Page 14

14

The moonlight shone through the foliage in Damen’s front yard, throwing the swaying shadows across the ground. It would have been creepy if it weren’t for the fact that I was flanked on both sides by two hulking men.

So much changed over the last two days.

“Home at last,” Damen said, unlocking the front door. “Why don’t we get everyone settled while Julian and Miles fetch our dinner?” he asked. “Not that I’m hungry,” he added musingly. “It seems like we just ate.”

A sense of dread washed over me—curling past the gnawing pains of my hunger. Like Finn, it appeared as though Damen was one of those people. Was I going to have to take care of him too? In school, Finn was always packing things that he didn’t like and I’d have no choice but to eat his food. I had to remember to pack his favorites just so he’d be fed.

“We ate over six hours ago,” Titus remarked, unfazed at Damen’s callous behavior. “Normal people are hungry.”

I looked at Titus and, as Damen hung our jackets on the coat rack, he lowered his face to my ear and cupped his hand. I was only able to catch the tail end of an indiscernible whisper before his breath suddenly caught, and he pulled back.

“Right,” he said, the strangest thread of awkwardness appeared between us as he led me through the long hallway. “Well, when Damen gets obsessed with something, he’ll forget about taking care of basic needs, including eating and sleeping,” he explained.

Oh.

Well, that didn’t sound very healthy.

Was that Finn’s problem too?

Suddenly, I realized where my thoughts were drifting, and I closed my eyes and covered my ears. It wasn’t time to think about him. Tonight wasn’t supposed to be about Finn, and I refused to let him get to me.

Not even if, at this very moment, he was probably cowering in anger.

“Bianca?” The sound startled me, and I opened my eyes, meeting Titus’s gaze. “What’s wrong?”

I glanced around the room. Apparently, he’d led me into the kitchen. He dropped my duffle bag on the floor as I looked around the space. It was huge, at least twice the size of my parent’s moderately-sized kitchen. The stainless-steel appliances and gas stove sparkled against dark cabinetry, and the white wrap-around countertop seemed to glitter under the low-hanging bar lights. A wine fridge took up one long wall, and there was ample seating between the barstool seating area and the large, round breakfast nook in the bay window.

He'd managed to conquer a great kitchen remodel for someone who didn’t care about food.

“Nothing,” I said and lowered my hands. I’d changed into casual clothes, forgoing my usual nightgowns for something warmer—a pair of navy pajama bottoms and a gray sweatshirt.

I was going to get them all dirty, and Finn had no right to complain.

“You’re not worried, are you?” Titus asked. “Because Damen has everything under control.”

“I do.” Damen chose that moment to appear, and he moved across the room to the coffee machine. “The night is just starting,” he said, catching my eye as he poured an obscene amount of coffee grounds into the maker. “It’s too early to be tired.”

So that was how he maintained his relentless drive. But in this, we were kindred souls.

“Do you like coffee?” he asked. “I know you were drinking that fake crap earlier today.”

“Yes,” I answered. He was more observant than I thought. “But lattes aren’t fake.”

I climbed onto one of the leather stools. Titus sat beside me and crossed his arms over the counter. “I don’t drink coffee,” he told me. “I take one sip, and I’ll be up for days.”

I was suspicious. Surely that was an exaggeration. Before I could question him, however, a ring sounded through the room.

“Oh,” Titus stood and reached into his pockets. “I grabbed your phones before we left.”

My… phones?

A surge of panic made me still—was Finn calling me again? I wasn’t ready to deal with him tonight, even though I knew things were far from over.

But that wasn’t my usual ringtone.

Titus pulled out the pink phone instead, and he didn’t even try to peek at the screen before sliding it to me. My skin began to hum in nervous excitement.

Who could it be? Only a few people knew this number .

Heck, I didn’t even know this number.

Julian

What kind of Chinese food do you like?

I tilted my head—bemused. How fitting that my first conversation on my new phone would be about food. Food was life, after all. However, in answer to that particular question…

Me

I’ve only ever had lo mein. But I don’t want noodles. What do you recommend?

He didn’t respond. A second later, Titus and Damen reached for their phones at the same time. Damen’s was a curiously large and clunky brick-colored box, while Titus’s phone was thin and sleek. A sense of foreboding grew within me as I watched the two of them, embarrassed.

Surely, Julian did not—

“How could you never have had sweet and sour chicken before?” Titus glanced at me, his tone incredulous. “That’s a staple .”

“That is not a staple,” Damen lowered his glasses. “The pork dish is more popular than the chicken, as is the ma po tofu.”

“Nobody wants to eat tofu.” Titus narrowed his eyes, as if the suggestion offended him on a personal level. “Besides, Bianca ate meat at lunch. You don’t need to suggest that crap.”

“Julian likes tofu,” Damen pointed out. “So do a lot of other people: vegans, vegetarians… or even those who eat it because it tastes good.”

“It doesn’t ever taste good,” Titus grumbled. He pulled one of my hands in his own and gave me a very serious look. “Don’t be like Julian. Please eat meat. ”

My brow raised as I processed his very strange request. “Julian is a vegan?”

I was surprised. Not that I had anything against vegans, but this was a fascinating learning opportunity. I’d heard girls at school talking about vegan substitutes, and I wondered if they lived up to the hype. Now I might finally know.

“Vegetarian,” Damen corrected. “Julian would be a terrible vegan—he loves cheese.” He answered my question without knowing. He continued to watch Titus over his glasses. “And she can be whatever she wants to be.” Then he frowned, considering, before adding, “Except a cannibal. That would be very bad.” His mouth quirked. “Sorry, baby girl, but a line must be drawn somewhere. Don’t worry. The same rules apply to all of us.” He paused, shooting Titus an appraising look. “Within reason.”

I covered my mouth to stifle my laughter but wasn’t able to hold back completely. Damen and Titus, who seemed ready to argue, froze and stared at me. Their faces were twin expressions of an unfamiliar type of observation, and the heat rose in my face.

Slowly, they blinked simultaneously and glanced at each other. I wasn’t certain what kind of eye-speech was going on now, but apparently, they reached some sort of mutual agreement. Titus crossed his arms and glanced to the side, and Damen pulled out his phone again.

When he spoke, his voice was gruff. “I’ll tell them to get all of the popular dishes, including the sweet and sour chicken.”

“Just limit the tofu.” Titus sighed, defeated. “I can’t go through that again.”

“No one is going to make you eat it this time,” Damen consoled, but Titus only groaned in response.

“What do you think?” Miles asked as he lightly elbowed me. “Isn’t the beef and broccoli better than the sweet and sour chicken?”

Titus, who sat at my other side, glared at him. “Don’t influence her decision!”

“I’m doing nothing more than what you’ve already done,” Miles retorted. “She needs to be exposed to different types of foods, not only the things you like. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you piling your favorites on her plate.”

Julian and Damen ignored the conversation. Instead, they serenely ate their own meals at the other side of the round table while Miles and Titus bickered.

Between this and how Miles and Titus had acted outside of Professor Hamway’s house, I imagined that this type of interaction might be a frequent occurrence.

But, despite Titus’s attempt to feed me more, I was stuffed. And we had so many leftovers.

“Hey.” Damen pushed his foot against mine, and I looked at him. He grinned. “What do you want to do first for our slumber party?”

Miles, who’d been drinking his water, began to cough.

“Miles?” I ignored Damen, even though his question had caused my heart to race. I had to keep my priorities in line. I reached over and weakly pounded on Miles’s back. “Are you okay?”

He stopped coughing as he waved off my concern and stared at Damen with watery eyes. “What are you—”

“I told you we’re having a slumber party,” Damen replied sternly. “It’s just like every other time we get together.”

Miles clearly didn’t understand. “Sure…” he agreed anyway, looking at me. “What did you want to do? ”

I thought this was a regular occurrence. “Haven’t you ever been to a slumber party before?”

“I forgot,” Miles replied. His good nature was returning. “What do you usually do at slumber parties?”

Interesting. Perhaps there were things that I could teach them after all. And just how sad was that?

“All right.” I pushed away my half-eaten plate of food. There was no time to waste. “It’s decided then.” I glanced around the room—ignoring their bemused expressions—until my gaze landed on Damen’s clipboard.

“Can I use that?” I pointed. “I need to make a list.”

Damen removed some papers and handed me the clipboard. Meanwhile, the others stared at him, shocked, as he responded, “Here you go.”

I hesitated, somewhat alarmed at their behavior. Something odd was going on here, and it was beginning to annoy me.

But whatever, I had a mission. I reached for the board, picked up the pen, and contemplated where to begin.

It was so much easier to make plans with lists. And considering this was our first slumber party, I didn’t want to forget anything. I had to stay organized.

Of course, there were some activities that wouldn’t work, like manicures. I didn’t have any polish with me, and unless there was some hidden somewhere here, we were out of luck. It was a shame, but there was always next time. Or we could bake cookies, but the obligatory flour party and food fight that would follow would destroy my clothing.

That was a thought… Maybe we should make cookies.

“What do you normally do?” I asked Damen. I didn’t want to say anything odd.

“It doesn’t matter what we do,” Damen interjected, his gray eyes pointedly looking at the clipboard. Was it me, or was he being a bit defensive? “Just say what you want.”

Right…

Well, now I was less enthused, but trudged forward. Miles, meanwhile, was radiating delight as he read over my shoulder. He was probably so excited—I couldn’t let him down now.

I wanted to keep it a surprise and tried to hide the paper, but Miles was relentless in trying to peek. Still, I got most of my list completed without him spoiling the fun.

Watch a Movie

Truth or Dare (or Seven Minutes in Heaven)

Old Maid

But it was still a surprise when Miles, who’d been munching on a spring roll next to my ear, choked again. I was torn between wanting to help him and protecting my list from the nasty half-chewed food spewing out of his mouth.

Didn’t this man know how to eat?

But eventually, humanity won.

“Miles!” I smacked him on his back, much like earlier, but I was too weak. Eventually, Titus had to assist. Whatever it was that caused Miles’s issues, it must have been terrible.

Finally, after a tense eternity, his breathing evened, and the startling redness receded from his complexion.

Or, it did until he caught me watching him. Instantly, his face turned bright red again, and he stared at the countertop.

“What in the world is wrong with you?” Damen noticed the strange exchange.

I was slightly affronted—I didn’t even do anything! But then I realized that Damen was talking to Miles, not me, and my tense muscles relaxed. Miles didn’t answer Damen’s question. Instead, he snatched the clipboard from me and thrust it into Damen’s hands.

I could only helplessly watch as Julian, and even Titus, stood behind Damen, and read over his shoulder.

This was terrible. I had so much more to add to the list. I hated it when people went over my incomplete projects.

There was a momentary pause before three sets of eyes slowly rose from the paper. Their gazes contained bewilderment, as well as something else that I couldn’t quite place.

My palms began to sweat. What in the world was their problem?

“What’s wrong?” I leaned away from them. Had I done something?

Slowly, Damen turned the clipboard until it was facing me. Then, just as dramatically, he pointed at my neatly printed ‘Seven Minutes in Heaven.’

I pursed my lips and studied the words. Everything seemed perfectly normal to me. I glanced back up at him. “So what? Do you have something against massages?”

Perhaps it was a hereditary aversion. Finn had hated that part of Seven Minutes in Heaven too. It was the only thing that made sense.

Julian pulled back, and Titus appeared even more confused. But it was Damen—with a cautious, raised brow—who finally answered. He seemed slightly alarmed. “Massages?”

“Right. Massages.”

“Bianca?” Daman pressed his lips together, but he continued in a smooth voice. “How do you play Seven Minutes in Heaven?”

Surely, he jested. Damen, in all his worldly experience, had never played? I found it hard to believe. But with his serious eyes searching mine, I realized he might, in fact, not be joking at all .

So they were all sheltered. It was a good thing they had me then. By God, who didn’t know how to play this game?

“Well”—I crossed my ankles and dove into my lecture—“it’s an advanced version of Truth or Dare. The object is to build closeness between friends. You start with your normal Truth or Dare setup, but you can only choose truth throughout the course of the game. If there’s a truth you don’t want to answer, then the questioner wins a dare.”

There was no ounce of recognition on their faces, so I pressed on. “Outside of that, you’re only allowed to resort to a dare three times—and they’re pre-established, so you know what they are ahead of time.” I held up three fingers to count off the dares. “For the first dare, you have to hold hands with the questioner until your next turn. The second time, you must sit on his or her lap. But, for the last, the questioner wins a massage from the loser.”

All four boys were staring at me with looks of disbelief.

“What?” I lowered my hand. That’s why it’s called Seven Minutes in Heaven. The massage is supposed to be seven minutes at the end of the game. They call it a happy ending.”

Titus choked. At the same time, Julian opened his mouth to say something, but Damen rose to his feet and smacked him on the back of the head.

I was so confused…

Damen turned back to me, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Where did you hear this?”

Was it possible that I was wrong?

The thought didn’t comfort me. I picked at my sleeve while answering. “Finn asked me to find some games for us to play. I found out about Seven Minutes in Heaven. I wanted to be ready in case I lost, but when I researched how to give massages, it mentioned happy endings. I asked Finn, and he explained it all… ”

“You’ve played this version of Seven Minutes in Heaven with Finn?” Damen asked, his eyes still closed. “You sat on his lap?”

“No.” My voice was quiet. Their questions were putting me on edge. “He said it was dumb and wouldn’t play with me.”

The four of them exchanged wary looks.

“Am I wrong?” I asked. I had no idea there was another version of the game.

“Never mind.” Damen sighed. “We’ll play your Seven Minutes in Heaven, baby girl. It sounds… interesting.”

Miles was still bright red, and Titus looked at the ceiling, his expression closed. Julian glared at Damen with a disapproving frown.

“At least he didn’t take advantage,” Damen told him.

What in the world was he talking about?

This was not acceptable.

Their attention snapped to me as I pulled out my new phone and unlocked the screen.

“What are you doing?” Titus asked warily.

“Researching,” I replied, pulling up the browser and opening a new search.

“No!” Julian leaned across the table and snatched the phone out of my hand. I could only stare at him—my hand still outstretched—in complete shock. “It’s not safe right now,” his voice was strained as he held the phone out of my reach.

Damen sat back down. “How often do you use your phone for research? Do you have your own computer?”

Why did that matter? “I don’t have a computer. I’ve just used Finn’s laptop for school assignments because we did homework together anyway. But I look up things all the time. I like to be informed.”

He rested his chin on his fist. “And you asked Finn to explain these things instead of looking them up yourself? ”

Why were they asking me these questions? Why were they acting so weird?

“Of course I searched first! The Internet says it doesn’t have enough information yet.” The Internet did not have all the answers—otherwise, why would I waste time going to the library when I could become educated from the comfort of my bed? “Are you saying that I’ve broken the World Wide Web?”

Damen held his hands up in a peaceful gesture. “Absolutely not,” he stated.

“Hey, princess?” Titus reached back into his pocket. The nickname startled me, and I stared at him. “Do you mind if I looked through your old phone?”

My blood turned cold at the somber nature of his voice. Why did he look so serious? In fact, Miles wasn’t even blushing anymore, and Julian’s annoyed expression turned pensive. At some point, the light atmosphere had turned into something darker.

Alarm bells rang in my head. Something was seriously not adding up here.

“Go for it.” I looked away, not wanting to witness what might happen next. I didn’t ever want to see it again.