“Nice bra, Jaz.” He smirks as he fixes his eyes directly on my chest. I look down and to my horror, I find that my light pink bra is clearly visible through my soaked white school shirt. I can feel my face flame in embarrassment when I realize that the lollipop pattern on the bra is clearly visible, too. I kick myself for choosing to wear this bra today of all days and seriously, I wonder for the hundredth time, who the hell Magnus got to stock my wardrobe. But it’s not like I had any idea that I’d be ocean diving off a cliff today instead of going to class.
“Stop staring at my bra, you asshole,” I reply through gritted teeth. But it just makes Raph’s smile grow even wider.
“Urgh. You’re such a pig!”
He chuckles as he shrugs off his school blazer, and he surprises me by dropping it around my shoulders, over my own blazer. I’m even more surprised to find that although his blazer is soaked, it’s as warm as a heated blanket. I pull it tighter around me instinctively.
Raph notices the fine tremor which is now racking my body and wraps an arm around me as he guides us back to his car. I want to push him away, but he’s so goddamn warm, that my heat deprived body protests at the very thought. I’m horrified at myself when I feel my body snuggling closer to his. The infuriating grin on Raph’s face tells me that he senses both the snuggling and the horror.
“Just so you know, I’m only doing this to stop myself from turning into an icicle,” I snap.
“Sure, Jaz. Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you.”
My apprehension eases a fraction but his next words just make my temper rise again.
“But I can’t promise that I won’t make fun of you for it.”
“I think I preferred it when we hated each other,” I grumble.
“Aww, are you finally admitting that you don’t hate me anymore?” he teases.
“No. I still hate you,” I reply quickly, although I know it’s not true. There’s no doubt that Raph still irritates the hell out of me, but as much as I’d still like to think so, I know I don’t hate him anymore. I let myself admit that maybe I’d been wrong about him. He’s still a spoiled prick and an insufferable asshole most of the time, but the other parts of him that I’ve glimpsed tell me that there is so much more to him than the shallow, self-centered prick that he seems to want everyone else to see. That maybe our worlds aren’t so far apart after all. It’s a heretical thought, and not one that I want to entertain, so I shove it away quickly, because letting myself believe it feels dangerous.
“Well, I don’t hate you,” he replies, as we reach his car.
He turns to me then. His arm is still around me and I’m suddenly aware of how close we’re standing, so close that I can feel the warmth of his breath on my chilled skin and when those vivid blue eyes lock onto mine, I feel the heat in them, too.
“I don’t hate you at all.” His voice sounds strangely husky, and I can feel alarm bells ringing in my mind.
Our eyes lock and for what seems like an eternity, yet no time at all, I see him. Not the heir to the throne of Eden. But a contradiction, wrapped in a puzzle, topped with riddle, and all over it are warning labels telling me to stay the hell away.
I force myself to step back, cold panic replacing the chill racing through my flesh.
“We should go,” I manage to say, although I can hear the tremor in my own voice. I tell myself it’s the cold.
His eyes burn into me like twin flames for a moment longer before his golden lashes sweep down, shielding the intensity of his gaze.
He nods finally, and as I get into the car, I try to remind myself of the lines I’ve drawn between us, but somehow, I can’t see them anymore and although my feet are now firmly on the ground following the earlier cliff dive, somehow, I feel like I’m still falling.
19
“Watch this,” Keller says as she dips her fingers into the large lake. It’s a few days after the insane cliff dive and Keller has taken me deep into the forest at the far edge of Regency Mount Island.
I watch wide eyed as something forms on the surface of the clear blue lake, a pattern like fine white lace. Starting from the spot that her fingers are touching, then spreading out to the rest of the lake.
“What the hell …” I hear myself saying, but my voice sounds distant, even to my own ears because I’m too busy gawking at Keller freezing this lake over with just one touch.
“That’s amazing,” I add.
She stands back, surveying her work proudly.
“Know how to ice skate?” she asks.
Before I can answer, she gestures to my leather boots and I watch in astonishment as blades of pure ice materialize at the soles.
“Thanks for offering to help me out by the way.” I realize then that although we’re on our fifth session, I haven’t even bothered to thank her yet.
She waves her hand dismissively.
“It’s nothing. Call it me making amends for the part I played in all that crazy shit that happened at the beginning of semester.”
It feels like an age away now, but something occurs to me then.
“Isn’t Layla pissed at you for even speaking to me?” On my first day at Regency, I saw Keller walk into class with Layla and Dani was categorical about her description of Keller as one of Layla’s cronies. Although, after getting to know her, it’s difficult to imagine this girl being anyone’s lackey. She’s tough in a way that tells me she doesn’t take shit from anyone, Layla included.
“She can be as pissed as she wants, but she can’t tell me who I can and can’t speak to. I mean I’ve been friends with Layla since forever and she can be nice when she’s not being a bitch. But that doesn’t mean I can’t make other friends. I like you—you’ve got guts and you’re not scared to speak your mind. It’s a rare thing around here, when practically everyone is so caught up in social status and wealth.”
I’m surprised at her insightful response.
I follow Keller onto the ice then and we skate a few rounds before she stops me at the center of the lake.
“Here, try to create something from the ice—like this.” She sweeps her hand up and I watch as the ice beneath us extends upwards to form an elegant spiral figure.
“I can’t do that!” I reply.
We’ve worked on doing snow and wind the past few sessions and I managed to create some icicles last session, but this is entirely different.
Keller’s not taking no for an answer, though, and she’s not someone I want to argue against.
So, I focus on the connection to the ice beneath me and I sort of just lose myself as I begin to move. It feels like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, but at the same time, it feels so familiar—like the feeling of abandonment and calm that washes over me whenever I paint. I realize that it’s because I’m doing the same thing—I’m creating something. But rather than creating it on canvas, I’m using the element of ice itself, bending it to my will to form the beautiful sculptures.
I lose track of space and time as I move and when I stand back to look at my creation, I feel stunned.
Even Keller seems speechless, as we look up at the ice garden that I’ve spun—rose bushes, fountains, statues, intricate railings and terraces all made entirely of ice.
“Whoa …” I hear Lance’s voice behind me and I turn to see that he’s standing on the ice behind us with Raph. I wonder how long they’ve been standing there.
He wonders off to inspect my work and Keller follows him, still looking impressed and proud of her tuition.