Dark Child Page 2

  “You barely know me. How can you trust me?” I frown at him.

  “It’s a gut feeling. Don’t you trust your instincts about people?”

  I think about psycho girl again and shake my head. “Not really.”

  He looks down at his hands, clenches and unclenches them, turns them palms up as if trying to read something written there, something I can’t see. “I just think we’ll be okay living side by side, Mercury Watson. That’s all.”

  Yeah, well, let’s hope he’s right on that account.

  My new roomie and I rarely cross paths in the next few days. He’s already out when I get up—and I’m an early riser—then when I come home after classes and work, ready to faceplant into bed, he’s either out, or in his room, doing some thing or other.

  Kind of a mystery. He’s a mystery, choosing me as his roommate, but as long as he keeps his end of the deal—low rent, no problems—then I’ve got nothing to complain about.

  Today I’m running late for my afternoon Introduction to Statistics class, so I race through campus, my backpack thumping on my back. Truth is, I don’t even know why I’m taking these classes. What they are for. Haven’t settled on a career yet.

  Matt, my brother-in-law and owner of Mancave, the garage I work part-time at, was asking me again yesterday if I decided what I wanna major in.

  I have no clue. Maybe engineering?

  No big deal, right? Not everyone can know their future from the start, even though my sisters seem to. Still, it fucks with my head. Here I am, sleepwalking through life, obsessing over a girl who’s always hot and cold with me, sleeping in an apartment with a guy I barely know, wondering if I’m a sum of nightmares and song lyrics, a sum of fears and doubts that I never dare show, and…

  …come face to face with the object of my obsession.

  She’s walking toward me, down the hallway leading to the classrooms, doing something on her phone.

  Like always, my heart does a weird backflip at the sight of her, and despite my resolution to stop talking to her, thinking about her, I raise my hand in greeting and yank the headphones off, letting them hang around my neck. The music continues, tinny and distant.

  “Hey… Sophie. What’s up?”

  Like an idiot, goddammit. And it gets worse when she glances up and frowns, as if trying to place me, or remember if she’s ever met me before.

  But then she says, “You’re Marty, right?”

  “Merc.” My teeth clench. “We’re in Calculus together.”

  “Oh right, right.” She waves a hand in the air, like it doesn’t matter—and it obviously doesn’t to her, get a fucking clue, Merc—but all I do is stare at her pretty face, all pale skin and long dark hair, those big hazel eyes, those soft, lush lips.

  The fine curves of her body, barely hidden under her light blue dress and gray coat that’s cinched at the waist with a black belt.

  She’s so sexy. Like always.

  “Did you… want something?” She glances back at her phone, then back at me, a hint of impatience in her gaze. “I’m pretty sure we don’t have Calculus today.”

  “You’re right. We don’t.” I lower my hand and give her a half-smile, trying to hide my disappointment.

  What did I expect, huh? Looks like it’s an ‘Ignore Merc’ day. That’s most days with her, truth be told, and fuck if it doesn’t twist me up inside.

  A girl who barely knows I exist.

  A girl who isn’t attracted to me and won’t even talk to me.

  On most days. That’s the crux of the problem, isn’t it? Because sometimes she does notice me, and seems glad to see me, and all it does is breathe new life into my dying hope, just when I thought it was over.

  Dangerous game. Playing with fire.

  She walks by me, gaze glued to the damn phone, and I sigh and tell myself to stop. To fucking stop wanting her. That’s all this is. Lust. It’s time to move on. Plenty of girls around. Matt already told me that’s what I should do. He’s the only person I’ve told about Sophie. It’s been over a year now. The girl doesn’t see me, simple as that.

  And if I see her way too much—in my good dreams, in my daytime fantasies—well, tough.

  Time to let go.

  Chapter Two

  Cosima

  “I’m back in town, boys and girls!” Unlocking the door, I step into the apartment and spot my sis curled up on the sofa, alone. “Well, just girls, then. Miss me?”

  “Cos!” She uncurls faster than the eye can blink and throws herself at me. “You made it.”

  “Said so, didn’t I?”

  She spins me around until we both flop on the sofa, breathless from laughter. “Well, you also said it depended on your job.”

  “It did. But see, it worked out! I said I’d be here. Listen to your older sis when she says something.”

  She lifts a finger. “Barely older.”

  “Seven minutes are plenty of time to get wiser than you.”

  “Ah-huh.”

  I ruffle my twin’s hair, and she ducks away with a giggle. “So tell me. How are you?”

  “Okay.” She avoids my gaze, and I sigh. She won’t tell me more if I push, I know her well. Same as I don’t talk to her about Steve.

  My ex. Nasty piece of work. Out of my life for good now, at least.

  “Just tell me what you need help with, and I’m set.”

  She nods, and I let myself relax. At least I can do this for her, and the fact she trusts me enough to ask, to let me, unknots something inside me. I am the older, even by a few minutes, and I’ll take care of her, like I always have.

  A strangled little sound from behind me makes me turn, scanning the living room. “What was that?”

  “My cat.”

  “You have a cat? Since when?”

  “A kitten. Found her downstairs a few days ago. It’s cold. She was hungry.”

  Aw. I’ve always loved cats but never got one, since I’m never home anyway. Wherever home is supposed to be. I’m sure one day I’ll end up a crazy cat-lady, but for now I content myself with wearing T-shirts with cats on them, as if promising myself that one day I’ll get the real deal.

  Just like with love.

  “Shall I order some of that weird Lebanese food you like?” Soph asks.

  “Yes, please.” I beam at her. “And it’s not weird! It’s kibbe. Just raw minced meat with wheat and spices.”

  She rolls her eyes at me and gets up to grab her phone. “Yeah. That.”

  I throw a cushion at her. “It’s good. You should try it.”

  “I’ll stick to the kebab, thank you very much.”

  I watch the little shadow of the kitten skitter along the wall, disappearing into the bedroom, and my chest tightens with affection—and worry. When will my sis have time to take care of a kitten?

  But hey, I’m here. I’ll take care of the kitty until my sis is on her feet again.

  I flip through her fashion mags as she puts in the order and side-eye her when instead of sitting back down, she goes to stand by her bookshelves.

  “Hey, did something else happen? What’s up?”

  She winces. “Nothing, I swear. Nothing new. Don’t you start worrying any more than you already are about me, Cos.”

  Sure. Like I can help it. “Did you talk to Dad? He said he couldn’t get hold of you.”

  Another wince. “I just… don’t want to talk about anything with him right now.”

  “He loves you, Soph.”

  “And wants to talk about my many mistakes in life. I know.”

  “Dad’s not like that.”

  She says nothing.

  We’ve had this conversation plenty of times before. I know it’s complicated, and I know Dad can get too much sometimes, whenever he remembers us from the artists’ colony where he’s been living these past few years, but he means well—unlike Mom who only cares about her own precious self.

  It’s just that… I don’t let him get on my case, but Soph is not that strong. Not anymore. Sometimes
it’s all too much for her, and when she gets like this, anything can get her down. Not something I want for my sis.

  That’s why I’m here. Who can support her if not her older sibling, right?

  “And how’s Griffin?” I ask brightly, to change the subject.

  Finally a smile warms her face, though it’s faint. “The treatment seems to be working.”

  “Good. That’s great news, sis.”

  She nods. Flicks some non-existent dust from the books’ spines. Her lower lip trembles, but that’s the only sign before she bites down on it and straightens her spine.

  My little sis. Fragile, beautiful, sassy, intelligent, sad—and a stubborn fighter. My heart beats in time to hers. We’re more alike than I allow myself to believe, and yet so different.

  She’s kick-ass. And I’ll be by her side for as long as she needs me.

  After all, it’s not like I even have anything to go back to. She thinks she made mistakes? Ha. Let’s not talk about mine.

  Besides, that’s the last thing I want to discuss with her now. I’m not here to throw a pity party. This is about her, not me.

  What better way to take a break from myself?

  It’s a bright winter day. Drawing my black coat closed, I blow into my hands as I walk briskly through the college campus. I have the class schedule in my hand, and I’m trying to find the right auditorium, when I see him.

  The blond cutie with the impressive biceps, the dreamy blue eyes and the ever-present ear-phones hanging around his neck.

  We’ve crossed paths quite a few times over the past year, and yeah, he’s been in my thoughts once or twice.

  Hey, I’m human, and he’s so handsome he makes my ovaries hurt. What can you do?

  But I don’t really live here, I’m only filling in for my sister, and obviously he doesn’t even know she exists. I’d smile and ask how he’s been every time I saw him in one of my sister’s classes, but he never seemed interested in talking, and I don’t even know his name.

  And of course he’s a total chick-magnet. Maybe it’s the fact he’s always surrounded by women that makes it hard to talk. No time for chitchat with inconsequential people like me.

  Like now, when he’s in the middle of a group of girls, saying something that has them swooning and giggling.

  Ugh. I mean, even if I found the guts to approach and chat him up, what chance do I stand when he’s constantly mobbed by the prettiest girls on campus?

  There’s something about his smile… it’s playful and kind of twisted, but also sweet. I can imagine the softness of his full lips on my skin, the scrape of his golden stubble on my chin, on my boobs, between my legs, the roughness of his tongue—

  Whoa. Cool down, wildcat.

  Regretfully I walk by, turning one last time to ogle his handsome self—and okay, his butt—and go on my merry way. Things to do, classes to attend. I’m on a mission. Can’t get distracted by hotties, even if they’re totally my type:

  Beautiful, muscular, and unavailable.

  I assume he’s unavailable. Come on, with all those girls at his feet? If he sleeps with one of them every night of the month, he’ll be busy full-time.

  Not that I’m bitter or anything.

  And he’s not my only type, I think as I stop to check the map again. The other one is hot, available and an asshole. That’s my usual type, in fact, just like Steve who literally kicked me out of his apartment a few months ago.

  It’s probably a blessing that this one hasn’t even noticed me. I’m not even a blip on his radar.

  My phone dings with a text, and I whip it out, grateful for a distraction, expecting a message from my sis.

  Instead, I find a message from Mom. It reads, ‘What did your sister want this time?’

  Rolling my eyes, I put away the phone without answering. I mean, does that text warrant a reply? Not in my book. Not from Mom who’s always been more interested in her current boyfriend and her appearance, her hair and her nails and her girlfriends and going out—rather than us.

  Unfair? Nah, I don’t think so. Am I a bad daughter? Maybe. I don’t know. I’m just too pissed off to be civil right now. I’ll answer her later, when I cool down.

  Cool cat. Good cat. That’s me. I snicker as I locate the elusive classroom and enter right in the middle of class.

  Oops.

  Well, those notes won’t take themselves. I slip inside and sit at the back, pull out notebook and pen and get to work. When the list is passed around, I sign and then ask the guy sitting in front of me about anything else the professor said before I came in.

  Mission: on track for success.

  Halfway through the day, my phone chimes once more with a text. Again I expect a text from my sister, and again I get one from someone else. But I grin when I see the number because this time it’s from my bestie, Lin.

  She really is the best, putting me up when I didn’t know where to crash. With disastrous after disastrous relationship—if you can call them that, those train wrecks you can’t look away from—and all the time I wasted on stupid guys who only wanted to screw me and dump me, it’s a wonder she hasn’t left me, too.

  ‘Can I call you?’ Lin writes, and before I can blink, she calls.

  “Hey.” I juggle my phone, then jam it between my ear and my shoulder as I gather my notes and stuff them into my bag. “Why ask if you’re gonna call me anyway?”

  “You took too long to reply. I could feel my hair going gray and my skin sagging while waiting.”

  “Psh. I barely had time to finish reading your text.”

  “You’re a slow reader. Work on them skillz, slowpoke. Where are ya?”

  I duck my head and hurry out of the classroom. “Last class of the day, thank God. What’s up?”

  “Nothing much. Place is dead without you.” She clucks her tongue. “Miss you, woman.”

  I groan, though I’m smiling. “I’ve only been gone two days. What will you do in a week?”

  “Get drunk off my ass and cry over you? I dunno. You tell me.” She snaps her chewing gum. “You staying that long?”

  “Yeah, probably. Longer than planned.”

  “So the rumor’s true? You quit your job, packed your things and hit the road?”

  “It’s not a roadtrip. Also, that job was temporary, and you know it.”

  She tsks. “Because you won’t take a permanent one, or follow your dreams.”

  “Reality is different from dreams, Lin. You know it.”

  “What I know is that you’d do anything for your sis, wouldn’t you?”

  “You know that, too.”

  “I know you.”

  “Yeah, well. There you go.”

  “It’s not healthy. Running off any time your sister says she needs you like a spoiled little princess.”

  “Oh come on,” I mutter. “She isn’t being a whiny brat. She really needs me.”

  She’s my other half, my other side. I’m her dark shadow, her hollow reflection. My life revolves around hers, just as hers is linked with mine. I can’t bear to see her so broken.

  “Would she take care of you if you needed her? Wait, I got one better: Did she take care of you last time you were down? Or the one before?”

  “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

  A sigh drifts over the line. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t forget about me pining over your sexy booty, all right, girlfriend? Call me. Text me. Sext me. Whatever.”

  “I’ll totally sext you, and you won’t know what hit you.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.”

  Snickering madly, I hang up and stow my phone away as I rush through the vast campus. Okay. I’ve got this. Time to text my sis, see if she’s doing all right, and then get on my next task.

  The day isn’t done yet. Lots more to do… Like work.

  So, work isn’t all that complicated. I have my list of things to do, and it takes me most of the afternoon to figure out where is what and how to handle it, but like I said, I’ve got this. Not my
first rodeo. I can handle admin stuff in my sleep.

  I feel like I’ve been sleepwalking all my life, come to think of it, and…

  This isn’t about you.

  I repeat that to myself as I head home to my sister’s place and grab some dinner, as I watch TV and browse my Facebook notifications.

  As I get up the next day and start all over again. Find the auditorium or classroom, sign the sheet, take notes, check in with my bestie, reassure Dad that all is fine with his girls, get mad all over again at Mom’s new radio silence, and work.

  And even though it’s not about me, well heck, I could sure take the break. A break from my life. It’s like babysitting. Or housesitting.

  Can you life-sit? Cause that’s what I’m doing. And it’s going well. Perfect. I’m kinda proud of myself so far. It’s all going without a hitch.

  I high-five myself in the mirror in the morning before heading out and check my sheer lipstick while I’m at it, tug my ponytail this way and that until it’s straight and brush over my brows with my fingertips.

  You never know. I might run across that blond hottie again, and what if my brows aren’t perfectly groomed, right?

  Somehow that makes perfect sense in my head.

  But when I arrive on campus and I think I see him in the distance as I cross between two buildings, I hurry my steps, unsure of what I’d do if I came face to face with him.

  But it seems some things are inevitable—like my downfall—because I run across him again… in one of the cafeterias.

  Full tray in hand, piled high with a salad, a sandwich and a hot coffee, I’m just turning around to look for a free seat, and there he is, in all his glory, like a prince traveling incognito, shoulders stretching his white T-shirt, long legs, spiky hair like burnished silver, and a mouth like sin.

  Of course, a girl retinue is also included. Three of them today, nudging each other in the ribs, biting their red lips and tossing their hair. Pretty little vultures.

  He’s talking to a dark-haired guy now, ignoring the girls, and grabs a tray from the stack at the end of the food line. When he turns in my direction, I look hastily away, but when I chance another glance his way, he’s busy talking to his friend again.