Born Wicked

IX

Ethan might be the most obstinate person I've ever met. He refuses to listen to reason. He tells me if it's that important that he not be friends with me, then he wants to know why. If no one will tell him why, then his mind is made up. I'm not sure what to say anymore.

I play with the fries on my plate. We're at a diner not far from my house, sitting in a booth. I've never eaten here before, but the afternoon crowd is pretty thin. And handful of older men sitting at the counter, eating lunch or drinking coffee.

"Are you full?" he asks, stuffing the last of his burger into his mouth.

"Yes," I say, "Thanks. I'll pay you back tomorrow."

He waves a hand, dismissing me. "So, are you going to tell me what happened back in the car, or are you still going with hungry? Because I will say, I know you're full of shit. You haven't eaten anything but a handful of fries."

"I don't know," I say dismissively. "I thought I was hungry. Now I'm not, just drop it, okay?"

"No," he replies. "You took a big hit to your head today, you were unconscious, Jayme. So, no, I won't drop it," his volume is elevating with his agitation.

I shove my plate of fries away. "No offense," I hiss scathingly. "But I never asked for your concern. We are NOT friends, Ethan. And we won't ever be. Now, look," I flick my wrist, glancing at my watch, not really caring what time it is. If Gran isn't home, I'll sit on the porch until she is. "I gave you your pity lunch, and I've gotta go."

He's incredulous then angry. Oh, no he's furious, his eyes narrowing to slits, the fury brightening them to glow, incandescent and jade.

"Pity?" he seethes, "That's—"

He clamps his mouth shut into a thin hard line and his jaw works furiously, cutting off whatever he was going to say. His temples throb and his studded eyebrow, twitches with the force of his restraint.

"Fine," he grinds out through clenched teeth, "I'll take you home."

I'm honestly horrified. Saddened that I've hurt him and made him angry, but there's no going back. I need to put an end to this now. The truth is, the Sorcers don't let me get close to people, any people. But even if I wanted to, what happened with my parents... I feel my jaw harden.

No. I like Ethan, I do. He's beautiful and fierce and stubborn, yes, but also kind and determined. He's everything he should be and I'm nothing but dangerous. Lethal.

"Don't worry about it," I say blandly. "I'll walk."

I push myself out of the booth and without a backward glance I stalk out of the diner. I live about ten blocks from here. It shouldn't be too long of a walk, given that it is October in New England and kind of chilly out.

The sun, though not as strong as in the summer months, is out and washing the day in weak, warmth. I shudder in my thin, frayed shirt. At least it's long sleeved.

I'm about to pass Ethan's car. A shiny, black GTO with chrome trim. Gleaming like a prize... I shudder at the thought. If I read his mind today, if that's what really happened, what was I going to do? How do I get answers for that? I could ask Gran...

My thoughts are brutally cut off when a firm hand grapples my bicep and I'm spun around. It happens so fast, I lose my balance and my back slams into the side of Ethan's car. He steps into me, releases his hold on my arm and braces his hands on the roof of the car on either side of my shoulders.