chapter THREE
18 Days, 2 hours, 45 minutes
Aaron didn’t know whether to feel terrified, pissed off as hell, or betrayed. He was sure Amber gave Clive his number, unless Clive hacked it off her phone somehow. Or threatened her. Still no excuse.
By morning, pissed off as hell won out, and Aaron hunkered down at his desk before first period, kneading his fists. He’d spent everything he had on his Mazda, he loved that car. Sure, he wasn’t always on time with the oil changes and he had to hotwire the thing each time he started it, but to him, his car meant freedom—and Clive Selavio had defiled that.
If Clive thought Aaron was just going to disappear like Justin Gorski, just another name off his hit list, he was dead wrong. Next Friday, Clive was going to lick asphalt.
Emma Mist came in late and slogged to her seat, and Aaron noticed something off about her. Her face was pale, and her hair, usually full and glossy, looked wilted. He caught her eye as she slumped into her seat, and Aaron knew this was his chance to apologize. Before she could look away, he mouthed, “Can we please talk?”
She stared at him, her brown eyes clouded by weariness, then gave a stiff nod. Aaron felt a weight off his chest already.
But while his eyes were still on her, her back arched suddenly. She gasped, and her bony shoulders tensed before she fell forward, shivering. Students’ heads swiveled toward her, and Mr. Sanders, who had started his lecture, trailed off.
“Emma!” Their teacher ran to her desk and knelt beside her. “Emma, talk to me—what’s wrong?”
She clutched her stomach, and a tear slid down her cheek from her wide, terrified eyes.
“Is it a stomach ache?” said Mr. Sanders.
When Emma spoke, her voice was a whimper. Almost too low to hear across a classroom, but Aaron heard.
“I . . . I can’t feel him,” she said, and another tear splattered on her desk. “I can’t feel my half.”
“Let’s get you to the nurse,” said Mr. Sanders, helping her to her feet. “It’s going to be fine.”
Emma touched the back of her own head, winced, and collapsed against his chest. She was breathing too fast, hyperventilating.
Mr. Sanders looped his arm behind her knees, scooped her up, and carried her to the door. Only Buff ran forward to help. The rest of the class sat white-faced and frozen.
Mr. Sanders addressed them before he left. “Explain how the discovery of halves pushed the world toward greater international cooperation in the late thirties, I want at least a page from each of you when I get back—and NO talking!”
Then the door slammed.
All eyes turned on Aaron. Nervous, shifty-eyed stares, wary of his reaction to what had just happened to his ex-girlfriend. They knew the symptoms.
Her half was dead.
***
Emma’s condition had gotten a lot worse when Aaron and Buff visited her on Sunday, five days later.
Sunlight spotted the peach wallpaper in Emma’s bedroom, and Aaron felt a strange twinge in his stomach when he saw her. She was buried under comforters and fluffy pillows. Her pale skin gleamed with sweat, and her eyes made endless circles as she watched the blades of a ceiling fan.
Her mother managed a weak smile from her rocking chair and leaned over her daughter. “Baby,” she said, her voice cracking, “look who came to see you!”
Buff squeezed Emma’s hand. “It’s us, Emma. It’s me and Buddy from school.”
She opened her mouth but only managed to drool.
Emma’s father cupped her head in his palm and edged the pillow out from underneath her. Right where the back of her head had been, Aaron saw a red stain in the indentation on the pillow—blood. Her father laid her down again and glanced at his half.
“It’s getting worse,” he said.
There was no cure for what Emma had, for half death. The scientific explanation was quantum entanglement, the spooky phenomenon whereby two entangled subatomic particles could be separated by light-years yet react instantaneously to changes in each other’s states.
In humans, it was termed clairvoyance.
Up close, Emma’s eyes were vacant, unfocused, cloudy. There was only a glimmer of the girl Aaron once knew, and he felt a lump form in his throat.
Emma was innocent. She was normal. There were only six weeks left before her birthday—six weeks until she met her half. And that was stolen from her.
Aaron was the one whose clairvoyant channel was clogged. It should have been him in that bed, drooling and bleeding from the back of his skull. It should have been him with half death, not her.
Aaron knelt by Emma’s bed and peered into her half open eyelids. “I’m sorry, Emma.”
Too late.
He felt a hand squeeze his shoulder: Emma’s father. “What happened to her at school wasn’t the first sign that something was wrong,” he said.
“What do you mean?” said Aaron.
“She had a similar attack a couple weeks ago,” said her father. “We thought it was a false alarm and that she was still okay, but now the doctors are telling us her half was already dead.” The man shook his head. “Something strange happened to her half that first time. Whatever it was, it managed to keep her going for a few weeks.”
“When do they think her half actually died?” said Aaron.
“They haven’t quite pinpointed it yet, but they’re pretty sure it was March 1st.”
Aaron nodded, not sure what else to say.
“Wait a sec,” said Buff, “March 1st? That’s the day that kid from Corona went missing.”
“Right, Justin Gorski.” Emma’s father managed a weak smile. “We thought about that too, but the Chamber of Halves won’t release the identity of Emma’s half until she’s gone—or until they find Justin’s body . . . ” His voice faltered and he trailed off, tears in his eyes.
Aaron caught Buff’s eye, and they left Emma’s parents alone with their daughter. On their way out, Aaron’s cell phone beeped, interrupting their mournful silence. He opened his phone and stared at a text message from Amber Lilian.
Can I come over? There’s something I need to tell you.
***
By eight she still hadn’t shown. Aaron bounced his volleyball off his wall, straining to hear a knock on the front door, a scratch . . . anything over the evening news blaring in the living room. Jesus, were his parents deaf or something?
Besides, it wasn’t good news playing. He could tell from the bits he overheard. A hundred-and-something year old woman who had refused to meet her half for eighty years, now famous as the sole survivor from the pre-halves era, had died earlier today. Apparently, she had been in her early thirties when halves were discovered, but chose to stay with her husband.
The doorbell rang.
Aaron’s heartbeat quickened. He beat his dad to the door, fumbled with the lock, and yanked it open.
Her usual knockout self, Amber stood in the doorway, cheeks flushed, a green flower pinned to her hair. Aaron recalled vaguely that it was St. Patrick’s day—and that he had thirteen days left until his birthday. He grabbed her hand and pulled her inside, his heart still jittery. At the sight of her, his dad did a double take.
But before Amber could say, “Hi mister—” Aaron hurried her down the hall, pushed her into his room, and shut the door.
“That was rude,” she said.
“My parents are easily disturbed,” he said.
Amber tucked her hair behind her ear. “And you think I would disturb them?”
Aaron studied her green eyes, and it occurred to him that she might be the reason his heartbeat wasn’t slowing. “Never mind,” he said, and he grabbed his volleyball off the floor and collapsed onto his bed. “So what did you want to tell me?” He set the ball to the ceiling and caught it.
“It’s about Clive,” she said.
Of course. She was here to confess that Clive was her half. Suddenly, he didn’t want to hear it. “Look,” he muttered. “Whatever weird thing you have with Clive, you can keep it to yourself. I really don’t care.”
But he was a bad liar.
Amber’s eyebrows nudged upward. “You do care?”
“I said I didn’t.”
“You kept my phone number,” she observed.
“I was keeping it for Buff.”
“Uh-huh.” There was a teasing glint in her eyes, as if she now had a secret she could use against him. “Well, I wasn’t going to tell you about that anyway.”
“Then what?” said Aaron, frustrated she had gotten to him so easily. He set the next ball so it landed in her lap, and she jolted back in surprise. He smirked and sat up next to her. “Does he know you’re here?”
“I hope you don’t think I’m that stupid,” she said.
“No, but I think you’re trying to make him jealous.”
“Yeah, Aaron,” she said, rolling her eyes, “I drove all the way out here just to make him jealous.”
“Good plan,” he said. “Are you going to tell him you’re with me? Or do you want me to do it this time?”
“I didn’t tell him last time.”
“Then why is he paying me a visit this Friday and why is there a fat dent in my car?”
“Probably because you’re dumb and you keep taking his bait.” And without missing a beat, Amber surveyed him from head to toe, announced, “You’re not wearing green,” and pinched him on the waist.
He pinched her back. “Neither are you.”
She pointed to the flower in her hair. “What do you think this is?”
“Nope,” he said with a smirk, “It’s got to be clothing.” And he pinched her again.
She flung the ball at him, and he caught it. They gazed at each other struggling not to laugh, but for a moment too long. Aaron felt a tingle at his sternum, pressing down on his heart—before she blinked and looked away.
Then she spoke all at once. “I lied to you about Justin Gorski. The last person with him wasn’t Dominic . . . or Clive. It was Clive’s father.”
“Clive’s father?” said Aaron.
“He’s a doctor,” she said, “and they’re staying with Dominic’s family until they find something more permanent. All I know is Justin was supposed to have an appointment with him. When Justin and Dominic offered me a ride after school, they were on their way over to see him. That was the last time I saw him.”
“Aaron rolled the volleyball to the floor. “Why are you telling me this?” he said.
“Because I heard what happened to that girl at your school, and because . . . ” she trailed off.
“Because what?” said Aaron.
Amber brought her legs onto his bed, brushing his arm with her knee. She sat cross-legged and faced him. Straight on, he noticed her eyes were layered, like gold dust sparkling at the bottom of a stream. “You aren’t looking forward to your birthday either,” she said.
“You remembered?” he said.
She held his gaze. “You’re different.”
“Yeah. You could say that.”
“Did you know her?” she said. “That girl?”
Aaron nodded, and he realized how tense his own body was, how his muscles felt taut—because of how close Amber was. “I saw it happen.”
In a quiet voice, almost a whisper, she said, “What was it like?”
“It was like a hand tugging at something inside her,” he said, remembering the unnatural recoil of Emma’s body. “She was tense for a few seconds, and then she just went slack. Like it finally ripped out.”
“You know, it’s getting worse,” said Amber. “Every generation.”
“You mean half death?”
“People were fine living without their halves for millions of years,” she said. “Like that old woman on the news. Her half probably died ages ago and she didn’t even feel it.” Amber pulled her legs up to her chest. “It wasn’t even until the second generation that people started dying of half death . . . our grandparents’ generation. And back then it took years. Now it’s only a few days.”
“I know. Soon you won’t be able to take a piss without holding Clive’s hand.”
Amber arched her lip in disgust. “Eww, Aaron . . . Why am I even talking to you?”
“Not appropriate?”
“What I meant is I think it’s doing something to our genetics.”
“Like what?”
“Like we’re inbreeding.”
“I get the feeling you know a lot more about this stuff than . . . most people.”
Amber didn’t respond. She rested her chin on her knee and continued to watch him.
“Why did Justin have an appointment with Clive’s dad?” he added, forced to fill in the silence himself.
“Clive and Justin got in a fight,” she said, “and Justin had these chronic headaches afterward. He was threatening to sue, so Clive’s father offered to treat him so he’d keep his mouth shut.”
“Justin made a pass at you, didn’t he?”
Her eyes flashed a warning. “Don’t act like you know my life.”
“Fine. So the vial Clive brought to the beach . . . That stuff came out of Justin?”
“I don’t know, but Clive didn’t have it the day before.”
“There was something written on the side of the vial, some kind of code,” said Aaron. “You remember what it was?”
Amber shot him a glare. “Yeah, Aaron, I have photographic memory.”
“It was four letters,” said Aaron. “I’m not asking you to memorize the bible.”
Amber was about to snap out another retort when her eyes brightened. “Hold on,” she said, reaching into her pocket. “I think Clive took a picture on my phone.” She flipped through her photos then showed one to Aaron.
They stared at the photo on her cell phone screen together. The vial, just as Aaron remembered, now with an ID code clearly silhouetted against the fluid.
JGEM130301
“The numbers are a date,” said Aaron, “March 1st.”
“No duh,” said Amber, “I can read too. That’s the day Justin disappeared. The letters are initials.”
Aaron nodded, feeling a wave of chills. “Justin Gorski and Emma Mist.”
They both fell silent. Slowly, Aaron released his breath and cupped his face in his hands. Amber quietly returned the cell phone to her pocket, and by an unspoken agreement, they didn’t bring it up again. There was nothing else they could do.
Amber broke the silence first. “Why are you scared of meeting your half?”
“Because I don’t want to spend my life with a stranger,” he said.
“You know the first second you see her, you’re going to change your mind,” she said. “You don’t need clairvoyance to love someone.”
“I know, but it’s supposed to be more than that with your half.”
“It’s not,” she said. “The high wears off after a few months. Then you’re just two ordinary people faking it like the rest of the adults.”
“At least it’s better than it was before.”
“You mean pre-discovery? Clearly you haven’t seen the bad ones.”
“What bad ones?”
“Like my parents. They’re rotten and they hate each other’s guts. Just because they’re joined at the hip doesn’t make them saints . . . They actually bring out the worst in each other.” Amber swiveled away from him again. “And that’s what I get to look forward to.” A few strands of her hair came loose and dangled in front of her eyes.
Aaron resisted the urge to brush them back. “Is that because you’re Clive’s half?” he said, dreading the answer.
She bit her lip and edged away from him, and a single teardrop teetered on her eyelid. Aaron recognized right then what he should have seen from the beginning. The redness of her cheeks. Amber had been crying before she came to his house.
“I’m sorry—” he began.
“I have to go,” she said, and without a glance backward, she fled for the door.
“You don’t have to,” he blurted out, halting her in the doorway and immediately regretting it. “I mean—you’re allowed to stay.”
“Oh, really?” she said, “Actually, Aaron, what I’m allowed to do isn’t up to you.” Then she gave him one last look that set his skin on fire and vanished into the hallway. A few seconds later, he heard the front door close.
Aaron grabbed his volleyball again and lay on his bed, loathing the pounding in his chest. He tried to set the ball to the ceiling, but it struck the shelf above him and dislodged a T-ball trophy, which fell on his face.
Aaron sat up and rubbed the cut on his forehead. Clearly, he had to stay away from her. He couldn’t afford to fall for her, not with his birthday in two weeks.
To clear his mind of Amber’s green eyes, he thought about the vial instead, and the question neither one of them had dared voice: what in God’s name was Justin and Emma’s clairvoyance doing inside a vial?
***
Health class wrapped up on Friday afternoon with a video on half disorders. Still preoccupied with the vial, Aaron didn’t bother watching. He already knew his disorder wouldn’t be covered.
But the next section drew his attention back to the screen for a different reason: “Premature Contact.”
“You meet your half at age eighteen for a reason,” said the narrator in his British accent, while a cheesy movie played in the background of new halves holding hands. “Just as touching a wire to a battery creates a surge of electricity, first contact with your half literally creates a surge of clairvoyance within your channel. Until you’ve gone through puberty, though, your clairvoyant channel is too soft to withstand this surge—and it’s liable to burst. Because of this unfortunate reality, juvengamy remains illegal . . . ”
Content the video wasn’t going to reveal any horrifying truth about Amber and Clive’s relationship, Aaron relaxed a little and leaned back in his chair. Though he still listened.
Apparently, juvengamy was still practiced in cult circles for the very thing that made it illegal. It made a man’s half docile by emptying her out.
The exposure was timed carefully. A girl’s body was more sensitive to clairvoyance, so her channel broke first. Most of her clairvoyance leaked out or collected in the boy.
All under the guise that juvengamy forged a stronger bond between halves.
Weird.
***
Aaron was waiting at his car after class for Buff when he heard squealing tires. He jerked his head up as a steel gray Beamer swerved through the parking lot, skidded around the speed bumps, and pulled up next to him. Dominic Brees sat at the wheel, Clive Selavio in the passenger seat.
Dominic leaned out the window. “Number eleven, don’t be a loner. Get in.”
Aaron stepped up to the window and casually surveyed the leather interior, which gave off the stale smell of marijuana. Finally, he stared at Clive.
“That’s eight-hundred and twenty-five dollars you owe me for my car,” he said.
“Why don’t you get in,” said Clive, patting the back seat. “We’ll talk while we drive.”
“No, you get out. We’ll talk right here.”
Clive reached for his seatbelt, clicked it, and the strap recoiled. His fingers closed on the handle.
“Not now—” Dominic grabbed his knee and nodded out the back. “Look who’s coming.”
Aaron glanced up and saw Buff trudging into the parking lot.
Though his fingers whitened on the door handle, Clive stayed in the car. “Lucky bastard,” he muttered, licking his chapped lips.
“So where’s my present?” said Aaron, leaning in through the window. “I was hoping you were going to bring me a puppy or something.”
A smirk crept onto Clive’s face. “Actually, Harper, I was thinking you and I could have some adult fun tonight—since we’re both turning eighteen next Saturday. Ever heard of the Pelican?”
“I’ll pass,” said Aaron. Clive was talking about a nightclub on the pier that had a reputation for underage sex. The Pelican was where seventeen-year olds with fake IDs got drugged up and lost their virginity to strangers, not realizing the consequences. Sex was meant for your half, no one else. If you broke that rule, something would forever be missing between you and your half.
“You know I’m going to take good care of you,” said Clive.
“Yeah? You can start by fixing the dent in my car.”
“Oh, did that make you sad?” said Clive. “Well guess what? Next time you see Amber, I’m going to put a dent in your skull.”
Aaron felt an itch in his fingertips. “She came to me,” he said.
Clive leaned across the seat toward him. “If that’s the story you prefer, Harper, then I’ll put a dent in her skull.”
It was too much. Aaron yanked open the door. But Dominic had already shifted into first, and the Beamer lurched away from him, the door slammed.
“Oh, I forgot to mention—” Clive yelled from the window, “Amber’s going too.” He broke into laughter.
Aaron kicked the rear bumper as hard as he could before the car accelerated away from him, his blood burning in his veins.
Clive was taking Amber to the nightclub.
A second later Buff was at his side. “That was Breezie, wasn’t it?” he said, smacking his palm with his fist. “I can smell his stink.”
“Tonight,” was all Aaron managed to say, his stomach turning queasy at the thought of Clive forcing himself on her, “we’re going to the pier. We have to stop a girl from ruining her life.”
***
Amber picked up after the first ring.
“Hey,” she said, as if Aaron calling her was totally normal.
“Amber, could you promise me something?”
She was silent while Aaron continued to fiddle with his car door in his driveway, trying to get it to latch.
“Probably not,” she said finally.
“Promise me you won’t go out with Clive tonight.”
“Let me guess, you’d rather I go out with you?” she said.
“Sure, whatever. I’ll take to a movie or something.”
“I didn’t say I would go out with you.”
“Look—” Aaron held the phone against his ear with his shoulder, “you might end up in a situation tonight where you could get hurt.”
“Then protect me,” she said.
“Amber, just promise me.”
“No.” And she hung up.
***
Calling her was a mistake, Aaron decided that night, as he scanned the swaying mass of halves grinding against each other inside the Pelican nightclub, their sweat glittering under green lasers and disco balls, because even if Amber hadn’t been planning on it, now she would probably come here just to spite him.
But what worried him even more was the way he’d risen to Clive’s taunts after school—how protective he’d felt toward her—when the odds seemed increasingly slim that they were halves. In fact, he wasn’t sure he even wanted Amber as his half; she’d be a nightmare.
Yet here he was at the Pelican because she meant more to him than he cared to admit, and if Clive date raped her in a filthy nightclub eight days before her birthday, if he scarred her like that, the loss she and her half would suffer for the rest of their lives was unthinkable. Aaron couldn’t let that happen.
He spotted Dominic dancing with Tina Marcello against the far glass walls. Clive would be near them. “Over there,” said Aaron.
Next to him, Buff pulled on his red and white rugby hoodie.
“Seriously?” said Aaron.
“I didn’t come here to dance, Buddy. Breezie needs to know what hit him.”
“Whatever. Just hold him off while I take care of Selavio.” Aaron straightened his leather jacket and plunged into the crowd. He focused on the rainbows cascading down Dominic’s back to stay oriented as he squeezed around pairs of bodies. In the sweaty fog, someone knocked him in the jaw—and he froze.
He had walked right into Clive, and the guy still hadn’t noticed him. It was too perfect.
Aaron reached for his shoulder, his heart thumping, and yelled, “Surprise!”
But right then a gap opened and he saw exactly what he dreaded most. She was rubbing up against Clive’s torso in a club dress with tiger stripes, lips shining with lip gloss, her arms draped seductively around his neck like they were already halves—Amber Lilian.
Clive whipped around to face him.
***
Aaron had three inches on Clive. It should have been an easy fight. A few punches. He could have broken Clive’s nose, knocked him out cold.
Instead he just stood there, stunned by the sight of Amber, as Clive attacked.
Aaron had been struck off guard before, knocked to the ground even. He had taken blows from other seventeen-year-olds, kicks, punches in his jaw. They didn’t faze him.
This was different.
The strobe light split Clive’s movement into frames. His fist burned in the white flash, a blur, before it smashed into Aaron’s jaw.
Pain rattled his teeth. Aaron toppled backward, dizzy, and hit the floor. Clive knelt over him and coiled his arm back again, ready to strike with his full weight. Aaron rolled, crawled through someone’s legs and jumped up. His ears still rang from the blow.
People scattered, shouted. Aaron tackled Clive in the stomach, pinned his neck. Clive squirmed out of his grip, a sour musk rising from his armpits.
Somebody’s hands closed on Aaron’s shoulders, dragged him backward.
“She’s not your half!” Aaron yelled, but it was pointless. More bodies crowded around him, grabbed and shoved him, their ugly faces hardly human. He flung off their hands, only to suffocate in their hungry perfume. Everything was in black and white. An entire club filled with shadows, halves of people herding him backward.
Aaron never took his eyes off Amber. She was the only thing real. Her orange and yellow tiger stripes. She returned his stare, speechless, just as shocked as he was.
Clive stood behind her, smirking, and with his long, pale fingers, he caressed Amber’s neck, her collarbone, then reached lower—
Aaron averted his eyes, disgusted, as every last inch of his skin caught fire and burned with jealousy.
***
Aaron stumbled onto the balcony and gulped fresh air, still seething—and pissed at himself for overreacting. No shit Amber got touchy feely with Clive on the dance floor, she was his damn girlfriend; Aaron just hadn’t really believed it until tonight. A moment later, she came out behind him.
“So that’s why you called me?” she said. “You’re an a*shole.”
Aaron rolled his jaw, and the pain from Clive’s blow gnawed inside his skull. His teeth still didn’t align. “Go back inside and finish what you started,” he said. “Clive brought you here for a reason.”
“No duh,” she said, brushing her damp hair from her eyes. “They don’t check IDs.”
“You think that’s why he brought you here? Come on, Amber, you’re smarter than that.”
“Apparently not the whiz you are,” she said.
“Fine, I’ll spell it out for,” he said. “It’s called date rape. You’re nothing but a trophy to him, he’s not going to wait until you’re eighteen.”
Amber stepped in front of him, and her eyes were stunningly bright. “He’s not like that, Aaron. You’re just jealous.”
“Oh, please,” he said, “I’m stopping you from throwing your life away . . . because you don’t seem to give a damn. Jealousy’s got nothing to do with this.”
“And what exactly is this?” she said, motioning between them.
Aaron leaned against the railing, as the techno beat numbed his thoughts. “What makes you think he’s your half?” he said.
“Does it matter? It’s not like I get a choice.”
“Yes you do,” he said. “You still have a choice for one more week, and this is when people screw it up. It might not be him next Saturday, so don’t do something you’ll regret.”
“Who are you, my parents?” she said. “I have enough people fussing over my safety without you preaching to me.”
“Fine, but believe me you’re with the wrong guy,” he said.
“Why don’t you just say it already and stop wasting my time, Aaron—you think I’m your half.”
“Well, since you brought it up,” he said, “maybe you shouldn’t be dating Clive eight days before our birthday.”
Amber stepped closer to him, and the ocean breeze lifted her hair across her forehead. “I’ll date whomever I please.”
Aaron could smell her lip-gloss—cherry flavored—and feel the heat emanating from her skin. “At least until Clive kills them, right?” he said.
“He only does that when I get bored and tell him to,” she said, her eyes challenging him.
“Really?” said Aaron. “Then why has he known about every time you’ve seen me? Bored already?”
“Slightly.”
“Then let’s make things interesting. Dance with me.”
“No,” she said, staring him straight in the eye, “didn’t you just lecture me about not doing things I would regret?”
Before he could answer, yells from inside the club interrupted their conversation. Aaron and Amber spun as Buff staggered out onto the balcony, two bouncers right behind him, their torsos bulging inside black T-shirts.
Buff planted his palms on their chests, one on each, and halted them. “No more bullshit—I swear!”
They rolled up their sleeves and hustled him backward, shoved him against the railing. Buff’s eyes froze on the dark, sloshing ocean behind him. They were going to pitch him over.
“I said no more bullshit!”
Aaron and Amber jumped to the rescue.
“There you are bud—”Aaron threw his arm around Buff’s shoulder and dragged him away from the bouncers. “Been looking all over for you! See that sailboat over there . . . marvelous, isn’t she?”
Amber intercepted the bouncers. “Oh my God, thank you guys so much for your help!” She smiled and batted her eyelashes at them. “He’s my half.”
Aaron stole a look at her and had to turn away to suppress a snicker.
The bouncers grunted and retreated into the thumping, flashing darkness.
“Buddy, I got him!” said Buff, smacking his palm. “Broke Breezie’s nose, just like that.” He grinned, and blood dribbled down his chin from a split lip. His eyes were bruised too.
Amber came up next to them and rubbed her arms. “It’s cold,” she said to Aaron, shivering. “I changed my mind. Let’s go dance now.”
“Forget it,” said Aaron. “It was a bad idea.”
“Fine,” she said, and her gaze darted to Buff. “I’ll dance with your best friend then—”
But before Buff had a chance to accept, Aaron snatched her hand away from him. “Alright, one song,” he said. “You still think you’re going to regret this?”
“Actually,” she said, catching his eyes with a sizzling glance as she pulled him into the club’s sweaty heat, “I’m counting on it.”
***
A scan around the club revealed that Clive and Dominic were absent, and it made Aaron nervous; they were up to something.
The song was in transition as he and Amber headed for the corner, just the synthesizer. The lasers made slow sweeps across the ceiling.
When they reached a good spot, the strobe lights flashed and the bass kicked in, obscuring Aaron’s thoughts. Amber faced him, blushing, and glanced down. He watched the lights flashing across her face, and his heart fluttered, weightless. He pressed his eyelids shut. His birthday was too soon; dancing with Amber was a mistake. He needed to get out of here.
But then she draped her arms around his neck, and already, he felt himself giving in. He held her waist, unable to pull away. Blood surfaced under his skin. The thrill was almost palpable.
The music pressed them together, the club dissolved. They were alone. Together.
He felt her hair on his cheek, silky. She smelled like sweat and flowers. Holding her was easier than it should have been. Excruciating, yes, but easier. Intoxicating, in fact.
Very intoxicating.
Aaron felt her mouth near his ear. “None of this is going to matter when we’re eighteen. Why are you so tense?”
But she was tense too. Her body felt taut, as if she was holding her breath.
She moved closer, and he felt her cheek against his neck. He could feel her heart racing—or was it his? His nerves felt tingly wherever their skin touched.
“What are you thinking about?” she whispered.
“Take a guess.”
“I can’t read you,” she said. “Tell me.”
“Oh, you know . . . ,” he said, “just my Anthro essay.”
“Butthead.”
It felt like only a moment passed, and then the song was over. It hardly seemed fair. But they still didn’t let go of each other.
“I think the song’s over,” he said.
“Then why are we still dancing?” she said.
Just then, Buff burst out of the crowd and grabbed Aaron’s arm.
“Buddy, your car—” he gasped, out of breath, “Breezie and Selavio are pushing it into the water!”