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I lean in close to him. He smells like something spicy and woodsy, cinnamon and pine needles. Or maybe that’s the Christmas tree in the corner.
“So, how old are you really?” I ask him, voice lowered.
“Way too old for you,” he says.
I scrunch up my face and slap him across his chest. Ow. My hand.
“Shut up, no one is asking,” I say with a scoff.
Another smirk slides across his face. I’d slap him again if only my hand wasn’t still stinging.
“It’s starting!” Dawn yells, turning up the TV.
I look to see Times Square on the screen and the ball going down, the crowd chanting down from ten. We start chanting too.
“Ten.”
“Nine.”
“Eight.”
“Seven.”
“Six.”
“Five!”
“Four!”
“Three!”
“Two!”
“One!”
“Happy New Year!” everyone yells.
“Happy New Year!” I yell, noticing Dawn and Sage kiss.
I turn to face Max, who’s been standing behind me.
I stare at him, at his lips. Those are a dangerous pair of lips and I’m pretty sure he knows how to use them to his advantage. A New Year’s kiss would seem innocent enough, wouldn’t it?
“Don’t you dare,” I warn him, jabbing my finger in his face.
“What, kiss you?” He smirks at me. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Blondie.”
Then he puts his big hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze as he leans in close to my ear. “Happy New Year, by the way.”
Then he pulls away and saunters over to the kitchen, and I feel oddly disappointed. Yup. This is why it sucks to be single on New Year’s Eve. No one to kiss at midnight. I mean, I guess it wouldn’t have hurt if I kissed Max, but it’s a little too late for that.
I catch Jacob looking at me intensely. He raises his glass of champagne and nods. I do the same, wondering what’s going on in that head of his.
Then I decide I don’t want to know.
I go about getting more champagne.
I plan on starting the new year with a hangover.
Five
“You’re solid gold, I’ll see you in Hell.”
– You Can’t Quit Me Baby
I’ve been training with Max for a few weeks now, and if you’ve seen the opening sequence of Silence of the Lambs, then you’ll know what I’ve been going through. I mean, before school, before it even gets light out, he has me jogging with him around our neighborhood for forty-five minutes, through rain, sleet, it doesn’t matter. He got his old apartment back downtown, somehow, but he’s been living at the Knightly’s for now, I guess so he can be cracking the whip before sunrise.
Then, after school, it’s like I’m in some slayer boot camp, where he has me working out in the park, in the dark. I’m doing burpees and jumping jacks, and then doing the jungle gym, hanging from the monkey bars, climbing rope, doing a million things that make my muscles burn.
Then he has me in the Knightly’s backyard, which is super private, meaning no other house can look in on it, including my own. Which is good because my dad doesn’t need to see me running and jumping all over the place, fighting both imaginary opponents and Max.
That’s right. Unlike Jacob or Jay, Max has me try to fight him. As if he’s the demon and I have to take him out. Which means there’s been a lot of me running across the grass and then leaping onto Max, getting up on his shoulders like I’m climbing a tree, trying to twist his head off.
At first, I was a bit wary about hurting him, especially when he tells me to really let loose. After all, I got him in the nuts pretty bad that one time. But he seems to take it all in stride.
Of course, he handles me well.
Like, it’s crazy.
I can come running at him from behind, pretending I’m opening a portal while I’m about to toss him in there, and he just sticks out his arm and grabs me by the waist while I’m in mid-air. His reflexes are lightning-fast, faster than anyone’s should be, and he’s insanely strong. So much for him being a mere mortal. I’m starting to think maybe if you’ve died once, you won’t die again? Either way, he’s impressive and he knows it. It’s like he’s relishing in his abilities.
And relishing in his ability to inflict pain, because the ground is soaking wet in the backyard and he’s making me do push-ups because I didn’t execute a roll perfectly. Did I mention he can be a total hard-ass?
“Okay, get up,” he says, motioning at me with his hand.
I groan and slowly push myself up off the ground. The thing is, sometimes I can get a boost from the energy I have inside me, the energy of the supernatural variety vs. the one I get from eating a protein bar, but most of the time I just feel like I’m getting my ass kicked. I think my body reserves the good stuff for the life-or-death situations.
