Spark

CHAPTER 22

Layne sat in a darkened corner of the pool deck, wondering when she could go home.

She’d entertained thoughts of some massive prank where they’d cut off her hair or throw her in the pool fully dressed. But Taylor and Heather had wrapped her hair in hot rollers for a while, then brushed makeup across her cheeks until she didn’t recognize herself in the mirror. When the hot rollers were pulled free, her hair fell in thick curls down her back, dark tendrils that looked like they belonged to someone else.

And then the party started, and they seemed to forget she existed.

The night was pitch-black now, the torches blazing against the sky. It was too cold to brave the pool, but a dozen students were crowded into the hot tub—including Kara, who had to be on her fourth wine cooler by now. Layne had tried to talk her out of the second one, but Kara had screeched to stop being such a goody-goody.

Everyone had laughed.

That’s when Layne had found a place in the dark.

She’d tried mingling, but she didn’t know anyone here, and every time she approached a group, they stared at her in this confused way, like she was a random stranger who’d just wandered in off the street. At first she tried to join their conversations, hoping the awkwardness would dissipate. But she didn’t know much about sports, she didn’t go to parties every weekend, and she wasn’t on any of the committees these girls seemed to care about. Fall formal? Yearbook? Yeah, right.

Hey, guys, want to talk about the social dynamics in the Brontë sisters’ novels?

She might as well throw herself into the pool.

Taylor was staggering around somewhere. Layne had already seen her puke into the bushes at the edge of the property once.

Not like Layne really wanted her company. Despite the curls, despite the rah-rah-sisterhood shtick, she still didn’t trust Taylor.

Especially since Gabriel hadn’t even shown up.

Maybe this was the joke. Maybe the older girls had strung her along with empty words. But . . . if this was a joke, there didn’t seem to be any punch line. It wasn’t like Taylor was mocking her for sitting alone.

And Layne would be lying if she said her head didn’t turn every time a new person stepped out onto the pool deck. She thought she’d seen Gabriel at one point, but his face wore an easy smile, and he was laughing with the athletic blonde attached to his arm.

Nick. No way Gabriel had gone from sullen and brooding to easy laughter in one afternoon. No way he’d show up with some other girl, when Taylor had said he was coming for her.

Unless that was the joke?

Layne’s thoughts were giving way to traitorous doubts when some other guy by the grill called out, “Nick! Hey, man.” And then they did that whole guy high-five-handshake-shoulder-hug thing.

Relief.

Until she reminded herself that Gabriel still wasn’t here.

And she was still alone.

Layne stared up at the tiki torches lining the pool deck. Small flickers of flame snapped within each. Some boy across the pool had pulled one out of the holder and was using it as a fiery lance to jab at his friends.

“Idiot,” she muttered.

“He is an idiot,” said a voice behind her. “He still thinks he’s in middle school.”

Her head snapped around, her heart begging for it to be Gabriel, though her brain knew that wasn’t his voice.

It was a guy, though, someone she vaguely recognized, though she couldn’t place him. Not cute, but good-looking in that stocky jock way, the kind of guy who’d probably be smashing beer cans into his forehead in college. Dark hair, close cropped, with rounded features. It was too dark to make out the color of his eyes.

He nodded at the kid across the pool, who was now swinging the tiki torch like a sword. “I’d bet money he’s quoting one of the Star Wars movies right now.”

That made her smile. “ ‘Luke,’ ” she intoned. “ ‘I am your father. ’ ”

He grinned back. The firelight caught his eyes and made them shine. “A girl who knows her Lucas.”

She shrugged, feeling her cheeks warm. “I have a brother. That’s the only line I know.”

He gestured at the chaise lounge beside her. “Is anyone sitting here?”

Her cheeks burned hotter, and she hoped he couldn’t tell. “No. Plenty of room.”

Ugh. Why did she say that?

But he sat, and he didn’t smell like alcohol or smoke like most of the people at the party. “Who’s your brother?” he said, casting a look around. “Is he here?”

She snorted with laughter before covering it with a cough. The only thing more awkward than herself at a party would be Simon at one. “No. He’s a freshman. He plays basketball, but he’s on JV.”

“Yeah?” His expression brightened. “I’m on JV. What’s his name?”

She hesitated, wondering how this would play out. “Simon Forrest.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Simon is your brother?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He smiled and looked away. “Nothing. Simon’s all right.” Then he glanced back, a wolfish look on his face. His voice was kind of dark, kind of intriguing. “I’m just surprised he has a hot sister.”

Yeah, her face was on fire. “I’m sure he’d be surprised to hear that, too.”

“Enough about him. What’s your name?”

He seemed closer suddenly, and she could feel sweat on her neck under the spill of hair. He hadn’t mocked Simon, and she’d been prepared for it. Simon’s all right. He’d dropped the words easily. Maybe her brother was starting to build a niche for himself.

Maybe it was okay that Gabriel hadn’t shown up.

“I’m Layne,” she said.

“Layne,” he repeated softly. “I like that. Are you here with anyone?”

It was a testament to Kara’s and Taylor’s efforts that he actually thought she would be here with someone. She shook her head, feeling the curls slide across her shoulder.

He shifted even closer, running a finger from her left shoulder down to her elbow. It was her good side, the safe side, so she let him.

“Hey,” he said in surprise, his voice a bit teasing. “You’ve got a little muscle on you for being so tiny.”

She flushed. “Yeah, well . . .”

“Don’t tell me.” He gave her a quick up-and-down. “Yoga?”

She laughed. “No.” Then she paused. She never talked about horses at school, but she remembered Gabriel’s comment about how it was a silly thing to keep secret—especially from a guy who seemed into her.

“I ride horses,” she explained. She turned her head to point.

“The farm is just outside the neighborhood. I walk to the barn every morning to ride.”

“I know those woods. I live over there, on the other side.” He paused, and she felt him move even closer. “You ride before school? That’s dedicated.”

She shrugged and turned back—to find his lips brushing against hers.

Layne sucked in a breath and pulled away.

He didn’t pursue her, but his hand kept up the stroking of her upper arm. “You okay?”

She nodded quickly, without thinking. He’d tasted sweet, like peppermint.

He reached up to brush a thumb against her lips and her breath caught.

“I’m glad you came,” he murmured.

It softened something inside her. “Me too.”

Then he kissed her again, and she let him, just for the sheer experience of it. His mouth was heavier than she was ready for—but it wasn’t bad. Just . . . unexpected.

When his lips moved to part hers, she put a hand against his chest.

Again, he stopped, and Layne tried to catch her breath.

His eyes searched her face. “You’re very pretty.”

She had the same thought she’d had a moment ago. Maybe it’s okay that Gabriel hasn’t shown up.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

His mouth found hers again, heavy and warm and wet.

So this was what kissing felt like.

Nice, but she didn’t get the big appeal.

She put a hand against his chest a final time. He lifted his head, barely breaking contact. “What is it?”

“I don’t even know your name.”

He smiled, and she felt his lips move against hers. “It’s Ryan,” he said. “Ryan Stacey.”

Gabriel stared at the dashboard of Hunter’s jeep and made no move to get out of the vehicle.

“I don’t know what the hell we’re doing here,” he said.

“Well,” said Hunter, “we could always go back to the house and watch Mamma Mia! with my grandparents. Or maybe we could stare at the police scanner for another hour and wait for nothing to happen. Or maybe—”

“I just don’t feel like being at a party.” At this party. Full of guys who’d know he wasn’t allowed on the team. Full of girls who’d tease him about being an idiot.

Hunter’s dog stuck his head between the seats, and Gabriel reached up to scratch him behind his ears. “I’ll just stay here with the dog.”

Hunter sighed and gave him a look. “Come on, baby, don’t be like that. Did you pack your Midol?”

“All right, all right.” Gabriel climbed out of the car, slamming the door behind him. “I don’t even know why I like you.”

Heather’s place was packed—but then her parties always drew a crowd. There had to be a dozen kids crammed into the hot tub, though no one was braving the pool. Music blared from a sound system on the far side of the pool deck, loud enough that it was a miracle no one had called the cops already.

Gabriel kept thinking of Layne’s house down the road. She’d dropped that note on his desk this afternoon. I’ll help you. That’s it. No phone number, nothing.

And she still hadn’t called. Lucky him, it was Friday, and he could wonder about it all weekend.

For about two seconds, he had a fleeting hope that she might be here. Taylor had mocked him at lunch, some crap about inviting Layne so they could all “study together,” but Gabriel had ignored her until she went away.

Layne hated Taylor. She hated Heather Castelline. And this wasn’t exactly her crowd.

“Your brother’s here,” said Hunter, handing him a soda from somewhere.

“I know.” He’d figured Nick would be here, had already spotted him across the pool with Quinn.

Nick had spotted him, too, staring at Gabriel for exactly one second before looking away to laugh at something Quinn said. And then he never looked back.

Fine.

“Hey, aren’t you the new kid in my American lit class?”

Gabriel turned—but the girl standing there was talking to Hunter. Calla Dean, tall and lithe and probably on as many sports teams as he himself was—though they rarely ran in the same circles. She’d gotten the school volleyball team to the state championships last year as a sophomore. The only reason he knew her was because she’d caught his eye once: Blond hair streaked with blue was chopped off right at her shoulders, and tattooed flames encircled her wrists and crawled up the insides of her forearms.

He would have hit on her, but she was blunt and aggressive and rumor said she played for the other team—in a way that decidedly did not mean sports.

Then again, she was looking at Hunter like he was something to eat.

“Yeah,” said Hunter. “Aren’t you the girl who told Mrs. Harrison you were intimidated by the ‘length’ of Moby Dick?”

“Who isn’t?” said Calla, deadpan.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at a party,” said Gabriel.

Calla shrugged. “You never know when something interesting might happen.” She reached out a hand to touch Hunter’s arm, tracing the small tattoo by his elbow. “I like this. It’s not Arabic, is it?”

“Farsi.”

Her eyes lit with intrigue.

And that was enough for Gabriel. “I’m going to get some food,” he said, turning for the grill.

Usually he’d get stopped half a dozen times when crossing ground at a party. Game recaps, plans for the next weekend, practice strategies.

Tonight? Conversation died when he approached.

He grabbed some burgers and dropped onto an empty chaise lounge by the pool, straddling the cushion to set his plate in front of him. The tiki torches flickered in his direction.

Welcome.

’Sup, he thought.

Some kid across the way was swinging a torch with abandon, and Gabriel could feel the flame’s excitement at the potential for danger. Cloth, paper, whatever. As soon as the fire found fuel, it would flare.

What an idiot.

Despite the music, the air was quiet here by the pool. Gabriel could feel people looking at him, talking about him, but it was easier to ignore them when he wasn’t standing directly in their midst.

And not everyone was talking about him. Some kids by the back door were playing cards. The people in the hot tub had a lively interaction going on—the kind that didn’t exactly involve a lot of talking. Hunter was still talking to Calla, following her into the house now. Interesting. And another couple was going at it hot and heavy at the opposite end of the pool deck. Probably drunk, or they’d never be out here in the open.

He wondered what Layne would do if he walked to her house and started throwing stones at her window.

Gabriel polished off his food and set the plate below his chair, dropping back to stare up at the stars.

A breeze caught the flames and made them flicker.

Play?

He shook his head. Not now.

Then a stronger gust of wind whipped across the pool to sprinkle him with water and blow out the three torches surrounding him.

Nick.

Gabriel flung a surge of power into the torch by his twin, making flames shoot high and spray sparks. Girls shrieked and scattered, including Quinn.

Gabriel smiled.

“That wasn’t very nice.”

He craned his head back. Becca stood there in the darkness. He couldn’t make out her expression, but the displeasure in her voice said enough.

Gabriel looked back at the pool. “Maybe I’m not very nice.”

“Can I sit down?”

He shrugged. “Go ahead. I already lost my wingman.”

She moved forward between the lounges, and he expected her to drop onto the one next to him, but she sat on his. She faced him, her hip against his, the warmth in her body carrying through the gauzy skirt she wore.

His eyes flicked up to hers. “Trying to make Chris jealous?”

“No. I’m trying to figure out what’s up with you.”

“Don’t bother.”

“Nick doesn’t know what he did wrong. You know, he’s beating himself up trying to figure it—”

“Becca, stop.” He glared out at the pool. “Nick did nothing wrong.”

That was the whole problem. Nick never did anything wrong.

“He misses you.”

Gabriel snorted and gestured to the dark tiki torches. “Yeah, he’s got a funny way of showing it.” He fished the lighter out of his pocket and stood to relight them.

Really, he couldn’t take her closeness right now.

He pulled down the first torch and flicked his lighter. Becca stood next to him, and he watched the firelight dance across her cheeks. She looked worried.

He sighed. “Please stop looking at me like that.”

“Are you really starting these fires?” she whispered.

He pulled down the next torch. If he said no, would it make a difference? He could already hear the plea in her tone, the fear behind her whisper.

But then he flicked his lighter, and something beyond Becca caught his eye.

Taylor and Heather had cell phones in their hands, and they were taking pictures—or maybe video—of the couple writhing on the lounge. The girls were giggling, but he couldn’t make out everything they were saying.

He let the flame die and nodded in their direction. “What do you think is going on over there?”

Becca turned and her whole body stiffened. “Hey!” she called. She started storming across the pool deck. “Hey!”

God, she was a ballsy chick. Gabriel followed her.

Taylor and Heather were making wolf whistles, egging the couple on. Some big kid was on top of a much smaller girl in boots and a miniskirt. He couldn’t see her face behind the guy, but he’d worked her skirt up to her waist and her shirt up to her chest, revealing the edge of a bra. Thank god she had tights on, or she’d be giving quite a show.

The guy’s arm was on her shoulder, pinning her there, his hand over her mouth.

The other hand was trying to force the shirt higher. The girl squealed and struggled.

Becca walked right up and punched him in the kidney. “Get off of her, you asshole!”

He barely grunted. Becca was tiny.

Gabriel was not. He slammed the guy into the concrete pool deck.

Ryan Stacey.

“Jesus,” said Gabriel. “You really are an asshole.”

Chris was suddenly there beside him. He must have seen Becca go flying across the pool deck. “Yeah. He is.”

“Ohmigod,” said Taylor, almost breathless with laughter. “I got all of that. Hey, Ryan, that was the best hundred dollars I ever spent. Who’s the prostitute now, bitch?”

Gabriel snapped his head up. The girl was curled against Becca now, and he couldn’t see her face.

Ryan was laughing—he didn’t even seem to care that his head had cracked on the pavement. Obviously hammered. “No wonder her brother is a deaf retard. She’s all deformed under there.”

Layne. Gabriel grabbed the front of Ryan Stacey’s shirt and punched him in the face. And again. And—

“Gabriel. Gabriel.” Someone had his arms. Nick. And Chris. The torches were blazing now, pouring smoke into the sky, illuminating the pool deck like a bonfire. Ryan Stacey’s face was a mess. Gabriel wasn’t even sure he was still conscious. They’d drawn a small crowd, but Gabriel had his eyes locked on the trembling figure in Becca’s arms.

Layne, definitely Layne.

God, he’d been sitting right over there.

Gabriel was frozen, torn between going to Layne or breaking every bone in Ryan’s body. Followed by Taylor’s. Fire was whipping higher into the air, fed by his temper, looking for something more to burn.

“Take their phones,” said Becca. “Break them.”

“Please,” scoffed Taylor. “Like it’s not already online.”

But Chris snatched them anyway, snapping the cases and throwing the pieces into the pool. The girls didn’t look concerned. They looked satisfied.

“And, Gabriel,” said Taylor, “your part in this was too perfect. I didn’t think you’d show up.”

Layne made a choked noise and lifted her head. Her cheeks were red and tear streaked.

Gabriel wanted to break every bone in his own body. He could have stopped this. He’d been right here.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

She made that strangled noise again and pushed free of Becca. And then she was running, shoving past people, fighting her way toward the road.

Gabriel went after her.

But a hand caught his arm and pulled him back. Nick.

Gabriel shoved him, hard. “What?” he yelled, hearing his voice break. “What the fuck, Nick, what?”

“Here.” Nick was staring back at him, his hand out, his eyes almost haunted. “Here. Take the car. Get her out of here.”

There was too much to say. Gabriel couldn’t speak past the emotion in his throat.

So he closed his fingers around the keys and ran after Layne.