Michael looked more interested than horrified. He opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could speak, the bell buzzed, signaling the end of lunch.
He ran a hand through his hair and scowled. “I want to talk about this more. But we can’t do it here.” He stood up abruptly, grabbing our trays, and I struggled to my feet, still feeling shaky.
Michael dumped our trash into the nearby garbage can and set the trays in the slot on top of it. He turned back to me with another smile and reached out to touch my shoulder. I felt the same zing as before and sucked in a breath. If Michael noticed, he didn’t react.
“Is your mom picking you up today?” he asked.
I shook my head, and Michael’s smile widened.
“Then can I give you a ride home? We could talk a little more, maybe.”
“That would be great. Thanks.”
We both hesitated a moment more before Michael turned to lead me through the now emptying cafeteria and back to the main walkways, crowded with students. I turned to look up at him, to say goodbye, but my breath caught at the expression in his eyes—a mix of question and longing. I could feel the same mixture coming off him in waves, and when he gripped my shoulder again, I was nearly overwhelmed by the flood of emotion.
“Are you okay?” Michael asked in alarm. “You just went white.”
“Yeah.” I pulled in a breath. “Sometimes touch makes the connection stronger.” I covered his hand lightly with my own. “It just took me by surprise.”
Michael nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. “Okay. I’ll see you at your locker after school.” He turned and joined the crowd, disappearing from my sight.
I don’t think too much happened in class that afternoon, but I really couldn’t swear to it. I was completely and totally in another world. Mr. Frame lectured on something that happened in the early nineteenth century, and the Trig teacher spent the whole class period wrapped up in a concept I could not even begin to comprehend. All I knew for sure was that they left me alone to think.
When I wasn’t with Michael, I could think rationally, and I could plan carefully. I knew that it was absolutely ludicrous to believe that this person I had known for barely two days could be so important to me already, and it was even more impossible that I could mean anything to him. I thought about each time we’d been together… but I couldn’t remember them in too much detail or I lost any of that rationality.
I came down to one conclusion: it didn’t make any sense. Michael had so far offered no explanation for why he was spending this much time and energy on me. If I had a suspicious mind—which I did—I might worry that it was my unique talent that drew him to me, but if I was looking at things logically, I had to admit that he had sought me out before he knew about my ability. So it was pretty far-fetched that he liked me for my freakish mind.
Far more frightening was considering my own reaction to him. I couldn’t look into his eyes for any length of time without losing all sense of reality. Each time he smiled at me, my insides begin to melt away. My whole being hummed with gladness when I knew I was going to be with him, and I felt every sense sharpen when we were together.
This was so new to me. In the past, I had found boys attractive. I could look objectively at a cute guy and admire him. I had even had a few small crushes on classmates—crushes that never had amounted to anything more than me sighing to myself when that boy passed me in the hall or fleetingly caught my eye. I never pursued those feelings, because they weren’t that important.
This situation was so radically different that I couldn’t even compare it. I wondered, though, what would have happened if Michael had never made a move to talk with me. What if I had just seen him in the cafeteria on the first day and that had been the end of it? Would I still be hung up on him? Or was it that he had reached out to me, had made it a point to talk to me, that made him so attractive?
At the end of two class periods, I didn’t have the answers. I knew that Michael