the dark,” he said. “A person can stand right in front of you and be dangerous without you even knowing it.”
His back continued to retreat into the darkness, but Wendy remained where she stood. That was … surprisingly insightful.
Jogging a bit to catch up, Wendy fell into step next to Peter. Against all logic, she felt better being in the woods with him by her side. It was almost like he emitted his own light that kept the darkness of the woods at bay.
“So that’s what you’re afraid of?” Wendy asked. “People?”
“What?” Peter snorted and gave a fierce shake of his head. “No. I’m not afraid of anything.”
Wendy rolled her eyes. What a childish response. “Everyone’s afraid of something,” she insisted.
“Everyone but me,” Peter corrected.
She fought the urge to give him a shove.
Wendy concentrated on his face, trying to read his expression as the light danced across his features. She wetted her lips, tasting the questions that were demanding to be asked.
“How old are you?” she finally asked.
“How old are you?” he countered evasively, lifting an eyebrow.
Wendy had to bite back a petulant reply of I asked you first.
“I’m eighteen,” Wendy told him.
Peter looked like he’d just been slapped. He jerked back with a blink before scrunching up his face. “You’re eighteen?”
Wendy felt very exposed as he blatantly looked her up and down. Indignant, even. She knew she was short, but she thought she at least looked her age.
Wendy smoothed a hand through her short hair and cleared her throat. “It was actually my birthday when we—when…” When I almost hit you with my car? When you freaked me and half the hospital out? When you came crashing into my life? “Yesterday. My birthday was yesterday.”
“Oh.” His stare was unfocused as he looked ahead, lost in thought. Still, he walked through the woods with ease while Wendy tripped along behind him. “I’m nineteen,” Peter said, coming out of his daze and tilting his chin up. Even the smallest grin pulled deep dimples into his cheeks.
Wendy was starting to get a headache from frowning so much. “Nineteen? There’s no way you’re nineteen,” she said flatly. “You look like you’re fifteen.”
His face still had a childlike roundness to it—his nose turned up at the end and was a little too small for his face. Even though he had muscles, they were still lean and sinewy. He could easily fit in with the crowds of lanky freshmen at her school.
He was looking smug now, his hands clasped behind his back as he grinned at her. “I’m taller than you,” Peter pointed out, as if that was cold hard evidence for his case.
Okay, he was a tall fifteen-year-old, but still a fifteen- year-old.
“Barely!” she shot back. “And that doesn’t mean anything, anyway.”
Snap.
A twig cracked in the distance.
The lantern clanked loudly as a violent jump ripped through her. Wendy tripped, her back colliding with Peter’s shoulder. He stumbled but caught her upper arms, steadying them both.
“What was that?” Wendy asked, the words tumbling from her lips. Was there something hiding in the trees? A person? Were they being watched? Wendy swallowed hard. She just wanted to get out of these damn woods.
“I was going to ask you the same thing.” He loosened his hold on her, but Wendy backed up again, pressing into him.
“I heard something in the trees.” Even though her whole body shook, she could feel his warmth radiating through his shirt.
“It’s okay,” Peter said. His tone was gentle. She wanted to believe him. “Here.” He took the lantern from her and she automatically wrapped her arms around her middle. Peter raised the light above her head to get a better look. “There’s nothing there,” he told her. “Probably just an owl or something.”
As if on cue, a faint hoot echoed from the trees.
Wendy let out a heavy sigh of relief.
But then a much louder hooting came from just behind her and Wendy jumped away from Peter. She whirled around to see his lips pressed into a small O. The owl in the woods hooted again and Peter responded.
Wendy pressed her fingers to her chest and felt her heart fluttering under them. “How did you do that?” she asked. He matched the owl’s call perfectly. Jordan could whistle pretty decently to match the pitch and tune of a bird, but Peter sounded exactly like a real owl.
Peter grinned and rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “Practice, I guess.” He started to walk again and Wendy stayed close to his side. Her arm brushed