Nocturnal

One hour flew by. I'd been waiting for Phillip for a whole hour now, sitting in a booth all alone while everyone else had company. I really didn't like sitting alone; it made me feel all dark and moody. I'd ordered a cola about fifteen minutes ago—it was almost empty, like my patience. Cameron said Phillip was busy when he'd left their house but... one hour?

My mind took an ugly turn then. What if Phillip was standing me up? What if this had been his plan all along? What if he was toying with me—what if—what if—

"Can I get you anything else?" my eyes lifted from my soda can to Zeke's pale blue eyes.

Could you bring me Phillip?

"No..." maybe the check? I didn't want to do it; I didn't want to leave—but... "I don't think I'll want anything."

Zeke was the typical American guy Dawn introduced me to on the second day. He worked at the Lighthouse part-time. He had a name tag and everything.

His eyes looked to the other side of my booth—it was empty, no one occupied it—he slid into the seat. I frowned.

"Aren't you on the clock?"

"Yeah, but I can get away with a few minutes." He smiled, and it was the kind of smile everyone liked—not too bright, or too big. "You've been here for a long time," he began leaning back. "You're looking sulky and depressed it's starting to scare the customers away." He was messing with me in a lighthearted kind-of-way, like a big brother messing with his sister.

Though, it held some truth, the little corner I was sitting in didn't have many people hanging around.

"I think I did that when I yelled at Cameron." My voice sounded low and murmured—sulky was definitely on my emotion list.

He tipped his head to the side.

"That was... What did he say to you? I know he had to say something, Cameron can be a dick when he wants to." It sounded like he knew him well. "And from what I've heard, you two give off sparks." We did.

"Where did you hear that?"

"Dawn," he answered promptly. "She's been begging me to keep Cameron away from you as much as possible. He's been on your case and all."

"That's nice of her," a simple smile broke through my cloudy mood. "And of you, thanks."

"No problemo. So, wanna tell me what he said? I can knock him on his ass during practice." Right, he was on the football team with Cam.

I shook my head, "I guess he was just being... Cameron." What I'd said to him—or yelled—had been building up for days on end. I just wished I hadn't done it in a public space.

"Trying to steal my date?" the sound of husky velvet met my ears. On cue I lifted my head and eyes.

There he was. The guy I'd been waiting for, for an hour. And he looked 6'2'' of yumminess, as usual. The sleeves of his graphic T-shirt hugged his biceps snugly; I almost twirled when I saw how the rest of it stuck to his body just as much. The beautiful clash of Phillip's rusty hair with his electrical blues had been worth the wait.

Zeke had slid from the seat, grinning softly before they slapped hands and bumped fists. An equal jokester smile was on Phillip's lips.

"Nah, man, I was keeping her company. I thought you knew better than to leave a lady hanging this long." He looked over his shoulder in time to see me blush. "I would've been gone after ten minutes of waiting." They cracked up before Zeke slapped his friend on the shoulder telling Phillip what happened, the short version. Like, 'your bro was here, it got kinda ugly'.

Phillip nodded with hooded eyes, sitting. Yay, what a nice way to kick off a date.

"He was here?" it took me awhile to figure out Phillip wasn't talking to himself—or Zeke, who had left—it was for me.

I toyed with a strand, "Yeah," I so did not want to talk about Cameron. "But you know, it wasn't a big deal. I'm getting used to being his number one public enemy."

Phillip couldn't keep a chuckle at bay. I smiled, almost like the one-hour wait hadn't happened.

"So nothing out of proportions happened? No one got harmed in the middle of your insult exchange?" no one got hurt, but I sure felt embarrassed. Despite that, I shook my head.

"Forget it. I don't want to talk about Cameron."

"Neither do I," a little shy shade of pink crept into my cheeks—the one hour had happened, my brain threw into play. He owed me an explanation.

I tried to start off not sounding too angry, "I was about to leave."

Phillip's expression changed into a guilty one; with a hand he rubbed the back of his neck.

"I wouldn't blame you for leaving. I… got held hostage, helping my uncle move a few stuff into the basement—old, heavy stuff—I thought about sneaking out a window or the back door." He shook his head dismayed, sighing with such intensity I felt lighter myself. "No, but seriously, I feel really bad about making you wait—I would've called but I don't have your number. I thought about asking Dawn but, you know, a cell number is personal so I thought you might get upset if she gave it to me."

Phillip respect boundaries? I liked him, I did. Not that I would have been mad at Dawn for giving him my cell number, it was just nice and considerate of him to ask.

I dug out my phone unblocking the screen, and slid it over the table.

"It's okay, you could have asked." Phillip surrendered his. We each typed our respective numbers. "There," I handed it back, grabbing mine. "Now you don't have more excuses—you'll have to call me if something comes up next time."

A dimple showed up when a corner peeked up.

"Next time?" he mused leaning forward, watching me.

I pushed out a chuckle.

"Next time something comes up, smartass." I smacked his arm, it didn't wipe the big cat-like grin. "So, I've been sitting here for an hour and all I've had was this soda." I pushed the soda can to him. "I'm starving."

"That won't do, we both know what happens to you when you don't eat." I rolled my eyes. "No offense, I just prefer my date to be awake—not that you look ugly asleep, you look… angelic." My hair fell to my face when kept in a laugh. "That wasn't lame," he said shaking his head, I gave him a 'seriously?' look. "It wasn't lame and do you like lasagna?"

What? I laughed for real, "Yeah, yeah I like it—why? Is it the best thing to eat here?"

"It is to me, meaning you'll love it." Phillip held up a breadstick to me. "In the meantime," he tapped my lips with the edge. "Eat some of these." I took it from his fingers, eyes never leaving his. They were sparkling water.

Phillip leaned back in a lazy ass way—totally cutesy—after delivering our order to Zeke. I nibbled on the breadstick wondering why I hadn't eaten any of them before Phillip popped up—I didn't even see the thin sticks, I had been too wrapped up in… Cameron. And thinking about when Phillip was going to show, of course—I totally hadn't spent the entire time sitting thinking about his twin, nasty brother. Nope. No way.

"Tell me about yourself, Nina Cortez."

"There's not much to tell," I shrugged. Not if I wasn't counting my dreams, and now my sketching obsession of 16 and 9.

Phillip's rusty hair fell over his forehead when he tilted his head.

"I'm sure there is," his gaze fell on my nails. "Yellow looks nice on you,"

"Thanks, it's my favorite color." He smirked like he'd won a battle, shoot.

"Told you," he wagged a brow. "I never met someone who liked yellow." Great, I was even weird when it came to my favorite color— "It's different, I like it."

I frowned.

"What…?"

Phillip's shoulder rested against the brick wall.

"Normal is old and boring, different is better—exiting, I like it. Don't you?"

I hadn't been normal in a long while, I had never thought it was cool being different. People tended to out freaks, I was one of those—or I had been back in San Diego. Here… it wasn't the same. People actually talked to me, they were friendly—Cameron on the sidelines—it was a homey town. And in that minute with Phillip, I nodded.

"I never gave it much thought..." I shrugged. "I guess," I sipped the rest of my soda—doing everything not to choke when a girl materialized beside Phillip kissing his cheek.

His head whirled to the side where the perky looking girl was. Samantha Brighton, I think, she was in my Trigg class. Dawn had said something about her being out fishing for Cameron and Phillip. Yuck.

"I didn't think I'd run into you here—I talked to your brother and he said you were home doing whatever." She talked to Cam? Probably over the phone. The idea of her having Cameron's phone number... messed with my stomach. "Hey, you're the new girl—we have... Trigg?" I nodded not managing a smile. "Lina, right?"

"Nina," my nails dug into my knee.

Her pretty face lit in fake remembrance, she knew my name before. What a hypocrite.

"That's it," her brown eyes dove to Phillip all over. "What are you up to?"

Phillip's blue eyes gave her the light of day for a brief time span.

"I'm on a date." That held a very well implied 'get lost'.

Sam's eyes widened, "With her?" she balked. She sounded more outraged than Cameron ever did. Hat off to her. "She's not really... you're type." If looks could kill she would've dropped in a body bag. "You never really go for the silent, delicate types..." she trailed off glimpsing over her shoulder—her lips in a sneer.

"Can you not make your inferiority complex her problem?" Phillip sounded angry—I wanted to smile at Samantha's bitch slapped face. "Look," he exhaled, calmer. "I don't want to be impolite, 'cuz you're a girl and all, but I'm not interested. I've never been—it's not going to happen." She backed off, eyes a little shiny—I actually felt bad, a teeny part of me did.

"That wasn't what you said last summer." She grabbed the purse off the table strolling away, throwing me a killer glare as her hips swayed madly.

Over the summer? Phillip was looking at me guiltily.

"A fact about me," he began. "I've... gotten around. Meaning I've sle—" My brain was slow, not that slow.

"I know what it means. I'm not dumb." I crossed my arms suddenly misplaced.

"No, I know, I never thought you were—a girl who has the courage to read Allan Poe is very courageous and definitely smart."

"How do you know I'm reading Allan Poe?" my eyebrows shot in curious fashion—Phillip drummed his fingers over the table a faint smile gripping at his kissable lips.

"I've been watching you—not in the creepy way..." there was a not-creepy-watching way? "I've noticed when we're at lunch when you're quiet, reading—you do that sometimes. You know that, though." I could almost feel the palpable nervousness in him—in his voice.

A smile came over me, "I've never looked up." Did that make me incredibly self-centered?

"It must be a really good book." Yeah, dark romanticism was so much interesting than knowing a boy was gazing at you.

"Do you like reading?" that was as a good escape as any.

He made a face, "Not so much," he cracked a grin.

From there we went into a smooth, non-awkward conversation about likes and dislikes—it was nice to know Phillip was into Coldplay, that he liked ice skating, that clowns creeped him out—that was funny—but I felt the unease inside myself. Samantha hadn't left the Lighthouse and halfway through our lasagna I found my eyes wavering from my plate to her.

"Wow," I heard from across.

"What...?"

"Just—wow." I squirmed around in my seat refusing to look to where he was staring—was he checking out a girl? I couldn't shake the words 'I've gotten around' "Look over there," I didn't. Was he trying to make feel bad for not wearing an extra small top or something? "You have to see this—just look to your left." I still didn't—his fingers reached over gently grasping my chin, Phillip smiled before turning my head to the side. "See that girl over there? It's the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

It took me a while, a really long while, but I got it. He wasn't staring at that show off or any other girl in the Lighthouse, he was staring at a mirror, one that was reflecting my image.

I really had to acquire the gift of knowing when I was being watched. He'd seen me stare, he'd seen my insecurity—I hated he'd read that.

A strand was sorted and tucked nicely behind my ear.

"Don't say things like that..." his finger tip brushed over my lip.

Phillip came closer, "I only said the truth. Are you going to tell me you're ugly?"

No, I knew I wasn't ugly, it was just... he was all—he was the type of guy you saw in magazines, the ones you only got when you used Photoshop. So, yeah.

"It's not that," I leaned from his touch. "I'm just not used to this—to this kind of attention. Back home..." I shook my head, until our eyes fell over one another. "I didn't have many friends, I didn't get noticed. Here," I paused. "Somethings different here, maybe it's just that the people are nicer, because it's a small town—whatever it is, I'm in the adjusting faze so all this..." I gestured around. "You," I breathed. "It's all kind of new, a first experience." I bit my lip watching as wild strands fell to his eyes. He was still listening attentively.

"You're saying this is your first time on a date?"

"Wasn't it obvious?" I smiled kind of pitifully.

"Not at all," he pushed his plate away, leaning on his elbows. "Now I feel even worse about being late." I couldn't read what was going on behind the long lashes he and Cameron shared—when those vivid blues opened I blinked several times. "I'm going to make it up to you, though."

***

"We're breaking into school?" I looked at my Toyota one final time. It was parked on the other side of the school fence, near it, Phillip's bike rested, putting my car to total shame.

I still couldn't believe he convinced me to jump over the metal fence. Especially since I was afraid of heights—it wasn't that high, though.

"I don't think you can actually call it breaking an entry if you have the key?" he dangled it in front of me, key chain and all. "I've had it for three years."

"That's a copy? You made a copy of the school's key?" at the disbelief in my tone Phillip rubbed my shoulder with a smile. "How did you even get it?"

"Stole it from the janitor, made the copy, got the real one back—all between lunch hour." I gazed up into those clear water eyes. That was amazing in a bad way, mom would totally disapprove. Why would he want the key for?

"I'm impressive you can say it." He shrugged but the pride in his voice was evident—as was the smirk as he turned the key.

I shook my head when there was a click, followed by a push on my lower back. I would so leave out the details about sneaking into school when reporting to my mom. I shouldn't have come with him, but I had no idea we were going to do this—we left after Phill stated he was making it up to me.

"After you," he whispered tingling my ear lobe. Well, he was a gentleman. Points right there.

I let Phillip guide me down the open hallway, a light flickered overhead. It was strange seeing this place so quiet, like it was a ghost school—I never roamed through empty hallways before, and if I'd done it alone I was sure it would be scary, something out of a suspense flick. But this wasn't.

Phillip's fingers were running down my arm, going from my elbow to my wrist—vice-versa.

My head wasn't some kind of jumbled mess like I expected it to be. I thought it was normal for that to happen when a boy touched me in a sort of intimate way. And to me this was all very new, like I'd told him. It felt pleasant, my insides were walking on sunshine and all that but... there was something amiss, something in the back of my head tried to push through—I shook it off. This was right, it was how it was supposed to be—to feel.

Wasn't it?

"Are we hunting for a ghost or something?" I joked when most things around us were dark, shadows enclosed the environment we were in—it felt all but date material.

"Do you believe in ghosts?" good question. Shouldn't I believe in all that ocult stuff? I was kinda proof it existed.

No need to let Phillip know.

"I've never seen one."

I heard the smile, "That's not a no." No, it wasn't. "I've lived here my whole life, I don't think this school's haunted. At least, I never heard anything." Phillip brushed his thumb over my knuckles glancing down.

I brightened my face.

"You've always lived here?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "My... mom's family had origin in Italy, though—that's where my last name came from."

My face scrunched a little.

"You got your mother's last name?" I quickly said, "Not that's bad or anything, it's just... unusual. People normally get their fathers name." I felt my body stop—Phillip halted gazing into my eyes.

"You're right," I couldn't read his emotions—they were mashed together. "My family is just peculiar." He didn't say anything else. I wanted to ask about it, about his parents—why he only mentioned his uncle. I never heard him say 'my mom' or 'my dad' but I wouldn't ask him bluntly—it felt too personal.

"Better than normal, right?" that brought on a big, softy smile. I cleared my throat, hiding a big stupid laugh. "So," I licked my lips. "Why are we here exactly?"

He lifted our hands propelling me closer—I could almost forget Samantha and her comment when I saw the twinkle in his deep electrical irises—almost.

"We're here for the gym." He spun, throwing an arm over my shoulders. "Football season is almost starting—you'd have to wait a long time before you got the chance to see me play." He left me standing at the wide entrance.

One minute we were in a dark bathed room—in a sea of light the next. There were several mechanic sounds as light flooded the gym, the bleachers, the waxed floor and the tall basketball poles.

A dribble came from my right—an orange ball clacked on the floor over and over, along with heavy footsteps.

"I thought I could put on a little show."

"A private show?" I rocked on the balls of my feet.

A wolfish smirk, rather suited for Cameron's face, showed up.

"Just for you." He dribbled one more time before grabbing the sphere in both hands. "Come here," he took my hand in a soft embrace. "The best spot is on the bench." Our fingers slipped from the hold when I sat down hugging my elbows, a small smile on.

Nothing about this was wrong. I mean, aside from the breaking in part, so why did it feel... like I should be worried? Because yesterday I fainted in this school, I heard something... something bad, "...you're only putting everyone in danger!" there it was. Cameron's yell. What was eating me up was the fact that it was only a loose piece of conversation, any interpretation I made could be faulty. Asking Cam about it would have gotten me zero answers. It didn't mean it didn't bother me, it sure did like an itch I couldn't scratch—the best I could do was ignore it. The fact that Phillip seemed like such an upstanding person helped.

"Did you see that one?" my eyes weren't fast enough to focus and the only thing I saw was the ball falling through the hoop.

"Huh... sorry. I got a little distracted." I shouldn't, I told myself, this was my date, the first one. I shouldn't be thinking of anything else but Phillip. How wonderful he was, how sexy, cute—the list went on. The more I tried to lose myself in him though, the more I thought about the rest—about the strange stuff. Like Vanessa's behavior, how her eyes had lingered on my neck for so long, with something resembling... hunger. Shivers cracked the surface of my skin just as I thought about it. "Can you do it again?" I tried shoving down a ball of worry.

"I can do it as many times as you want." Phillip's eyes shone with energy.

I tilted my head watching him move to the center of the gym, getting ready for another shot. I had to fan my hand in my face—what was up with the sudden heat? I stripped my jacket, I looked around not seeing anything—I didn't know what I expected to find. But heck... it had really gotten hot.

"Paying attention?" he asked mid-racing, mid-dribble.

Nodding I saw his billion dollar smile. It could light up the whole gym and as his fingers curled on the orange ball, I opened my mouth—a second later he dunked it. Like... like the distance between him and the hoop was nothing—and the speed? God, Jesus, either Phill was the embodiment of light speed or I needed glasses, big thick, glasses. I hadn't been able to keep up with his legs, with his arms, not even his hands when he supposedly shoved the ball down the basket.

"You have a hella of a speed..." it left me in a breathless murmur. Phillip landed on his feet—soundlessly. "It's like... like you're supersonic." Really—I even felt a wave of air push against me as he ran—wow.

Looking over his shoulder at me I saw how tensed up—a real life wire, that's what he was.

I wanted to shake it off—I did. Just because I was a freak of nature didn't mean there were others who were, especially ones who could run so fast their movements became a blur. This wasn't the X-men.

"I did athleticism when I was younger. I guess I never lost the touch." His grin was looking kind of forced—maybe because I'd gotten up and took a step back as he advanced to me. "Do you want to get something with sugar? You look kind of wobbly." Was he trying to play it off, using my yesterday's weird fainting accident?

Or maybe I was just being paranoid about all this—yeah, maybe. I wasn't buying it 'till the depths of my heart, but... if Phillip was keeping some sort of secret I couldn't blame him, could I? I wasn't exactly being straight forward with him about dreams and number obsessing.

Plus, I could be imagining things just to make myself feel better. I shoved my hands in my pockets.

"I could eat something sweet." I stayed glued to the spot until he came over. He kicked the ball out of the way. "Are there any ding-dongs' in the school's machine?" I hadn't bought anything in the vending machine yet.

He nodded holding out his hand. I looked at it. I'd been holding it a while ago nothing bad happened. Taking a breather, I locked our fingers. They were warm, his whole hand was hot. Really hot.

On our way to the cafeteria I tried ignoring the obvious awkwardness that had fallen over us. It was weird being silent around Phillip, he was the guy I felt like I could talk to—no matter what.

"You're quiet," he commented. I shrugged. "Is this because I have a killer skills? Normally girls go all speechless—in a good way. You're looking all pale." Was I? Perfect.

I didn't say anything for another ten minutes. That was enough time for us to get snacks and get back to the gym. We were sitting on the bench, Phillip eating cheese-sticks and me ding-dongs. I could his jaw muscles jump every now and then. It was like he was ready to bolt... or pounce. Neither of those made me feel better.

"You never mention your parents." Nice ice-breaker, Nina, congrats. Could I have picked a better topic? If he hadn't brought it up it—

"I don't normally talk about them, no." He stopped munching, all appetite he might have had after that extra large lasagna—he'd eaten almost all of it—gone.

That should have been a sign. The guy was uncomfortable with the subject, flags were waving everywhere. And if I'd looked at his eyes a second earlier I wouldn't have asked:

"Why?"

There was a long pause before he replied or even made eye contact. The lines of Phillip's face were shrouded in pain and sorrow—he couldn't hide it. The vivacity his eyes always carried grew dimmer until it extinguished. Like a blown out candle.

"My parents..." he began looking off into space—then into my eyes, nodding to himself. "The reason why I don't talk about my parents is because I don't have them—" he sucked a breath. "They died." He bit out the word like it was a curse. "They died ten years ago in a fire."

That's when I forgot all about supernatural conspiracy's. Everything fell back into place—seeing the pain swimming in those lively eyes just broke me up. I really liked Phillip. And right now I didn't know what to say, like I didn't know what to tell Dawn to make things about Vanessa better—I didn't know.

What could I say, I'm sorry, I didn't know? Like someone should have told me? I was just the new girl, that didn't make me someone special. I was still just me and this thing—this painful event in Phillip and Cameron's life wasn't gossip. I felt terrible about bringing up the subject. It had just been pushing itself... I gave in.

"I shouldn't have asked, it's none of my business—I'm sorry, I really am." I ranted it out never looking him in the eyes. "I..."

Phillip's fingers radiated warmth, the skin under them prickled. A finger pushed my chin upward. Our eyes entered that interlocked dance of theirs.

"It's alright. You had no way of knowing." I remained quiet. "Besides, I know about your family situation, it's only fair you knew about mine. I'm glad you asked, better you know now than later." Phillip's eyes coursed down—my chest filled with air. What was he thinking...? "Did you like our date?"

"Is it over already?"

"I think we should... call it a day."

"Why?"

"Because..." his face grew closer, and his lips zoomed in. "If we stay much longer I'm going to have to kiss you." I didn't move, my stomach jumped with the sudden revelation—this was way too fast for a slow girl like me. I barely knew this guy— "I want to know you better, you probably want the same. No rush."

Yes, I thought gladly backing away. I'd been so excited for my date, so happy to finally be asked out... but now I wanted to wait for my first kiss? I really didn't understand. And that was what I thought as we left school, jumped over the gate, gave each other a lame-ass hug and drove away.

At home mom jumped me with questions. I made sure to safe guard the info about breaking into private property, and of course, about his parents. It didn't feel right to say anything, not yet anyway.

That night as I crawled under the comforters and closed my eyes, I fell right asleep. The last thing I recalled seeing, though, was a pair of intriguing obsidian eyes—that tingled my whole body.