Page 29

I n the morning, I keep my gritty eyes closed as Jax turns over, sighing, to hit snooze on his cell phone for the third time. My groggy brain can’t decide what to tell him. I don’t know if Luke’s even going to show up behind the Beanery. Even if the police are right about what he’s done, that could just be a part of being a hunter. If I tell Jax about it, his distaste for Luke–which I can read pretty darn easily–will taint his reaction .

At the same time, there’s a part of me that wants to leave a trail in case I vanish off the face of the earth. It’s a dark world .

Most of all, Jax would feel betrayed to discover that I kept a secret from him about Luke .

I lean over and kiss him on the cheek, spontaneously. I move too quickly and mash my nose into his cheek. Jax’s eyes fly open, and then he smiles, his eyes amused .

“I’m a klutz,” I tell him .

“And you have serious bed head.” He reaches up and ruffles my hair; long strands of that weird orange-yellowish hair flop into my face. God, I miss my pretty brunette hair. It tickles my scalp, and I wrap my hand around his. “You still look gorgeous, of course .”

“Does that make up for the klutz ?”

“Who said the klutzing is a bad thing?” He sits up on his elbow, blinking at me, and the covers fall away from the t-shirt he wore to bed. “ Breakfast ?”

“I have to go take a shower before class .”

“You could shower here.” One of his eyebrows lifts suggestively .

“I could.” Part of me is curious about what it would be like if I gave in to impulse with Jax and said yes. I have a funny feeling neither of us would know what to do. “But I need clean clothes, and your cargos are so not sexy on me .”

They aren’t sexy on him, either; I don’t know why the boy insists on wearing marching band camp t-shirts with khaki cargo shorts. I keep waiting for the temperature to turn cold enough to banish the shorts to the floor of the closet, where his unwanted clothes wait for a wash day that never comes. But so far, he’s rocking the cargos through November. I pat his shoulder. “We should have a James Bond marathon .”

“Where’d that come from ?”

“James Bond is one sharp-dressed man,” I tell him .

“Yeah? This judgment is coming from a girl who wears yoga pants to class ?”

“They’re comfortable.” I scramble off the bed. From the floor, pulling my shoes out from underneath his bed, I say, “I’m focused on learning .”

Although my grades so far don’t indicate any such thing .

“Lunch?” he asks me. “Campus center ?”

“Aren’t you sick of me ?”

“Never, strangely enough.” He yawns, flopping back down in bed. “Is that your way of hinting that you’re sick of me ?”

I shake my head. “Strangely enough .”

But I don’t know what I’m going to need to do with Luke and Mave. We might have another exorcism to hold. I pretend that I’ve forgotten Jax’s lunch question and just wave, on my way out the door. Even so, the banter between us make me feel lighter, happy again .

Strangely enough, I’m smiling when I close the door behind me .