A Beautiful Dark

eyes.
    “See, I figured if I stood between you and your latte, you couldn’t ignore me anymore,” he said cheerfully.
    “I haven’t been ignoring you,” I said casually, widening my eyes in an innocent “Who, me?” kind of way. “And who said I’m getting a latte? I could be getting anything. An iced tea, for all you know.”
    “Skye,” Asher said, grinning. “I’m not an idiot.” He glanced at my hat and puffer jacket. “An iced tea? At least a latte is in the right seasonal ballpark.”
    “I never said you were an idiot,” I said quietly.
    “Yeah? Then do you honestly expect me to believe that every time I tried to talk to you this week, you legitimately had something pressing to do in the opposite direction?”
    I couldn’t exactly argue with that.
    We stood there for a moment, looking at each other, at an impasse. I wasn’t sure how it happened—maybe because of the people crowding the counter—but somehow it was like he was almost curled around me. I could feel the heat his body generated being absorbed by mine. I imagined how it might feel to be snuggled up against him on a snowy afternoon. Suddenly I was way too warm, like I’d been at the party Saturday. I could only hope that my eyes weren’t turning silver. He didn’t strike me as someone who would accept my flimsy explanation as easily as Ian had.
    “What happened at your old school?” I finally broke the silence, needing the distraction as much as anything. “Cassie said it burned down.”
    Asher’s face clouded over. “Something like that.”
    “How can it be something like that? Either it is or it isn’t.”
    “Skye Parker, when are you going to stop looking at the world in black and white?” Suddenly Asher stopped, like he’d just heard himself say something stupid. His eyes seemed to get darker as we stood there. “It’s complicated.”
    “Okay,” I said, confused. “Never mind.”
    He scuffed a foot against the recently replaced floor. “Things can change really quickly. You’re not always ready for it.”
    “What are you talking about?” I said, propping an elbow on the counter. “Are you a Magic Eight Ball now?”
    He looked up from his shoes and gave me a sheepish smile.
    “Sorry,” he said. “That was weird. I was just talking about moving here. It’s all just really . . . I don’t know, different, I guess. Lots to figure out.” He picked up a complimentary mint from a small bowl on the counter, studied it as though it held the answer to all life’s dilemmas, then popped it into his mouth.
    If I kissed him right now, he’d taste like mint , I thought—and then immediately wished I hadn’t. I watched the shape of his lips move, drawing upward into a small grin. When I looked back up, I realized he’d caught me staring. I looked back down at the sweetener packets.
    “It’ll get easier,” I said. “It takes time, but it happens.”
    “Haven’t you lived here your whole life?”
    Something he apparently didn’t know about me. I found comfort in that.
    “Yeah, but change doesn’t always involve moving.”
    “Look,” he said. “What are we doing here anyway?”
    “Here in the coffee shop or here in the universe?”
    “Cute, Skye. Here in the coffee shop. Want to go to a movie? Storm Enemy is still showing. I have a thing for bad disaster movies.”
    “What? Now?” I asked, taken off guard both by his suggestion and the fact that he’d tapped into the one movie I’d been dying to see. I was back to wondering how he knew so much about me. It could have just been coincidence, but I’d watched too many police dramas to believe in coincidence. The girl who believed in coincidence almost always ended up dead.
    He smiled, the playfulness returning. “Yes, now.”
    “I’m . . .” Was he asking me out? On an official date? “Um, I’m actually here to meet my friends,” I said, pointing to the sofa in the back. Why did this feel so awkward? It was the truth, but it felt like I was making up an excuse somehow.
    He looked past me. “About that. I don’t really think she’s going to notice if you’re not there.”
    I twisted around. Cassie and Dan were still sitting next to each other on the couch, but their head nodding had evolved into a battle of dance moves.
    “Here you go, Skye. One latte.”
    I spun back around to find that Ian had set a steaming mug in front of me. He was eyeing Asher as though he expected him to steal the silverware—or start another fight. I