The snap of a shopping bag opening draws me from my pouting. “Oh, actually, can you remove the tags so I can wear it?” Willa’s dark brow arches. “I lost mine, and it’s a bit chilly out there without one.”
Zara nudges my shoulder, an inelegant snort jerking her shoulders. “She’s so daft. She’d misplace her arse if it weren’t attached.”
Daft? I mouth, giving my so-called best friend a fixed look.
Willa’s lips twitch as she pulls out a pair of scissors, cuts the tags, and slides my new jacket across the counter with the receipt on top.
“Thanks. See ya.” I toss a wave as she gives me her canned “Thanks for shopping at Backwoods Sport & Ski.”
Shoving Zara toward the exit, I hiss, “Way to go, Z. She probably thinks I’m a complete idiot.”
Zara giggles and stops at a sunglass display. She slides a gaudy red and gold pair on and poses. “Whatever. No one thinks you’re an idiot. We go to the same school; she knows you’re Ms. Academia. Plus, she shared a womb with Kase. She most certainly knows an idiot when she sees one.”
“Oh my gosh, shut up.” I swallow back a giggle and search the immediate area, clamping down on her arm. The Kasuns own this store. Their dad is sheriff, their older brothers are deputies, and Kase—while not the sharpest pencil in the box—is well-known and well-liked. “Besides, I know for a fact you’re smitten with him.”
“Smitten?” Zara’s light caramel skin flushes as she smirks. “I am not smitten. He’s hot, I’ll give him that, but after that mess with Ana? No, thank you. I’m staying far, far away from him.”
“You have excellent self-preservation skills. They may be over, but Ana would rip your head off if she thought you were after him.”
A deep chuckle nearby stops me. I turn, blood creeping up my neck at being overheard, but there’s no one there. The store’s busy enough, locals and tourists alike flipping through the racks of ski gear and sporting goods, but not one of them pays us a bit of attention. No smiles, no curious eyes. I adjust my scarf, pulling it around my neck as goosebumps appear across my skin.
“Pizza or burgers?” Zara asks as we step outside and I shrug into my jacket. I lift a shoulder, my mind occupied with the eerie sensations crawling over my skin. Everything within me screams in warning, and like last night, nothing is right.
“You said burgers, right?” she prods and bats her large Bambi eyes.
It’s a standing joke—what’s for dinner? Zara works at Napoli’s. She always wants Burger Bar when we go out. I prefer Napoli’s, probably because they prepare me special orders since they’re used to me hanging around. Shaking away the pall hanging over me, I agree to burgers. I’m in no mood to argue.
“Burgers it is.” She swings her keyring around her index finger and heads for the parking lot. I glance back at the store one last time before following.
There are a few cars parked at the drive-in bays outside the Burger Bar, but the inside is packed. The crowded booths and occupied tables aren’t a surprise. Some of the girls from school wave us over and share their booth.
Living in Havenwood Falls is like living in a fishbowl. We breathe the same air and walk the same paths daily. We see the same people at every restaurant, movie showing, and festival. It’s the second Saturday of the month—movie night. It’s been a Havenwood Falls tradition since long before my birth. It began as a summer ritual, a family-friendly movie in Danzan Park, but once the Arts Council renovated the old mining warehouse—adding a stage and theater—the city extended the showings to year-round. Havenwood Falls, known for strange occurrences and more festivals than days of the week, is heaven for a people watcher like me.
Dipping my fries in a pile of peppered mayo, I half listen to the girls chat about their day on the slopes while my gaze flits over the crowded restaurant. I’m entertained by the guys at the next table as they jostle one another over a ketchup bottle. No need to question why I’ve never seen them with dates. Poor immature fools.
Across the restaurant, Nikki Morris fusses with her perfect hair and makes faces at her phone. I can’t tell whether she is taking a selfie or using the camera as a mirror. The new kid, Max Cooper, arrives, and she straightens, plastering on a glowing smile and lowering her cell. I’m happy they’re still dating after all the mess she’s been in lately. They’re both insanely good-looking, like many of the people in Havenwood Falls, and popular. I turn my head, my gaze sliding past holiday decorations covering every vacant spot in the restaurant, before they stop on a vaguely familiar face. He’s propped against the wall next to the entrance with a menu in his hands, but his eyes aren’t reading the daily specials. They’re firmly set on me.
Intensely charged blue orbs framed by dark lashes and a pale face— Wait. I blink nervously. My eyes and mind play tricks on me. I don’t know him at all, yet my pulse ratcheted up the moment I spotted him. Flickers of memories tickle the back of my mind, knocking and asking to be let in.
My lungs deflate, each breath more difficult than the last, the longer he stares. I grip the table, my fingers curling around the metal edge, as a chill creeps up my spine. He pushes from the wall, and I lurch forward.
Zara jumps, her hands grabbing the cup of water I knocked over. “What the hell, Viv?”
She pushes my shoulder while across the table, the others shift baskets and throw napkins on the mess I’ve made.
“Sorry. I don’t know what happened. I—”
“You were totally eye screwing that guy, that’s what happened. Who is he?” Zara nudges my side again. “You’re soaked. Get up, you loon.”
“I’m—” Soaked? Cold moisture seeps through my jeans, and I look down as water dribbles off the table into my lap.
“Yep, I’m wet,” I say lamely, sliding from the booth.
“What guy?” the girls ask in tandem as their heads swivel in the direction of the door.
He’s gone.
“Viv?” Zara touches my hand at my side. “Are you okay? You’re shaking.”
My head nods of its own accord as I will my trembling to cease and look over the restaurant. People laugh, people eat, everything’s the same. Except for the guy, who is no longer by the door. I tug at the sleeves of my sweater.
“I’m fine. Um, I’m gonna go to the bathroom. I’ll be back.”
Faint voices tap at the back of my head, like gnats flying around on a summer day. They buzz and swoop close, only to retreat—taking whatever secrets they hold with them. The sensation makes me dizzy as I round the corner to the bathroom and pull up in time to miss bumping into Scarlet Howe. Scarlet smiles and holds her hands up like I’m a robber as I apologize and press against the wall so she can pass. I take three steps backward and turn for the door handle when someone grabs my wrist and yanks me into the bathroom.