Uninvited (Uninvited, #1)(16)

I just look at him. I know my expression is bitter. Because last week I was functioning in the real world. I was better than functioning. But now I have to prove it?

“You know what I learned today? That they don’t want anyone with HTS to function in the real world.” I air quote the word function. “They keep us isolated. I’m stuck in a cage with a bunch of other carriers and some pervy teacher.”

He sits up. “What do you mean ‘pervy’? What happened?”

I shake my head. “Nothing.” If I tell him, he’ll tell Mom and Dad and then what? In the last forty-eight hours, I’ve discovered just how little influence my parents truly possess. There’s no point going to them for help. They can’t do anything.

He stares at me for a long moment before finally saying, “You’re better than this, Davy. I know you can handle it.”

Shaking my head, I groan in frustration. “Why are you so sure?”

“Because you’re you. You can do anything. When you were three years old you sat down at the piano and played like you’ve been doing it all your life. And as if being a music prodigy isn’t enough, when you were four years old you walked into my room and finished the puzzle that had been kicking my ass for the past week.”

I smile. “I don’t remember that.”

“Yeah. Well. It pissed me off. It hasn’t always been easy having a little sister who’s better at everything than you are.”

My smile slips. “Sorry.”

He drops a fist on the bed. “Don’t apologize for being smarter than I am. I got over it. Basically, I’m . . . I’m just proud of you. And this crap doesn’t change that. It doesn’t change you.”

My phone chimes. I pick it up and read the message. My stomach dips. “It’s Zac.”

“Told you he’d come around.”

“He’s outside.”

He hesitates for a moment. “Well, you better get dressed. I’ll let him in.”

I wait for Mitchell to leave and then change into jeans and a T-shirt. I’m attacking my hair with my brush when there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

Zac sticks his head in first. He’s never done that before. Usually, he breezes in like he owns the place. “Hey.”

I wave him inside.

He steps in. “How are you?”

“Okay,” I say because I’m not going to burden him with the kind of day I had. Even if I wasn’t embarrassed—which I am—I wouldn’t want him to know just how different I’ve become. Just how far apart we suddenly are.

He sits on the corner of my bed. “I—I miss you.”

My chest lightens and I finally feel like myself for the first time in days. This is me. Here with Zac. “I miss you, too.” It takes everything in me not to cry. My eyes burn, swollen and unbearably tight, but I keep it in.

He moves, drops onto the carpet, and crouches on his knees before me. “I’m sorry I was such a jerk.” He slides his arms around my waist and looks up at me. “I shouldn’t have run off—”

“No.” I hold his face in my hands. “Anybody would have been freaked out.”

“I shouldn’t have been. I mean, it’s you. . . . I know you’re not some killer. No matter what others—”

His voice fades and his eyes flare a little, like he’s worried he said too much. Others? Does he mean what the world in general thinks? If the media is to be believed, people believe the Agency should have more control than it already does—that carriers should be more than identified and monitored. That we should be locked up. Better safe than sorry.

Or is he talking about our friends?

I kiss him. Mostly just because I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I don’t want to think about what my friends are saying. I don’t want to think about me. HTS. It’s all I am anymore. Everything. My new reality even though I’m not a monster.

I want to have something it doesn’t touch. Even if it’s only pretend.

The kiss is slow and sweet. Maybe even hesitant. Like we’re new to each other again. It’s definitely not the hot, fumbling desperation of before. We’ve come close to going all the way several times lately. Zac’s been pressuring and I’d been considering it more and more. But now it feels like we’ve lost ground.

When we break apart, he doesn’t say anything about killers anymore and how I’m definitely not one of them, and for that I’m glad. It’s almost like he’s convincing himself.

It’s just his smiling eyes on me. “I have to get back home. Are you free tomorrow night?”

I nod.

“Good. Carlton is having a party.”

Something inside me sinks. I assumed it would just be the two of us. Recovering ground. The idea of being around all our friends . . . my old friends. The kids I no longer go to school with. Tori hasn’t even called since I told Zac. I tried calling her yesterday but she didn’t pick up. He has to have told her. Everyone must know by now. Their silence tells me all I need to know. Everything has changed. But Zac wants me to hang out like nothing has.

I force a smile and lie. “Sounds great.”

I’m all about being something I’m not, after all. A carrier. A killer. In this instance? Pretending like everything is okay? I’ll have to get used to that.