The Gathering Dark (5 page)

“God. If I’d known you were up for something like that, I would’ve forced you to say yes to Trevor when he asked you to go to the Valentine’s dance last month.”

Keira opened her mouth, but she couldn’t find the words to explain that nice guys—like Trevor Benson, who asked her out every couple of months, even though she rejected him each time—made her even more desperate to get away from Sherwin for good. Nice guys made it easy not to date, but though she hated to admit it, Walker was making it really, really difficult.

It’s not a date,
she reminded herself.
It was a bet.

“When I’m a famous pianist, then I’ll think about finding a boyfriend,” Keira finally said. “But I’m not doing anything to ruin my chances at getting out of here, and dating’s just—”

“A distraction,” Susan finished for her. “You sound exactly like my mother when you say that. If I was half as driven with my schoolwork as you are with your piano, I’d be valedictorian by now.”

“You don’t need to be valedictorian. You’re going to get into a good school and make your parents happy, and then go to law school and be a massive success,” Keira insisted.

“Damn, do I hope you’re right.” Susan slumped down in the seat next to her. Keira had enough determination for both of them. Neither of them were going to spend their lives in this decaying town.

She didn’t care what she had to give up.

•  •  •

Over the next two days, Keira practiced even more than usual. She ignored the memory of Walker’s smile, playing until her legs went numb from sitting at the piano for so long—until her mind was nothing but a wash of notes and tempos, her only emotions dictated by the mood of the music.

By the time she’d gotten herself back under control, Keira was exhausted. Friday morning, she overslept. Both of her parents left the house early on Fridays, and neither of them had bothered to wake her.

She leapt out of bed and yanked on the jeans and gray sweatshirt that were slung over her desk chair, pulled her hair up into a sloppy ponytail, and raced down the hall. She grabbed her bag and a granola bar, and hoped like hell the car would start. On the third try, after she’d smacked the dashboard in frustration and sworn at the engine, it did.

The halls were silent as she tore down them, praying that her English teacher would understand, just this once. Keira took a deep breath, trying to slow her galloping pulse before she eased open the door.

Her eyes were drawn to the thin shadow that ran underneath the door. Nothing else had a shadow in the fluorescent light. Especially not a midnight-colored one. The shadow on the counter the other night leapt into her head. This cool, dark slash of nothingness looked exactly the same. A horrible, nagging voice inside wondered if she was imagining this, too.

Keira bent down, her long fingers shaking as they closed in on the black patch. Right before her fingertips crossed the edge of the shadow, she felt a sudden jerk on her wrist, like something was tugging her into the blackness. The sensation sent her stomach plummeting.

Keira yanked her arm back as the door swung open, and she barely managed to keep herself from tumbling headlong into the classroom. Without the cover of the door, the shadow that had seemed so solid evaporated into nubby, district-issue carpet beneath her knees.

“Nice of you to join us, Miss Brannon.” Mrs. Garcia towered over her, a piece of chalk clutched in her hand. “Perhaps you’d like to take a seat instead of listening at the door?”

Keira slipped into her seat, ignoring the snickers around her.

“Okay, let’s start with Arthur Miller.” Mrs. Garcia scanned the room.

Keira started tapping out the sweeping opening notes of the Allegretto movement she’d been working on. She was too jittery after her dash to school to focus on a boring lecture about “the changing face of theatre.” She’d catch up later.

Maybe.

After class, she ducked into the bathroom to see how disastrous her hair really was and wash her face. The rough brown paper towels left her cheeks pink. Keira smoothed back her ponytail with damp fingers, hoping that it would pass as “artfully messy.”

Susan bounded into the bathroom and stopped short when she saw Keira.

“Well,
there
you . . . whoa. You look—are you okay?”

Keira looked in the mirror and saw the black circles that ringed her eyes and the way her water-spattered shirt hung shapelessly from her shoulders.

“Yeah, I just overslept,” she said. “I’ve been working on this new piece of music and—”

“Are you still meeting Walker this afternoon?” Susan interrupted.

Keira closed her eyes. In the hurry of the morning, she’d finally done what she’d been trying to do all week: She’d forgotten about Walker.

“Uh, yeah, I guess I am.” she said. She mentally counted the money in her backpack, wondering whether she had enough to pay for his coffee. Buying the new music had used up most of her cash. She’d have to see if she could scrounge some change from between the seats of her car or something.

“You don’t sound very excited.” A note of disappointment rang in Susan’s voice.

Keira leaned back against the cool, hard porcelain of the sink. “I know. I’m not. Listen, once I’ve paid my debt to him, I really, really don’t have any plans to see him again.”

Susan’s face fell. “One double date wouldn’t kill you.”

“You’re right. The thing is, I don’t want to spend three weeks convincing him that I’m too busy to see him again, afterward.
I’m sorry, Susan.” The first bell rang. “You’re going to be late, you know.”

Susan shot a last glance at the clock. “Who cares?” Her voice was glum, but her steps were still quick as she swept past two sophomores, who came rushing in amid a flutter of giggles. With a last, hopeless glance in the mirror, Keira pushed her way out the door.

And crashed smack into Jeremy Reynolds’s shoulder.

Jeremy grunted in surprise and his eyes flashed sparks. But when he realized who had run into him, the sparks turned into a flame-lit smile.

“Keira.” He looked at her hair. “Are you doing the bed-head thing on purpose, or did you oversleep?” He leaned in as he laughed and Keira automatically stepped back, maintaining the distance between them. Something about the way he smiled at her was a shade too sweet.

“Just overslept, actually. Sorry—I’ve gotta get to class, Jeremy. If I’m late, I’ll get detention.”

The second bell rang, as though time itself was trying to get her out of the conversation.

“I’d hate to think of you wasting your time in the holding cell they call detention. I can think of way better things for you to do.”

Keira couldn’t hide her shock fast enough.

Jeremy blushed. “Like your piano, I mean. It would be stupid for you to miss that for detention.”

Something about his sudden attention and concern made her want to tell him that she had a date after school thankyou-verymuch. If Susan hadn’t already. Which she probably had.

And anyway, it’s not a date. I’m paying a debt. That’s all.

“Yeah. Thanks. I’ve really gotta go,” she said again, trying to skirt Jeremy. He caught the strap of her bag as she passed, and her neck snapped around painfully as she jerked to a stop.

“Ow! Jeremy, what the—?!”

“Oh. Sorry. I wanted you to know that I’m going over to Tommy’s after school. I think Susan’s coming by after her flute lesson. You should come too. It would be fun.” He was looking at her like she was a carnival prize and he had a pocket full of quarters.

What was his
deal
?

“That’s sweet.” She peeled his fingers off the strap of her bag.

“Awesome! I’ll be there about three—”

She interrupted him. “It’s really nice of you to offer, but I have plans. The three of you have fun, okay?”

Before he could grab her again, Keira darted down the hall. She’d never been so relieved to get to math class. On top of everything else, it looked like she was going to spend the afternoon dodging awkward invitations from Jeremy.

One more reason to wish that the day would hurry up and end.

When it finally did, though, she kind of wished it hadn’t.

Chapter Six

K
EIRA STOOD IN FRONT
of the diner at exactly three thirty, with seven dollars and twenty-three cents in her pocket. The angle of the sun kept her from seeing who was inside. Even though she didn’t have the slightest idea what sort of car Walker might drive, it didn’t stop her from scanning the tiny parking lot, looking for something that fit him.

You’re stalling
, she chided herself.
Get in there and get it over with.

The inside of the diner was dim and it reeked of maple syrup and hot grease. Walker was stretched across one side of a booth near the back of the restaurant, looking oddly at home.
In spite of the fact that it was March, he was wearing a T-shirt that showed off his arms. He raised a languid hand in her direction, but his eyes were bright.

Admit it, he’s gorgeous.

But that doesn’t make any difference, I still can’t date him,
she argued with herself.

Keira marched the length of the restaurant and slid stiffly into the vinyl booth. A cup of tea was already waiting for her, steam curling off its surface. Walker had a mug of coffee at his elbow, pale with milk and a third empty.

“You came,” Walker observed, not bothering to hide the pleasure in his low voice. It rumbled through Keira like an earthquake, sending all of her resolve tumbling to the ground. Everything around them had gone into soft-focus, as though they were the only solid things in the restaurant.

“I said I would, didn’t I?” She’d meant the question to be tart, but all the sting had leaked out of her voice. She drummed her fingers on the edge of the table, trying to regain her balance.

“So you keep your word,” Walker said quietly. “I like that.” He slid a hand across the table and put his fingers on top of hers, stopping her virtual playing midchord. “What are you—oh, I get it.” He smiled. It was like the sun on water—a million diamond reflections. Blinding. Wonderful. “You’re playing piano.”

She nodded and slid her hands out from underneath his. Immediately, she wanted to put them back—to feel the touch of his fingertips again. “Nervous habit. Sorry,” she said. “It
drives my mom crazy. And most of my teachers, too.”

“What were you playing?” He was watching her—listening to her—like she was the only person in the room.

“Uh, just an étude.” Clearing her throat, she reached for her mug, desperate for something to do with her hands. “This is for me?”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Walker said. “But you might want to—”

She downed a huge gulp, then winced.

“Sorry.” He made a sympathetic face.

“I’m the one who didn’t put in any sugar,” she said, reaching for the canister.

Walker frowned. “You didn’t—it wasn’t too hot? It should be scalding.”

Keira looked down into the mug. “No. It’s bitter. Why?” The memory of Jeremy’s cigarette pressed against her skin crawled through her memory, and she slapped it away. It was just a coincidence. She’d gotten lucky, that’s all.

Walker reached out a fingertip to touch the side of her mug, lifting his eyes to study her. “You’re different,” he said slowly.

Keira wrinkled her nose, stirring a mountain of sugar into her tea. “You mean I’m weird.”

Walker laughed. “No. Well, yeah, a little I guess.”

She started to cross her arms but he reached across the table and twined his fingers through hers. His touch coursed through her like a drug.

“I like weird,” he murmured, holding her steady with his gaze. She didn’t even try to push him away.

She wanted him, and there was nothing she could do about it. The fact of it sat in her middle. With a twist of her wrist, she slid her hand away.

Surprise shimmered across his features, but he didn’t seem hurt. “Too soon, huh?” he said lightly, lifting his mug and taking a long drink. Under the table, his feet shifted so that their knees touched briefly. It seemed like an accident, but Keira tucked her legs close to her side of the table.

“Holding hands? Yeah.” Before she could tell him that it would
always
be too soon, he jumped in.

“Maybe on the next date.” The corner of his mouth quirked up, all confidence and promise. The almost-smile sent a tingle through her, and Keira let herself enjoy it. It wasn’t like she couldn’t ever notice a guy. She was human, after all.

Look but don’t touch,
she reminded herself.

“I’m here because I owe you coffee,” she said.

“But you’re
here
.”

She tilted her chin up. “Just because you’re cute doesn’t mean this is a date.” The words tumbled out.

“But you think I’m cute.”

Keira tugged at the end of her ponytail, finally lost in the rising tide of her embarrassment. She felt him lean toward her, his lips close to her ear.

“I’m glad,” he whispered. “Because I think you’re the most
gorgeous thing I’ve seen in as long as I can remember.”

If she’d turned her head, they would have kissed. Without meaning to, she imagined what his mouth would feel like against hers.

Music,
she told herself strictly.
Career. That’s what I need. Not a kiss.

“You barely know me.” She fought to sound firm. His lips brushed against her ear as he settled back into his side of the booth. He sipped his coffee patiently. “Let’s fix that. I already know the most important thing about you,” he said. “But you tell me what I’m missing. Deep dark secrets? Divorced parents? Still sleep with your teddy bear?”

“Not telling you, no, and none of your business,” she shot back. “What about you?”

He gave her the studying look again, but the gray of his eyes looked more June-warm than February-bleak. “Plenty of deep dark secrets. My parents are . . . ” He hesitated. “Well, I guess they’re probably dead. No one’s heard from them since I was little.”

“Oh—I’m sorry,” Keira said sincerely. She couldn’t imagine how awful that must be. Her own parents might be too caught up in their own falling-apart lives to notice much of hers, but at least they were
there.