When we reached the ice cream truck, his uncle took one look at us and warned, “Chay—”
Chay didn’t stop. He jerked me into the truck and slammed the door. “Don’t. Ever. Do. That. Again!” he yelled.
I flinched. “But I had—”
“I could have done it, Milayna, if you would have just waited instead of running into the crowd, putting yourself in danger!”
“Chay,” I started in a calm voice, “you had to check the other side of the field. There’s no way you would have gotten to her in time. I barely got there.”
“You can’t run off by yourself like that! I lost you in the crowd. Anything could have happened to you. Don’t you get that?” He jammed his hand through his hair with a growl of frustration. “You have to be more careful,” he said softly. Gripping my upper arms, he pulled me to him.
I sucked in a breath when he pulled me against him. My eyes didn’t leave his. I was breathing in short, shallow gasps. Chay’s breathing mimicked mine. Moving my arm, Chay let it slip from his grasp. I moved my hand next to his head and hesitated for a few beats, my hand trembling. But the urge to touch him was too strong to deny. My fingers moved slowly over his hair. When he didn’t stop me, I grew bolder and delved my fingers in the dark, silky strands, letting them flow between them before sinking my hand in his hair again.
His hand skated down and rested on my lower back. He let go of my other arm and slid his fingers up, across my shoulder, along the side of my neck, to cup my jaw.
My heart was speeding in my chest. Adrenaline filled my bloodstream… and something else. Alarm? Longing? Arousal? I wasn’t sure. I’d never had feelings that strong for another person before. All I knew was when he touched me, fire burned through me, and I had to remind myself to breathe. I moved my hand to the back of his neck, and I felt more than saw him lean into me. I closed my eyes and lost myself in him—
“Chay, your friends are here,” his uncle yelled from outside.
“Damn it.” He let go of me and brushed by so quickly that I stumbled forward. “Let’s go.”
Wait. What happened? He went from boiling to freezing in a second flat.
I walked out of the truck and looked around. The group, minus Lily, was there.
“See ya, guys. We gotta gear up.” Jake pointed between him and Steven.
“Good luck,” we called.
“Yeah, we’re gonna need it,” Steven muttered.
Uncle Stewart made us all milkshakes, and we went to grab seats. Chay, Jeff, and Drew climbed to the top of the bleachers. Jen, Muriel, and I stared at them.
Jen shook her head. “We don’t do heights.”
“It’s the only way to see everything.” Chay rolled his eyes. He walked down the steps and narrowed his eyes at me.
“What?” I put my straw in my mouth and raised an eyebrow at him.
“You can walk up a flight of stairs and sit on a damn bleacher,” he snapped.
“I could. But I’m not going to.” He glared at me, and I whispered, “What if I have a vision up there? Huh? I don’t imagine falling would help anything.”
He sighed and looked at the bleachers. “Probably not. How about halfway?”
I looked at Jen, and she shrugged. “Okay, halfway.” I brushed past him and plopped on a bench.
We sat behind two students with their dyed black hair, black clothes, and black fingernails. They both had black eyeliner thickly outlining their eyes.
If Azazel’s demi-demons would just dress like that, it would be so much easier to pick them out.
A mother of one of the football players sat behind us. Every time a play was made or a referee called a foul—or whatever they have in football—she’d scream or swear.
For the first half of the game, Jen, Muriel, and I giggled at the people around us. The preppy kids to our right who were more worried about getting their clothes dirty from the bleachers than the actual game. The mother screaming behind us. Drew, Jeff, and Chay yelling at the players—like they could really hear them. They were all infinitely more interesting than the game.
“It’s intermission?” I asked when the teams left the field and the marching band pranced onto the field.
“No.” Chay rolled his eyes. “It’s halftime.”
“Same difference.” I waved my hand in the air. “Let’s go visit your uncle.”
“You want another milkshake, don’t you?” He grinned.
Jeff looked me up and down. “Where do you put them all? Most people would weigh three-hundred pounds if they ate like you.” He was staring at my legs. Chay elbowed him hard in the side and glared at him. Jeff held out his hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry.” He laughed.
I looked between the two and decided I didn’t have enough energy to try to decipher the teenage male brain. “I want to make sure he doesn’t need any help.” I lifted my chin and pursed my lips together, trying not to smile. “My need for a milkshake fix has nothing to do with my visit to the ice cream truck. Much.”
“Sure.” Chay gave me a half grin. “Anyway, he’ll be fine. My cousins will be there helping.”
“I want to check just to be sure.” I stood and started down the bleachers, Chay following me.