Chapter 9: Bad Movement 

"Great story, isn't it?" said the voice I'd been fearing to hear. My heart jumped. I hadn't expected him to come and talk to me. Of all the infinite situations I'd imagined since spotting his car, this one had escaped me.

I closed my book and turned to look up at him. He was smiling at me. "Hi." I'd been half-reclined and I pushed myself up. "Um, yeah, it's a great story," I said, glancing at the book.

"But not my favorite one." He gave a soft shake of his head.

I smiled. He liked Shakespeare. "Same for me," I said, dropping my eyes to the grass.

"How are you feeling after that fierce attack on Friday?" he asked, amused.

He totally thought I was stupid. "Oh, um, I wanted to thank you for that." My face began to blaze. "I left without saying thank you. So-" I forced my eyes to look back at his "-thank you...very much."

His beautiful lips formed a breathtaking smile. "Don't worry. That was nothing."

"Nothing? If it wasn't because of you I would be lying on a hideous hospital bed right now-or in some dreary coffin under layers and layers of dirt."

He laughed, the sweet sound caressing my ears. "Well, I'm glad I helped you, then."

"Yeah...I'm glad, too," I admitted, dropping my eyes again.

"It happens that I tend to be a lifesaver from time to time," he said, taking his smile into the edge of sexy. "And I'm sorry to say that jackets don't make the cut, just humans."

"Oh..." My brain wasn't working. I couldn't think of anything clever to say. "Lucky...me then..."

"You can say that." He had the most beautiful eyelashes. "But don't play with your luck so much."

"No...I...um..." I took in a gulp of air. "It's going to be really difficult to go near a wolf-thing from now on. I don't want to face death again."

His sexy smile faded and his lips flattened into a straight line. Had I said something wrong? He stared at me, his eyes displaying an intensity so deep it could've melted metal. Something in them showed frustration and disappointment, colliding with the peacefulness of his heavenly gray ocean-colored eyes. And I couldn't understand why, but I was unexpectedly overtaken by the most piercing sadness I'd ever felt. My chest hurt as if a deep iron ball was pressing my lungs. My nose warmed and my eyes got cloudy with tears.

I turned my head away, unlocking my eyes from his. I sensed a tear sliding down on my cheek, escaping my eyelids and turning cold. Why in the world was I crying? Did I even have a reason? I felt completely lost, confused and...embarrassed.

I wiped the frosty tear with the back of my hand, wishing he hadn't notice my bizarre reaction, and pulled my tote from the grass. The odd pain in my chest began to fade. I shoved the book inside and placed the strap over my shoulder.

I was now facing him again. "Um..." My mind was blank. "Nice weather, huh?" I said, keeping my eyes away from his. It was a really pathetic thing to say, but I couldn't think of anything better.

"Yes," he said with a troubled voice, almost talking to himself.

Curiosity got the best out of me and pushed me to look back at him. He was looking down; his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets. His dark eyebrows, slightly covered by some strands of his hair, were pulled together, as if he was pondering something. But what?

Maybe he'd regretted coming to me...

Something caught his attention and made him turn around. I followed and spotted his two friends coming down the stairs toward us. I noticed how tall they were, an inch taller than Tristan maybe. But he wasn't looking at them. Chloe was standing a few feet away from his friends, arms crossed around her chest. She locked her arctic eyes with Tristan for a moment, and several silent messages passed between them, none of them nice. Her eyes tightened sharply. She turned to look at Tristan's friends, who wore anxious looks, told them something with her cutting eyes, too, and strode away, shooting me a killer glare on the way.

I frowned. What the hell had just happened?

Wait a second. I suddenly realized something even weirder. How did Tristan know all of them were there? He was giving them his back and we were several feet away and as far as I knew, they'd been silent.

Tristan turned to look at me and cleared his throat. "Um, let me introduce you to my friends," he said with a stifled voice. Next thing I knew, they were standing next to him. "Elan and Mingan."

It was as if I was facing a big human wall, a sturdy human wall. Tristan's friends were more muscular than him, but not in the Rambo-burly-type way. Only pure lean muscle displaying sexy strength. I clutched my tote nervously. The one with the cool Mohawk took a step forward and stretched his wide hand toward me. "Finally," he said eagerly, shaking his warm hand with my icy one. "I'm Elan." He smiled.

"Hi," I said, smiling back. He was friendly, full of energy. His smile a warm, bright sun that matched the light autumn color in his eyes.

"This is my twin brother, Mingan," Elan continued, pointing at the guy with the pony tail.

I hadn't been wrong. They were family-and twins! Though they weren't exact copies of each other, their physical features were definitely similar.

Mingan nodded in response, reminding me of a soldier saluting. I didn't care for his cold manner; it kind of suited him. But the hostility in his eyes when he looked at me, as if I was an enemy he wanted to wipe out, did bother me.

I gulped.

"So how's it been so far?" Elan asked with a grin.

"Pretty good." I said, trying to ignore Mingan's hard eyes. "I still haven't seen too much. I've just been to the supermarket and"-I peeked at Tristan-"Julian's gallery." Tristan wasn't looking at me. His face looked troubled and sad. Why? Maybe I was reading him wrongly. Maybe he was mad. Because of Chloe?

"Pretty cool, huh? He has a lot of artsy stuff there," Elan said.

"Yeah," I agreed with a gulp, sensing Mingan's heavy stare on me again. He was studying every word I said and every move I made.

"Well, you need to sightsee more," Elan continued with his bright smile still on.

"I'm going out on Saturday."

"On your own?" he asked.

"Um, no, not on my own." I blushed. I didn't want to say I was going out with Dean-especially not in front of Tristan. Why? I didn't know. The idea was ridiculous.

"If you want to you can-" Elan trailed off, looking like he was paying attention to something else in his mind, or more exactly, listening to something else. He cocked his head, eyes lost, and looked back at me. "I mean, you should go with someone from here-a local," he continued awkwardly.

I looked at Tristan and Mingan, trying to figure out Elan's sudden change. They were staring at him, as if restraining him with their eyes. But restraining him from what? I hated all this guessing and weirdness.

"Actually, I'm going with a local." I told him, suddenly feeling the urge to say it. "Dean. Maybe you know him." I glanced at Tristan.

His eyes met mine, locking them for a long, hot-blooded moment. My stomach clenched and unclenched, sending tingles all the way to my toes.

"We have to go," Tristan said in a flat tone seconds later, not taking his eyes from mine. He stared at me for a few more heartbeats, then turned and said to them, "We should've left minutes ago." And then he left, just like that.

"Let's go," Mingan ordered Elan and followed Tristan.

Elan gave me a small smile, as if apologizing, and turned away to join them. The twins' black truck speeded behind Tristan's cool orange car a few seconds later.

Standing there alone, I couldn't shake off my confusion. What the hell had happened? There was no reason for him to leave like that and drag the others along. I hadn't done anything to trigger that sadness or madness, or whatever it was. Anything. So what was his problem? Had it been Chloe with that sharp stare of hers?

Ugh. Actually, I didn't care what his problem was. Thinking about him was a big waste of time, remember?

Still, the wasting of time kept on in bed. Like with a movie, I searched fast-forward and backward in my mind, pausing and trying to figure out what went wrong. The movie kept rolling and rolling, and I only could think of two possibilities: my tear, which could have taken him aback, and Chloe's glare, which could have frighten a Spartan warrior. There was nothing else.

All this mortified me more than it should and I didn't like it. I really didn't like it. I tugged my pillow from beneath my head and smashed it to my face. Why was I interested in a guy like him? In a person who didn't even spend a microsecond of his time thinking about me, or anyone-well, maybe just his model girlfriend. Why did I always think of the ones who didn't show interest in me and not the ones who did?

I pulled the pillow off from my face and threw it aside. I took a deep breath and puffed it out. I only wanted to know what I did or said wrong. I rolled, annoyed, onto my right arm and tried to sleep.