- •I’m definitely blushing now from his compliment. “Fittie,” that’s like extreme hotness. I never think of myself that way. He must be a playa or something.
- •I go rigid when I hear echoing undertones in Reed’s voice. The student immediately leaves without a word. Reed’s green eyes shift back to mine as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened.
- •I can almost believe that he’s teasing me; if that isn’t the most ridiculous notion I have had thus far. “I just knew I was going to regret that question,” I mumble as I blush.
- •I stare at him in utter amazement. “Ha, ha, you’re funny, Russell. You know who I am,” I say, but I see by the look on his face that he is confused now.
- •I stare at it breathlessly before I find my voice to ask, “Russell, your necklace…” I want to reach out and touch it, but my hands are shaking, so I put them in my lap to hide them.
- •I see him smile for a second until he reads the serious look on my face, then his smile falters. “Ya do wut?”
- •I squeeze his hand lightly and reply, ““He’s more of a techie than a sportsman.”
- •I shrug, and say with a small smile, “Megan totally fell for it, too. It was worth the stink eye she gave me.”
- •I recognize it immediately as an ip address. “You got it! I knew you wouldn’t let me down,” I say proudly, reaching over and giving him a soft tap on the shoulder.
- •I could spot Reed from a mile away, even with his helmet and face guard on. It is the stealthy, predatory way he moves that completely gives him away.
- •I ignore his confidence in the fact that my knee is going to all but fix itself shortly. “Wouldn’t that be off the hook?” I mutter, and take another sip of cognac.
- •I frown at him while I nod.
- •I hesitate before saying, “But you haven’t done it yet, so one can only assume that you may have envisioned a scenario in which eliminating me is not advantageous?”
- •I turn to see my new professor hailing me back into the classroom. I walk back in slowly, unsure of why Mr. MacKinnon is singling me out. “Yes?” I ask.
- •I look away from him, replying sarcastically, “Well, you can tell jt and Pete for me that the next time they hold a knitting bee and gossip circle, I could use a new sweater!”
- •I give him a funny look, then explain, “Your vitals—your email and all of the websites you think you need to sweep,” I say, smiling at his anti-geek question.
- •I program my number in Freddie’s cell, and then giving it back to him, I look at Russell. “I was going to tell you,” I lie to Russell.
- •I take a huge bite of oatmeal and chew it demonstratively, “Mmmm…oatmeal…my favorite.”
- •It takes me several breaths to answer him because I have never seen him smile like that—it’s intoxicating, especially because I never thought he would smile like that at me.
- •I don’t look at him, but hold the stick tighter. “Because I need it,” I reply evasively.
- •It’s probably nothing to him if I get hurt. I mean, why would he care?
- •I rest my hand on his chest, before cautiously peeking around him. Coffee grounds litter the floor by the coffee maker. “Coffee?” I whisper.
- •I’m not disappointed; it is extremely dreadful to me when he says, “Destroying evil. Fighting the legions of the Fallen damned. I’m a soldier, Evie, an assassin…I told you that.”
- •I stir uneasily to see his face, asking, “But if protecting me will be dangerous for you, why would you take on that responsibility?” He’s crazy to get involved with me.
- •I sigh. “I mean, what are they like when you’re not fighting?” I probe, hoping to get a glimpse into his world.
- •It would’ve been much nicer to hear him say he was ecstatic that I exist, so I try to ignore his comment and ask, “So I can’t tell anyone?”
- •I sigh, “Do you want to come with me?”
- •I set my plate on the table next to Reed’s as he pulls my chair out for me. “Better?” he asks when I am seated.
- •I think for a second, and then say in disappointment, “Oh, yeah, I get that I’m a frustrating creature.”
- •I give a little shrug, “You probably would’ve made the second half, but the Kappas had to forfeit—it was a shut out,” I reply, grateful that there’ll be no second half.
- •I nod, feeling a lump forming in my throat. “So, are you saying that it probably thought that I was one of them—an evil spawn released on the world to destroy it?”
- •I think I really touched a nerve in Reed because he seems to want to say something else as his eyes argue with mine, but after a few seconds, he nods while he says, “Of course. Goodnight, Genevieve.”
- •I try to smile back at Owen, but I hear two sets of growls, one from Reed and the other from Russell. “Thank you, Owen,” I reply, but I’m on edge now, waiting for the next shot to be fired at me.
- •I almost smile, because as I glance around the table, everyone here looks to be feeling completely awkward. Everyone, that is, with the exception of Reed; he’s cool and removed from all of this.
- •I am about to leave but he holds my arm and says, “You should be with Russell.”
- •I let out a breath like he has punched me in the stomach. Holy Freaking Crap! He’s an angel! Don’t freak out—ask him his name, like you’re interested—buy time, I think.
- •I try desperately to reason with Russell again, “We have to help Reed!”
- •I stop kissing him. Straightening, I search his stormy-green eyes again. “But that’s cruel,” I murmur warily.
- •I take a step back from Reed, frowning at him because he knows his voice doesn’t work on me. “Reed…” I say, holding my ears, trying to get the ringing to stop.
- •I don’t get a chance to finish, because he is up rushing around again. “No, we go tonight,” he says as he continues to pack my things.
- •I frown. “Oh…” I breathe, trailing off.
- •I cringe. “I’m only half human,” I correct him softly.
- •I am startled by the angel’s soft, deadly tone as he says, “No, I think I will stay. Something very interesting just walked in.”
- •I shake my head. “I never met my father. I didn’t know that he was an angel until recently,” I reply.
- •I don’t even want to talk about their color, I think.
- •I swear, if he keeps doing that I might purr like a kitten. Don’t think about that right now, just concentrate!
- •Intense frustration shoots through me then as I open my eyes. “Why are you stopping?” I demand breathlessly, searching his face, which looks a bit too smug for my liking.
- •I pull Russell over to the sofa. Sitting down in the middle of it, I make Russell sit next to me. “Did they realize that you were watching them?” I ask him pointedly.
- •I’m not doing this well! He doesn’t understand. I have to do something, but what? I think in desperation.
- •I stop smiling when Reed says, “Evie, we really do have to leave Crestwood now. This place is going to be crawling with curious angels.”
- •In the morning, I awake to sun streaming in the windows of Reed’s guest bedroom. Reed is next to me when I open my eyes.
- •I interrupt him. “Why would my soul give you redemption? How do you know that it’s not evil and would bar you from your Paradise?” I ask him searchingly.
- •I wince at his words. “Purify it? How?” I ask him urgently.
- •I rest my hand on his arm pleadingly. “You don’t want to do this, Freddie.” I say, trying to reason with him. “You and Russell are friends. Russell loves you, I know it,” I beg.
- •I sniffle. “So…Russell’s alive?” I ask.
- •I shake my head. “No, not yet. I don’t want anyone but you right now,” I whisper honestly. “Is he okay?” I ask as Reed tucks the blankets back around me.
- •I sigh tiredly, rubbing my forehead. “Ugh, there is so much to do. I don’t even know where my books are,” I say unhappily. “I have to do well or I’ll lose my scholarship.”
- •I can feel my face paling. “Russell, Alfred is still out there. He still wants my soul, so you aren’t safe until we get him,” I say with urgency.
- •Intuition: The Premonition Series
- •I give Buns a skeptical look. I doubt that any of them would ever think I’m darling. “Pampering is for wimps,” I say, trying to make light of it all.
- •I look over at Reed and see him frowning. “Buns, can you find something else…something a little more feasible…tactically?” he asks.
I recognize it immediately as an ip address. “You got it! I knew you wouldn’t let me down,” I say proudly, reaching over and giving him a soft tap on the shoulder.
“Can you believe he didn’t know what an IP address is?” Freddie asks emphatically as he scoops up a piece of meatloaf on his fork and eats it.
“Thank you! I thought I was the only one who would be shocked by that, but maybe I’m not as alone as I thought,” I state in full agreement. “We have to stage an intervention, Freddie; Russell doesn’t even have a firewall.”
“I know, and my boy doesn’t know why his computer is busted,” he says ironically, and I think for a second that Freddie might just be my twin brother and we had been separated at birth or something.
“I have to get him a firewall with one-twenty-eight-bit encryption and an auto-MDIX. Where do you think we could get one around here?” I ask, hoping Freddie would be more familiar with the area.
He whistles softly at my question, shaking his head. “I think you might either have to go to Coldwater or to Jackson. All these towns around here are kind of stuck in the eighties,” he says, and I can’t agree more. “You might still be able to pick up Atari though,” he jokes.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. Thanks for the advice,” I say. “Did you get all of the classes you wanted?”
“You know it,” Freddie says, nodding his head. “It was easy, but my roommate, Joe, got waxed. He said he tried to get a physics class, but he ended up just walking around for an hour. Psychotic, huh?”
“Very. I guess stress will do that to some people,” I reply, thinking I remember exactly what must’ve happened to Joe. “Hey, so guess what?” I ask, trying to change the dangerous track we’re on. “I was invited by a couple of the girls in my dorm to play field hockey tonight after dinner.”
As I say this, I hold up the manual Brownie gave me to read. Freddie and I spend the rest of dinner learning how to play field hockey. Our heads bend together over the book as we read the rules.
“It’s sort of like soccer, huh, except you use sticks to get the ball down the field, and you can only score when you’re in the sixteen-foot arch. They call it the D or the striking circle,” I murmur, studying the book.
“Yeah, but it’s like ice hockey because there are face offs— they call them Bullies. But, the best part is that the girls’ uniforms are so sick in field hockey,” Freddie says smugly. I gasp, reaching over and punching him softly on his upper arm. “What, I’m a dude!” he says, grinning. “Maybe I’ll take a walk over near the field and scope it out?”
“Sure, why not, I wouldn’t dream of depriving you of chicks in short skirts,” I say, but I’m really thinking it would be nice to have him there for support. “Speaking of short skirts, I’d better get going so I can change and meet my friends for practice.”
My friends, I think, that’s so amazing!
“If you decide not to come, let’s meet in the morning for breakfast before class. Does seven fifteen sound okay?” I ask.
“That’s copacetic, I have Spanish at eight o’clock, so that’ll work,” Freddie says happily.
“This is so gonna pop. Later, Freddie!” I say, and race back to my room.
I change into the practice uniform that Buns and Brownie lent me. I have my own set of shin guards that I had used when I played soccer in high school, so I put them on, along with my knee socks and cleats. The girls are coming out of their room as I round the corner to their hall.
“I’m ready!” I say excitedly.
“Good, sweetie, did you get a chance to look at the manual?” Buns asks me as she hands me a hockey stick.
“Yeah, my friend, Freddie, and I studied it together at dinner. I think I get the gist of it. But it may take me a while to be able to handle the ball well with the stick,” I reply, swinging the stick gently to try to get a feel for its weight as we leave the dorm.
“No worries, Evie, we don’t expect you to be a rockstar. We just do it for fun and because the men freakin’ foam at the mouth watching us,” Brownie says conspiratorially.
“That rocks,” Buns agrees. “And why not? These outfits are hot!”
“Okay, okay…just have fun, huh?” I exhale deeply.
Well, I can do that, I think. We almost make it to the field house when my stomach begins to flutter wildly. Reed, I think, panicking, what now?
“Oh look,” Buns says, pointing in the direction of the lower fields. “The lacrosse team is practicing, too. Yummy! Did you see JT? He looks so good this year! He must’ve worked out over the summer.”
Brownie gives me a sanguine smile. “Reed looks delicious, too, but that goes without saying,” Brownie observes. “Too bad he’s no fun at all. He’s complete eye candy, but way too serious. What a waste.”