Never Letting Go (Delphian Book 1) Page 6

  My heart skipped a beat at the sensation.

  “Sparks,” he mumbled, brows furrowed in deep contemplation.

  I looked from our joined hands up into his face. All I saw was my own reflection mirrored in his lenses. “You can let go of me now.”

  “Do I really have to?” he asked softly, but did as I requested. “Does that make you allergic to me?”

  I glanced up at him, feeling breathless all of a sudden. “You … you might be the exception.”

  My mind finally returned to where I was and I realized my stop had arrived.

  “I have to go,” I confessed, reluctantly moving toward the exit.

  Dad would kill me if I missed the interview. He’d blame it on my wandering mind.

  “Wait!”

  Pausing by the doors I turned my head slightly, looking at his face one last time. I really didn’t want to leave him and it was hard not to throw caution to the wind and leap into his arms. I knew he’d catch me.

  Instead, I stepped out of the train and spoke wistfully before the train doors slammed shut with a resounding bang.

  “I’ll see ya around.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  I DIDN’T ACTUALLY see Ethan again until about a year later. By then I had almost forgotten our first encounter. The second time I saw him I was sixteen, perhaps a year or so after the train incident. I was completely different from the girl at the train station and if I had to guess, so was he.

  It was probably after seven … just as the sun was about to set. I’d been staring at this lump of a guy lying against a tree that was growing sideways. A tree that had definitely seen better days. The trunk weathered over the years, its dark red leaves battered, and barely hanging from branches that looked like they’d snap at any minute. It was a tree that looked as damaged as I felt inside.

  Well, having your only living parent die, leaving you orphaned and alone, does something to the insides. If I had to describe it, it was as if I had been burned, like someone had lit a torch to the contents of my body, and the fire had consumed me, slowly turning me to rubble and coal.

  Dead.

  So the fact that I noticed my heart pounding against my chest for the first time in a very long time as I stared at this stranger left me in a daze. It wasn’t until later that I even realized he was the stranger on the train that I used to daydream about. I closed my eyes and slowly inhaled, tried holding on to that feeling that I thought I had lost forever.

  I felt alive.

  I opened my eyes again, not wanting to look away from him, not wanting that feeling of hope and life suddenly surging throughout my body to disappear. Why was being in his presence making me feel this way? I didn’t know, and at that moment I didn’t care. All I knew was that this stranger, this boy, looked up at the sky as if it held the key to all his questions and I wanted to know if they had been answered.

  Because I also had questions for the universe.

  Hands tucked behind his head, there was a longing in his gaze, and I followed it, staring at the multicolored sky before it soon darkened. I wondered briefly at what thoughts passed through his mind for him to stare with so much need at the sky above him. I glanced back at him, envious that he felt something.

  While I was back to feeling nothing.

  He finally noticed me watching him a few feet away and it happened again.

  Thump.

  My heart beat so strongly it left me breathless. I faltered, touched a hand to my chest, and finally connected my eyes with his. This flutter of a thousand wings erupted in my stomach all at once.

  Those eyes, was my first thought. Beautiful, was the next.

  For a split second, as I stared deeply into his stormy gray eyes I thought I knew what it felt like to drown, and I had wished I had seen those eyes the first time I had met him because maybe he could have saved me then. Head going under water, that feeling of fullness burst inside my chest as I chased air I thought I’d never breathe again. For a moment, my heart ached more than it already did, and I wanted to chase that feeling, chase it and never let it go.

  I was being consumed whole, right where I stood.

  Everything in my life was forgotten. My dad didn’t just die. I wasn’t a sixteen-year-old suddenly with the responsibilities of an adult. I didn’t drive away all my friends, and “maybe friends” because I was envious of their perfect little families. I didn’t just run away from my best friend, the only person left in the world that actually mattered to me. I wasn’t haunted on a nightly basis when I closed my eyes, imagining the frail body of my cancer-stricken father as he slowly slipped away.

  I wasn’t afraid to fall asleep.

  My lips just trembled and I held my breath, waited for him to speak first. My brain was still unable to formulate any words. I was still overly overwhelmed with an onslaught of emotions that I had never felt before. Wait for him to speak, my mind kept telling me. He’d know what to say.

  Because I clearly didn’t.

  I thought he’d tell me to fuck off, scram. Something. I had interrupted his peaceful moment of solitude with my sullied presence. Had it had been me in his situation, I would have told myself to leave me the hell alone. He probably thought he was the only one who knew about the bluffs with the stunning view of the sky as the sun set, and I had destroyed that notion by existing.

  But … no. He didn’t tell me to leave. He just looked at me in a way that felt like he knew every little detail about me, about all the things I’d been through and suffered. I felt like crying.

  And I wanted to know everything about him.

  “Your eyes…”

  I glanced down then and back up to see that he was still staring at me with those soul-gazing eyes of his. We both seemed to have a thing for eyes. I bit my bottom lip, tried hiding the small smile that wanted to creep over my face as I listened to his voice. It was like a low rumble, soothing, bringing me to another world, one where it was just he and I and no one else. No pain, no ache.

  Nothing.

  I watched him and he watched me in return, boy and girl. His eyes followed the sweep of my hair as it hung around my face, down the length of my neck. I swallowed in nervousness, pulse rapidly beating against my skin. He stared at the gold locket resting on my chest for some time before his eyes finally went back up and connected with mine.

  He looked, he really looked, at me.

  And just like that, I had fallen in love with this boy who stared at me like he was seeing my soul, accepting me as I was.

  It was only then that I remembered what he had said.

  “What about them?” I finally managed to say, tilting my head to the side as I waited patiently for his answer. I had recently forgone the glasses and showed off my pretty greens proudly.

  He leaned back against the tree he was perched on, sucking on a candy. He made that sound that all mouths make when candy is nothing but tasty, and I wished I was that candy.

  Dear God, help me.

  “They look like cat eyes.”

  I glanced away from his full lips, desperate for a bottle of water. I grimaced, wrapping my arms around myself. “That’s what everybody says,” I said, shrugging nonchalantly, as if I wasn’t nervous as hell.

  A hint of a smile crossed his face, then instantly disappeared. His candy positioned between his teeth, he bit hard into it, the crunch carrying to my ears. He studied me thoughtfully. “I think I’ll call you Kitty Cat. In fact, I prefer it.”

  “Kitty Cat?” I scoffed at the nickname. I raised my chin at him. “You don’t even know my real name, so how are you so sure you’ll prefer it?”

  That smile came back and this time, it remained. It was lazy and sexy and so goddamn sure of itself.

  I loved it.

  “Because it’s my special name for you.”

  I looked straight into his eyes, again marveling at how gray they were. They looked almost unnatural and I was instantly addicted. I dropped my arms to my side and stepped closer to where he was prone, curious. “Do you nick
name everyone you just meet?”

  This wicked glint appeared in his eyes and he slowly sat up. Even perched on the tree he was taller than me. I looked up at him as his hand drew toward my face and he slowly ran his fingers through my dark red tresses. He examined the strands, running a single finger down my cheek, then down my neck, before his finger hooked on the locket on my necklace. I shivered from the pads of his fingers brushing against my bare skin, and my eyes, damn them, fluttered helplessly. I swear, I heard him mumble something that sounded like sparks.

  His eyes gleamed even more as he stared at me knowingly. One brow raised, he finally answered. “No, Kitty Cat,” he whispered, tugging me closer. “I don’t. Only you.”

  We regarded one another in silence, slowly, yet all at once falling in love with each other.

  But who knew we were both carrying a darkness deep inside that would be the end of life as we knew it.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE FIRST TIME it happened was exactly three days after the funeral.

  I could hear the waves of the ocean crashing behind us, our feet buried in the warm sand, the grains getting between our toes. We held each other firmly, as if either one of us would instantly drop to the ground without the support of the other. His large hands gripped my waist, then loosened oh so slightly. He trailed his fingers up and down my sides, my body shivering in response. In return, I clutched the back of his neck and smiled against his skin. Showering tiny kisses along the column of his neck, I breathed in his intoxicating, familiar scent that reminded me of a warm embrace after a rainfall.

  “You know, you’re eventually going to have to let me go,” his low voice rumbled over my head.

  I paused, my mouth millimeters away from his skin, and looked up into piercing gray eyes that stared down at me in sadness. The sun shone brilliantly from behind him so it was difficult to see the rest of his features. Blinking against the intensity of the sunlight, I frowned, then turned my head, resting the side of my face along his solid chest.

  “No,” I responded firmly, and shook my head in protest. “I can’t let you go.”

  I felt his arms tighten around my waist and he gave a low chuckle. I marveled in the sensation of his voice vibrating against my ear as it pressed against him. “You are stubborn, Kitty Cat.”

  I drew back and smiled lazily up at him. I enjoyed it when he called me by my special nickname, said only by him. I would have smacked any other person who attempted to do so. “But you love me for it.”

  I saw a faint smile cross his features. “That I do.”

  “This is nice,” I remarked. I leaned closer into him. “Don’t tell anyone but I prefer it when it’s just you and me. Everyone else takes too much energy.”

  “I prefer it too. We make sense together,” he murmured confidently. “Always have.”

  “And always will.” I bit my lip, then jumped right into what I really wanted to say. “I was thinking,” I started eagerly, and I took a hold of his hand, squeezing tightly with both of mine. “Why don’t we take a vacation, somewhere far away from here, just you and me? We could play chess for days. I’ll even let you win.”

  As geeky as it sounded, it was one of our favorite pastimes.

  The smile on his face faltered, instantly replaced with anguish. He ran a hand down my thick, shoulder-length hair, almost regretfully. “You know we can’t do that, Kitty Cat.” His voice sounded so miserable that it pained my heart to hear him speak as I stared up at him.

  I frowned again, this time near pouting. “Why not?” He’d never said no to anything I asked for in the past.

  Why was this time any different?

  I watched as he brought a hand to my left cheek to brush a tear that had fallen from my eye without my knowledge. I inhaled a shaky breath, wondering why I was suddenly crying. There was absolutely no reason for me to be crying right now.

  But I was soon given the answer as he spoke next, his gray eyes glittering with his own tears.

  “I’m sorry, baby, but this is only a dream.”

  My body instantly froze, my eyes widening in shock. I felt my heart breaking into tiny fragments and I grabbed at my chest, another tear helplessly falling down my cheek. I closed my eyes in denial, his voice still echoing in my head. Never in my life had I wanted to reject something as much as those words.

  Only a dream.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I INSTANTLY WOKE up to tears streaming down my face.

  I realized everything I had just experienced was nothing more than a figment of my imagination. I was no longer on a beautiful white beach with strong arms wrapped around me as we spoke loving words to one another. There was no sun beating down on our skin as I used my hands to block out the strong rays. I could no longer hear the sound of the ocean crashing as it engaged in an internal battle with itself. No, none of that ever happened.

  Because he was dead.

  I was alone in my bedroom. It was a rather dark and depressing room—shades closed, windows drawn. I lay on my back staring up at my white ceiling. I could hear the tick, tick, tick of my clock above my computer desk far off in the corner. It was a constant reminder of the days that still moved on without him. I had an itch to walk over, rip the clock from the wall, and hurl it out the window. I wanted to hear the sounds of splintering wood and broken glass. But that would take too much energy and bring in the dreadful light.

  So I blinked instead.

  And I did not want a reminder of the happiness that was most certainly brewing outside on a Sunday morning, birds chirping, little children playing, a most guaranteed scenario.

  Instead I wanted to drown in my sorrows, however pathetic that may sound.

  I rubbed both eyes aggressively with the palm of my hand and wiped away my spilt tears. Sighing, I slowly rolled out of bed, and shuffled toward the bathroom adjoined to my room. I flicked on the light and blinked a few times against the sudden brightness.

  Then I looked in the mirror.

  I was a mess. My thick hair was in a tangled disarray around my head. Eyes were presently bloodshot from crying every night since that night. I felt dirty, knowing that I probably hadn’t showered in a while, maybe a day or two—I honestly couldn’t recall.

  Not that I cared.

  I could still remember the feel of him though, that familiar scent of him. I closed my eyes at the memory. He smelled like a breath of fresh air … and cinnamon. I always found myself with my nose buried against his skin, inhaling his essence, much to his amusement. His rumbling laugh would give me goose bumps every time I heard them; his eyes would look down at me with so much tenderness and want that it would make my heart ache every time I saw them.

  His lips…

  I flinched at the successive knocks on my bedroom door and snapped out of my daydream. Giving my head a shake, I looked over at my door in irritation. Then I shuffled back out of the bathroom and stared silently at the entrance, sizing it up. I wondered if I should even open it, not really in the mood for small talk among my roommates.

  They didn’t know how to deal with someone in mourning.

  “Hey,” the voice whispered softly through the doorway, almost achingly.

  A lump formed in my throat hearing that simple word being said by that particular voice. It was a voice I hadn’t heard in such a long time. Tears started to well up in my eyes again. I had an incredible desire to sink down to the floor, not knowing if I would be able to handle the impending onslaught of emotions that I knew were sure to come.

  “Come on, now. Open the door.” This time it was said more firmly and I could clearly see the doorknob rattling.

  I blinked once, then I unlocked the door, opening it, ignoring the creakiness of its hinges. I was then left standing in front of my intruder, my head bent down as if in defeat, looking at a pair of white tennis shoes.

  “You wore your shoes in the house,” I said plainly as a form of greeting.

  “Sorry.” He immediately kicked them off and my intruder was left standing in a pai
r of non-matching socks, one blue and the other, green. “This better?”

  I could actually feel the intensity of his gaze at the crown of my head. It demanded that I look up and meet his eyes. Blowing out a puff of air, I tilted my head up and finally caught his stare.

  “Liam.” My voice broke on his name.

  As soon as I spoke his name, he rushed toward me and enveloped me in a tight embrace, lifting me in his arms, and I wrapped myself around him like a lost puppy.

  “I’m sorry,” he said gruffly against my hair. “I’m so sorry.”

  I sobbed in his arms. Liam, my best friend. There were only two people in the world that I loved and he was one of them.

  Well, as of six days ago. He was now the only one.

  He stood me back on my feet as he closed the door behind him and we stood staring at one another. Maybe if we lived in an alternate universe it would have been he and I together. Everyone always thought that was how it would be. Best friends who have known each other all their lives, the fact that Liam probably knew every little thing about me, that I knew everything about him, down to each and every freckle on his skin; hell, even I had thought we would be together, eventually.

  But that was before I had met Ethan.

  “I should have been here for you.”

  I closed my eyes for a moment as I took a calm breath. “Liam, you were halfway around the world. I can’t expect that of you.” Liam had left town to spend his last two years of high school abroad in Spain on an exchange program. He’d always had a fascination with the place, where his parents were from.

  “But you needed me.”

  “What I need—” I broke off roughly. “What I need isn’t here anymore.”

  Liam winced at my words and I immediately felt sorry for speaking so harshly. I knew he was only trying to help, and me being a B-I-T-C-H wouldn’t make things any better.

  Or easier.

  “I’m sorry,” I said solemnly, reaching up to stroke his hair.