The Clockwise Spell

Chapter 5

“Tristan,” I almost collapsed with relief when I saw him, despite how annoying he was. Not to mention the jerk of a brother. The tingly run-away-right-now tingling that accompanied any of our conversations came back, except this time it raced up my spine with twice as much electricity.

He looked like he always did when I saw him: messy black hair, his hands stuffed in pockets, cocky grin, and fairly fit-looking and collected. Suddenly, I was aware that I had just been biking for about two hours and my hair was tangled; I was a sweaty mess, and breathing hard.

His mouth twitched as he took in my appearance, than he shrugged off his jacket and handed it to me. I took it, dumbstruck. Tristan – doing something nice for me? It didn’t take long for Tristan to raise an eyebrow and ask, “Well? Are you going to put it on? Do you need help with that?”

I scowled at him – which was becoming a reoccurring expression around him – and slipped the jacket on before moving my bike off the street and onto the sidewalk so we could talk. After I jumped off of my bike, he nodded – like one really, really comfortable leather jacket could solve all my problems (as if! I was still wearing shorts. And I didn’t exactly expect him to solve that problem).

He jerked his head in the opposite direction of where I had come from. “Come on,” he told me, striding off before I could say a word. I stood there for another moment, still slightly dumbstruck then rushed after him, dragging my bike along beside me and almost running over a little kid.

 “Wait!” I said, struggling to keep up with his long strides as I ignored the mother’s yells behind me. “What happened back there? Why was that guy so scared?”

Tristan didn’t even bother to cast me a glance. “Are you still wearing your ring?” he said out of the blue.

I stopped walking for a second after he said that, a bit confused that that question had come up. My eyes flickered down to my hand. Yep. Still there.

My head snapped up and I ran after him. “Wait! What do you know about my ring? Why did you ask? And why – will you stop and talk to me already?”

To his credit, Tristan did stop and it would have counted for much more if he hadn’t been waiting on another stoplight. “I know about your ring because I’ve seen you wear it before.”

“Yeah,” I snorted. “Because that gives you a perfectly good reason to ask about it like you mean so much more.”

“I think you’re reading too much into this conversation,” He told me with a flippant smile. 

Anger burst inside of me and I grabbed his arm, hard. “Listen, I just had one of the worst days ever. I was late for every single class, except for one, and I’m pretty sure someone was chasing me just now. Then you show up, make some guy basically have a heart attack, and ask me about my ring, which, by the way, I never take off. So yeah, guess what? I’m reading too much into a question maybe. Now answer my questions.”

A force seemed to come from my words; my words did not simply seem like words. They felt different, like honey coated them, glazed sugar glazed over it. For a second, the cold feeling left me; a warm feeling replacing it, making the air feel comfortable, cozy, even.

An electric buzz rushed through me, making my blood vibrate. My head got light all the sudden, like the feeling when you sit up suddenly and everything spins for a second.

Tristan visibly relaxed in front of me.  I had never noticed how straight he usually stood before. When he spoke, he sounded like he was about to fall asleep. “I know about the ring because it’s a Mark.”