A Desire So Deadly (A Need So Beautiful #2.5)(6)

We finish cleaning the room just as the rush starts to die down. My mother sends me behind the register to work. My neck is sore from today’s wipeout, and I’m reminded of my exchange with Tanner. I could really be hurt. I could really be crazy.

I shake my head to try to clear it, and in the quiet that follows I let myself dwell on other things—like Harlin. His haunting hazel eyes, the grin that teased at his lips. What I’d give to see him smile. It strikes me then that I don’t think I’ve ever felt so attracted to someone. It’s a scary thought because I’m not sure what it means. What it means for me and Ezra.

The sun has turned the sky a fading gold as I take the right up the long gravel hill of my driveway. My muscles ache, and I predict a nap and hot shower are in my immediate future. My conversation with Tanner feels more like an out-of-body experience, and I’m starting to believe it was more hallucination than reality.

I park behind my brother’s car—and he was right: Our mother didn’t make him stay late. The blinds are drawn as I approach our white ranch-style home, palm trees swaying on the side of the house. They’re in desperate need of a trim, and the black paint on our window shutters is peeling off in big chunks. My mom calls it shabby chic, but really that’s code for home improvements my dad hasn’t gotten around to yet.

My father is the typical California surfer, and I’ve often wondered how he got paired up with my mother in the first place. He’s rarely out of beachwear, and his skin is deeply tanned from years on the ocean. He’s easygoing, slightly distracted—basically the opposite of my mother, who is high-strung and fully capable of running the world. They’re happy, truly happy, so I guess sometimes opposites really do attract.

The screen door slams shut behind me when I walk inside. I slip off my sandals and drop my bag near the front door. The house is a mess—as usual—but it’s a comfortable kind of mess that makes it feel like home. I collapse onto one of the rattan sofas and let my head fall back against the cushion.

“There you are.” My brother’s voice carries through the room. “Ezra called my phone. Said he’d be here at nine to pick you up. Please let him know I’m not your personal assistant.”

I slowly lift my head, finding River in the entryway, leaning against the doorframe. He’s wearing a different Costas Bakery T-shirt, this one faded with old splatters of paint on the sleeve.

“You could have told him yourself.”

River shrugs. “Naw. I like to keep up the pleasantries. Soleil asked for a ride, so we’ll catch you guys there. We might grab some tacos first.” My brother notices my goofy grin and shakes his head. “Shut up.”

“Didn’t say a word.”

River picks at his fingernails like he’s bored, and I feel the weight of the day crashing down on me. “I’m going to shower and nap,” I say, and stand up. “Let me know before you leave to get Soleil.” I grab a towel from the linen closet and head off for a shower.

Chapter 3

The water is cold and dark and suffocating. I lift my face to the surface, watching the light disappear as I sink. I’m holding my breath, my arms flailing out as I try to swim, but it’s like I’m weighed down with stones. Fear crawls up my throat, and I have my first convulsion as I try not to breathe in water. I’m going to die here. I’m going to die.

In the distance, I see a small glowing light. It’s so far—but I stretch my hand in that direction and instinctively call for help. Water slips inside my mouth. I try to cough but end up breathing in icy ocean water. It burns my nose, squeezes my throat. I claw at my skin, feeling like there’s an invisible rope strangling me. I try to get the water out, but with each try, I only bring more in.

The light is glowing brighter, but black dots of suffocation crowd my vision as I move toward unconsciousness. My eyes slip closed, and I force them open, wishing for someone to save me. Wishing to save myself.

“That’s it?” a voice whispers near my ear. Even though I know it’s not possible for her to talk underwater, I can feel her icy breath drift across my shoulder. “You’ll give up that easily? I must say, what a disappointment.”

“Claire?”

I convulse weakly, and turn to find the source of the voice. But it’s too late—I’ve drowned. All at once a shadow drapes over me like a dark blanket, blotting out all light, all hope.

And I die.

I jolt awake in my bed. I cough, frantically trying to choke up the water. It takes a minute for me to realize where I am. I’m home. My skin is damp with sweat, not ocean water, and I’m shaking.

“Claire,” River says. I look around my room and find him in the doorway. Night has fallen outside of my window, and I’m overwhelmed with relief to see my brother. It was just a dream. I’m not dead. Holy shit, that was intense.

“Sorry to wake you up,” River says, flipping on my light. “You said to let you know when I was leaving. I’ll see you there?”

I glance sideways at the alarm clock on my side table. Ezra will be here soon to take me to the bonfire, so I should get up. Get ready. Even though River’s here and my parents are probably just outside in the living room, I’m too frightened to set my feet on the floor, afraid of being swept away by an unseen apparition under my bed. I wait, up to my neck in blankets, until River leaves. And it isn’t until the nightmare has faded completely that I peel back my sheets and get ready for the bonfire.