Page 1 of Ordinary Secrets (Secrets Trilogy #1)

1

TREY

It’s easy for me to screw things up. I’ve done it countless times. From little things like saying the wrong thing at the wrong moment, to big things like not saving my parents from getting blown up. Today is a day I’m determined to get right.

I can do this. I can do this, I chant in my head over and over, as if the more I lie to myself, the more I’ll believe it.

I continue internally chanting as I pull my car up behind a white Honda Civic parked on the side of a busy highway. The car’s hazard lights flash as I idle my car about two truck lengths behind it and pop my door open.

Sand and gravel crunch beneath my shoes as I head toward the Civic. Rumbling car engines whiz past me, blowing my dark hair around. I drag a shaky palm through the longer strands at the top, trying to make it all stay in place, but my attempts are useless. The second a semitruck flies by, my hair is ruined again. I guess the messy look will have to do.

Off in the distance, the burning California sun blurs the air. It’s warm on my skin. It would feel much warmer if my body’s natural equilibrium wasn’t working to cool me down. I’m grateful for this bodily function that all Zordinary humans have, because the last thing I want is to look like a sweating pig the first time I meet this special woman.

As an effort to keep my hands from jittering, I shove them into my jeans pockets and keep crunching the gravel.

Just don’t mess up , I tell myself. Easier said than done.

Things have to go well today, because if they don’t, that’s it.

The end.

My life will be meaningless.

Liz usually smacks my arm whenever I’m being “dramatic,” but it’s true. My success today will be the beginning of making my parents’ deaths count for something. If I can continue and finish the work they left behind, I’ll be able to say that I did something they can be proud of. I’ll be able to say that I brought something of value to this world. Whereas right now, I’m just the pitiful son of two Zordinary researchers who hasn’t done anything nearly as impactful as his parents did before they died in a “house fire.”

For years, I’ve lived with that story.

Today, I have a chance to change the ending—and it all starts with getting this special woman to tell me everything about her. To do that, I need to gain her trust. To do that, I need to get close to her. But first, she needs to know that I exist.

Over the last month, I’ve written out tons of plans outlining how I can stumble into her at a grocery store or strike up a conversation with her at a coffee shop. Unfortunately, all of those ideas went straight into the trash.

Now, I’m not gonna say this meeting her on the side of a busy highway idea is any better, but this is the most promising, so I’m hoping this works. This has to work.

Then again, a thousand things could go wrong. I could trip and fall and make a fool of myself. She could shoo me off. She could— Oh no. A mess of tight black curls peeks out from the front passenger seat.

She could have a friend with her. Dammit! Of all the things I planned for, not once did I think she’d have company. She’s never had a friend with her on the way home from work before. Why does she now?

Abort! Abort! Abort! my brain shouts. My feet don’t listen. They keep moving. I’ve already reached the trunk of her car, and the women have probably already seen me. I can’t stop now, or I’ll look like a crazy person.

That is how I feel though—crazy.

What makes me think I can pull this off? Or that this will work at all? When I got assigned this mission, I was told my objective is to get close to this woman so I can find out what makes her immune to Zordi powers. Considering she’s an Ordinary and doesn’t know that people with powers exist, she doesn’t even know she’s immune.

So, I’m supposed to ask her lots of questions to learn as much about her as possible. Sounds simple enough, but what if she doesn’t have the answers I’m looking for? And if she does, what if she isn’t willing to share them?

Only one way to find out.

I step up to the passenger-side window with my hands still hiding in my pockets. In the seconds it takes for the glass to roll down, I pathetically forget all the lines I rehearsed this morning.

Maybe my uncle is right. Maybe I’m not cut out for this field-agent thing. Although, this is my first mission. I could go easier on myself.

Nah . This’ll be my first and last mission if I fail. I have to do this right.

Bending at the hip, I offer my friendliest of smiles. “Hey. Need some help?”

My attention locks onto the beauty behind the wheel. When her gaze meets mine, my heart drops. Her round coffee-colored eyes are more captivating in person than they are in the pictures I’ve been studying. I knew she was gorgeous, but damn!

“Flat tire,” she says, telling me information I already know.

“Want me to take a look at it?” I ask.

Her friend arches an eyebrow. “Do you know how to bring tires back from the dead?”

“How ’bout I assess the damage, then we can go from there?”

The friend gestures a pink-nail-polished hand out the window. “Be our guest.”

Both women climb out of the car and meet me at the back right tire. I’ve seen these two together before. Since they hang out pretty often, I’m assuming they’re good friends. I don’t know the Black woman’s name or anything about her. She looks around the same age as the brunette—twenty-two-ish, only four years younger than me.

I kneel and pretend to inspect the blown rubber. What I’m actually doing is trying to process the strange sensation of knowing there are two women behind me yet sensing only one.

Excitement radiates off the Black woman in waves, colliding into my head. I wish I knew what was lighting her up so much. That’s the downfall of my gift—it only tells me how a person feels, never why.

“What happened?” I ask, even though I know damn well what happened. Still kneeling, I twist around to face the ladies. The sun almost blinds me, so I cup my hands above my forehead and squint. Within seconds, my Zordi eyes adjust and the women become crystal clear in my vision.

“We don’t know.” The one I can’t take my focus away from moves all of her long waves to rest over one shoulder. “We heard a loud pop, then the car swerved a little.”

I don’t have to pretend to sound concerned. “Did you hit anything?”

“Thankfully, no. I pulled over right away, and we were about to call for a service when you showed up.”

Thank fuck. The device I planted into her tire last night was supposed to leak the air out slowly and safely , not pop it. Some gadget that was. The point of my mission is to get information. I can’t do that if this woman gets hurt. From now on, I’ll make sure all my mission plans put her safety first.

With a hand against her car, I stand and lightly kick the blown tire. “Bad news, ladies. Doesn’t look like you’ll make it anywhere with this.” I know the answer but ask anyway. “You got a spare?”

They shake their heads.

“I could take you to get a new tire. I’ll even help you put it on.”

“That’s very nice of you, but”—the brunette hooks a thumb toward her curly-haired friend—“her brother’s a mechanic. We’ll be okay.”

My hopes deflate like a thumbtacked balloon as I rub a hand over my stubble. What are the odds that she’d have a friend in the car with a brother who’s a mechanic?

“He hasn’t responded to my calls or texts yet,” the friend says. “Maybe we should accept the help from...” She circles a hand in the air.

I thrust my palm out. “Trey Grant.”

With a sharp gasp, the friend’s mouth pops open. Her excitement from earlier that merely waved through my head now smacks me in the face. “See? I knew it! I freaking knew it! I told you it was him! You’re in that pop rock band that plays at the Soul House, right?”

I try not to show how thrilled I am that she’s recognized me. Not because I like the attention, but because this could work in my favor. I flash her a giant grin. “Yep, that’s me. And your name?”

“Javina Abrams.” Finally, she shakes my hand, which has been outstretched and waiting. “I went to one of your shows a few months ago. I bought your band’s album that night, and I’ve been watching all your music videos on YouTube ever since.” More elation comes from her. It’s so strong, it’s drowning out the emotions of all the people driving by.

“Thank you. That means a lot to me.” And I mean it. I get compliments on my band often, but when it comes from someone who seems as genuine as Javina, the words carry more weight. I offer my palm to the woman I came to meet. “And your name?”

“Ari,” she says, lightly returning my handshake.

This isn’t the first time I’ve touched her. The first time was two weeks ago when I “accidentally” bumped into her at a restaurant. I made sure our bare arms brushed as much as possible while keeping it brief. I don’t normally need to touch someone to sense their emotions, but since I can’t sense this woman at all, I thought maybe the physical contact would help. It didn’t then, and it’s not now either. How is she doing that?

As if my hand is scorching hers, she tugs her arm back, then her gaze falls to the grass. Whoops. I definitely didn’t mean to hold on to her for longer than socially acceptable.

Finally, her name registers in my brain. Ari? That’s not right. “What’s that short for?”

“Arella, but everyone just calls me Ari.”

“Arella is a beautiful name. It suits you.”

She smiles bashfully, and I can’t tell if it’s because she liked the compliment or because she hated it and is simply being nice. I’ve never had to guess how people feel before—ever.

“Anyway, could I help you get a new tire?”

“I don’t want to inconvenience you.” Arella fidgets with the bottom of her yellow T-shirt. The logo on the front reads Sunrise Daycare . Javina’s wearing a matching shirt. Seeing them in their work attire makes it easier to not get caught already knowing that they work together.

“It’s not an inconvenience at all,” I say with a bright smile. It’s the very reason I’m here.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience your friends.” Arella gestures toward my car.

Fuck. I was hoping she wouldn’t notice my friends. Like how I didn’t plan for Javina to be here, I didn’t plan for my friends to tag along either. I meant to come alone during this part of my assignment. The only reason I didn’t was because Liz guilt-tripped me into having dinner with her and Kevin.

During band rehearsal earlier, I refused dinner three times, until Liz whispered, “We need to cheer him up. You know his mom just got diagnosed with breast cancer. He’s worried about losing her.”

I would’ve been a dick to say no. How could I? I’d lost my mother too. If taking Kevin out for sushi would help take his mind off his mom for a while, I’d comply. As long as my friends didn’t interfere with my plan today.

Just as Arella mentions my friends, my car doors swing open, then Liz and Kevin step out. Dammit. My friends’ energies float toward me, all light and curious. They have the right to be curious. After I agreed to dinner, I volunteered to drive without telling them we’d be taking a detour.

“What’s the holdup?” Kevin shouts on his way over. His jet-black hair is so gelled up, the wind from the passing cars isn’t affecting it at all.

Next to him comes Liz with a peppy bounce in her step. “Everything okay?”

“Just a flat,” I say as a semitruck zips by us.

Liz stops at my side. Her nearness causes the Zordi sense in my chest to tingle. It reminds me that Liz and I are the kind of humans who are born with powers and the people around us are not.

Like I did earlier, Liz squats to examine the busted tire. “There’s no fixing this. The hole’s too big.”

“You ladies need a ride to a tire shop?” Kevin asks. “We could take ya, right, Trey?”

“Yeah,” Liz adds through a yawn, covering her mouth with a satin-gloved hand. “There’s probably one not too far from here.”

Why did I think for even a second that my friends would be an interference? Of course they’d want to help. They’re good people like that. Now that I think about it, having a woman with me could increase my chances of getting Arella to accept my help. Women are more likely to trust other women than a man they’ve never met. If I had been smart, I would have planned for Liz to be here from the beginning.

“See?” I beam with a renewed sense of hope. “You’re not an inconvenience at all.”

Arella turns to her friend. “Why don’t you call your brother again?”

Javina rolls her eyes. “I could, but I ain’t seein’ the point of that when we’ve got three perfectly capable helpers standing right here.”

I hold back a grin. Javina just made it to the top of my befriend now list.

Arella thinks, then nods. “Okay. Let’s grab our things.”

On the inside, I jump up and down like a giddy child in a toy store. On the outside, I play it cool. “We’ll be in my car.”

Liz claims the front seat like she always does as Kevin plops into the back behind me. I don’t take my eyes off Arella while she and Javina saunter over with their purses in hand.

Arella slips in first, settling on the middle seat next to Kevin. I’m gifted with a perfect view of her in my rearview mirror. Our eyes lock for half a second before she turns to click her seat belt in. I’m still staring at her as she sets her little purse on her lap and Javina climbs in.

Once everyone is buckled, I force my eyes back onto the busy highway. When I get an opening, I join the flow of traffic.

Liz wastes no time twisting around to wave a gloved hand at our new additions. “Hi, I’m Liz.”

“I know!” Javina’s exhilaration rushes through my head again. “You’re one of the two girls in the band, right? The soprano and dancer?”

“Yep!” Liz’s lips curve upward. Her spirit does the same. Out of everyone in the band, Liz enjoys meeting our fans the most.

Javina leans forward to lock eyes with Kevin. “And you’re the bass guitarist, right?”

He nods with a closed-mouth smile. “Mm-hmm.”

“Don’t you play the guitar too?”

“Yeah. I’m not as good as Trey though.”

“Lies!” Liz reaches back to slap Kevin’s boney knee. “Kevin’s just being humble. He’s amazing on guitar. He’s also our tenor and does most of the creative video editing for our YouTube channel.”

“Impressive! I’m Javina.” She points a finger at her chest, then places a light palm over Arella’s thigh. “This is my bestie, Ari.”

That nickname is still confusing me, because I’ve been referring to her in my head as Arella. I never knew she went by anything else. There are just some things a manila folder can’t tell me—hence why I’m here.

“Are you two from the Los Angeles area?” Liz asks.

“I’m originally from Chicago,” Javina says.

Liz’s jaw drops with a little gasp. “I’m from Chicago too! What about you, Ari?”

“I’ve lived almost everywhere in Cali,” Arella says, all soft and sweet.

“How long have you been in LA?”

“About four years.”

I’ve never been more grateful for Liz. Not only am I learning things about Arella that aren’t in her limited file, but I’m also not doing the work. Liz doesn’t know about my mission. If she did, she’d be doing a hell of a job assisting me. Apparently, I need the help, because I can barely think with this beautiful mystery in my back seat. All the free space in my brain is consumed with trying to sense her.

“So what cover song is gonna be your next single?” Javina asks.

Liz puts on her thinking face. “It’s an acoustic rendition of a Backstreet Boys hit, right, Kev? Are we allowed to tell them which one?”

Kevin shrugs a shoulder. “Why not? It releases tonight for Throwback Thursday. It’s ‘Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely.’”

Javina gasps. “I love that one!”

After she gushes about the Backstreet Boys for a minute, she spits out a long string of questions. When is the next original music video coming out? What’s the craziest fan encounter you’ve ever had? Do you normally get recognized everywhere you go?

Liz and Kevin do a great job answering everything while I contribute nothing. Actually, I stop listening after a while. My mind is buzzing with all the puzzling thoughts I have about the quiet woman behind me.

Is Liz’s mind power working on Arella? I want to ask, but I can’t do that in a car full of Ordinaries. That would break the number-one Zordi law: Never reveal anything from the Zordinary world to an Ordinary. Maybe after sushi tonight, Liz and I can?—

“T?” A gloved finger taps my shoulder.

I jolt, and the car goes quiet. “Hmm?”

Liz dips her eyebrows at me. “I asked if you know where we’re going.”

“Oh.” I clear my throat. “Yep. There’s a tire place just off the next exit.” The one I Googled last week when I came up with this plan.

“Anyway,” Javina says, stealing the attention back, and I’m happy for it. “How far have you guys gotten on your next original album?”

Perking up, Liz shares some general details about our band’s second original album, which we’ve been working on since we released the first one. Liz’s details aren’t anything our band manager doesn’t want us to reveal.

The whole time, Arella stares out the windshield with a blank look on her face. One would think that after observing her for the last four weeks, I’d be sick of looking at her, but I’m not. It’s not only because she’s stunning, either. I’m desperate to know how she’s deflecting my gift and if she knows she’s doing it at all.

If I shut my eyelids, I wouldn’t even know she was in this car. I sense that Liz is happy. Javina is still exhilarated out of her mind. While Kevin’s got a content look on his face, he’s a little anxious on the inside. As for Arella... nothing.

When we arrive at the tire shop, Liz and Kevin opt to stay in the comfort of my car’s air conditioning. I gladly leave the engine running for them, then volunteer to escort Arella and Javina inside.

“Well, aren’t you a gentleman?” Javina says when I hold the door open for them.

I return her smile with my own.

Besides a gray-haired man reading a magazine in the waiting room, the lobby is empty. The scent of fresh rubber fills the air. At the same time a burst of joy rushes through my head, a round of laughter comes from the other side of the glass wall where three cars are raised on lifts. A group of eight-ish people in red polo shirts surround the vehicles with various power tools.

From behind me, something vibrates. Javina digs through her purse before pulling a phone out.

“Ooh! I gotta take this!” She rushes back outside with her phone pressed to an ear as her excitement spikes again. I’m getting the impression that she’s easily excitable.

For the first time ever, I have Arella to myself. This is my chance to say something—to find out something valuable about her. Sooo, what do I say, and how do I say it? It figures that it’d be now when my brain decides to shut down. No words—at least none that form intelligent sentences—come to mind.

Like a sheltered teenage boy in the presence of an attractive female, I fidget with the zipper of my black leather jacket. I pull it halfway up my chest.

Then down.

Up again.

Stop it!

I shove my hands into my jeans pockets.

Then I take them out.

In once more.

What should I say?

Hey, Arella, you come here often? Dumb question. She’s only here because of me.

Sooo, you work at a daycare. You like kids? Another stupid question. Why would she work at a daycare if she despised children?

How ’bout that heat, huh?

A glass door slides open, releasing me from my inner torture.

“Hi there!” says the cute blonde woman with a black smear of oil running down the front of her polo. “How can I help?”

Arella steps up to the counter while I stand off to the side, pretending to be interested in a chart on the wall that asks, “When do you need new tires?”

It’s strange. Even without Arella’s emotions hovering in my head, I still feel extremely aware of her presence, her every move. Usually, I know exactly how far someone is from me by how strong their emotions come through my head. With Arella, I sense nothing, yet there she is, existing merely ten steps over.

As discreetly as possible, I lock my gaze onto her back and focus my gift on her. The only thing that comes is the emotions of the blonde behind the counter. It’s as if Arella isn’t there at all.

For the last month, I’ve kept my distance. Now that I’m here, I don’t know what to do with myself. I need to touch her again. The brush of our arms and our little handshake isn’t enough to confirm if physical contact can or can’t break down her immunity walls. I was told that if I can find a way to break through her invisible shield, it might help us figure out how she’s immune. Do I have the first clue how to do that? Nope. Not one bit.

As Arella finalizes the payment, I make a mental note to pay her back for this. There’s no reason she has to spend her hard-earned money on something I caused. I’ll be sure to get her something she needs but can’t afford for herself. Something at least triple the price. It’s the least I can do.

Within no time, we’ve got a new tire in my trunk and our seat belts secured again. Liz and Javina dominate most of the conversation on our way back. They talk like they’re old friends who haven’t seen each other in months. I don’t mind. It gives me a chance to regain myself. I don’t normally get nervous around women. Apparently when it matters, I lose all sense of control.

Back at Arella’s car, I grab some tools and get straight to work. Before today, I have changed a tire all of two times, with the sole purpose of practicing for this moment. I didn’t wanna look stupid.

“Can I help?” Arella drops to her knees at my side.

I startle, falling backward onto my tailbone. My ass lands on the jack. A few curse words—all beginning with F —fly through my head. I’m not used to people sneaking up on me without me sensing them first.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” She lets out an adorable laugh, making goose bumps run up the back of my neck.

“It’s all right.” I chuckle lightly as I pull the jack out from under me and hand it to her. “Could you turn this little knob to lower it enough so we can fit it under your car?”

“Sure.” Arella sets the jack down, then gathers all her hair toward the top of her head. I’m mesmerized by the way she swiftly ties it up within seconds. Once she’s done, her eyes meet mine and she flashes me a tender smile.

Shit. I’ve been gaping at her with my mouth slightly open. Way to play it cool. Tearing my attention off her, I go back to loosening the lug nuts.

As Arella lowers the jack, I feel the need to make conversation with her, except I can’t think of anything to say. Do I even know how to talk to women anymore?

Behind us, in the grassy ditch, Liz, Kevin, and Javina seem to have no problem making conversation. With all the noisy cars passing us, I can’t make out every word they’re saying, but from the little I can catch, it sounds like they’re still talking about music. Would Arella like it if I talk to her about music?

“Done.” As she leans over to set the jack near my feet, I catch a whiff of her light floral scent—lavender and springtime.

Does her scent have anything to do with her immunity? Probably not, although I’ve been told not to rule anything out. It could be anything that shields her from Zordi powers.

When I finish loosening all the lug nuts, I push the jack under her car and twist the knob. After a few turns, the car lifts off the ground.

I continue twisting it up. “Do you know where to get rid of this blown tire?”

“Where?”

I banked on her not knowing. “I can take care of it for you.”

“No way. You’re already helping plenty.”

“It’ll be my pleasure. One less thing for you to worry about.”

She opens her mouth, seemingly about to object, then stops. “Thank you, Trey. Seriously. You’re doing so much for me, and I don’t even know you.”

“Let’s get to know each other, then.” Wow! Those words weren’t practiced, yet they sounded right. Gold star for me!

The air stands still as I wait for Arella’s response. Seconds pass as I keep working the jack up. Her reply never comes.

Good going, dumbass. What kind of pickup line was that? I sounded way too forward. Might as well have used the “Hey, did it hurt when you fell from heaven, ’cause you look like an angel” line.

“Sorry,” I say because I don’t know what else to say.

“For what?”

“Trying to flirt with you. I’ll assume your silence means it’s unwelcome.” I’ve had her semi-alone for all of two minutes, and I’ve already fucked up. Figures.

“Oh. It’s okay. I mean, um...” She’s struggling to find her words, and I wish I knew why.

Am I making her nervous? That’s not my intent at all. If anything, I need her to be comfortable with me.

“Honestly,” she says gently, “I’m not used to men trying to flirt with me. I didn’t realize that’s what you were doing.”

I freeze to gape at her. “What? You’re gorgeous. Do you really expect me to believe that guys don’t hit on you all the time?”

At first, she blushes, then her head droops. “They don’t.”

“Well, good.” I return to working on her car. “That gives me more of a chance with you.”

She shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “Don’t waste your time on me.”

“You wouldn’t be a waste of time.” I almost scowl at her for thinking that of herself. “Are you single?” I already know the answer. Unless she’s got a boyfriend she hasn’t seen for a month, this woman is very available.

“I... am... single,” Arella says slowly as if giving herself time to think. “That doesn’t mean I’m looking though.”

I don’t like that answer, so I take that information, crumple it up, and toss it into the recycling bin in the back of my head.

Once the car is lifted off the ground enough, I twist off the first lug nut and hold it out to her. “You mind hangin’ on to these so we don’t lose ’em?”

She flips her palm open, and I drop the first one in, making sure to brush my fingers against hers. The physical contact does nothing. She’s still blank.

We work together until the old rubber’s off. When I’m home later, I’ll dispose of the tiny device that’s probably still stuck in that rubber somewhere.

After the new tire is on, I lower Arella’s car to the ground, then slide the jack out. With a grunt, I push myself up and slap my dirty palms on my thighs. “You’re all good now.”

“Thank you. Here, let me pay you.” She digs out her wallet from the purse hanging by a strap across her body.

I slash a hand through the air. “Don’t worry ’bout it.”

Not listening, she holds out three twenties. “Seriously, take it. Calling a professional would have easily been four times this.”

“It’s okay, really.” I push her cash away, then give her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m just happy to help.”

She flinches, and the color washes from her face. A woman has never reacted to my touch that way before. Instantly, I let her go and step back. Within seconds, the tension in her shoulders releases and she lets out a breath.

Glancing up at me with those big brown eyes, she forces a tiny smile. I know that smile. It’s the same one I use whenever I’m trying to hide my pain. What pain is she trying to hide? And does it have anything to do with her immunity?

Arella stuffs her cash back into her purse, then hugs herself, looking anywhere but at me. “Thanks again.”

Perking up, I pretend that my next idea is a spur-of-the-moment one. “Hey, so, my band is performing a show tomorrow. Would you wanna come out to support us?”

“I can’t,” she says way too quickly. “I work tomorrow.”

“Our set starts at eight. You work that late?” If she says yes, she’s lying.

“I don’t. Where is it?”

“It’s a cool music bar downtown called the Soul House. Great food, great service, and I hear the entertainment’s not too bad either.” I wink and immediately regret it. Why did I do that? I’m so lame.

“Um...” she says, biting her lip. Not the reaction I expected. “How much are tickets?”

“For you? Nothin’. I’ll put your name on a special VIP list so you can walk right in. It’s last minute, so you’d probably have to sit at the bar, but it’s still a good spot.”

“Oh. Um . . .”

Javina materializes at Arella’s side, gripping her arm. “Ari, this kind man just helped us out, then offered to put you on a VIP list to see his show tomorrow. Do you understand that their tickets are hard to get last minute? They’re usually sold out for weeks in advance. Weeks , Ari. Weeks. If you don’t go, I will.”

And that’s the reaction I was hoping for.

Arella straightens her back. “I’ll come if Javina can come too.”

If that’s what it would take to get this woman back into my space, done. “Great. I’ll put you both on the list for tomorrow. Javina Abrams and Arella... Sorry, I never got your last name.” I already know it, but it’s important to hear it from her.

“Rance.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

While this didn’t go exactly the way I had imagined it, I still accomplished what I needed to, and that’s what matters.

Phase one—complete.

Now on to phase two.