and give a wry smile once he arrives.
“So, what’s the game plan?” I run my fingers through my hair, checking my reflection in the mirror.
“I’m going to suck her blood.” He holds up a vial before slipping it back in his jeans.
“You think she’s Celestra, huh?” Just another thing pretty boy and Skyla have in common. My stomach turns at the thought.
“I know she is. You know what the best part is?”
“She can see what a douche you are, inside and out?” I tease.
Not really. It’ll probably only magnify the fact that deep down, Logan Oliver is one of the nicest guys Skyla could ever hope to know—and that’s too fucking bad for me.
“You’re funny.” He takes the turn outside the estates a little wide, and I hold onto the grab bar. “No, I just keep thinking about how intense it’ll be with her.” He says it quiet—serious, and it sends every cell in my body on red alert. He’s going to do it. He’s going to make a move on the girl I’m supposed to be with. I don’t get it. If I’m feeling it—if the visions confirm everything I know is true—then why on earth is Skyla the last person to get with the program?
I glance over at Logan and sink in my seat as a horrible realization sets in. Maybe, just maybe, Logan has been a part of the big picture all along.
***
Logan and I picked up a pizza on the way to the party. We pull up to the Bishop’s old place and park in the driveway, both of us settling our gaze on the overgrown cabin, mesmerized to be back under such different circumstances.
“Old school, huh?” Logan slaps my shoulder, startling me out of my daze. “It’s not her house anymore. It’s Skyla’s. That’s how we have to look at it. Wipe the slate clean. There’s someone new in our lives. It’s not Skyla’s fault Chloe died.”
I nod into his line of thinking as we get out of the truck. I blip myself to the front door to buy a half-minute with her before Logan sweeps her off her feet again. But it’s not Skyla who opens the door, it’s Brielle. I give a brief hello and make my way past her. It’s refreshing seeing new furniture in the place, the dank scent of the Bishop house long forgotten, replaced with the sweet scent of Skyla. She beats cinnamon rolls any day of the week for “best olfactory experience ever.”
Skyla blooms in the family room like a fantasy come to life. Her hair falls over her shoulders in a gold waterfall as she offers a sweet smile in my direction.
Here’s my chance to say something. Tell her about the dreams—the fact I know that she and I will do amazing things on a black sandy beach one day. That I’ve thought about her—fallen in love with her—long before I ever met her. Instead, I grin like an idiot until she walks past me and greets Nat and Kate with an enthusiastic hello.
Perfect. This is a shining example of why I’ll never make it to first base with the “girl of my dreams”—I’m a tongue-tied idiot whenever I’m around her. Maybe I misinterpreted those visions, and she’s the girl I’ll forever be fantasizing about. That sounds about right.
I turn just in time to catch the Logan and Skyla show, his arms already locked around her waist. My stomach sinks as I glance down at the pizza—because God knows I’ve lost my appetite.
Skyla gathers everyone in the family room, and they indulge in the feast of the best artery clogging pizza on the island. Logan seems to be taking a cue from me and passes on the meal. If anyone gets sick tonight, I’m sure they’ll accuse us of lacing their dinner.
Skyla comes over and leans in. She washes over me with those haunting pale eyes and hands me a movie.
“So here’s the DVD.” Her fingers brush against mine, and my entire body tingles from her touch. “If you don’t like it, blame Drake.” She points to the console the television rests on. “There’s lots more crap where that came from.”
She glances back in Logan’s direction. I need to say something