it.”

Erik slides over on the couch, making up the distance between us. He takes my hands in his. “I promise you, this is all very real to me. You’re . . .
amazing.
Sweet and beautiful and smart. It’s not about being a siren, I swear. I mean, sure, that’s what brought me to you. But I never would have stayed if I didn’t think this could be something real.”

I let out a long breath of air through my lips, then look up at him, into the dark blue eyes that remind me so much of what’s in the mirror. “I just feel like I need to know you. As a person not as . . . a nix.”

He nods. “Of course.”

“Do you think . . . do you think maybe we could slow this all down?”

His eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, this all happened so fast, and I can’t keep up because we are together so much and everything is constantly changing. I just need time to process it. I just want a few nights to go back to my swimming and hanging with my Grandma and let everything just ... settle in, you know? I just feel really out of sorts, and I need time to adjust.” My voice has a hint of a quiver in it. I don’t even know why I’m doing this, what I want. Guilt pools in my stomach when I see his stricken expression.

He reaches out and grasps my hand. “Are you sure? My eighteenth is coming up, and how will you fall for me in time if we’re not together? I can’t kill someone, Lexi. I
can’t.
”

He’s squeezing my hand too hard. I pull it away, and then I stand. “Please. Just a couple days, okay? Let me adjust to this. I’m not leaving you, I swear.”

He stands, but I put out a hand, and he reluctantly sits back down. “Two days?”

I nod, the lump growing in my throat.

“Okay,” he says. “I can handle two days. But my birthday is barely a week away. I can’t give you much longer.”

“Thank you,” I say. I lean forward, brush my lips against his. He grabs my cheek with one hand, his fingers curving behind my head, and pulls me closer, until our kiss lingers so long I’m out of breath.

I pull away from him, the taste of him lingering on my lips. “I’ll be back in a couple of days,” I say.

“Until then,” he says. I nod, and then leave him sitting there on the couch, surrounded by the ocean’s scent.

T
hat night, I park my car in the usual spot, noticing the Jeep parked next to a tree.

It’s Erik’s. He’s sitting in the driver’s seat of his darkened car, watching me. Shadows hang over his eyes, making them impossible to see.

He matches my stare, and I sit, teeth gritted, hands gripping the wheel so hard it’s painful. Long moments tick past as we look at each other, neither of us moving. What is he doing here? He was supposed to give me space. I know he was scared, but it’s just two days. I wasn’t leaving him. I just wanted a little time to think.

I watch him through the shadows as he unbuckles his seat belt. I don’t get out of the car as he slides out of his bucket seat and walks to my door. I unroll the window.

“Hi,” he says, looking sheepish.

“Why are you here?” My voice comes out a little angry. I lower it. “I thought you were going to give me a couple of days.”

He looks down at the key ring dangling from a finger. “I know, but I just got a little worried you were pulling away.”

“Erik. Seriously. I need some space.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” It’s hard not to shout it.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come up here, but before I knew it I was driving up the gravel road.”

I set a hand on his. “Please. Just give me a couple of days. I swear it will all work out. Okay?”

“Sure.” He leans in and gives me a long, lingering kiss, and I feel my body react to it. As he walks away, I can’t help but wonder if that’s what he intended. If maybe he thought the kiss would make me change my mind, want him to stay with me. I sit in my car and watch him back up. I don’t move until his headlights have disappeared down the gravel road.

In fact, I don’t move for a long time, my eyes fixated on the spot where I last saw his red taillights glow.

Erik is taking this all really hard. I get it, I do, but I don’t like it.

I finally unsnap my seat belt and get out of the car. It’s colder than I realized. I reach back into my Toyota and grab a black quilted jacket with a fur-lined hood. Then I put it on and zip it up to my chin. I shove my hands in the pockets and walk to the tree line, entering the shadowed darkness under the canopy. My sneakers sink in the thick pine-needle walkway, and the ferns I brush up against dampen my jeans. I take in several deep breaths through my nose, relishing the sweet smell of the damp forest.

I walk slowly today, in no hurry to get to the lake. The urge to sing is building, bubbling up to the surface as I make the trek through the woods.

The hunger for the water is just as strong as it’s ever been.

The darkness seems thicker than usual somehow. Like the misting rain and the velvet sky have melded together into a big blanket. By the time I step into the clearing beside the lake, the urge to sing has grown enough that I shiver in anticipation.

I shed my clothing and step into the familiar waters, quickly diving under the surface. I stay underwater even longer than normal, until my lungs scream for oxygen. The icy water wraps around my skin, but I don’t feel cold. I feel as though I’m sitting in a warm bath, every muscle relaxing in the water.

I finally come up for air, and my face barely breaks the surface when the song bursts free, my voice loud and clear as I let loose with a melody more haunting than the one that I’ve sung every night these last few weeks.

I’m only a half lap in when the song dies, and something doesn’t feel right.

I jerk upright, glance across the lake at my tree. My clothes still dangle there, but Erik’s not standing next to them. I blink, then spin around and scan the shore and the tree line.

No Erik.

And then something clicks into place. It feels like when I killed Steven. Like the desire to sing hasn’t just disappeared, but like some deep need has been met. It’s the same strange high that drove me to laugh and splash, feeling weirdly euphoric, while Steven floated facedown, just a few dozen yards from me.

Sudden, rushing panic courses through me. The silence buzzes in my ears as my stomach begins to flip over and over and over.

I twist around, then around again, desperate to figure out where
he
is. Whoever he is.

And that’s when I see the body.

“No!” I scream, the sound more like a wildcat’s scream than my voice. I throw everything into swimming toward the body floating hardly twenty feet from me, facedown, innocent as driftwood. I don’t even stop to see who it is. I just flip the body over and yank on the collar of the shirt, dragging him behind me as I kick, gaining momentum until the water streams by faster than ever. My feet find the ground, and I struggle to get him up onto the shore. For the first time, I look down at the pale face and am met with my worst nightmare.