Freeks(46)

“It’s nice that you know so much about your family,” I said.

“It’s only my mom’s side,” Gabe explained. “My dad is from Venezuela, so I never even met most of his family.”

“My dad is from India, but I don’t really know that much about him or his family. He left when I was three.”

“I’m sorry.” Gabe reached out, putting his hand over mine, and the heat spread through me.

“No, don’t be. It was a long time ago.” I shook my head. “The only thing I really know about him is that he chose my name. My middle name, Varali, means ‘moon’ in Hindi.” Then I lowered my eyes. “That’s what he used to call us—my mom was his sun, and I was his little moon.”

“At least your middle name is cool,” Gabe said, his tone playful to lighten the mood. “I got my uncle Beau’s middle name—Bardau.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Bardau?”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s French or something. My mom claims it’s been in the family for generations.”

“Having heritage is cool,” I told him. “You get to carry all the history of your family, and you have a legacy.”

In the fading light, his whole face darkened, and he swallowed hard. “Maybe. But sometimes that legacy just feels like a prison sentence.”

“You’re old enough that you can make your own choices.”

“As my mom is quick to point out, just because I’m nineteen doesn’t mean I can do anything I want.” He stared wistfully down at the river. “It’s so much more complicated than that.”

My mind suddenly went to the conversation we’d had on the Ferris wheel, the one where Gabe promised to tell me his secrets on our fifth date. The look on his face now—his jaw tense under his smooth skin, his eyebrows pinching together, and his lips pressed together—made me realize his secret was much darker than mine.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Suddenly his head shot up. “It’s starting.”

“What?” I asked, but he was already pointing toward where the river fed into the lake.

“Just watch.” Gabe moved closer to me, so he was nearly standing behind me, and I felt his hand on my waist, hot through the sheer fabric.

I scanned the darkening sky with no idea what I should be on the lookout for, and I was about to ask him again when I saw something. A small flash of purple—like a neon lavender—floating a few feet above the water.

It only lasted a second, so I couldn’t even be sure that I saw anything. Then it happened again, several feet away from the first one. Slowly, it began to build up—both in number and frequency—until the sky was dotted with several dozen flashing purple lights.

“What is it?” I asked breathlessly.

“Purple fireflies.” Gabe’s voice was low in my ear, and I could hear his smile. “Caudry is the only place in the whole world that has them.”

I pulled my head back so I could look up at him. “Really?”

“Really,” he said, so I turned my attention back to the glowing fireflies. “Back in the fifties, some scientists came to figure out why they were purple. They never did find out exactly why, but they eventually decided it had something to do with what the fireflies ate here.

“My uncle Beau always said it was the water,” Gabe finished.

He wrapped his arms around me, hugging me to him, and I leaned into him. He felt so strong and warm and wonderful, and his lips brushed against my neck, softly but deliciously, and the heat surged through me like an electric current.

Behind me, the Cure sang about a night like this, and in front of me, the sky was filled with dancing fireflies. The moment felt so perfect and magical, I wished it would never end.





26. freak

The bulbs above the marquee flickered every few seconds, but the names of the movies playing in the tiny theater were still visible: Some Kind of Wonderful, Lethal Weapon, and Evil Dead II.

“Lady’s choice,” Gabe said, motioning up to the marquee.

We’d hung out at the bridge for a little while, talking and watching the fireflies, before heading back to eat supper. Gabe suggested the diner that had the best crawfish in the state, and they really were the best crawfish I’d ever had.

Since there wasn’t much else to do in Caudry, we headed over to the movie theater. It had been ages since I’d seen a movie in theaters. Usually I just watched whatever Luka or Hutch had on the VCR in their motorhome.

“What are you in the mood for?” I asked. “Romance? Action? Campy horror?”

He moved closer to me, looping his long fingers through mine, and although I should’ve been used to it by now, the heat of his skin surprised me. He’d ditched the leather jacket tonight, but he still had to be at least ten degrees warmer than me.

“Since I am on a date with you, I would say that I’m definitely in the mood for romance,” Gabe said with his usual sly grin.

I stared up into his eyes—they were the color of burnt caramel, and so big and bright despite the darkness of the street. They still had a glimmer, a glint of something wicked, but tonight I could see something else lurking behind them, something that looked like hunger.

I’d felt it inside the museum trailer last night, when his kisses had felt ravenous.