Page 21 of Reaching Avery
“Your last name?”
“Blake,” I answered.
“Well, your pupils are dilating correctly,” he stated before clicking off my phone and handing it back to me. “If you want, you can go to the ER just to make sure, but I think you’re okay. I’m not an expert, though.”
“Thank you,” I said, which instantly made him downcast his eyes, and signs of the Avery I was more familiar with surfaced. He put more distance between us too. “How did you know about concussions? I only know because my dad is a doctor.”
“I’ve been checked for them before and remembered how it was done.”
I wanted to ask what’d happened to him that would’ve resulted in a concussion, but something stopped me.
“Cool.” Then it hit me that he’d been hanging out at the train tracks alone. At night. “Why are you out here anyway?”
Not going to lie. It was kind of creepy.
“Devil worshipping,” he answered in such a casual way that I almost believed him. But then I saw the small curve of his lips and knew he was full of it. “When I’m not doing that, though, I just love to sit out here when I can’t sleep. I love trains, and it’s peaceful here.”
I surveyed the area, seeing all the trees and overall creepiness of the place at night.Peacefulwas pretty much the last word I’d use to describe it.
“So, you like trains?” I asked, finding that kind of cool. I debated on standing, but I was still shaky from the near accident, and sitting was probably best for the time being. “When I was little, I used to watch those old westerns, and the train robbers were always so damn awesome. Not that stealing is good or anything, but I’d wear a bandanna over my face and run around the yard on one of those stick horses.”
Avery laughed and moved from in front of me to sit beside me on the grass. “Why is it so easy to picture that?”
I shrugged, liking the sound of his laugh. I’d never heard it before. He was like a completely different person when he was away from everyone.
“Probably why it’s easy for me to picture you hanging out in the middle of nowhere at night by yourself,” I said, trying to hide my smile. Because now that I really thought about it, Avery’s emo appearance made sense when combined with the late-night roaming in the dark. “With you being a vampire and all.”
I knew better than anyone that stereotypes were bullshit, and that a person couldn’t be defined by their appearance, but it was fun to play around with him about it. I wasn’t sure how he’d react to my teasing.
He surprised me.
With a gasp, he clutched his chest. “What am I going to do? You’ve discovered my secret. Looks like I’ll either need to kill you or turn you into one of the undead.” He dropped his hand and angled his head at me, looking up at me through his dark lashes. “The choice is yours, big guy.”
I forgot how to breathe. Even though it was dark, the moon above us gave off enough light for me to see, and my eyes had adjusted more. The sex appeal oozing from him right then was out of this world—the set of his eyes and the intense gaze showing through them, the slight curving of his lips.
You have a boyfriend, I told myself. And that thought turned off the raging hormones—for the most part.
“Are you going to audition for the musical?” I asked, after finding my freaking voice again.
Avery laughed. “Hell no. I can’t sing. Unless you call the sounds of a dying walrussinging.”
It was my turn to laugh, and it felt great. And why he used a walrus as a comparison was beyond me.
“Are you?” he asked.
“I don’t know yet. Maybe,” I answered, and nerves bubbled in my stomach at the thought. I’d been in plays before and I’d done sports ever since I could walk, so performing in front of an audience wasn’t anything new. However, singing in front of them? I’d only ever sung in my car or in the shower. “Honestly, I’m freaking out a little. I’m not, like, a pro at singing or anything, but I like it.”
“What are you afraid of?”
I studied Avery—the black liner around his eyes, and the way his hair swooped in his face in that emo style. He seemed like the kind of guy who knew who he was and didn’t let other people’s opinions affect him. Gradually, I was learning that lesson too, but I still had a ways to go.
“Failure?” I answered, aware that it sounded more like a question. “I don’t know. Perhaps rejection.”
He was silent a moment as he stared at his hands. Even in the faint light, I saw the furrow of his brow as he contemplated something.
“Have you ever let that fear stop you before?” he said in a soft voice, meeting my stare again. “The fear of failing or being rejected.”
I didn’t know how to answer, so I stayed quiet.
