Within These Walls

Chapter 28

Marcus is in the lounge room when I walk out of the bathroom. He keeps his eyes trained on the TV, not acknowledging me. I take a seat beside him and stare at the screen, disinterested in the baseball game but not sure of how to break the silence. Maybe he's offended that I ran into the bathroom after he put himself out there for me. I can't say I blame him.

"What was going on with you and Eli today?" I ask.

"Is that all you can say to me?"

"It's the only way I know to break the ice."

He quirks his eyebrows at me. "I can think of other ways."

Okay, so maybe he isn't upset. Butterflies erupt in my belly when I think of the way he kissed me, but the rest of me goes tense. I don't run this time. That can't be the only thing I'm good at. It's something that hit me in the bathroom as I stood there leaning against the door, hiding from Marcus. How ridiculous I was being.

It made sense to protect myself growing up with Sam. It made sense to push people away because it was the safest thing to do. Then I remembered how bravely Carson took the news that he might turn into a monster someday soon, and all my justifications felt trivial.

"You asked before what it'll take," I say, tripping over my words in a rush to get them out. "Truth is, I really don't know. I've never done any of this before."

"Not even kissing?"

My cheeks warm. "Yeah. Not even that."

"When you kissed me in the cafeteria the other day . . . that was your first time?"

I scowl at the memory of the disastrous kiss in the cafeteria. "You know it was. You said so yourself, remember?"

"I didn't actually know. Huh."

"Huh?"

"You're not the warmest person around, but I figured some poor sucker would have been taken in by your pretty blues by now."

I snort. "I've never let anyone get close enough for them to be taken in by anything. Sam made sure of that."

"Good old Sam," Marcus replies, yawning.

I stiffen when he stretches out on his side of the sofa and rests his head in my lap. He looks up at me. "Are you going to disappear into the bathroom again?"

"No." The urge is still there, lingering protectively, but there's something else. It coaxes my heart into a faster tempo and spikes my blood, intoxicating me.

Temptation. That's what this is.

I rest my hand on his head. His hair is softer than I imagined. I let my fingers sink into it while he lies there unmoving, his breathing even and his face empty of all emotion, except for those eyes of his. They burn like black fire.

"You're different from the day we met," I say. I never could have imagined there would come a day when I'd be sitting on this sofa with him, having an amicable conversation. Let alone having his head in my lap. Or stroking his hair.

"I don't know what I am anymore," Marcus says after a long beat.

Sudden fear seizes my chest. "Because of your seizure? Have you felt anything unusual lately—paranoia or anything bordering on insanity?"

"No, nothing like that. Well, maybe the insane part."

"I don't understand."

"Remember how I said I might've dreamt about Sam? And that I thought I saw Alec and Camille together, but that was probably a dream, too? Those weren't dreams. I think they were real, but . . . everything else isn't."