Read Online Touched by Corrine Jackson - Free Book Online Page B

of the support, I hooked my arm through hers, and we strolled past Asher. I felt his eyes follow me, but I didn’t look back. “Oh, ye of little faith. We O’Malleys are made of sterner stuff than that. A pretty face and a gorgeous, perfect, out-of-this-world body will not break us.”
    She looked doubtful, and I supposed I’d tossed in one too many accolades about Asher’s body.
    I didn’t see him again until lunch. Unlike that morning, he didn’t acknowledge my existence as a small brunette curled into his side and made cow eyes at him. Despite my mission to ignore him, his dismissal smarted. All’s fair.
    I returned my attention to my new friends. They were making plans to go sailing for the weekend and appeared shocked when I admitted I didn’t know how to swim. That surprise was nothing compared to the look they gave me when talk turned to cars, and they found out I couldn’t drive. A car had been way beyond our keep-Dean-in-beer budget.
    Glancing away from their horrified expressions, I looked right into Asher’s eyes. He studied me from his table, ignoring the brunette who’d finally given up on burrowing her way into his side.
    Lucy shoved my arm to get my attention again. “Have you taken driver’s ed?”
    “Yes, and I have my learner’s permit, but I need practice.”
    “Well, for God’s sake, make sure Dad takes you. I thought I’d kill Mom when I was learning. She’s a nervous passenger.”
    “You know, Remy,” Brandon said. “You are seriously damaging all my fantasies about city girls.”
    Greg smacked him in the back of the head, and Brandon grunted. “Nobody drives in New York, dumbass.”
    They moved on to insulting each other, my deficiencies shelved for the moment.
    I laughed along with everyone else and ignored the empty spot in the pit of my stomach when I noticed Asher had left the cafeteria.
     
    Lucy’s friends were regulars at the Clover Café after school. We’d hit the coffeehouse to drown in espresso, accomplishing equal amounts of homework and intake of gossip. The Blackwells showed up from time to time, including the older brother, Gabriel, who did not deign to socialize with the high school crowd. Usually, he brought a companion—dubbed Sorori-toys by our group since they appeared to be a variety of particularly clueless sorority girls—to keep him entertained. I wondered how it was possible that some judge had given him guardianship of his younger siblings.
    If I’d assumed Asher would strike up a conversation with me once we were alone, he proved me wrong. About a week after he showed up at my house, I found him sitting alone at a table reading a book. My friends had yet to arrive, and I hesitated. Things had been uneventful, though, so I took a seat at our regular table next to him, and he acknowledged my arrival with an impersonal nod.
    After ordering a large café mocha, I picked up my copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray and pretended to read. Despite his distant behavior, I felt Asher’s gaze on me often. At one point, I could have sworn I sensed his energy cresting toward me. It arrived with a slow roll and very little power behind it. Rather than the tidal wave he’d sent my way twice before, this was more of a . . . prod. I strengthened my mental barricade, and the current bounced away without causing any harm.
    Asher’s eyes widened in mock innocence when I swiveled my head to glare at him.
    Lucy and the others arrived, and I turned to greet them, unsure of his game.
    Several minutes later, as I listened to Greg complain about our math teacher, the next wave of energy hit. Like before, it was the mental equivalent of having someone poke me in the side. Exasperating, but not painful. My walls held, and this current bounced away, too.
    I didn’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging him.
    From the corner of my eye, I glimpsed his full lips tilting in a smile.
    Another hour played out the same way. Every so often I would feel one of those mental pokes.