Dark Promise (3 page)

The first time I had seen Adam had been ten years before, when his family had moved here from the Midwest. He had been the new kid in school. He’d been painfully shy, which was nothing like my Adam. Anyone who met him now wouldn’t take him for the shy boy. But he had been.

He had been assigned my reading partner, and we quickly became friends. Over the years, he grew into the best-looking boy I know.

“What are you smiling about?” He traced my birthmark with his finger.

“I was just thinking about when we first met.” I patted his face dramatically. “You were so nerdy and cute.”

Adam groaned. “Don’t remind me. I was the smallest boy in our grade and had that huge gap between my teeth.”

“Look at you now. Six feet tall with perfectly straight teeth.”

“Thanks to braces and genetics.” Adam pulled me closer. “You were just as beautiful then as you are now. I remember how nervous I was when you asked me to sit by you at lunch.”

I flushed. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

“I remember everything about you. I think I loved you from the first moment I laid eyes on you.” He kissed me softly and for a while, I got lost in his kiss.

I finally pulled away, rested my head on his chest, and listened to his heartbeat. I wished we could stay that way forever.

After I almost fell asleep in his arms, we decided it was time to get downstairs to our project. My parents would have freaked if they came home and found him in my room. As Adam opened a notebook on the table, I grabbed some chips and drinks.

“What do we have to do?” Adam popped open the soda can, and it made a loud fizzing sound.

I stared at my boyfriend, amused. “You didn’t listen to the assignment?”

He shrugged and took a chug. I had to look away from his full lips, reminded that only moments ago they had been on my body. I wanted to leave the project behind and go back to bed with him.

“We have to make a menu for French class.” I shook my head. I had no idea how he managed to get passing grades. I think the teachers went easy on him because he was the best pitcher our school had ever seen. And he was a charmer. He had the teachers wrapped around his finger.

“Oh, right.” He leaned forward and swiped a handful of chips, then sat back in his seat.

I shoved a library book across the table. “Why don’t you look through this cookbook, and I’ll try to make the front of the menu on the laptop?”

He nodded and flipped open the cookbook. “What am I looking for?”

“French dishes, I guess. Anything except escargot. I’m not eating snails.”

“We don’t actually eat the food on the menu,” he said, flipping another page. So he had been paying attention in class.

“I know. It’s just…ew!” I shuddered.

Adam laughed. “Okay. Okay. Got it—no snails.”

I opened my MacBook and navigated to my favorite program, Pages, where I could make the menu look pretty. I found a picture of the Eiffel Tower to embed into the page. As I was tweaking it, I heard the garage door open.

“Someone’s home,” I groaned.

“I can hear that,” Adam teased, still marking pages in the book with little scraps of paper.

My father walked through the garage door a minute later. There were circles under his brown eyes, and his dark hair was disheveled. His tie was hanging open around his collar, his suit jacket tossed lazily over an arm. He nodded, a weary smile on his lips. “Hey, guys.”

“Hi, Dad.” I smiled up at him.

“What’s for dinner?” He glanced around the kitchen, probably noting that it was looking a little barren.

“I thought we could order Chinese so Mom doesn’t have to cook,” I responded, turning back to my project.

“Great idea. Order me some sweet and sour chicken.” He crossed the kitchen, his boots heavy on the tile. “I’m going to the study. Call me when it’s time to eat.”

I watched his retreating back as he walked to his study and shut the door behind him. There was a sense of finality to the click of the door, and I exchanged a look with Adam. That was odd, because usually my father liked catching up on sports whenever he saw Adam.

“Problems at work, maybe?” I whispered across the table.

“Probably,” Adam answered with a shrug.

I hopped up and crossed to where the cordless was mounted above the kitchen counter. I called our favorite Chinese delivery place and ordered our food—I knew everyone’s usual orders already. When I hung up, Adam and I got back to working on our project.

Not long after, Mom walked in the door just as the front doorbell rang. She raised an eyebrow as she said, “Are you expecting someone?”

“Dad! Door!” I yelled.

He came out of his office, already pulling his wallet from his back pocket. His shirt was untucked, and he seemed distracted. Adam followed him to the front of the house.

My mom eyed me. “What’s going on?”

I just smiled innocently.

Adam and Dad returned with bags of Chinese goodness. They started unpacking the bags on the counter as the salty smell filled the room.

“Chinese? I thought I was cooking.” Mom furrowed her brow.

“Surprise!” Dad said, not sounding very enthusiastic.

Mom shot us all a look. “Does my cooking suck that much?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We just wanted you to have a night off,” Dad responded, saving us all.

I glanced at Adam. He was having a hard time not laughing. I kicked him under the table, and his eyes widened like he was in pain.

Mom looked at all of us again, and then washed her hands before sitting down at the table. She eyed Adam like maybe he’d tell her the truth about dinner. I quickly cleaned up our project and got out some paper plates from the pantry.

“How have you been, Adam?” Mom asked as she opened up the fried rice.

He cleared his throat. “Good, Mrs. McCallister, staying busy with school and baseball. You?”

“Just fine, thanks. The kids are driving me crazy, but I love them to pieces.” She paused and scooped a little more rice on her plate. “How’s the project coming along?”

“Slow, but good,” he answered.

“Kinda dumb, if you ask me,” I said, setting the two-liter of soda in the middle of the table.

“Rylie, I’m sure your project isn’t dumb. The teachers just want you to be creative.”

I rolled my eyes. “Making a French menu is boring.”

Dad grabbed a plate and scooped a heaping portion of chicken and rice onto his plate and started eating. He spoke between mouthfuls. “How’s the team doing, Adam?”

Adam’s face lit up. It always did when he talked about baseball. “We demolished the Jaguars last week. This week we have to play Creeksdale. They’re going to be tough to beat. Maybe you can make it to the game?”

“I can try. Been a little hectic at work. But if I can swing it, I’ll be there.” He shoveled another huge bite.

“That’d be great,” Adam said with a big grin.

“Baseball relaxes me.” There was a brief silence as Dad finished devouring everything on his plate in record time, and then he pushed his seat back, rising to his feet. “I’ll be in the study if anyone needs me. Good to see you, Adam.”

Dad’s abrupt departure from the table surprised me. I glanced over at my mother. “Is he okay?”

“I hope so.” She ate the last bite of her food, the worry lines prominent on her forehead. “I’ll talk to him later.”

One of the best things about takeout was not having too much to clean afterwards. Adam helped us throw away the trash and put the leftovers in the refrigerator, and as Mom wiped down the table, I walked him to the door.

“I should get home,” Adam said. He lived with his dad. His mom had walked out on them years ago, and his older brother had started college last year. So, it was just the two of them.

“Do you have to?” I wrapped my arms around his waist.

He gazed into my eyes, brushing my hair away from my face. “I wish I could stay here with you.”

“Me, too. I don’t want you to leave. I’ll miss you.”

Our lips met, and we kissed. Adam pulled away first. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“‘Kay.” I watched him walk slowly to his truck. I loved his long, lazy gait. As I walked back inside, I heard the roar of the truck as it came to life and then listened to it fade as he drove away.

Out of habit, I straightened the pillows on the couch and went to check on the kitchen. It was pretty clean, but I went over the counters again with Lysol wipes. After rearranging the spices, I headed to my room, tired and ready to lie down. I grabbed the TV remote off my desk and flopped down on my bed.

After flipping through the hundreds of channels our satellite received, I found nothing to watch. I settled on an old episode of a crime-solving show.

My phone vibrated on my nightstand. My heart leapt. I knew it was Adam.

I miss u already
, Adam texted.

With a smile, I shook my head and texted back,
Miss u 2. Wish u were here.

Love u beautiful. Sleep well.

Love u 2.

I set the phone down and glanced over at the picture of Adam and me on my dresser. It had been taken a few months ago at Homecoming. He looked so handsome, all dressed up in his suit. His blue tie matched the dress I wore. Memories of the dance came flooding back to me. It was our first dance together as a couple. He picked me up in a limo and danced with me all night long, never letting go. That was the night I knew without a doubt that I was in love with him and probably had been for years.

I must have fallen asleep watching TV, because the next thing I knew I was sitting up in bed, gasping for air. Nightmare. Just a nightmare.

Deep breaths
, I told myself, trying to get my heart rate back down. The dream had felt so real. I was running for my life being chased by some kind of ugly creature. The creature was purple and had huge pointed ears, emerald-green eyes, and long, bony legs. I woke up right as it had grabbed me by the leg and pulled me down.

I stood up, and my knees wobbled just a little bit. I reached out and balanced myself on my dresser, waiting for the vertigo to pass.

My curtain fluttered, and a cool breeze entered my room.
Did I leave that open?
I usually didn’t leave the window ajar because my father insisted we lock them at night. I hesitated momentarily, then walked over to it, slamming it shut and latching the lock. I peered out into the woods.
Oh, don’t be ridiculous. There is nothing out there.
I closed the curtains and went back to bed.

M
y obnoxious alarm went off way too early for my liking. If I ignored it, the beeps would get louder and louder, so I slapped the snooze button and lay in bed a little longer, trying to forget the nightmare that had awoken me in the night.

It wasn’t uncommon for me to have nightmares, so I didn’t know why this one had scared me so much. I rolled over onto my back and stared at the ceiling. The branches of an old oak in the front yard cast waving patterns on the ceiling beneath the bright sunlight.

I swung my feet around and sat on the edge of the bed. “It was just a nightmare, nothing more,” I told myself.

I stood up and made my bed, tucking the teal plaid sheets in snugly. I ran my hands across to make sure it was smooth, and then brought the comforter all the way up. Fluffing the smaller pillow, I placed it carefully on top, and made sure it was exactly in the middle of the two larger pillows. Satisfied that my bed was in order, I spun around and made my way to the closet.

Rubbing my eyes, I pushed aside the purple beads that covered my closet opening. They were cold on my arm. Jeans hung all the way to the right, followed by khaki pants and cotton pants. Then came the shirts, all arranged by color. My skirts and dresses hung all the way to the left.

I grabbed my favorite pair of faded jeans and a pale blue off-the-shoulder blouse and headed to the bathroom to shower. Since I had taken my time getting out of bed, I had to hurry or I would be late for school. I was out and dressed in record time.

I pulled my hair back in a ponytail and snatched my makeup bag from the counter—I didn’t have time to do it now, so I’d have to put it on in the car.

As I made my way down the stairs, my stomach growled, reminding me I needed to eat. I found a note on the kitchen counter:
Have a good day! XOXO, Mom.
She had already left for work.

I only had a few minutes before my ride would arrive, so I grabbed a granola bar and downed a glass of OJ standing at the counter.

My mind drifted back to the nightmare as I took a bite of my bar. Those creatures were so creepy. They weren’t like anything I had ever seen before, and I definitely hoped to never see them again. Thank goodness it was just a dream.

When I was finished, I rinsed my cup and placed it in the dishwasher. I tossed the granola wrapper in the trash just as Sierra’s horn brought me out of the memory of my nightmare.

“What’s wrong?” Sierra asked when I got in the car. “I can always tell when something is bothering you. Your face is like an open book. You should do something about that, you know.”

I shrugged and glanced over at the woods, relieved that I couldn’t feel eyes on me today. “Nothing really. I had a nightmare last night, that’s all.”