Painted Blind Part 2

"I smell it, too, sometimes." She began sorting tarot cards on the table in front of her. "It's okay to believe in things you can't see. Isn't that what people say? The best things in life are unseen."

I paused in front of the door. "I thought the best things in life were free."

"That too, I suppose. Next!"

Utterly confused, I stepped outside and realized Travis and Savannah had ditched me. After scanning the crowd and not finding a sign of them, I wandered down the street. Fortunes and incense had given me a headache.

I stopped at a booth where a cartoonist sketched a couple kissing. The girl had her hair tucked around her ear so her profile showed. She sat on her boyfriend's knee, and his arm was casually wrapped around her waist. I pretended to watch the cartoonist's picture take shape and stole glances at the couple.

During the summer I shot two sessions with a male model named Holden Valentine. He was twenty and had recently ended a tumultuous and well-publicized relationship with a pop starlet. Our work together would become a Guess ad sometime next spring, romantic black and whites of a beautiful couple. For the shoot, Holden wrapped his arms around my waist and put his face to my cheek. The photos looked like we'd been in love our whole lives, but for me it had been more awkward than ice skating in soccer cleats. I was so inept at falling in love, I didn't even know how to let a guy touch me.

The fortune-teller's words floated through my mind again. Love like you cannot imagine awaits you if you have the courage to find it.

I didn't have the courage. It was just that simple.

I was half a block from the Kappa Sigma house when the first string of beads. .h.i.t my feet. Whoever threw them disappeared into the crowd before I saw him. I picked up the purple plastic stars and ran my thumb over their sharp p.r.o.ngs. Across the street a lanky guy studied me while smoking a cigarette. He came forward. Instinct told me to run, but I froze as he approached. He took his time looking me up and down before his eyes locked on my face.

He pulled a ma.s.s of beads from his neck and draped them around mine. "For you."

"Don't even think I'm going to flash you," I said icily.

He shook his head. "A gift." He dropped the cigarette onto the street and smothered it with the toe of his boot then moved away and was lost in the crowd.

"Um, thank you." He didn't hear me, but someone did. Two more guys pa.s.sing in the crowd pressed beads into my hand. That familiar, anxious churning started in my chest. I searched for somewhere to hide. I pushed through the crowd, but ran into a solid body. I looked up and cringed.

"Psyche?" Mr. Darling wore a fraternity sweatshirt. He reeked of beer and way too much cologne. "Couldn't stay away from your favorite teacher, huh? Let me show you around."

"I'm meeting someone," I replied.

He took hold of my arm and used it to steer me through the crowd. "C'mon. Let's have some fun. I'll get you a beer."

All the sirens in my blood went off. We reached the curb. I shoved my weight into him, and his foot struck the cement. Too much beer in his head, he stumbled, and I pulled free.

I took off into the crowd, but Mr. Darling shouted, "Stop that girl! She's Venus!"

All around me, people turned. "It is her," someone said. "She's the girl in the billboard."

The crowd closed me in. Suddenly I was trapped in a circle of bodies, all shoving and grabbing at me. I felt the breath slipping out of me. My chest constricted. I tried to scream, but nothing came out. Strong arms grabbed me from behind.

I fought hard. I was not going to be dragged into some frat house.

"Don't be afraid," a voice murmured in my ear. "I'll get you out of here."

I saw the sleeves of a black leather jacket and a hand that bore a single gold band around the first finger.

Then we disappeared.

Chapter 4.

"What the..." I stammered, too shocked to believe what just happened. My body, my clothes were just... gone.

"Shhh," he whispered. "I'll take you to safety."

People looked around bewildered. "Where'd she go?"

He kept his arms around me as he pulled me through the mob. I struggled to walk, unable to see my feet. Bodies parted and jostled as we pa.s.sed, but no one saw us. Some girls on the edge of the crowd stood on their toes to see what happened. We moved past them, hidden from their sight and mine. I felt the leather of the glove as I touched my face, but I could see nothing.

I struggled against him once we were free of the crowd. "Let me go!"

"Around the corner here." We turned into an alley between two houses. Thick trees blocked the light of the streetlamps and the moon. In the shadows my body reappeared, and he let me go.

I spun around, stumbling away. "How... what did...who are you?"

"I'm sorry I grabbed you. I didn't want to lose you in the crowd." He kept his distance now. He was half a foot taller than me with broad shoulders. In the darkness, I couldn't make out his face.

"What did you do to me?" I insisted.

"I hid you from them. It's a talent I have." He spoke softly, an alluring voice that made me want to lean closer and glean the rise and fall of it. But I didn't dare get within arm's reach again.

"A talent? You call being invisible a talent." I suppose I should have thanked him, but he seemed as dangerous as the mob.

"I'm not exactly like you."

"No kidding."

He was unmoved by my sarcasm. "Did you drive?" He was either oblivious to my alarm or he just didn't care. "I can give you a ride home," he offered. "You probably don't want to brave that crowd again."

"I came with a friend." There was no way I was climbing into a car with him. He might disappear after slitting my throat... or worse.

He moved to a motorcycle I hadn't noticed before and pulled a helmet over his head. "Climb on."

"I'm not going to..." My protest was drowned by the engine, a smooth growl of speed and power.

"Before they find us."

I climbed on behind him, not needing the peg to lift me. When he hit the gas pulling onto Fifth Avenue and nearly dumped me off the back of the bike, I curled my arms around his waist and squeezed tight. "Pinecrest."

He knew the way without directions. The street lamp at the end of the block lit my driveway and half the yard. I hoped to finally see his face, but he didn't take off the helmet, and with the dark visor down, he was completely hidden.

"Thanks for the ride. I'm Psyche, by the way."

He revved the engine on the bike and dropped it into gear. "Good night."

I watched him drive away. There was something familiar about him. On the porch steps it hit me. The smell. I almost missed it because of the leather jacket, but it was definitely there, a hint of cinnamon and orange on salty air. It was him. He could make himself invisible, but I could smell him, and so could the gypsy. I had smelled him at school and heard him sneeze. He had followed me into the sporting goods store.

I stepped into the house and nearly collided with my dad.

He stood with his arms folded across his chest. "Was that a motorcycle that dropped you off?" He pulled the Subaru keys from his pocket and tossed them into my hands. "Don't ever let me catch you on that bike again." Dad started toward the couch in the living room. "Who was that anyway?"

What could I say? I didn't even know his name.

The next day I was zoning in Mr. Darling's cla.s.s when a breeze blew by me. The air smelled of cinnamon and subtle but expensive cologne.

"Are you bored yet?" His whisper startled me. I nearly swallowed my pen cap. After the horrible coughing fit pa.s.sed, he drew even closer to my ear. "So, that guy is your teacher?"

Before I could reply, Mr. Darling called my name. Holding out the dry erase marker, he said, "Come up and balance this equation."

"I haven't finished yet," I said.

"Come forward," Mr. Darling insisted.

I slowly untangled myself from the desk. While I struggled to place numbers on the equation, the student teacher stalked around me like some hungry carnivore. A hand rested on my shoulder, and I cringed, but it was my invisible savior who whispered, "Five H20, six carbon."

Mr. Darling paused directly behind me, and I wished I'd worn a longer shirt-one that completely covered my backside.

"Two nitrogen." The hand moved away. "I'll take care of him."

The equation finished, I set the marker on the ledge of the board and went to my desk, unable to look at anything but the floor. I slid into my seat and slouched behind Rory.

Mr. Darling scanned my work. "Correct," he announced. Then he tripped on some unseen obstacle. His body flung forward with unnatural force and his face smacked the whiteboard.

The cla.s.s laughed when Mr. Darling stood, shaking his head like he didn't know what happened. He sniffed, and his nose dribbled blood. He tried to wipe it away with his hand, but smeared it up the sleeve of his shirt. "Okay," he said, acting nonchalant, "everyone start on the next problem." Pinching his nose at the bridge, he managed to stem the tide for a moment, but as soon as he let go, the stream was worse than before.

Five minutes pa.s.sed and his nose was still bleeding, so Mr. Darling twisted up two tissues and shoved one into each nostril. The ends hung over his lip, making a white mustache that fluttered when he breathed.

Savannah giggled into her worksheet.

A moment later the counselor, Ms. Hubble, appeared in the doorway. "Could I see...." She broke off when she saw our teacher. "Michael, what happened to your nose?" she asked.

"Perfect timing," came the quiet whisper over my shoulder. The air whipped away.

"Ah chew!" Mr. Darling sneezed and sent the b.l.o.o.d.y tissues flying. "Excuse me," he mumbled. A new red trickle started down his lip. He looked at Ms. Hubble and the expression on his face shocked us all. He eyed the counselor like he eyed me just a moment ago. Then his features softened, and he gave her the most pathetic puppy-dog eyes. "I b.u.mped my nose on the board. It won't stop bleeding."

The counselor stepped forward, all her motherly compa.s.sion surfacing right there in front of our cla.s.s. "You poor thing." Then, "Ah chew!" and we all gasped as she lit up like a forty-year-old flashlight. "Just come to my office after cla.s.s." She winked on her way out.

"You have got to be joking," muttered a girl in the next row. "She's like fifteen years older than him."

"Oh, that is just wrong," Savannah whispered before the bell rang to dismiss us.

I hurried out the nearest exit instead of meeting Savannah at our lockers. Today was bright and too warm for long sleeves. That was the mystery of fall in the mountains; it alternated between Indian summer and winter.

I knew I wasn't alone, but I didn't want to be seen talking to myself, so I pulled out my phone and put it to my ear. "Hey, are you here?" I asked and sat cross-legged in the gra.s.s under a cottonwood tree.

"You mean me?" the quiet voice answered.

"What did you do to my teacher? He looked like he was completely in love with Ms. Hubble."

"Some guys like older women. They'll get along fine for the next year or so."

"The next year! You're ruthless."

He chuckled a deep, chesty sort of laugh that made my insides do cartwheels. "And I enjoy it so much." I guessed he was leaning against the trunk of the tree, but I couldn't be sure. He didn't cast a shadow. "He deserved it for humiliating you." He paused, then added more quietly, "and for last night."

"Who are you talking to?" Savannah crossed the lawn then stood over me, hands on her hips.

"Hold on a second." I covered the phone, like I didn't want him to hear. At the same time I felt him settle onto the ground beside me. "Just a friend."

"Does he have a name?"

"Who said it was a guy?" I asked innocently.

"You were grinning from ear to ear. What's his name?"

"Oh, his name is... It's..."

"Erik," he whispered in my ear.

"Erik. His name is Erik." That tiny bit of knowledge fluttered on my tongue. Erik saved me from a mob.

"And?"

I held the phone to my ear. "I'll call you back." I pushed the end b.u.t.ton on the already lifeless phone. "And what?"

"Is he cute? How old is he? Is he the reason you blew off Hunter?"

"Don't get all excited, Savannah. It's not like I'm dating him."

Her eyes narrowed. "Whatever. I saw the look on your face when you were talking to him. He's probably gorgeous."

I shook my head. "He's not much to look at." I felt a pinch in my side and tried not to squirm.

"Then he must be funny."

"More like mischievous." With a laugh that could tilt my world, but that was knowledge better withheld from both of them.

She sniffed the air. "What is that amazing smell? It's like... cinnamon ..."

"And the sea."

"Yeah." She inhaled deeply. "With some s.e.xy aftershave mixed in."

"Air freshener." That wasn't entirely a lie. He did freshen the air wherever he went.