ForNever - Page 47/49

" I really cannot say."

I sigh frustrated.

He turns away from me and walks to his car. When he pulls open the door, he leans with his forearms on the door frame. He looks at me again and then his straightforward question shocks me. "If you had to choose between Kieran and me, who would you choose?"

Laughing mortified, I say, "Neither one."

He smiles suddenly, a brilliant natural smile. "Thought so."

He gets into his car and I wait to watch him drive away.

After his car turns the corner, I walk into the house thoughtfully. It suddenly dawns on me that when Jayden was standing so breathtakingly close to me, I did not feel any shadows pressing into me, also the entire time we were together I did not see a dark shadow fleetingly pass across my vision. However, when I stood in Kieran's back garden and we kissed, I could feel the shadows pushing and prodding into me. I realize also that I met Kieran on Friday and that is when I started having these visions of apparitions every time I am with him.

What does this mean though?

My mom is in the bathroom, balancing herself precariously on a three-step ladder. She is actually wiping the ceiling from corner to corner. I am relieved when I see her concentrating so deeply on her task that she does not notice me and am grateful she is not going to ask me a hundred and one questions. Although I have had many boyfriends, she has never seen me in such near passionate circumstances before.

I let sleeping dogs lie and I walk past the bathroom door softly. I close my bedroom door quietly and then I drop down onto my bed. I try to remember the story Kieran told me. There was a girl and there were two brothers. Did he tell me about shadows, I cannot remember. I do not think so.

Against my will, my mind drifts to Jayden.

I wake up and everything is pitch black dark. I hear voices coming from downstairs. My hand finds its way naturally toward the switch for my bedside lamp and I click it on.

Slowly I get up from my bed. I must have fallen asleep and my hungry, disgruntled stomach insisted I wake up.

I walk down the stairs quietly. Each step hesitates before I put it down onto the ground in case it causes a creak. Halfway down the stairs, I realize the voices I am hearing are actually coming from the TV, and I smile at my own silliness.

My mom is curled up on the couch again. Is this going to become a familiar picture?