A Beautiful Dark

rush of motion, it’s almost like flying. Or what I think flying would feel like.”
    Devin looked like he was choosing his words carefully. “No, it makes sense. A lot of sense. Do you ever dream about it? That you’re flying, I mean?”
    I smiled. “Yeah, actually. The other morning, I woke up thinking that I actually was . Like I was floating.” I laughed. “It was really unnerving.”
    Why was I telling him this? He might not be as funny or confident as Asher, but he was a good listener. And accepting.
    “Flying,” Devin said, kicking a pebble across the frosted trail with his foot. “It’s sort of a strange sensation if you think about it. Nothing above you. Nothing below you.”
    A gust of wind rushed up, hitting us suddenly, hard.
    “It’s definitely going to snow.” I hopped off the boulder. “I’m cold, and I have warm cookies waiting for me. I should get home.”
    “I need to head back, too.”
    He slid off the boulder and fell into step beside me as we began to make our way back down the trail. I was careful to look out for icy patches this time, and I noticed Devin watching my steps closely. Several times when the slope got too steep and I’d start to lose my footing, he’d grab my arm and steady me. Protecting me again.
    When my house came into view, an awkward silence hung between us. I felt so much closer to him now than I had before today, but that didn’t mean I was ready to invite him in for cookies.
    “I have to go.” His gaze met mine. “Be careful around Asher. I know he’s charming, but he’s also very dangerous.”
    “Because he doesn’t like to follow the rules,” I said lightly.
    “Because he can get you killed.”
    I opened the front door to the smell of cinnamon cookies wafting from the kitchen.
    “Skye!” Aunt Jo called. “Where have you been? They’re getting cold!”
    “Sorry!” I hung up my jacket and hat in the hall and ambled in. Aunt Jo was sitting at the table doing a crossword.
    “Did the walk warm you up?” she asked.
    I thought about Devin’s final words and shivered.
    “Not remotely.”
    She laughed.
    “It’ll teach you a lesson about being thankful for the heat we do have, won’t it?”
    “That’s for sure,” I said. “Cookies?”
    “On the counter.”
    “Milk?”
    “In the fridge. Skye, seriously, did you just move here? Where’s your head right now?” Good question. Somewhere in the clouds by the trail where I left it, probably.
    I bit into a cookie and chewed it quietly.
    “Aunt Jo, have you ever been in love?” I asked.
    “Of course. I love you.”
    I scowled. “You know what I mean. In love with a guy.” She dated from time to time, but there had never been anyone serious.
    Chewing slowly, she stared at the ceiling. I wondered if she’d stored the answer up there so it would be readily available when she needed it.
    “I’ve been crazy about some guys,” she finally said, “but the timing of our lives wasn’t right for anything permanent.” She gave me a speculative glance. “Why? Are you feeling something for someone?”
    “Mostly confusion.”
    “That’s usually how it starts.”
    I laughed, licked the crumbs off my fingers, and reached for another cookie. “We have a couple of new guys at school.”
    “New is good.”
    “I don’t know. Our paths cross at the oddest times, in the strangest places.” I didn’t tell her about running into Devin during my walk. It just felt like a secret I wanted to hold close for the moment. “They’re a little strange. Like they’re competing with each other to get my attention—not because they’re necessarily interested in me but because they don’t want me to be interested in the other guy.” I shook my head. “And now that I’ve said that out loud, it makes no sense.”
    “I have no doubt that if they are showing interest, it’s because they find you as amazing as I do.”
    “You’re biased.” I sipped my milk.
    “Just because I’m biased doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
    By the time we’d finished eating our cookies and I’d gone up to my room to tackle some homework, I’d convinced myself that Devin was just being overdramatic with his warning about Asher. For whatever reason, he and his cousin weren’t close and they didn’t like each other. Some families were like that, I guessed. I didn’t really know. All I’d ever had were my parents—no grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, or siblings—and Aunt Jo.
    Sighing, I dropped onto my