Fate's Exchange (Twisted Fate, Book 1)

Chapter Forty

Everything in front of me turned to shades of red, clouded by the bloodied memories of my death. Every tree loomed, their shadows growing to giant proportions over the wall separating the woods from the field. Although lean, the branches bulged, reminding me of Josh's overwhelming size. It was like my mind remembered every muscle, and no matter the fact that my eyes couldn't be seeing what I was imagining, I couldn't catch my breath.

David smiled, still looking out the window. "It's quiet here."

I shook my head, grateful that David hadn't seemed to have noticed my inner turmoil. Wouldn't that be fun to explain? I had been so sure that not saying anything, of allowing and accepting death to claim me, was the just thing to do, that I hadn't seen how wrong it was. I was wrong. The group of students that had taken me had been wrong. But dying to prove that was selfish and ultimately, just as wrong. It was time to move past it because technically, I hadn't experienced it yet.

"Why are we here?" I asked and turned in my seat to face David.

"To have supper." He put the car into park and released the hatch for the trunk. "You kept saying this—the two of us—was new, and you seem so uneasy in public, so..." He shrugged.

My lips parted in surprise. "So, you brought me to school?"

"No." He laughed. "I brought you to the field. For a picnic."

"A picnic?" I laughed and glanced down, feeling inadequate now in a dress. "At school? This place smells like death."

"What?" He climbed out of the car and I hurried after him, wondering why, if this was such a great idea, he hadn't met my gaze since we arrived. "It's quiet, so we can talk, and it's private so that nobody stares if I kiss you. Isn't that what you've been wanting?"

"Yeah," I whispered and shivered, wrapping my hands around my bare upper arms. Halter dresses looked good, sure, but they had the freaking warmth of a cold shower in the middle a snow day. I hated this field.

He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over my shoulders, rubbing my upper arms to create warmth through the fabric. I couldn't help but pull it close across my chest, dropping my head for a subtle sniff of his fresh rain smell. He lifted a basket and blanket from the trunk.

I followed his gaze across the field, but I couldn't help but take notice of the woods instead. How could I explain to him my trepidation without sounding crazy? I couldn't. So, I pasted a smile onto my face and said, "What's for supper?"

"Let's go pick a spot and find out."

I cast another glance at the woods and then smiled brightly at him.

"Okay, yeah." I nodded and took a deep breath.

I could at least pretend to be enthusiastic. I mean, the guy had tried to be romantic and brought me for a picnic, even if it was at school. It's not like he knew I'd died here. At least I didn't have to pretend to be happy to be with him—no experience, tragic or otherwise, could put a damper on those feelings.

"Let's go find somewhere to plop our picnic down. I'm hungry."

"You don't like picnics, do you?" He stopped and looked down at me with a serious, I-totally-screwed-up-the-gesture expression hanging on his face.

"I do," I promised and sighed, pointing out to the field while pushing him lightly with my hand on his abdomen until we started walking. "I just don't like these woods."

"Do you want to go somewhere else? There's another field I found, but some kids were playing soccer when I drove by earlier." He stopped again and turned to face me, finally meeting my gaze, and all I could see was his sincerity—good intentions and an eagerness to please. "I don't mind."