Sparks Fly [Book Two in the "Fire And Lighting" Series]

Chapter Fifty-Three- Almost

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August 11, 2016. 08:04.
Nightvale.
~~Willow~~

Willow, if you're out there, I need you. I need your help.

I dismissed the line that repeated itself over and over in the back of my mind as nothing more than another imagine created by Pyro to torture me even more.

Emma didn't need me. I'd just make things even worse.

It took a moment to remember where I was. I wasn't in my room at the Queen house, I wasn't in the backseat of the rented Honda that I'd since returned, I was in the lavender-colored guest bedroom of the Grace's.

Oh dear.

Connor walked out on me last night. How was I going to face him? How long would he stay mad at me?

"Find your common ground," Scarlett urged me.

"Can't we just bail?" Pyro asked.

"I haven't come this far to fail." I muttered aloud. I sat up, tossing off the sheets and coming face-to-face with the strange girl in the vanity mirror directly across the room. Even if Connor didn't believe me, I had to find out what he knew about my past, about Scarlett.

"What kind of guy would like a girl like me?" I thought disgustedly, tugging on a handful of honey-blonde hair.

"Exactly."

"Pyro!" Scarlett scolded. She sighed. "You were pretty enough for Superboy, and you'll be pretty enough for Connor."

"Yeah, but Superboy never fully got over M'gann." I shot back. I stared at myself in the mirror, realizing what she said. "And what do you mean, "pretty enough for Connor"?"

Not waiting for her reply, I shut off the voices on my head and grabbed a random outfit from my duffle, making a mental note to ask Mrs. Grace if there was a laundromat nearby that I could use.

After I showered in the guest bathroom, I pulled my hair back in a ponytail, secured with the fire hairclip from the Beast Twins. I wore a pair of jean shorts, a white T-shirt monogrammed with "S.T.A.R. Labs" in dark blue print, and the necklace from Artemis and Wally. There hadn't been a day since he died where I didn't wear it.

There was a soft knocking on the door, and I stopped packing to answer it.

There stood Connor.

I stood there too, unsure of what to say.

"Um, yes?" I asked, pushing ny glasses up the bridge of my nose.

"I thought I heard voices." Connor accused. "Were you talking to anyone?"

"No," I said quickly. "Just...myself."

I am such a bad liar.

Well, that was mostly true.

Connor looked doubtful, half glaring at me. Still mad at me for claiming to be Scarlett, no doubt.

I rocked back and forth uncomfortably, studying Connor as he studied me critically. Second time meeting my very best friend from childhood in ten years and I can't say anything.

Connor's dark black bangs brushed in front of his beautiful, spring-green eyes. He wore a royal blue T-shirt with the periodic table on the front, and dark jeans.