Destiny Gift (The Everlast Trilogy) - By Juliana Haygert Page 0,19
ceased to shock me: few streetlamps, some broken, caused the streets to be dark on a scary level; litter all around left a tainted scent; homeless people peered out of every corner; and shady figures with suspicious and malicious eyes ambled by. Shattered sidewalks, barricaded windows, and steel gates on every door completed the urban decay look.
I swallowed hard and summoned what was left of my courage. I needed to follow this pull inside, this sensation that would lead me to where Victor wanted to go. I needed to know if there was something for me there, if I was going to find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. But what would be my pot of gold? The answers to why I had the visions? Or maybe the answer to how to stay in them with Victor forever.
I took a step forward and bumped into something, like a hollow wall that somehow neutralized my feelings. Someone blocked my way. I looked up.
“Hi again,” Micah said, wearing a sly grin. I had forgotten about him—about how dangerously handsome he was. At my silence, he asked, “Won’t you greet me?”
“Hi,” I blurted, somewhat irritated. I didn’t like the way I reacted around him, the way my heart lurched, or my palms dampened.
“How is your back?” He buried his hands inside the pockets of his leather jacket.
I shrugged. “Better. I’ve been on painkillers.”
“So …” He glanced at my tote full of heavy books, then over my shoulder to the campus. “Skipping class?”
“And?” I didn’t like the way my subconscious responded to him, making me annoyed and on the defensive.
“Nothing.” His smile widened. “Actually, I’m glad you did, otherwise I would have had to wait until you were done with chemistry and math. And, I would have had to time it right to catch you before the start of your shift.”
My eyes bugged, then narrowed. “How do you know my schedule?”
He advanced one step, towering over me. “I go after things that interest me.”
I shivered. “Wh-what do you want?”
He frowned. “To be honest, I don’t know.” His voice resonated, deep and somber. His gaze found mine, but I could see he was hiding something.
Oh heck, he’d piqued my curiosity. “What do you do, Micah?”
“You mean, for a living?” He was back to his shrewd and charming self. I nodded and he leaned against the campus wall. “Well, nothing.”
I laughed, figuring he was joking. He didn’t laugh with me. “You’re serious. How do you—oh, I don’t know—pay your bills? Or do you still live with your parents?”
His eyes darkened. “My parents died when I was eighteen,” he said, his strong, foreign accent clearer.
I put my hands over my mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
“That’s okay. That was five years ago. I use my inheritance to pay my bills. And, at the moment, I’m living in a hotel room.”
One of the things I most hated about myself was my intense curiosity. Right now, it itched under my skin. “Where are you from?”
“Israel.”
That explained his heavy accent. “And what brought you to New York?”
He chuckled. “Aren’t we a bit curious?”
I whirled my hair with my finger. “Sorry. It gets the better of me.”
He didn’t answer, but instead kept staring at me. Self-conscious, I leaned on the wall beside him and pretended to watch the dreadfulness of the city. We stood like that for a few moments, quietly observing the movement before us.
“It’s like this everywhere, you know,” he said, sounding sorrowful. “I’ve traveled quite a bit since …” He swallowed, affected by his parents’ deaths, I guessed. I felt the urge to touch him, to comfort him. “You know, there are some better, others much worse, but they are all the same. Dark, cold, dangerous.”
“My grandma’s theory is that God gave up on us. He was so sad with our acts and with our direction, He decided to leave us.”
“Not a bad theory.” Micah glanced at his feet. “I don’t know what to think, though.”
I could almost hear the wheels inside his mind whirring, but I held my tongue. Showing how curious I could be would do no good. But why was I worried about what Micah thought of me?
The clock on my cell phone beeped. My math class would start in ten minutes.
“I gotta go,” I announced, pushing off the wall and turning toward the campus gate.
“Wait,” he called out.
My pulse quickened, and I turned to him.
“Can I have your hand?” he asked.
“Excuse me?”
He laughed—a delicious sound. “No, not like that.” He ambled up