Oliver saw me looking at him, and his face tightened with anger. From the way he was glaring at me, it looked like he was stil pissed I'd brushed him off on the bus ride over here this morning. Whatever. I stil didn't know why he'd sat down beside me to start with. I certainly wasn't the person he had a crush on, so what was the point of trying to chat me up? I might not have gotten a crystal-clear picture of his mystery crush in my head when I'd accidental y touched Oliver's supersecret notebook during weapons training, but I'd seen enough to know it wasn't me.
Although the Spartan's hard stare made me wonder why he was talking to the other girl in the first place. After al , she had white blond hair, not black hair like Oliver's mystery crush had in my hazy flash.
I pushed away al thoughts of the Spartan and stepped outside.
The night air felt cool and crisp against my cheeks, and a few flakes of snow fluttered in the air. A soft breeze carried a sharp metal ic tang with it, whispering that even more of the white stuff was on the way. I looked up. There weren't any stars out tonight, but a silver sliver of the moon peeked down at me for a few seconds before the thick clouds swal owed it up again. The Christmas lights that had been strung up in the alpine vil age winked on and off, flashing red, green, and gold against the blackness of the night.
I leaned against the coffee shop window, tucked my hands into my jacket pockets, and just breathed. In and out, in and out, the way my mom had taught me to whenever I was feeling scared, panicked, or upset. The slow, steady rhythm soothed me, chasing away some of my anger, frustration, and heartache. The music from the party stil thumped, but the sound was muffled out here-
just a low, growling rumble through the brick and glass of the building.
My peace and quiet lasted maybe two minutes before a Valkyrie wearing a tight, white turtleneck sweater, a green leather miniskirt, and ridiculously high-heeled boots teetered outside, stumbled away about thirty feet, bent over, and puked up al the beer she'd just drunk. I wrinkled my nose. Ugh. I so did not need to see that.
She straightened up and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and I realized it was Morgan McDougal . The Valkyrie sensed me watching her and turned in my direction. We stood there staring at each other. Maybe it was just the flashing lights, but Morgan's face looked as green as her skirt and matching boots.
"Do you, uh, need some help?" I asked.
Morgan opened her mouth like she was going to say something, but then she clamped her lips together and shook her head. Without another word, she turned and tottered off toward the hotel, her stiletto boots digging into the snow like spikes.
Morgan puking her guts out seemed like a clear signal that it was time to leave. I turned around and glanced through the window. It took me a minute to spot Daphne and Carson, who were stil dancing. Wel , Daphne was dancing. I wasn't quite sure what Carson was doing.
I thought about going inside and tel ing them that I was al partied out for the night. But I knew if I did that, Daphne would insist on leaving the party, so she and Carson could walk me back over to the hotel. She was just that good a friend, and so was Carson. The two of them had basical y been babysitting me al day
-they deserved to have a little time to themselves tonight.
Besides, there were plenty of other Mythos kids wandering around outside, laughing and talking and stumbling from one shop, or one party, to the next. I'd be safe enough walking back to the hotel by myself. I could see the entrance from here, lit up with strands of Christmas icicle lights. I doubted that even a Reaper would be stupid or brave enough to try to kil me in the middle of the alpine vil age, especial y since it was ful of drunk students.
My decision made, I pushed away from the building, heading back toward the hotel-and ran right into Preston.
One second, I was alone. The next, Preston appeared in front of me.
"Oof!"
I hit Preston square on and bounced back off his chest.
And, of course, my boots skidded on a patch of black ice on the sidewalk. I would have fal en on my ass right in front of him if he hadn't leaned over and caught me, clutching me to his chest.
"Nice reflexes," I said, staring into his blue eyes.
He grinned. "Good to know al those long hours in the gym have final y paid off."
We stood there like that for another moment, the two of us frozen in this strange, intimate embrace. I cleared my throat and looked away. Preston got the message and pul ed me back up onto my feet.
"Are you okay?" he asked in a concerned voice.
"I am now," I said, smiling at him.
Preston grinned at me again. "Good. You know, I was hoping I'd see you here tonight, Gwen."
Gwen. Even the way he said my name was sexy, as if his good looks and muscled body didn't make him cute enough already. Okay, okay, so maybe part of my heart stubbornly insisted that Preston's voice didn't have quite the same husky ring to it that Logan's did whenever the Spartan cal ed me "Gypsy girl." But Logan was inside with another girl, and I was out here with Preston. Maybe Daphne was right. Maybe it was time to find someone to take my mind off Logan-and I thought Preston would do quite nicely.
"I was hoping that I'd see you, too," I said.
We stood there staring at each other. The glow from the coffee shop and the Christmas lights highlighted Preston's smooth skin and perfect features, making him look older, more handsome, and slightly dangerous. He just kept staring at me, as if he thought I was just as gorgeous as he was. I wasn't, of course, but I stil liked the attention, even if a hot, furious blush worked its way into my cheeks as a result.
A few feet away, a couple who'd been making out on an iron bench next to the coffeehouse final y got up. Their lips never broke contact as they walked toward the hotel.
Preston jerked his head in that direction. "Shal we?" I nodded. We walked over and sat down on the bench.
Preston leaned back and stretched his arm out across the top of the bench, almost like he was putting it around my shoulders.
We both had on jackets, and he was wearing gloves, so there was no danger of me getting any kind of vibe off him. Stil , I liked being close to him.
For a moment I wondered what would happen if I leaned over and brushed my fingers against Preston's face. What I would see and feel if I used my Gypsy gift to flash on him.
Guys were so hard to read, especial y supercute ones like Preston, and my magic was basical y my own personal, built-in lie and bul shit detector. My psychometry would let me know what he real y thought of me. If he thought I was pretty or funny or a total freak. If he real y liked me or was thinking about someone else or was just sitting here with me because he thought he might get laid.
The temptation to find out the answers was so strong that it made my fingers twitch with anticipation, but I forced myself to stick my hands into my jacket pockets . I wasn't going to do that, I wasn't going to use my magic that way. I wasn't going to pul secrets out of people just because I had the power to do so, just because I wanted to know what they were up to. It was a decision I'd made a few weeks back, when I'd realized Logan had a secret he was hiding from me-one that was keeping us apart.
Besides, tonight I wanted something-something simple, easy, uncomplicated, and yeah, total y romantic, too. I thought that sitting on a bench with a cute guy and watching the flakes of snow gather in his white blond hair de finitely qualified as romantic.
"So you go to Mythos down here in the South," Preston said.
"What year are you?"
"Second-year. You?"
"Fourth," he said.
That would make him nineteen then, two years older than me.
Not too old at al .
"So what are you?" I asked. "Spartan? Roman? Some other kind of warrior whiz kid?"
Preston shook his head, and his face seemed to darken for a moment before he answered me. "Nope, I'm just a Viking. I have a younger sister, too, but, of course, she's a Valkyrie."
I nodded. Siblings shared the same blood and heritage in warrior families, just like they did in normal mortal families, but the kids weren't always labeled as the same kind of warriors.
Usual y, the boys were Vikings, while the girls were Valkyries. Or if the boys were Romans, then the girls were Amazons. Then there were some warrior families where it was al the same, where both the boys and the girls were considered to be Spartans, Samurais, Ninjas, or whatever. Daphne had tried to explain it to me one day, but I hadn't real y understood.
"And I'm definitely not a whiz kid," Preston continued. "At least not according to my parents whenever the academy e-mails them my grades. I'm currently flunking myth-history, just like I did last semester and the one before that."
"Aw, don't feel too bad," I said in a teasing tone. "I'm even worse off. I'm pretty much failing gym right now.
Seriously, failing gym. How lame is that?" We looked at each other, and we both started laughing.
His deep, sexy voice, my lighter one. I liked the way they sounded together.
"So you're failing gym-why?" Preston asked. "Do they do something different down here at the Southern academy that they don't do up in New York?"
I shrugged. "Probably not. I'm just not al that coordinated.
What about you?"
Preston shrugged as wel . "I'm pretty good with a sword, but I kind of suck when it comes to some of the other weapons. And I absolutely despise archery. My aim is just never any good."
I flashed back to the arrow thunking into the bookcase a foot away from my head in the Library of Antiquities. "I don't like archery much either."
We just started talking after that, about the two academies and the differences between them, about our classes and professors, about music and movies and sports and books. I liked Preston. He was smart, funny, and charming-and so total y gorgeous.
Part of me stil couldn't believe that he didn't have a girlfriend-and that he was hanging out with me instead of going into the coffee shop and finding someone cuter to flirt with.
Someone like Morgan, who would have probably already asked him to go back to her room. But I wasn't about to complain. For once, I was having a good time, and I was going to enjoy it as long as it lasted.
We'd been sitting on the bench talking for about half an hour when the snow started to pick up, coming down in a thick shower of fat, fluffy flakes. For some reason, the snow made me think of Nike. It was cold, beautiful, and dangerous al at the same time, just like the goddess of victory.
A shiver swept through my body, and I realized that my nose and cheeks had gone numb from sitting outside.
Preston noticed my shiver. He scooted closer, wrapped his arm around me, and stared into my eyes. For a second, I thought he might lean forward and kiss me. My heart thumped up into my throat in anticipation. Part of me wanted him to-and part of me stil wished it was Logan out here with me instead.
"You want to get out of here?" Preston asked in a soft voice.
"Maybe go somewhere warmer and ... talk?" I didn't know if he real y meant talk, make out, or something else completely, but I'd be happy with any one of them. I smiled at him. "Let's go."
Chapter 11
Preston got to his feet and held out his hand. I slipped my bare fingers into his palm, enjoying the smooth feel of his glove on my skin. A second later, my pscyhometry kicked in and showed me an image of Preston sitting in a dark car and pul ing on the black gloves.
No big whoop. It was exactly the kind of thing I'd expected to see, exactly the kind of thing I had seen hundreds of times before when touching someone's clothes. Usual y, I barely noticed those sorts of flashes, although this time, I felt like there was more to the memory, something hovering right at the edge of my mind.
Something important ...
Before I could focus on it, Preston pul ed me to the right.
Instead of going toward the hotel, he was heading around the side of the building and the shadows there. My heart thumped even faster in my chest. If he took me back there and tried to kiss me, I was so going to let him-
The door to the coffee shop jangled opened, and Logan stepped outside.
Logan's sudden appearance startled me so much that I let go of Preston's hand. The beginning of the glove memory, whatever it had been, vanished as soon as I broke contact. And of course, I slipped on that stupid patch of black ice again. This time, I managed to catch myself before I fel on my ass.
Logan reached out a hand to help me, but I waved him off.
One, because I'd embarrassed myself enough already.
And two, because he wasn't wearing gloves. If I touched Logan's bare skin, I didn't know what kind of flash I'd get off him. I certainly didn't want to see him kissing Savannah or something else like that. I'd already witnessed that enough times in real life. Besides, I might discover how he felt about the Amazon, and if my magic told me that he real y cared about her, wel , that would only hurt me even more.
Logan saw my wary look at his outstretched fingers. His hand curled into a tight fist, and he dropped it to his side.
Not too long ago, the Spartan had tried to kiss me, but just before our lips had touched, I'd realized I'd flash on him when he did-and that maybe I wouldn't like what I'd see.
I hadn't known Logan al that wel back then, and I'd been afraid that I'd sense that he was laughing at me or just kissing me because he felt sorry for me, because he thought I was a total loser freak or would be an easy lay. He did have a reputation as a man-whore, after al , and those weren't exactly the sort of things you wanted to feel when you were making out with the cute guy you liked. I had some experience with that, since I'd once flashed on Drew Squires, my first and only boyfriend, and had realized that he was thinking about another girl while he was kissing me.