Spark

That’s it. No phone number, nothing.

And she still hadn’t called. Lucky him, it was Friday, and he could wonder about it all weekend.

For about two seconds, he had a fleeting hope that she might be here. Taylor had mocked him at lunch, some crap about inviting Layne so they could all “study together,” but Gabriel had ignored her until she went away.

Layne hated Taylor. She hated Heather Castelline. And this wasn’t exactly her crowd.

“Your brother’s here,” said Hunter, handing him a soda from somewhere.

“I know.” He’d figured Nick would be here, had already spotted him across the pool with Quinn.

Nick had spotted him, too, staring at Gabriel for exactly one second before looking away to laugh at something Quinn said.

And then he never looked back.

Fine.

“Hey, aren’t you the new kid in my American lit class?”

Gabriel turned but the girl standing there was talking to Hunter. Calla Dean, tall and lithe and probably on as many sports teams as he himself was though they rarely ran in the same circles. She’d gotten the school volleyball team to the state championships last year as a sophomore. The only reason he knew her was because she’d caught his eye once: Blond hair streaked with blue was chopped off right at her shoulders, and tattooed flames encircled her wrists and crawled up the insides of her forearms.

He would have hit on her, but she was blunt and aggressive and rumor said she played for the other team in a way that decidedly did not mean sports.

Then again, she was looking at Hunter like he was something to eat.

“Yeah,” said Hunter. “Aren’t you the girl who told Mrs. Har-rison you were intimidated by the ‘length’ of Moby Dick?”

“Who isn’t?” said Calla, deadpan.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at a party,” said Gabriel.

Calla shrugged. “You never know when something interesting might happen.” She reached out a hand to touch Hunter’s arm, tracing the small tattoo by his elbow. “I like this. It’s not Arabic, is it?”

“Farsi.”

Her eyes lit with intrigue.

And that was enough for Gabriel. “I’m going to get some food,” he said, turning for the grill.

Usually he’d get stopped half a dozen times when crossing ground at a party. Game recaps, plans for the next weekend, practice strategies.

Tonight? Conversation died when he approached.

He grabbed some burgers and dropped onto an empty chaise lounge by the pool, straddling the cushion to set his plate in front of him. The tiki torches flickered in his direction.

Welcome.

‘Sup, he thought.

Some kid across the way was swinging a torch with abandon, and Gabriel could feel the flame’s excitement at the potential for danger. Cloth, paper, whatever. As soon as the fire found fuel, it would flare.

What an idiot.

Despite the music, the air was quiet here by the pool. Gabriel could feel people looking at him, talking about him, but it was easier to ignore them when he wasn’t standing directly in their midst.

And not everyone was talking about him. Some kids by the back door were playing cards. The people in the hot tub had a lively interaction going on the kind that didn’t exactly involve a lot of talking. Hunter was still talking to Calla, following her into the house now. Interesting. And another couple was going at it hot and heavy at the opposite end of the pool deck. Probably drunk, or they’d never be out here in the open.

He wondered what Layne would do if he walked to her house and started throwing stones at her window.

Gabriel polished off his food and set the plate below his chair, dropping back to stare up at the stars.

A breeze caught the flames and made them flicker.

Play?

He shook his head. Not now.

Then a stronger gust of wind whipped across the pool to sprinkle him with water and blow out the three torches surrounding him.

Nick.

Gabriel flung a surge of power into the torch by his twin, making flames shoot high and spray sparks. Girls shrieked and scattered, including Quinn.

Gabriel smiled.

“That wasn’t very nice.”

He craned his head back. Becca stood there in the darkness.

He couldn’t make out her expression, but the displeasure in her voice said enough.

Gabriel looked back at the pool. “Maybe I’m not very nice.”

“Can I sit down?”

He shrugged. “Go ahead. I already lost my wingman.”

She moved forward between the lounges, and he expected her to drop onto the one next to him, but she sat on his. She faced him, her hip against his, the warmth in her body carrying through the gauzy skirt she wore.

His eyes flicked up to hers. “Trying to make Chris jealous?”

“No. I’m trying to figure out what’s up with you.”

“Don’t bother.”

“Nick doesn’t know what he did wrong. You know, he’s beating himself up trying to figure it ”

“Becca, stop.” He glared out at the pool. “Nick did nothing wrong.”

That was the whole problem. Nick never did anything wrong.

“He misses you.”

Gabriel snorted and gestured to the dark tiki torches. “Yeah, he’s got a funny way of showing it.” He fished the lighter out of his pocket and stood to relight them.

Really, he couldn’t take her closeness right now.

He pulled down the first torch and flicked his lighter. Becca stood next to him, and he watched the firelight dance across her cheeks. She looked worried.

He sighed. “Please stop looking at me like that.”

“Are you really starting these fires?” she whispered.

He pulled down the next torch. If he said no, would it make a difference? He could already hear the plea in her tone, the fear behind her whisper.

But then he flicked his lighter, and something beyond Becca caught his eye.

Taylor and Heather had cell phones in their hands, and they were taking pictures or maybe video of the couple writhing on the lounge. The girls were giggling, but he couldn’t make out everything they were saying.

He let the flame die and nodded in their direction. “What do you think is going on over there?”

Becca turned and her whole body stiffened. “Hey!” she called. She started storming across the pool deck. “Hey!”

God, she was a ballsy chick. Gabriel followed her.

Taylor and Heather were making wolf whistles, egging the couple on. Some big kid was on top of a much smaller girl in boots and a miniskirt. He couldn’t see her face behind the guy, but he’d worked her skirt up to her waist and her shirt up to her chest, revealing the edge of a bra. Thank god she had tights on, or she’d be giving quite a show.

The guy’s arm was on her shoulder, pinning her there, his hand over her mouth.

The other hand was trying to force the shirt higher. The girl squealed and struggled.

Becca walked right up and punched him in the kidney. “Get off of her, you ass**le!”

He barely grunted. Becca was tiny.

Gabriel was not. He slammed the guy into the concrete pool deck.

Ryan Stacey.

“Jesus,” said Gabriel. “You really are an ass**le.”

Chris was suddenly there beside him. He must have seen Becca go flying across the pool deck. “Yeah. He is.”

“Ohmigod,” said Taylor, almost breathless with laughter. “I got all of that. Hey, Ryan, that was the best hundred dollars I ever spent. Who’s the prostitute now, bitch?”

Gabriel snapped his head up. The girl was curled against Becca now, and he couldn’t see her face.

Ryan was laughing he didn’t even seem to care that his head had cracked on the pavement. Obviously hammered. “No wonder her brother is a deaf retard. She’s all deformed under there.”

Layne. Gabriel grabbed the front of Ryan Stacey’s shirt and punched him in the face. And again. And “Gabriel. Gabriel.” Someone had his arms. Nick. And Chris.

The torches were blazing now, pouring smoke into the sky, illu-minating the pool deck like a bonfire. Ryan Stacey’s face was a mess. Gabriel wasn’t even sure he was still conscious. They’d drawn a small crowd, but Gabriel had his eyes locked on the trembling figure in Becca’s arms.

Layne, definitely Layne.

God, he’d been sitting right over there.

Gabriel was frozen, torn between going to Layne or breaking every bone in Ryan’s body. Followed by Taylor’s. Fire was whipping higher into the air, fed by his temper, looking for something more to burn.

“Take their phones,” said Becca. “Break them.”

“Please,” scoffed Taylor. “Like it’s not already online.”

But Chris snatched them anyway, snapping the cases and throwing the pieces into the pool. The girls didn’t look concerned. They looked satisfied.

“And, Gabriel,” said Taylor, “your part in this was too perfect. I didn’t think you’d show up.”

Layne made a choked noise and lifted her head. Her cheeks were red and tear streaked.

Gabriel wanted to break every bone in his own body. He could have stopped this. He’d been right here.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

She made that strangled noise again and pushed free of Becca. And then she was running, shoving past people, fighting her way toward the road.

Gabriel went after her.

But a hand caught his arm and pulled him back. Nick.

Gabriel shoved him, hard. “What?” he yelled, hearing his voice break. “What the f**k, Nick, what?”

“Here.” Nick was staring back at him, his hand out, his eyes almost haunted. “Here. Take the car. Get her out of here.”

There was too much to say. Gabriel couldn’t speak past the emotion in his throat.

So he closed his fingers around the keys and ran after Layne.

CHAPTER 23

Gabriel caught up to her in Heather’s front yard. Layne was stumbling, her hands at her face, her sobbing almost un-controllable.

He caught her by the arms. Christ, his voice was still breaking. “Layne. Layne, please. Let me ”

She spun, her fists slamming into his chest. For her size, she hit with surprising force, driving her rage into him.

“How could you?” she yelled, her voice thick with tears.

“How could you do this?”

“Please. I didn’t know ”

She hit him again. “How could you hate me so much ”

“I don’t hate you.” He caught her arms. “I didn’t know you were there. I would never ”

“Oh my god, please just let me go. Please.”

She was struggling against him, and it made him sick to think of her fighting Ryan Stacey. He let her go.

She staggered across the lawn. “I need to get out of here.”

“Let me take you. I can drive you home ”

“I can’t go home. Just go away. You did this ”

“Goddamn it, Layne.” He caught her again, looking down at her streaked face, her tangled hair. God, she was killing him, with every word, every step. “I did not do this. I would never do this. And I swear to Christ if you don’t let me drive you somewhere, I’m going to go back down there and break that guy’s neck. ”

Heather’s front porch light exploded.

Layne jumped and gave a little cry. She was shaking, and Gabriel had no idea whether it was from what Ryan had done or from what he was doing right now.

But at least she was looking at him, her eyes wide, searching his face.

“Come on,” he said.

She took a deep breath, then nodded.

Gabriel found the car down the road a ways. Layne had her belt buckled and her arms folded tightly across her chest before he even got in, and her eyes were focused out the window. It reminded him of the first night he’d driven her home, when she’d declared so vehemently I’m not Heather Castelline.