3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Ella

THREE YEARS AGO

"I really am sorry I ruined prom, Ella. If I had known that Officer Baker was so touchy, I never would have messed with him," Silas said when we finally stopped dancing.

"It's not a big deal, really. Like I said, I wanted to go home." I shrugged and tried to swipe the stray strands of hair from my face.

"Yet here you are still dancing with me on the roof. Maybe it wasn't prom so much as the poor company?" He smiled and nudged me with his elbow as he leaned against the brick wall. I settled beside him again, relaxed and comfortable in his company. It was odd, since I'd never spoken more than a few words to him in my life.

"Could be. In any case, I should probably head home before my father starts to worry. Also, I don't have shoes so I should probably go get them."

"I can get them for you. It's not that difficult a climb," Silas said, pointing over the edge of the roof.

"Or I could go downstairs and get them myself. Really, do you have to do everything the hard way, Silas?"

"Life is more fun when you do things the hard way. Don't you know that?" he teased.

I pushed off the wall and shook my head, then reached for the door. It was locked, so I glanced around for another way back into the school. There were no other doors, so I tried again. "Um, the door is locked."

"Yeah."

"You know? You brought me up here, and you knew the door would lock behind us? What kind of prank are you trying to pull?" I asked, lacing my tone with as much frustration as possible, so there was no mistaking I meant business—which I did, but I always had difficulty expressing emotions such as anger outwardly.

"Relax. I can get us down." Silas proceeded to climb like a monkey across the fire escape, then leaped from roughly twenty feet to the asphalt parking lot below. "Come on, jump!"

"Are you insane?" I screamed. "I will fall to my death! You can't catch me from here!"

"No, but if you shimmy along the railing like I did, then I can catch you from there. Come on, Ella, live a little."

"Live a little? I wanna live before I die, Silas!" Even so, I gripped the iron bars of the fire escape and scooted little by little across the rusted gate, then slid down to the next level. It creaked and gave way a little. I screamed and grabbed the bars, but they were loose and broke free from the brick wall. The ladder slid all the way down and slammed onto the platform below, tossing me from it when it hit. I fell off the side right into Silas's arms. He looked down at me with a bright smile that said something, but I couldn't quite figure it out.

"That's not exactly what I meant but mission accomplished." He placed my feet on the pavement and handed me my torturous shoes. "My car's this way if you need—wait a minute." He looked around before groaning. "Where is my car? And why is the lot gate closed?"

My shoulders slumped. "Silas, the Baker probably towed your car to get back at you. I can call my father. That was the plan anyway."

"What? No, don't do that. When's your curfew?" Silas asked.

"I don't have one."

"You don't…How do you not have a curfew?" he teased, one dark eyebrow quirked up.

"Because responsible children who have worked diligently to earn their parents' trust often get rewarded with leniency in return. I don't have a curfew because I never go anywhere to need one. That said, if I drag my butt home after midnight, I'm pretty sure I'll get in loads of trouble."

"Midnight?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Yes, midnight, and if you must make jokes, do it fast." I propped my hands on my hips and waited for a rash of bad jokes about my name being Cinderella, Ella for short, and my unofficial curfew of midnight.

His lips twitched, and he stared at me. After a few breaths, he snickered and said, "Okay, you're right. I can't help it. Will something turn into a pumpkin if you don't get home?"

"Yes, you if you get me into trouble. Now, let me call my father and—"

"Wait!" he yelled and stepped forward with his palm outstretched. "Just…just wait. What time was he supposed to pick you up?"

I glanced at my watch. "In an hour. As the clock strikes…you know." I rolled my eyes.

"Okay, so I have an hour to prove it to you," he said.

"To prove what?" I asked. He looped his arm through mine and tugged, urging me back toward the school. I followed since I had nothing else to do, but my feet had blistered from the shoes and dancing. I limped along, periodically wincing when I stepped the wrong way on my blistered toe.

"First stop, the nurse's office to clean your feet and get some bandages. After that, as much fun as we can cram into one hour."

"Isn't that locked after hours?"

Silas grins. "I won't let that stop me. Come on."

"Right, but prove what?" I asked, intrigued.

He smiled and quirked that eyebrow again. "Never mind that. Let's get your feet fixed up," he said, then bent over and hoisted me up like his own personal bride, and carried me to the nurse's office.

PRESENT DAY

"Ella? Did you hear me?" Silas asks.

I shake the memory free and refocus on Silas sitting across from me. He traveled all the way to Romania? On a mission trip? He traveled halfway around the world by himself, but was too afraid to talk to me about it? I'm not sure I believe him entirely, but it would be easy to verify, so there is no good reason for him to lie to me. My brain refuses to stop seeing him as he was back then, on prom night, so sweet and gentle with me. Three years hasn't changed much in his looks, but he is physically more mature, a little more muscular, but still scalding hot and it makes me sick to my stomach how easily that face pulls me into his orbit.

"Yeah, I um, I heard you. I'm not sure I'm the best person to teach you anything, Silas. There's a lot between us still left unsaid, and I don't want to be responsible for your failing." I twist my fingers in a failing attempt to distract myself from that face.

"I would be responsible for that, but thanks for caring," he says but it isn't snarky. He means it. I'd always been able to see right through his sarcasm and that pseudo-bad boy image, and maybe that was why he'd run away. I read him easily back then, but what about now?

I fidget with the strap on my bag and try to clear my head. There is no way I'll survive this with my heart intact, but I'm also pretty sure if I don't spend as much time with Silas as possible, my heart will never forgive me. It's almost as if it wants to test the waters, see if I can still see right through him and his mischievous veneer.

"Ella, please can you try to understand? You must hate me, but at the time I thought my reason for not telling you was good."

I want to ask what the reason was, but I doubt he'd give me that much, so I nod and pull out my schedule. I clear my throat and open to the current month. There isn't much left in December, and I'm not sure when his school resumes in January. "How much free time will you have before you go back?"

"I took winter off, so I'm open until spring. Whatever works for you is fine with me except for a few days that I'm volunteering at a friend's farm."

"Farm?" I ask, a little surprised.

"Yeah, my brother's best friend's grandfather has a farm, and he's not in good health. He needs help this year getting things repaired and ready for spring. I'll try to be flexible, but I can't back out on that. He needs the help."

"Sure, I get it. Yeah, you're my only client this break, so that's fine." I scribble down a few dates that we can try while he lets out what I think is a relieved sigh.

"Would it be insane of me to ask if you might want to help me there too?" he asks.

My eyes open so wide I feel the breeze from the overhead vent in the small room. "You want me to work on a farm? With you?"

Silas's cheeks pink, which has never happened before in my presence, so it's difficult not to stare at him. My heart pounds, reminding me how it felt to be with him all those years ago. Back then, I was more me with him than I had ever been in my life. I'd fallen in love with him, and had planned to tell him the next day…the day he disappeared. And now all I can think about is that summer and how much I want to pick up where we left off despite everything. My heart is a stupid traitor, or a glutton for punishment. I can't decide yet.

Silas leans over the table a little but doesn't touch me. The intensity in those golden eyes is more now than it had been even during that summer, and he is laser-focused on me. "He can use any help he can get, and I'd be lying if I didn't admit that the second I saw you, I wanted to soak up all of your attention. I think…" His gaze wanders for a moment as if he's thinking about how to say what's on his mind. "I can't help wondering if there's a reason for this. It can't be a coincidence, Ella, and I wonder if there's any way we can—Wait, do you have a boyfriend?"

I raise my eyebrows. "What?" I snap, because there is no way he can sit there and assume a boyfriend might be the only thing keeping us apart.

He sits straighter and raises his hands. "Sorry, I didn't want to say this if you were already in a relationship, but I wondered if we could talk. That's all, talk and see what happens?"

And there it is, the same line he'd used on me before and I'd fallen hook, line, and sinker into his trap. Well, not again. Not that easily. I shake my head again, clearing the haze of Silas Thomas from my mind. No, I do not have a boyfriend, but that doesn't mean anything. I absolutely will not fall back into the Silas web naiveté, regardless of how well-intentioned he'd been.

"It's best if we keep this professional. I'll tutor you, you'll learn, and when it's over then we'll go our separate ways." He flinches with each word as if they physically cut him, but I refuse to apologize for my firmness.

"Ella, I—"

"No, Silas. I can't. I can't do this with you again." I grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder. Our hour is already over and we haven't studied a single thing.

Silas stands and collects his bag, then opens the door for me. He's behaving like a gentleman, but it's killing him to keep his mouth shut and not ask me why we can't try to reconnect or to encourage me to change my mind. I stride across the library and out the front door before he can open it for me. I forgot how slick the sidewalk was, and before I'm two feet out the door, I slip on the ice and fall backward. It would have been poetic if Silas had caught me like some kind of superhero, but he slips and falls beside me, nearly cracking his skull on the concrete. He does flail about in a pointless attempt to break my fall.

"Geez, who put that there?" he mumbles, rubbing his backside as he rolls onto his hip. "You okay?"

I manage to slip around and sit up. "Yeah. I hurt my shoulder a little, but not bad. You okay?"

He nods and stands, then offers his hand to help me up. I let him because there is no reason to be jerky about it. I make sure there are no moments when he helps me up, then walk beside him to the lot and get into my car. He doesn't say anything else, but the way he leans against his car, watching me as I pull out of the lot means he still has a lot to say. I focus on driving rather than the way he looks in my rearview mirror, but it isn't long before my mind drifts back again.

THREE YEARS AGO

"Silas, what do you need to prove to me?" I asked, my mind still pondering every possibility, none of which seemed plausible as Silas carried me through the empty school toward the nurse's office. Prom ended long ago, so I'm surprised we can still move about without getting caught by security. But my poor feet need attention. Between the shoes and dancing on a concrete roof, they were scuffed and blistered.

Silas pushed open the swinging door at the entrance to the health center and deposited me on the examination table.

I frowned. "I don't really think this is necessary."

"It is necessary if you want to keep your feet. They could get infected, and you'll blame me if they require amputation."

"Anyone ever tell you that you're way too dramatic?" I asked but repositioned myself onto the table anyway.

"Eh, sometimes, but I don't really listen to what people say about me. They don't know me." He slammed a drawer shut and turned around with antiseptic spray, gauze, and a few elastic bandages in his hands. I raised my eyebrows, and he shrugged. "What? I spend a lot of time here."

It was true. The guy sustained more injuries during his antics than most people did in a lifetime. He probably knew where everything was stocked in the local hospital, as well. Silas settled onto the rolling stool and wheeled toward me, then patted his knee. I shook my head but rested my foot on his knee anyway. He sprayed the wounds, wiped them, placed the bandages, and even padded the edges of my shoes that dug into my feet so I could at least walk.

"I feel like a very small child," I admitted.

"Why?" He glanced up, his eyes filled with genuine confusion.

"I don't know. No one has taken care of me like this since I was a kid, I guess."

"Oh. Well, that's kind of…sad. People should be happy to take care of others. Doesn't your step-mom or dad?"

I thought but came up lacking. There was only once that my father had treated me so tenderly—right after the accident. Before that, it was my mother. After that, well, no one really knew how to do things for me anymore. My father was great, but he lacked in the affection department. My stepmother tried, but often fell short of that motherly instinct. "It's not really a big deal in my family. Physical affection, I mean."

Silas pursed his lips, then relaxed. He stood and offered his hand to help me from the table. I took it and reveled in the same warmth I experienced when his hands brushed over my feet. It was nice. Nice to be taken care of, nice to have a little fun with another person, just nice.

"Can I ask you something?" Silas whispered, but his gaze was far too intense for a simple question.

"Sure," I said as I stepped down and brushed my skirt straight.

"Are you okay? Like, after the accident and what happened? It's been a couple of years, but if you're not, I mean, you can talk to me about it." He swallowed hard and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"You mean the accident where my mother got stupid drunk and drove with my best friend in the car, then crashed and killed them both?"

He lowered his head to stare at his shoes. "Wow. Yeah, I didn't…I'm sorry. I should not have brought that up. It's none of my business, but I guess I wanted…I don't know. It seemed like a good time to ask if you're okay."

I tried to swallow back my automatic defense mechanism—sarcasm—and take his comments for what they were. Genuine care and concern. "You didn't mean anything by it. Everyone wants to know, but it's been two years. I'm mostly processing everything as it comes, but I guess there are some days I'd rather not do the peopling thing?"

"Definitely understand," he whispered. "Hey, let's get a snack."

Five minutes later, he was stuffing unfrosted cupcakes in his mouth—whole.

"Seriously, you cannot eat cupcakes without frosting, Silas! It's downright blasphemous," I teased.

"Pretty sure God doesn't care how I eat my cupcakes. I don't like frosting, but you know what is good on chocolate cupcakes? Peanut butter." Silas spun the top off the giant tub of peanut butter and stuck his fingers in it. He pulled out a glob and smeared it across his cupcake, then ate the entire thing in one bite. "So yummy," he mumbled around his mouthful. He was so cute, and staring at him made my cheeks flame.

"You're gonna choke, Silas," I said, trying to hide my sudden, weird attraction to him.

"You're the only person who calls me that, besides teachers and the police."

I was well aware people called him all sorts of things—idiot, moron, stupid—the entire range of words that meant he wasn't smart. And there were the jocks who called everyone by their last name, so they called him Thomas, which was dumb since there were so many Thomas brothers, including his identical twin. The more popular crowd called him "that crazy guy," and a handful of people called him "Jonesy" for whatever reason.

"Sorry, I don't really know what to call you," I said with a shrug.

He shook his head and shoved the peanut butter toward me. "Nah, it's fine. You can call me Silas. It's a little strange. I like it though."

I pushed the peanut butter back and pulled the frosting across the table. We were almost out of cupcakes, which meant the drama club would be irate when they discovered their bake sale supplies had been ingested by two starving teenagers. I stuck a dainty finger in the frosting and ate a small dollop.

"That's no way to eat frosting," Silas said.

"You said you hate frosting, so how would you know?" I asked as I licked my finger again.

"Because that's no way to eat anything at all, Ells." He shoved his fingers in the frosting and pulled out a giant glob before smearing it across my face and running away yelling.

"Silas!" I screamed as I tried to see through the mess. I wiped it off as best I could and ran after him, peanut butter in hand. Somehow, I managed to get ahold of his shirt and tackled him down. I straddled him and coated his face with peanut butter as he struggled under me.

"You are freakishly strong!" he shouted. His only recourse was to tickle me, which he had no way of knowing would not work. I wasn't all that ticklish, and when the fight was on, I was more than capable of ignoring any slight discomfort. "Oh, come on! You're not even ticklish!"

"Nope," I said and smeared more peanut butter over his face. He finally caught my hands and flipped me over. I lost the peanut butter and the upper hand, putting me in a precarious position. He smeared his face across mine, transferring the peanut butter. Most of it got into my hair, but he achieved his goal all the same. If I hadn't been in fight mode, the closeness of his lips to mine might have made me go all swoony. Okay, it did, but there was too much going on at once for me to process that fast enough.

I pushed him off and sprang to my feet covered with frosting, peanut butter, cupcake crumbs, and whatever mystery crumbs were all over the cafeteria floor. Silas lay panting in the mess, exhausted. I tossed him a towel and tried to wipe the mess off my own face and hair.

"Hey, what got you in so much trouble tonight?" I asked, trying to put some space between me and the giant elephant in the room. The elephant looked a lot like attraction to the school's troublemaker, and it seemed like a horrible idea to even look at it, let alone explore it.

"Nothing that would interest you," he said bluntly, putting an end to the line of questioning before it even got started. "You look adorable covered in food. It could be a fashion thing for you."

"I'll pass, but thanks. Cupcake crumbs look fantastic on you, too," I teased.

There were only about fifteen minutes left before my father came to pick me up, very little time to do anything, but Silas already had a plan. He checked his watch then said, "So, it rained yesterday."

"It did. Any other astute observations, Captain Obvious?" I teased. Why was it so easy to talk to him? To be fun with him? My heart raced when he grinned at me and offered his hand.

"Wow, you're meaner than I expected. I meant since it rained, the football field is probably muddy. Want to go skiing?"

"You make no sense at all. How would we ski on the football field?" I asked.

I soon found out. Silas managed to scrounge up a pair of skis from the vice principal's office, strapped me to them with duct tape, then pushed and pulled me around the football field for ten minutes. Once he decided I'd had enough fun, he dragged me to the bleachers and helped me pick the tape apart.

Once my feet were free, he fidgeted with the tape, his eyes trained on the grass. "I'm sort of broken," he whispered.

He couldn't have known his words echoed how I felt about myself. I scooted closer to him on the bench and let my head rest on his shoulder, something natural yet exhilarating. "Me, too."