Intertwined

Both he and Shannon nodded.

“Oh.” Fear sparked in her eyes, and she backed up a step.

Was she frightened of him? Why? She hadn’t seemed afraid of him at the coffeehouse.

“You live with … Dan Reeves?” she asked.

Ah. Now he understood. She knew about the ranch, feared the boys inside … and what they’d done to be sent there. He didn’t want to lie to her—again—this girl he so badly wanted to befriend, but he didn’t want to confirm her fears, either. So he ignored the question. “My official first day here is tomorrow. Maybe we have a few classes together.” Hopefully.

“S-see you at the h-house, Aden,” Shannon said, clearly done waiting. He ripped the paper from Mary Ann’s hands.

She gasped as Aden said his goodbyes. “See you, Shannon.”

Shannon walked away without another word.

Aden and Mary Ann stood in silence for several seconds, kids rushing around them, brushing their shoulders, eager to reach the buses or their rides.

“He’s shy,” Aden said to excuse the dreg.

“I noticed.” Mary Ann squared her shoulders and her pretty features glazed with determination. “Look, I’ve felt bad for the past week about the way I treated you at Holy Grounds. I’ve wanted to apologize over and over again.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me,” he assured her. She might have been in a hurry to ditch him that day, but she hadn’t called him a freak or made him feel like one. In his world, that was, like, the royal treatment.

“I do,” she insisted. “I was rude. I would have called, but I didn’t have your number.”

“Seriously, no worries. I would have called you eventually.” He stared down at his feet, realized what he was doing, and forced himself to straighten. “I just, well, I was sick. I spent six days in bed.”

Sympathy softened the angle of her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks.” He smiled over at her. This was the longest conversation he’d ever had with someone. Well, without being interrupted by his companions or losing track of what was being said. He never wanted it to end. “Maybe we could meet here tomorrow and you could show me around.”

Mary Ann hooked a lock of hair behind her ear, cheeks suddenly blooming with red. “I, uh, well …”

Had he pushed for too much too soon? Had he made her uncomfortable again? Suddenly, he hated not being able to talk to Eve. He needed advice. Needed to know the best way to befriend a girl, the right things to say.

In the end, he opted for the truth. “I’m not trying to score or anything, I swear. Besides Shannon, you’re the only person I know at this school and I could really use a friend.”

“A friend.” She chewed on her bottom lip.

“Only a friend,” he said, and he meant it. Vision Girl was the only one he was looking to date.

The chewing continued as she shifted from one foot to the other. “I have to tell you something, but I’m afraid it will hurt your feelings. And you may not want to be my friend once you know.”

That sounded bad. Really bad. His stomach twisted into a thousand knots. “Tell me anyway. Please.” He could take it. Whatever it was. Maybe.

“I feel … strange when I’m with you.” The color returned to her cheeks. “God, that sounds even worse out loud.”

He wondered … was it possible? Did she feel the wind and the sickness too? “Strange how?”

“I don’t know. Like I’m being pummeled by a freak wind and my skin is crawling, and I know that’s a horrible thing to say, and I’m so sorry. I really am. But then when that sensation finally fades, I have the weirdest desire to first hug you like you’re my brother or something and then—”

“Run,” he finished for her. It was possible. They had the same reaction to each other.

Her eyes widened. “Yes!”

“I feel the same way.”

“You do?” she asked, relief and confusion giving way to insult. Her mouth curled into the cutest grimace.

He nodded, unable to stop his grin.

“What do you think it means?”

Both attracted and repelled, he thought. Like the magnets he’d played with as a child. One side possessed a positive pole. One side possessed a negative pole. When two different sides were pressed together, they bonded. When two like sides were pressed together, they created pressure, repelling each other. Were they like magnets?

And if so, did that mean she was like him? Or his opposite?

He studied her more intently. Did she know anything about the supernatural? If she didn’t, and he started babbling about raising the dead and trapped souls, she would call him a freak. He would ruin his chances with her.

“I have to get home,” he said, opting for escape. Hopefully, he would have figured this out by morning. “I’m on curfew, but I would love to talk to you tomorrow and—”

“Mary Ann,” a boy suddenly called. Footsteps clomped, then an arm was wrapping around her waist. The owner of that arm was wide and as solid as a boulder. “Who you talking to, babe?”

She closed her eyes for a moment and pushed out a firm breath. “Tucker, this is Aden. One of the new students and my … friend. Aden, this is Tucker. My boyfriend.”

Friend. She’d called Aden a friend. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “Nice to meet you, Tucker.”

Tucker’s iron-gray gaze flicked to Aden’s shirt and the insulting words scribbled there. He chuckled. “Cute.”

Aden lost his grin. He’d been flying so high all day—passing tests, making truces and friends—he’d forgotten about the T-shirt. “Thanks.”

“Why don’t you beat feet and join your friend S-Stutter.” It was a command, not a question. “Mary Ann and I have things to discuss.”

Message received. He and Tucker would not be friends. That was fine with him. Only person he cared about right now was Mary Ann. Well, and Vision Girl, but she wasn’t here. Where was she? What was she doing?

“See you around, Mary Ann,” he said.

She smiled, and it was warm and genuine. “I’ll meet you here in the morning and show you around.”

A muscle ticked under Tucker’s eye. “I’m sure he’s busy. Isn’t that right, Crazy?”

Aden knew his next words would define the type of hate-filled relationship he and Tucker would have. If he agreed, Tucker would feel superior, assume Aden was properly intimidated and taunt him for his weakness. If he didn’t, Tucker would view him as a competitor for Mary Ann’s attention and attack every chance he got.

He couldn’t afford another enemy, but he raised his chin, refusing to back down. “I’m not busy at all. I’ll see you in the morning, Mary Ann.” He nodded to them both and ambled away as if he hadn’t a care.

MARY ANN WALKED TUCKER to the football field for practice, calmly but firmly explaining that calling people names like “Crazy” and “Stutter” was how they developed complexes and why they later needed therapy.

“You should thank me for the future business, since you want to be a shrink,” he said, rounding on her.