The Dragon Twins (Dark World The Dragon Twins #1) - Michelle Madow
1
Gemma
We were best friends, and now, he hates me.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I stared at the last sentence in my journal entry. I inhaled the salty air and looked up to where the waves lapped the sand, and then out to the ocean to gaze off into the horizon. A light breeze blew around me, and the sun shined high in the sky. It was almost noon, so the sunlight brightened my entire cove.
My cove. That was how I’d always thought of it. By some miracle, no tourists had found the rickety wooden steps that led from the scenic road down the cliff to where the cove provided me my own private paradise. The locals didn’t come here, either. It was like the cove gave off an aura that told them to turn away and find another beach to hang out at.
According to my family history, my great-great-great-great-great grandmother—or something of the sort—had cast a spell around the cove with her sisters to make it so no one wandered into it. The beaches in Australia were Crown land, owned by the Queen of England for public use. But no one came near it but us.
My twin sister, Mira, hated it here. She said it was spooky, since there were no people around. She saw no point in hanging at the beach alone.
Which left it empty—just the way I liked it.
I wiped away my tears and refocused on my journal. Well, technically it was a sketchbook, since I didn’t like to stay in the lines while writing. Half of the page was already filled with my messy handwriting. But so far, I didn’t feel any better than I had when I’d first sat down.
I lowered the pen back down to the paper and continued writing.
I tried to make it work. I wanted it to work. But love can’t be forced. It either exists, or it doesn’t.
I stopped and stared at the words.
Then, something moved ahead and to the right.
I startled and looked up, and my eyes met those of a guy around my age. He was tall and tan, muscular without being bulky, had brown hair that fell in waves across his forehead, and hazel eyes so intense that it was like they were seeing into my soul. He looked out of place in jeans, a black t-shirt, and sandals—like he hadn’t planned on coming out to the beach.
“What are you drawing?” His accent was distinctly American. A tourist. September was the start of tourism season in Australia, although it normally drew an older crowd, since American families waited to visit until winter or spring break when school was out of session.
“I’m not drawing,” I said. “I’m writing.”
He walked forward until there were only two meters between us. “Writing what?”
I placed the pen between the pages and closed the journal. “Stuff.”
“Wow.” His eyes twinkled in amusement. “Stuff. Sounds exciting.”
I smiled, since yeah—I couldn’t have been more generic than that. “I’m writing about my life,” I said. “Figuring things out. Soul searching. You know how it goes.”
No, he probably doesn’t “know how it goes.” My cheeks heated, and I glanced back out at the ocean. Most people don’t keep journals so they can try to make sense of their innermost, angsty, brooding feelings that they’re too self-conscious to share with anyone else—even their twin sister.
“So it’s a diary?” he asked.
“A journal,” I said quickly.
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
“Diaries are for kids,” I said. “Journals are different. They’re more reflective.”
“Ah,” he said. “I see.”
The air crackled with energy between us. I wigged my toes in the sand, aware of every grain between them. The sand always calmed me, and despite the mid-day sun bearing down on it and heating it up, it never burned.
He held his gaze with mine, and his hazel eyes with a sunburst of orange around his pupils were so familiar. I could have sworn…
“Have we met before?” I asked.
“I just got in last night,” he said. “I’m Ethan. And you are…?”
“Gemma.”
“Gemma.” The two syllables sounded like music as he spoke them. “Pretty name.”
“Thanks.” I smiled and tucked a loose strand of my long brown hair behind my ear.
Ethan walked closer and situated himself beside me. He sat on my left—so he couldn’t peek into my journal—leaned back on his palms, and gazed out at the horizon. I waited for him to jump up and say something about how hot the sand was, but it was like he didn’t notice at all.