A Beautiful Dark

while maneuvering the wheel with one hand. Cassie’s number blinked up at me.
    “Lady,” she said breathlessly into my ear. Cass always said everything breathlessly, as if she couldn’t wait to tell you. “Are you ready for second semester?”
    “I’m ready for my coffee.”
    “What? I don’t think I quite heard that.”
    “I said ,” I repeated, louder this time, “let me drink my coffee in peace, woman.”
    “You’re no fun. See you in homeroom; this gossip isn’t going to spill itself.”
    Cassie’s favorite thing in life was gossip. And it was almost always about guys, which was Cassie’s favorite subject.
    I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. 8:01. Nine minutes to make it to homeroom before I was officially late.
    On my way up the front steps of the school, I stopped. I felt a prickling sensation that caused the fine hairs to rise on the nape of my neck.
    I knew no one was behind me—I had been alone in the parking lot when I got out of my car—but I turned around anyway.
    “Morning, Skye.” It was Asher, looking up at me from the bottom step. His short black hair ruffled faintly in the breeze.
    He looked guarded, one leg on a lower step, the other tensed on the step just above it. But beneath his serious exterior, it looked like he was trying hard not to smile.
    “So,” he said, clearing his throat, “I’m sorry for fighting at your party. I didn’t mean for you to see what you did, and . . . hear what you did. It wasn’t because of you, Skye. Devin and I have a long-standing history. . . .” He paused. “I was really glad we got to meet outside. What did you end up wishing for?”
    “I—” I’d forgotten to make a wish after all. But what he was saying made no sense. Why would I think the fight had anything to do with me? I didn’t even know these guys. I wondered if maybe he was just nervous about seeing me again. I knew I was.
    “Oh,” he said. “I forgot my opener. Sorry. I’m Asher.” But I already knew that.
    He held out a hand. I eyed him suspiciously. Slowly I reached my hand out as well. He met me halfway. When our hands touched, a tiny wave of goose bumps trailed up my arm. I quickly pulled away.
    “See?” Asher smiled. “Not so bad, right? Anyway, look, aren’t you going to be late for homeroom? Want me to walk you?”
    “Inside?” I said. “But I . . . There’s a pretty strict security policy. . . .”
    “Well, it’s good to know my new school has at least one leg up on my old one,” Asher said casually as he gestured for me to go ahead.
    “Your new school?”
    “Yep. Looks like you’re stuck with me for a while. But don’t worry, I’ll try not to start any more fights.”
    “You’d better not,” I told him lightly, trying to hide my shock. “I can’t be associated with a known troublemaker.”
    Asher’s face broke out into a wide, wicked grin. “That’s a shame, because my cousin would tell you that troublemaking is something I was born to do,” he said. His eyes flickered between mischief and seriousness.
    “Your cousin?”
    “The guy I was fighting. But I’d advise you not to believe anything he tells you.”
    Something about his sudden, intense gaze made my cheeks burn. Quickly I walked on ahead through the school’s big front doors, and Asher jogged a few steps to catch up.
    “Ah . . .” he began, fumbling with a sheet of paper in his back pocket. “Maybe you can help me find my homeroom. Where is room two-eighteen, exactly?”
    I smiled in spite of myself. “This way, come on.”
    As we walked down the hall and up the stairs, I got that same prickly, being-watched feeling as before. The girls all stared at Asher—and glared at me. The bell was going to ring any second, and most people had already filtered out of the halls to their classrooms. But the stragglers turned as we passed, parting for us like the Red Sea. Their whispers followed us down the hall. I slid my eyes sideways as we walked in relative silence. I had to admit, it wasn’t just his eyes that were alluring; it was as if all of him radiated this magnetized power, drawing people in toward him.
    “It’s just up here,” I said, snapping myself out of it.
    When we reached the open door to the room, I waved my hand like a magician unveiling something that had been hidden. “Here you go.”
    “After you,” he said.
    I blinked at him, my heart pounding suddenly. I hadn’t told him that I was in this class, too.
    “What’s wrong,