Crush by Stefan Petrucha Read Free Book Online Page B

just looked at him, noticing him. Finally.
    Hey , Jonathan said, as he had to Kirsty.
    Hi .
    What’s up ?
    Just hanging out. I thought I might find you here .
    Emma stepped up to Jonathan and wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned in close to place her lips against his.
    Even imagining such a moment made Jonathan blush. He smiled to himself.
    He shifted in the bed, rolled over to look at the window.
    The wonderful image fled, and Jonathan froze.Eyes open and staring. His heart beating fast.
    A man-shaped shadow fell over the glass. Its darkness was deeper than the night. Somehow solid, it was framed between his open curtains. This wasn’t simply a shadow though, because Jonathan could make out eyes, nose, and mouth. They seemed painted on the form. They also seemed furious with him. The lips moved silently, their edges low in a disapproving frown. The smoky eyes darted back and forth, scanning the interior of Jonathan’s room.
    Childhood fears of the bogeyman flooded back. He felt like a little boy, paralyzed by the knowledge that monsters did exist, and they lived close. This wasn’t how he pictured the bogeyman, though. It looked more like the robe of the Grim Reaper, inhabited by a spirit instead of a skeleton. Whatever it was, it scared the hell out of him.
    He closed his eyes, attempting to blink away this angry phantom, but it remained on the glass. Sweat popped out on Jonathan’s neck. His pulse sounded in his head, a staccato thunder.
    Against the glass the shadow rippled. It spread out like liquid, smearing the facial features, making them transparent, so Jonathan could see a cornerof the apartment complex through the form. With another rippling wave it rose, like a manta ray climbing through an ocean current.
    Then it glided skyward and was gone.
    Jonathan leaped from the bed. Every muscle and nerve sprang and sparked as if he’d been coiled up for hours. His fingers and toes tingled badly, and his stomach felt as if it were filled with ice water.
    â€œCrap,” he said in a high whisper. “Crap. What was that?”
    He paced the room, trying to burn off some of his nervous energy, hoping motion would bring some sense, some logical explanation to his frightened mind. He wanted to believe he’d been asleep. It was a dream. A nightmare. A trick of his overactive imagination. But no, he was awake. No foggy remnants of sleep were on him. There had been no moment of time unaccounted for.
    He paced faster and ran his hands through his hair, scratching his scalp furiously to release a tingling shower of anxiety down his back.

6
    Tuesdays were always quiet at the bookstore. Usually Jonathan liked it when the place wasn’t busy, but tonight the time just seemed to drag. Everything was pretty well stocked and shelved and the few customers roaming through the store apparently knew what they were looking for, because he’d only had one older woman ask him to look up a title: Clive Barker’s Abarat . They were sold out.
    David was acting strange, adding to the night’s unease.
    On break they sat at the back of the café. David guzzled his coffee and barely said a word. Jonathan knew his friend was distracted, but he also seemedfrustrated, like he’d lost his wallet and was trying to figure out where he’d left it.
    â€œWhat’s up with you?” Jonathan asked.
    â€œMmmm…,” David hummed, looking into his nearly empty cup. “Nothing. Just tired.”
    â€œUp all night planning world domination?”
    â€œNo,” David said. “Just had some things to take care of. Didn’t sleep much.”
    Jonathan debated telling David about his own sleepless night. He didn’t have a clue how he would explain the shadowy thing in his window. There was no way to without sounding like a total loon, so he kept his mouth shut.
    â€œHow was school?” David asked, still looking in his cup.
    â€œGood,” Jonathan said. And it was