Intertwined. Gena Showalter

put it out for me,” she said. “I don’t want to return to work smelling like an ashtray.”

      “I have a feeling your roses will love you, anyway,” her friend said dryly and took another drag. “Take pity on me. I’ve been stressed and I need this.” As she spoke, she flicked the ashes on the pavement, attention wandering.

      “What have you been stres—”

      “Oh, oh, oh. Boy. Three o’clock. He just sat down at the table across from ours. Dark hair, movie-star face and muscles. Dear God, the muscles. Best part, he’s totally scoping you. Best part for you, that is. Why isn’t he scoping me, too?”

      Mary Ann’s heart immediately soared into hyperspeed. First that strange wind, and then a dark-haired boy nearby? Please be a coincidence. Leaning forward, shielding her mouth with her hand, she whispered, “Is he dirty?”

      “You mean, perverted? I don’t know, but I’m willing to find out. He’s hawt!”

      “No. I mean dirty, as in mud and some kind of black gunk all over him? Like motor oil? Are his clothes ripped?”

      “His face is dirty, yes. Well, kind of. It’s smeared, like he tried to clean up. But his shirt is clean and oh, so perfect. God, his hair is dyed black but the roots are blond. I wonder if he has a tattoo? That’s sexy. How old do you think he is? Eighteen? He’s tall enough to be legal. And oh, my God, he just looked at me! I think I’m going to faint.”

      Besides the shirt, the description fit. Maybe he’d changed.

      An emotion she couldn’t name skittered through her. That he might be here …

      She’d meant to stop by her mother’s grave before meeting Penny. It was along the way, after all. But she’d taken one look at the boy, experienced that strange gust of wind, and had only wanted to escape.

      “I saw him earlier,” she said. “I think … do you think he followed me?”

      Eyes widening, Penny shifted in her seat and unabashedly peered over at him. “Probably. A stalker, do you think? God, that’s even sexier!”

      “Don’t stare!” she gasped, slapping her friend’s arm.

      Unhurried and unrepentant, Penny faced her. “Well, I don’t care if he’s the Tri City Butcher and keeps human hearts in his locker. The more I look at him, the more I like him. Very—” she shivered “—bad-boy chic. I might offer him my heart.”

      Bad boy. Yes, that fit, too. Mary Ann didn’t have to turn to remind herself of what he looked like. His image was burned into her mind. As Penny had said, he had black hair with inch-long blond roots. What she hadn’t mentioned was that his face was as perfect as the Grecian statues she’d seen in her world history book, even with the grime. For the briefest of moments, when a beam of sunlight had hit him, Mary Ann would have sworn his eyes were striped with green, brown, blue and gold. But then the ray had disappeared beyond a fluff of clouds and the colors had melted into each other, leaving only an intense black.

      The color didn’t matter, though. Those eyes were feral, wild, and she’d felt that undeniable shock of wind—bizarre wind that had ended as quickly as it had begun. For a moment, she’d felt hooked to a generator, the eye contact jolting her, unnerving her. Even hurting her. That’s when the nausea had begun.

      Why had she experienced all that again just now, albeit in a muted way? Before she’d seen him even? Why had she felt any of it at all? This made no sense. Who was he?

      “Let’s pick him up,” Penny said, excited.

      “Let’s not,” she replied. “I have a boyfriend.”

      “No, you have a horny jock who sticks around because he’s desperate to get in your pants even though you keep saying no. Which, by the way, is a guarantee he’s knocking it with someone else every time your back is turned.”

      There was something in her tone … Mary Ann pushed the boy from the graveyard out of her mind—best that way—and frowned over at her friend. “Wait. Have you heard something?”

      Heavy pause. Another drag. Then a nervous laugh. “No. No, of course not.” Penny waved a dismissive hand through the air. “And anyway, I don’t want to talk about Tucker. I want to talk about the fact that you and this Mystery Guy should totally hook up. You like him, I can tell. Your cheeks are flushed and your hands are shaking.”

      “I’m probably coming down with a cold.” Was it bad that she hoped her words were true? When a girl couldn’t get a boy out of her mind, she, well, couldn’t get him out of her mind. Schoolwork was forgotten. Goals were abandoned. The brain became mush. She’d seen it happen, time and time again. She wouldn’t let it happen to her.

      That’s one of the reasons she dated Tucker. He was safe. Cute and popular, but safe. He was busy with football and didn’t mind how often she skipped out on him to work or study.

      “Don’t be a prude. Give me permission, and I’ll call him over here. I’ll have his digits in five flat, and you guys can go out. I won’t tell Tucker, I swear.”

      “No. No, no, no!” She shook her head for emphasis, ponytail slapping her cheeks. “One, I would never cheat on Tucker.”

      Penny rolled her eyes. “So break up with him.”

      “And two,” she said, ignoring her friend’s remark, “I don’t have time to juggle another boy. Even as a friend. Grades have never been more important. SATs are coming up.”

      “You have straight As. And you’ll nail the SATs, guaranteed.”

      “I want to keep the As, and the only way I’ll nail the SATs is if I stay the course. You know that stuff doesn’t come easily for me.”

      “Fine. But when you die from stress and disappointment, you’ll think back to this moment and wish to God you’d taken me up on my offer.” Penny splayed her arms and peered heavenward. “Who would have thought I’d be the smart one in this relationship?”

      Now Mary Ann was the one to roll her eyes. “If you’re the smart one, what does that make me?”

      “The dull, pretty one.” Penny grinned, but for once the expression lacked its usual dazzle. “You can’t help it, I suppose. What with the psychobabble your dad is always feeding you. There’s good in everyone, blah, blah, blah. I’m telling you, Mar, some people are as worthless as an empty bottle of beer and Tucker is one … of … them.” The last was said on an excited gust of breath. “Swweet! I didn’t have to do anything and he’s coming over! Yep, you heard me right. Your stalker is coming over here!”

      Mary Ann turned before she could stop herself. It was the boy from the graveyard. She barely hid her grimace as another of those jolts swept through her, burning her like acid.

      At least the world didn’t seem to implode on itself this time, leaving her with a strange sense of nothingness.

      Steadier now, she studied him. His jeans were ripped but he had indeed changed his shirt. This one was clean and free of holes. His face was just as perfect as she remembered, too flawless to be real. He had thick black lashes that perfectly framed his eyes. Perfectly sculpted cheekbones that surrounded a perfectly sloped nose. Perfectly shaped lips, now dipped into a frown.

      This close, she realized he was taller than she’d assumed. If they stood next to each other, he would tower over her. His features were tight with determination.

      One step, two, he hesitantly approached. When he reached them, he stopped and dropped his backpack at his feet.

      Mary Ann tensed and her mouth dried. What would she do if he asked her out? Tucker was her first and only boyfriend. The first and only guy to ask her out, really, so she’d never had to turn someone down before. Not that this boy wanted to ask her out. Please don’t ask me out.

      Aren’t you an egotistical one? Most boys want your study notes, not your body. Oh, yeah.