Of the Trees(25)

“Hey, wait up a second,” he murmured, reaching out for her sleeve and tugging her to a stop. She turned to him, her boots squeaking in the damp grass of her front lawn, her eyebrows raised. He let go of her sleeve, his hands fidgeting nervously in front of him. Then he looked up, caught her eye and stared. She felt the smile melt from her face as she was pulled into that gaze. “Do you think I’m dangerous?”

Ryan spoke in a whisper, his hand floating up as he did. His fingertips, cool to the touch, were whisper soft as they danced along the line of her neck. Her skin tingled in the wake of his touch, her lips parting. It took her a small moment to figure out what he meant, to realize he was referencing her mother, realize he was asking if Cassie saw him that way, saw him the way she hoped he’d see her. She nodded.

In the time it took him to lean toward her, Cassie noted how the stars had finally come out for the night, how the birds were no longer singing and the only noise was the leaves that skittered in the wind through the hush of the street. Ryan was lit by the orange glow coming through the bay window at the front of her house. It softened his features, deepened his brown eyes to nearly black. She felt his breath, warm on her mouth, and couldn’t help the hitch in her breathing when he finally pressed his lips to hers. She had just enough time to move against him, just enough time to kiss him back before he pulled away with a soft smile, turned, and walked to his car, whistling lowly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Ryan called out just before his door slammed shut.

“See you,” Cassie answered weakly, realizing even as she said it that he couldn’t have heard her. She stepped back and darted to her front door.

The house was warm, beating against her reddened cheeks, making her feel hotter than she should. Cassie shrugged out of her jacket and toed off her boots, her chilly hands coming to face and pressing, trying to keep the heat at bay.

“Hello, darling,” her mother called from the living room. Cassie’s head shot up. Her mother was sitting on the couch, a mug of cooling tea on the table beside her. The glow of the lamp next to her lit up the whole room. Cassie gritted her teeth.

“Did I just witness the first kiss?” Cathy Harris asked, her eyes sparkling. Cassie’s stomach dropped.

“Mom!”

“I did!” Cathy exclaimed, looking delighted. “Tell Ryan that next time, it’s appropriate to walk a lady all the way to her door before trying anything.”

Cassie groaned and headed for the stairs.

“It would be more private that way, too,” she continued.

“Please, stop talking!” Cassie called out, taking the rest of the stairs two at a time.

“Not that I mind the show!” her mother continued, shouting now. “Did he at least buy you dinner first?”

Cassie slammed her bedroom door, ignoring the laughter she could hear from below. She felt warm all over. She stripped out of her clothes, pulling on the first thing her fingers touched when she opened her drawer—cotton sleep shorts and an old tee shirt. She moved to her window and flung it open, sucking in lungfuls of the cool air.

He kissed her. She kissed him.

And neither said a word about it! She slammed her fist into her window sill and then spun around, picking her jeans up off her floor and rummaging around in the pockets until her fingers wrapped around her phone. She pulled up Laney’s number and hit send. She heard the phone ring, both through the receiver and more faintly, like an afterthought. She crossed to the window, peering out into the night toward her best friend’s house.

“Laney!” she hissed. The phone rang, a loud clanging on her end, then softly out in the night. It went to voicemail. Cassie ended the call but continued to watch Laney’s backyard. “I need to talk to you!”

No answer. Nothing but a soft breath that could have been the wind. Cassie sighed. She scanned the darkened expanse of the Blake’s backyard. The old swing set stood in the corner, the wood cracked and splintered. Cassie and Laney used to spend hours on that old thing. They’d tromp about in the woods, sneaking past the shed and to the graveyard back before they knew the stories. Cassie focused on the old shed now. From her bedroom window, she could just see the back of it, just make out the shape pressed against the old wood siding.

It was moving.

No, they were moving. In the sheen of the moonlight, dim against the backdrop of black woods and night sky, Cassie could just see them. Laney—it was irrefutably her, Cassie knew her best friend’s outline even better than her own—was flat against the woodshed, a tall shadow looming over her. The boy pulled away, moonlight flashing off his teeth as he smiled, and then they melded together again, his face pressed to hers, her head tilting in accommodation, kissing and then laughing softly when they broke apart.

Cassie backed away from the window, her mouth hanging open.

Laney had never said anything. She was seeing someone. Someone she knew well enough to sneak off into the woods with alone. Cassie knew nothing about it.

A shard-like ice passed through her chest.

The man from the carnival.

But no, Cassie reasoned to herself, it couldn’t be him. They were gone. Packed up. No, this was someone else.

Her hand hung limp by her side, the phone still curled in her fingers. She brought up Laney’s number and sent a text.



Cassie: Sorry about before, call me when you can