Velvet (4 page)

“Good,” I said slowly, wondering where this was going. And then because he didn’t seem like he was going to say anything else, I asked, “How are you?”

He smiled and murmured, “Good.” And then the smile faltered and he rubbed his eyes.

I frowned. “Do you get headaches a lot?”

He looked up at me sharply. “What?”

I pointed a finger at his head. “You keep rubbing your eyes like you have a headache.”

“Oh,” he said, relaxing. “No, I don’t get them often.” He looked up at me again with a soft smile. “All better.”

I smiled back awkwardly, but the silence stretched.

“So,” I said, searching for a safe topic to break the weirdness, “I heard you had an impressive initiation last year at the Halloween Hoedown.”

His mouth quirked up at the corner in a half smile, but he didn’t say anything.

“I heard you somersaulted off a balcony about a dozen times,” I prompted.

“Did you?”

“I did.”

I stared at him, trying to get a read on his expression. He just stared back evenly. For a second, my conviction about him wavered, but then I looked at his flawless skin, the eight-hundred-dollar sweater.… Maybe in New York City he could merely be a meticulous dresser, but not here. Not in Stony Creek. Honestly, what was someone like him doing in a place like this, anyway? Trish had said he’d been here since sixth grade. Add that to the fact that he was a senior and had never gone on a date—no way he was straight. It felt safe to stare right back at him without worrying that he would consider it flirtatious.

Finally, he smiled. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and find out.”

I smiled despite myself, rolled my eyes, and settled back in my chair for my nap. I heard him open a book, but I was asleep after a few moments.

Half an hour later, the bell rang and I jolted awake to the sight of Norah hovering over me. Adrian quietly packed up his books to my left as I sat up and tried to remember where I was.

“Hey,” she said. “Mom called the office. She and Dad are having a problem with one of the horses, so they can’t come pick us up. I usually throw my bike in the back of Molly’s mom’s truck and she said she could take you, too.”

Before I could respond, Adrian stood. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I was going to take Caitlin home.”

We looked in tandem at Adrian. Then Norah turned to me, obviously expecting an explanation.

“Uh, yeah,” I said belatedly. “Tell Molly I said thanks, though.”

“All right, well—see you at home.” Norah was wide-eyed as she walked off.

As we left the library, snaking our way through the rush of students, it took about point-three seconds for everyone to notice that I was walking with Adrian. And I mean
everyone
: parents, students, even the faculty heading for their busted-up cars. I very much got the impression that Adrian was a big deal here—and Adrian deviating from the norm was practically unheard of, based on everyone’s reactions. Distracted by our audience, it took me about six seconds to realize what vehicle Adrian was heading toward.

I stopped dead. “You’re kidding me.”

Ignoring me, he unlocked a helmet from the seat of a matte-black Harley-Davidson. I walked up to him, knowing and not caring that everyone had stopped to watch us.

“You drive a motorcycle.”

“Yeah.” He put his sunglasses on.

I couldn’t stop staring. “You drive a
Harley
.”

He handed me a helmet then settled onto the bike. “Yeah.”

I took it, dumbfounded. This was not what I had expected when he offered to give me a ride, though it did explain why there wasn’t room for Norah. The bike was huge, which made sense since he was at least six feet tall, but it meant the backseat, where I imagined I was supposed to go, was at waist level.

“Hey, Adrian,” I said casually, testing out his name in his presence for the first time. “How do I, y’know, get on?”

He pointed at the back footrest. “Step there, hold on to my shoulder, swing over.”

I stalled. “What if the bike falls over?”

“The bike will not fall over.”

“How do you know the bike will not fall over?”

He stared down at me. “Because I’m on it.”

Good point.

“When we’re on the road,” he continued, “lean when I lean. Don’t ever lean the opposite direction. If there’s some emergency, tap my chest. I don’t have mics in the helmets, so we can’t really talk once we get going.”

I could feel dozens of eyes on us as I put my foot on the back pedal, used his shoulder to brace myself, and swung my leg over the seat ungracefully, wriggling into place behind him. The passenger seat was shallow and backless, which meant if I wasn’t basically spooning him from thigh to neck, I would fall off. Not really wanting to touch him, but seeing nothing else to hold on to, I rested my hands lightly on the sides of his waist and leaned back so at least my chest wasn’t plastered to his spine.

He stuck the key in the ignition. “You planning on staying on the bike?”

I nodded vigorously. “Yes.”

He started the engine. “Then hold on. I don’t bite.”

I threw my arms around his waist, afraid he was going to take off with or without me, and could feel the vibrations through his jacket as he laughed. Kicking up the stand, he backed up the bike and pulled out of the parking lot. Even over the hum of the engine, I could hear the rabid gossip start up the second we were on our way.

It wasn’t long before we were out of sight of the town and up in the winding mountain roads. I didn’t know exactly how much I was supposed to lean, but soon figured out that as long as I held on to him, the two of us moved together by default.

I was actually beginning to relax when a sixteen-wheeler roared past going the opposite direction. I felt a rush of air flare against the bike, rocking it. Part of me wanted to slap Adrian on the chest so he could let me off, but I figured if I was going to die, crashing on a Harley with a man who wore designer jeans wasn’t the worst way to go.

A few minutes later we reached the turnoff for the ranch, but Adrian kept going. I was about to yell that he’d missed it, but realized getting him to turn around at fifty miles an hour to look at me was not the brightest idea I’d ever had. We drove along for another ten minutes before he pulled onto the side of the road and we shoved our helmets off.

“The ranch is back there,” I said, pointing over my shoulder.

“I know. I thought you should see this.”

He nodded toward the sun, already low in the sky. Miles below, the center of Stony Creek was no more than a few pinpricks of light and chimney smoke. This late in the fall the forest looked like it was on fire in the brush of late-afternoon light. The breeze touched my face and for a brief moment I closed my eyes and just breathed.

“It’s beautiful,” I told him, looking up.

He smiled, and it was one of the warmest I’d seen from him yet. He looked back down over the valley thoughtfully. “It grows on you. It’s a small town, but it’s in the middle of a big place.”

Once again, I wondered what someone like him was doing way out here. The nearest city was almost two hours away, and while the town was, admittedly, picturesque, it seemed a strange place for a kid like him to grow up.

Glancing back, I saw his eyes were pinched shut. “I thought you didn’t get headaches that often?”

“I don’t,” he said sharply, pulling his helmet back on. “Let’s go.”

When we pulled up to the ranch, I could see Norah spying on us through the kitchen window. Ignoring her, I handed him my helmet and swung clumsily off the bike, pausing a few feet away, not certain how to end our encounter. I settled with a safe “thanks for the ride.”

He looked me over once. “It’ll be colder in the morning, so dress warmly.”

I guess that meant this wasn’t a one-time thing. He started the engine and took off without a backward glance.

What an odd guy. Hot—but odd.

Sadly, it didn’t look like Rachel had been around to witness the Harley. As soon as I closed the front door, Norah pounced.

“What was that?” she demanded.

I looked around innocently. “What?”

“You!” She pointed at the door. “
Adrian
.”

I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a Pop-Tart from the pantry, ignoring her, but she trailed after me. “He never lets anyone on that bike,” she persisted. “I’ve heard a ton of girls ask, and he always says no.” She paused, considering. “He’s kind of rude about it, actually. You’re here two days and he just
offers
to drive you home?”

I shrugged and bit into the pastry. “They’re the last house on this road besides us, right? He drives right by, maybe he’s just being neighborly.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Then why hasn’t he offered me a ride before?”

I smiled thinly. “Maybe he’s got a thing for orphans.”

I walked past my cousin, heading upstairs to my room. I might have to keep Adrian around. Gay or not, he was becoming a very useful distraction.

*   *   *

My bed was freaking tiny.

Every morning I’d roll over to turn off my alarm and fall half out before I remembered I wasn’t home in my full-size tucked-in-the-corner-against-the-wall vintage brass-frame bed. I was in the attic of a creaky, converted cabin, sleeping on a secondhand twin with a lumpy mattress and musty blankets. Nothing like a sudden plunge toward the floor to wake a girl up.

Outside, thick clouds mumbled low over the trees. It would probably rain, and I wondered if that meant Rachel would take Norah and me to school.

And then I remembered—Adrian was picking me up.

No way my aunt would miss it this time.

Breakfast was its usual, awkward affair: Rachel and Joe asked me about school; I gave them intentionally short answers; we dissolved into hostile silence. Just as we were finishing up, I heard the unmistakable sound of a motorcycle making its way down the gravel driveway. Joe looked out the window, pulling aside the floral curtains with one of his massive fingers.

“We expecting company?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Rachel replied, turning to the window. Norah just glared at me.

Without saying a word I stood, grabbed my backpack, and left through the front door. I resisted the urge to glance back at the window, but Adrian could see the grin on my face plain as day.

He held the spare helmet out. “You’re in a good mood.”

I swung onto the bike behind him far more gracefully than I had the day before and wrapped my arms intimately around his waist for the benefit of my aunt and uncle.

“I’m using you to scare the crap out of my caretakers. Hope you don’t mind.” I waved at Joe and Rachel, who were staring gape-mouthed at the window.

Adrian glanced at them, too. “Your uncle own a shotgun?”

I smiled. “He owns three.”

“Ah.”

I laughed as he peeled out of the driveway. I think the kicked-up gravel was mostly for effect, as was the speed with which we rocketed toward the main road. I could have kissed him, he played the part so well. It was all petty, but I was feeling petty, and vindictive, and angry.

Underneath it all, so, so angry.

*   *   *

Lunch was such a strange time. I mostly tried to keep to myself, but it was impossible not to be drawn in when the conversations were this absurd.

“I could be slutty bunny,” Meghan said, pouring a bag of Skittles into her mouth and chewing on them thoughtfully.

“You’re not gonna be slutty
anything
,” Laura replied. “You know how cold it gets in that barn? It’s not like it’s heated.”

“What if I’m bundled-up slutty bunny?”

Laura stared at her. “That literally doesn’t make sense.”

All the upperclassmen girls were gathered around the lunch table discussing costume plans for the party. I looked at Trish and she grinned at me before turning on her megaphone voice. “What if we picked a theme this year?”

“Like what?”

“I dunno, like royal romance, or Disney characters, or fairy tales—”

“Only if we go with the originals,” Meghan interrupted. “Like how Ariel dies to gain an immortal soul instead of killing the prince and his fianc
é
e so she can return to being a mermaid.” From the look of her outfit, Meghan liked fairy tales so much that she dressed like them—all at once. I could pick out bits of punk Cinderella, Snow White, and Sleeping Beauty in her ensemble.

When nobody responded, she said, “I guess I could be slutty Little Red Riding Hood after she slashes her way out of the wolf’s stomach with an axe. I’d be warm with a cape. And sexy.”

Laura threw an apple slice at Meghan. “Enough with the sexy and the slutty!” she demanded. “And the gore.”

“I don’t want to be a fairy-tale character,” a senior whined.

“Okay, okay!” Trish said. “What about, like, mythical creatures in general?”

There was a moment of silence as people considered this. My mind immediately went into creative overdrive, thinking of half a dozen costumes I could create—and then I remembered that all my supplies were boxed away in my grandma’s basement. My brief enthusiasm deflated.

Trish looked around. “So we’re agreed?”

“Sure.”

“Yeah.”

“As long as I don’t have to be an ogre.”

“I bet I could be a slutty ogre.”

Luckily, the bell rang before Laura could retort. Trish passed me funny notes during music and history, which honestly cheered me up quite a bit, but I was on my own for study hall.

Well, almost.

I came to a pause in the back corner of the library and stared at the one who had intruded upon my sacred place. “Is this your table now?”

Adrian was already settled in my corner nook. I hadn’t been here a week, but I’d grown attached to this table. It was out of view of the librarian. I could play solitaire on my phone and no one would ever know. The heater vent was directly under my chair.

He glanced up at me from a very complicated trigonometry assignment. “Figured we could share.”

“You’re like some weird welcoming committee, aren’t you?” I asked, sitting down opposite him. “Well, mission accomplished: I am sufficiently welcomed. Thanks for helping me freak out my aunt and uncle and for not asking me about my dead parents. I got it covered from here.”