twelve
Claire hurried down the ramp toward her first class, her pulse pounding in her ears. What had just happened?
She didn’t believe Alec’s version of the events on Friday—there was no way he or anyone else was going to explain them away as natural—and there were so many other things about him that still didn’t fit. But that wasn’t the uppermost thing on her mind at the moment.
All she’d intended was to give Alec a quick, friendly hug, but while she was in his arms, the feelings that had risen within her had taken her completely by surprise.
Through the thin layer of Alec’s T-shirt, she’d felt the rapid beat of his heart. In response, her own heart had begun to race so fast, she’d felt as if it might suddenly burst out of the too-confined space of her chest. The firm touch of his hands against her back, the sensation of his body in contact with the length of hers, had caused a heat to rise deep inside her that—as far as she knew—had nothing to do with the psychic weirdness that had been happening lately. When the hug ended, she’d been so self-conscious, she could hardly look at him.
She recognized these feelings; she had them—or used to have them—in a somewhat less intense fashion whenever she was around Neil, or was thinking about Neil. Why was she feeling like this now, with Alec? Was she attracted to him? If so, when the hell had that started, and why hadn’t she noticed it before?
Claire was still mulling the questions over later that morning when she entered the theater building for Concert Singers.
“You hugged him?” Erica grinned when Claire brought her up to speed. “That’s a clever tactic. Did you get a vision off him?”
“What? No! It wasn’t a tactic,” Claire insisted, blushing. “I’m just grateful to him. I wasn’t even thinking about visions.”
“Did you touch his skin when you hugged?” Brian chimed in. “Or just his clothes?”
Claire thought for a moment. “Just his clothes.”
“You must be right,” Brian told Erica. “Her powers operate strictly by skin-to-skin contact. Except, on rare occasions, when she’s touching an object whose owner is involved in a traumatic—”
“Will you please stop talking about me like I’m a lab rat?” Claire interrupted, annoyed.
“How did Alec react to this hug?” Erica was still smiling. “I’ll bet he swooned.”
“Why do you say that?” Claire’s blush deepened despite herself.
“Because”—Erica rolled her eyes—“Alec is clearly nuts about you.”
Claire stared at her. “What?”
“You mean you didn’t know that, CB?” Brian shook his head. “I swear, girls are so clueless sometimes.”
Claire took her seat and warmed up along with the rest of the class, processing this news. Was it really possible that Alec liked her? The thought was so new and unexpected, as were the feelings rioting inside her, that she wasn’t sure what to believe.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Brian surreptitiously scribbling on a scrap of paper. Folding the note into a tiny square, he silently passed it to the boy on his left, nodding in Claire’s direction. The note made its way down the row, finally arriving on Claire’s music stand.
Still singing along with the choir, she covertly opened it and read:
So, when you hugged—did you feel Alec’s heartbeat?
Claire stifled a laugh. She looked at Brian from her seat and nodded emphatically, patting her chest one-handed with a rapid drumbeat. He grinned triumphantly and made a motion with his hand for her to turn the note over. She did. It read:
See. Told you. He’s not a vampire.