Casters Book Two: Shadow Caster

Chapter Forty Three

I just don't get it. How could anyone think Vega is suspicious? Her face is soft, innocent-looking, gorgeous. Her eyes, deep, mysterious. And when she subconsciously tucks her hair behind her ear as she speaks with that smooth melodic voice, my heart just melts.

The one and the only explanation I can think of is that she's a Psy Caster. People normally associate Psy Casters with misleading and not trustworthy, sneaky and conniving. Are they subconsciously stereotyping Vega and not even realizing it?

"Okay, I was able to snag some more of those chocolate Christmas trees from Lysander. So now we have a snack to go with our movie night. Now, I don't know about you by I love Christmas movies. Especially the funny ones. So?" she holds up some Christmas movies for me.

I sigh and sit right in front of her, looking her dead in the eyes. She eyes me back in confusion.

I just don't see it.

Yeah, maybe she was a little bit much when we first met. But now that I know her, it's different. How can a face like this be bad? I grab her cheeks in my hands and run my thumbs over her soft skin.

She smiles and giggles.

The sound makes my heart swell.

"What?" she finally asks.

"You don't think about me," I say.

Her smile fades and she asks, "What do you mean?"

"All day my necklace only lit up like twice," I say.

She doesn't say anything so I go on.

"And I know for a fact yours must have been lighting up like Christmas." I drop my hands to the side.

"Are you mad at me?" she says, her voice going small like she's scared.

I shake my head no.

"I'm sorry." She grabs my hands in hers.

"It's not your fault, I'm the one who thought these necklaces would be a good idea. Now I'm just psyching myself out." I sigh.

She frowns.

"You don't think about me?" I feel my tears rise to my eyes.

"I do!"

I rub my necklace, it's lit up now. But it wasn't earlier, not until she saw me again.

"I'm sorry, you can think about whatever you want. I just thought... nothing." I pull away from her and lay down.

"What?" she pleads.

I shake my head no.

"Emery." She moves to lay next to me.

"What do you think about all day?" I ask.

"A lot of things." She says.

"Like what?"

"I'm very good at compartmentalizing. It's not that I'm not thinking about you, it's just that you are not at the forefront of my mind. I like to focus on one task at a time. If I let my brain wander, I'd be hopelessly useless." She says.

I grab a finger full of her hair and twist it around my finger.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"I just missed you," I say.

"I'm right here." She pulls me closer.

"I just get insecure. My head starts going a hundred miles a minute. And I just jump from one thing to the next, wondering if you're not thinking about me, then what are you thinking about, who..."