felt warm, and my heart rate flew out of control. For a second, I imagined tracing my fingers along his hard stomach, feeling the heat of his ripped body, and…
Oh, my God!
“I don’t like water,” I mumbled, spouting out the first thing that came to mind, and Tristan laughed. “I meant I don’t feel like swimming.”
He took the soda from my hand and put it back on the table. “You sure about that?” He then took my hand and pulled me toward the pool.
“I’m as sure as—”
The rest of my words never came out. Tristan and I hit the water. I tried to hold my breath, but I quickly resurfaced, gasping for air.
“Tristan!” I smacked him on the chest. “That was so—” I realized my hand was still on his chest, and he was still holding my shoulders from helping me swim to the surface.
And then I started chanting in my head: He’s just a friend. He’s just a friend. He’s just a friend. He’s just a…
“Tristan, don’t you know pool water isn’t good for the hair!” Sarah saved me as she rushed over.
When Tristan turned to her, I pulled away from him and found my breath. When my eyes met his again, I could almost swear I saw a smile of satisfaction tugging his lips, as if he were happy that I reacted to him the way I did.
BROKEN ANGEL
“Silence makes me want to scream.
Screaming makes me angry.
Anger makes me feel lonely.
Loneliness makes me want to fell in love.
But love leads to a broken heart,
and a broken heart screams until there’s only silence.”
Melody Manful
I spent Saturday with Tristan, talking about places we’d been and things we’d seen. Later that day, we joined my friends for pizza. Sarah went on and on about her Tristan likes me theory, and although I kept telling her Tristan and I were just friends, she didn’t believe it.
When I came home, my mother asked me about Tristan, too, and thanks to Sarah, who kept texting me about him, my mother had something to base her suspicions on. I told her like I told Sarah, that Tristan was just a friend, but she didn’t believe it. She kept telling me how I lit up when I talked about Tristan. I couldn’t tell either Sarah or my mother what was in my heart, so I decided to let them carry on with their theory.
Sunday was all about my mother and me. We spent the entire day together. We cooked, watched a movie, and read some news about us on the gossip sites and laughed at the ridiculous rumors. It took some time, but it finally seemed as if the deaths of my father and Felix were now fading aches, and my mother and I were a functioning family again.
When Monday morning arrived, I felt all right. I hadn’t thought of Gideon once during the whole weekend, so I knew I could put him and his angel world out of my mind—possibly forever.
“Napoleon not only—” Mr. Bernard started, but he was distracted by the class door creaking open.
I didn’t have to look at the door to know who stood behind it, because my heart started pounding. Even though he had been far from my mind, my body still reacted wildly to his close proximity.
“Mr. Chase,” Mr. Bernard said, looking at his watch, “you’re late.”
I wished a million other people stood at that door other than Gideon.
“Traffic,” Gideon answered. I refused to look at the door and see him.
“See me after class,” Mr. Bernard said, and then he continued teaching.
I didn’t move my eyes away from my desk during classes that morning. I forced myself to think about anything but Gideon. When the bell rung for lunch, I started packing my books and supplies to get ready for the next class.
“Gideon,” I heard Jake calling, “man, where have you been?” he asked. “We missed you.”
“I took a sick day,” Gideon responded.
“It was more like a sick week,” Sarah said, and still I refused to look at them.
I could feel Tristan, who was sitting beside me, looking at me. I knew he wanted to say something from the way he stared, but he didn’t.
“Lunch time! People, are you coming?” Danny asked.
Tristan stood and walked over to my friends. I was sure they were gathered together with Gideon. I kept my eyes focused on my hands as I finished packing my bag.
“Abby, you coming?” Jake asked from beside me.
I looked at him. “Hmm…actually, I’m not feeling so well. I’m going