Tears attempt to fill my eyes, but I push them down, frustrated by their presence. “Well, you should’ve done your homework better, because I can’t tell your future, only mine.”
“Exactly. See, don’t you think if I were using you, once I learned the exact nature of your ability I would’ve been gone?” He holds up his hands and takes a step toward me.
The edge of his desk presses into the backs of my legs. “I don’t know.”
“Of course you know, Addie.” He reaches me and runs his hands along my shoulders, then kisses my cheek. My suspicion starts to waver.
He takes my arms and wraps them around his waist. My anger melts to uncertainty as his hand moves softly down my hair. “Addie, I don’t need to be Clairvoyant to see you in my future. I want you there. I need you there. If you can’t trust me, Search it. You’ll see me there too.” He tucks a section of my hair behind my ear and then kisses my jawline.
“That’s not how it works. I can’t just Search my future.”
“I bet you could if you tried hard enough. And when you see me there, you’ll have to apologize for all this mistrust.”
I meet his eyes and when they’re full of sincerity I feel guilty. “I think I’m just waiting for reality to hit. I don’t understand why you’d want to be with me. We’re so different.”
“Different is good. Right? I wouldn’t want to date myself.” He kisses me softly. “I’m falling for you, Addie. Don’t break my heart.”
I lay my head against his chest, and he holds me tight. My eyes find the paper on the floor. The black letters of my ability stand out bold against their yellow background. He must sense my gaze, because he picks up the paper. “Look.” He drops it into the slotted recycle bin next to his desk. It sizzles as the solution disintegrates it. “Gone,” he says, and pulls me back against him.
CHAPTER 28
aNO[R]M-a-ly: n. a deviation from the (agreed upon) arrangement
I end up on Trevor’s front porch, holding a heating pad and a graphic novel from my house. I hope he’s not disappointed to see me after I didn’t warn him about Stephanie’s party. Brody answers the door. “Hi, Addison.”
“Hi, is your brother here?”
“Yeah, he’s in his room, but he shut the door and when he shuts the door that means he doesn’t want anyone to talk to him.”
“But I brought him a book. Do you think I could just give it to him and then leave?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “Okay.”
“Trevor,” I say, outside his door with a small knock. “Are you decent?” There’s no answer. I knock again and try the handle, but it’s locked. “Trevor, please.” I rest my forehead against the door. Never before have I wished I was Bobby, but his ability to manipulate mass and walk through solid objects would come in handy right now.
Brody comes to my side, holding up a key. “Don’t tell him I gave it to you.”
I hug him. “You are a little angel.”
He blushes and runs away.
Trevor’s room is dark; only the light from the desk lamp is on. He’s bent over his desk, drawing. “Trevor?”
“You might not want to stay. I’m busy feeling sorry for myself.” He throws a smile over his shoulder.
The cord to the heating pad slips down my arm and sways by my legs. I look around, remembering all the things about his room that make me cringe a little but at the same time are so him: his messy closet, his unorganized bookshelf, his overflowing trash. I walk forward, searching the wall by Trevor’s desk for an outlet. When I find one, I plug in the heating pad and turn the dial to hot. It takes a few minutes to heat up.
“What are you doing?” he asks, when I drape the pad over his right shoulder.
This was a tip from my dad on how Norms heal sore muscles. “I thought you were probably sore from your performance tonight. And I brought you this too.” I set the book on the corner of his desk.
He stares at the cover without saying a word, then puts his left hand on top of the heating pad and closes his eyes with a wince.
“Too hot?”
“No, it feels good.”
I take the opportunity to study his face. The tips of his lashes nearly touch his cheekbones. His dark hair falls across his forehead and curls up at the ends. His nose is strong, with a knot on the bridge. I wonder if it’s another football injury. And his lips are thin, but smooth, no cracks or dryness. He probably drinks a lot of water, or maybe he puts on lots of lip balm.
When I look back up to his eyes, he’s looking at me. I blush. “Well,” I say, “I’ll leave you alone now. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about Stephanie’s plans for tonight. That was a major best-friend failure on my part.” I turn and walk toward the door.
“Addison. Can I show you something?”
I spin back around. He’s sitting sideways now, holding up a piece of paper. I move back to the desk. It appears to be a page from his comic. I take it and read through several panels. It’s obviously the middle of the story, but the drawings are great and the conversations interesting. It surprises me that he’s letting me see it after his brother said he doesn’t show it to anyone. Why would he show this to me? Have I really earned it?
When my lungs start to burn, I realize I’m holding my breath. I suck in some air. There’s a tug on the bottom of my shirt, and I look down to see a section of it wrapped around his finger. My eyes dart to his, and he’s staring at me with intensity. My whole body feels like it’s turned to liquid, and I barely resist the urge to melt to the floor.