Born Wicked

VII

"Ethan?" I ask the question before my eyes are open. I'm trapped in black and I'm scared.

I know he's hurt. I swear I just heard his thoughts, clear as if he'd spoken them to me. I know he's hurt and I can't find him. I feel like I'm drowning in quick sand, I'm kicking and clawing my way to the surface and it's dark and I know I'm never going to get to the top.

I just met him and already he's my reason to fight. I felt it for the first time in eleven years. The urge to hurt Julian and his friends. Funny, I'd never wanted to before now, I'd always just fought to isolate myself.

"Ethan," a sob. I'm sad we can't be friends. I'd given up so long ago. I don't know if I can fight my way back.

But he's my reason to fight. I need to make sure he's okay. The thought makes me swim against the black. I push and I pull and I move. Everything is soft and fuzzy like bathing in gauze. And then, sharp pain. My forehead hurts.

I focus on the throbbing, a shrill ache in the center of my brow. There's light. It's slow, a gradual dawn of greys.

"Jayme?" his voice. A soothing baritone that sounds like a hug.

I groan. I force my eyes to open to a stab of blinding light. Quickly, I shut them again. I inhale deeply, a sharp intake and it smells like outside, oceans and a boy. It's intoxicating.

I feel the supple leather beneath me and stretch. I can hear the purr of the engine. We're in a car. A 1970 GTO, the thought whispers through my addled brain. I peek over to my left and see him watching me.

His eyes are deep green, like under a canopy of trees during a summer storm. His face is taut, there's a bruise forming on his cheek, a gash splitting his bottom lip. He looks... grave.

I feel the edges of my lips tip up into a weak smile. "That bad, huh?" I murmur.

"I've seen worse," he says, solemn.

"Are you okay?" I ask him. Wincing as I sit up in the seat. My forehead feels like it was punched with a sledgehammer.

He frowns and shakes his head, disbelieving. "Jayme, are you okay? You've been out for at least twenty minutes. I think, maybe, I should take you a hospital."

I shake my head. "No, I'm fine. My head hurts a little," I say, fingering the lump on my forehead. I wince again, slightly. O-kaay. Maybe a lot. I curse under my breath.

"You sure?" he asks.

I nod. Looking through the windshield, I see the vibrant splash of the gold, oranges, deep greens and reds of autumn. We're in a park. I glance around. "How long have we been here?"

He shrugs. "Fifteen minutes, maybe? I came right here from school. I didn't know where else to take you."

I nod again. My eyes keep roaming. I glance at him in the driver's seat, slouching with his hands on his knees. They clench and unclench. His tee shirt, soft grey with ARMY stamped on the front in black, is worn. The material is beaten and gauzy, and molds to the outline of a broad chest and flat stomach, through the waffling of his thermal shirt underneath.

I swallow hard. I've never been alone in a car with a boy before. And he's beautiful. Oh, jeez. I'm in trouble. I've got to get away from him.

"What did they do to you?" he asks quietly. I can hear the blades in his voice, cold and hard.

He's angry. It simmers beneath the surface.

"Nothing," I reply. "I... I don't know what happened. But it wasn't them."

He frowns. "What do you mean?"

I sigh, heavy and hard. "I think –I b-blacked out." I stammer the seriously edited lie and touch the lump of my head again. I'm usually better at this. Lying, I mean. A breath whistles through my teeth. "I must have hit my head when I fell."

His eyebrows are soaring. "Why would you black out?" he asks, skepticism lacing his words in barbed wire. "That doesn't make any sense."

I shrug and turn to look out the window. "Whatever," I growl at him, "Maybe I was faint from starvation. I didn't get to eat anything thanks to you."

Inwardly, I'm totally shamefaced. It was such a bitchy thing to say when it clearly wasn't his fault. Outwardly, I'm glowering out the passenger window, completely ungrateful and wretched.

He's silent, contemplating. I can't help but turn and peek over at him. His face is set in grim lines as he scowls at the windshield. Or the view beyond the windshield. Or me. Yeah, probably me.

I sigh. No matter what, I can't be this awful. As guilty as I am for causing the deaths of my parents –and trust me when I say, I'll never forgive myself for it, I'm not a cruel person. They didn't raise me that way and Gran would have a conniption fit if she saw my behavior today.

"Ethan," I say hesitantly. "You see why we can't be friends, right? I mean, you get it, don't you?"

His face glowers with anger as he pins me with his bright, green stare. "I don't care," he says through gritted teeth. "You, I can see right through. This act you have, how you push me away. I bet I'm not the first. But that bullshit back there," he hooks his thumb over his shoulder, in the general direction of the school, "that isn't normal. Nobody fights like that, four on one, over a girl. So unless Julian's in love with you, and even then, that was enough to make me want to fight back. For you."

I feel my heart melt and puddle in my stomach. His expression is fierce, he gaze determined and angry, and his mouth set in a mutinous line. My fingers itch to stroke the shadow of dark hair ghosting along his chin. Oh, boy. I shake my head.

"Now let me ask you something," he says gruffly. "Did you feel what happened in the cafeteria? Did you see what happened?"

I shake my head again. Harder this time. "N-no," I fight to keep my voice from wavering. "I don't know w-what you mean."

His face softens from irritated glare to grudgingly grim. "You," he says in hushed tones, "are a horrible liar."

I roll my eyes. "Okay, smart guy," I jeer. "What do you think happened?"

When in doubt, go for mockery. I don't have a way to explain what the hell happened. I don't even know what actually did happen, let alone how to lie about it. I felt it. A power I'd never fathomed had started from within me and I'd done things I'd never seen or experienced before.

Gran hadn't warned me about this. And I'm convinced I'd been in Ethan's mind while I was unconscious and I can't even begin to figure that out.

He renders me utterly speechless when he leans over the gear shift and whispers, "I think whatever it was, it came from you. I think Blythe was trying to tell me something when she said you were dangerous and I know for a fact you're lying to me now." He offers me a sly smile. "But because all of that sounds crazy, I'm going to let it go. For now."