Payton had stopped walking and looked at me. “Do you think it is sensible to be here with me?” His words were quiet, almost whispered.
“It’s the most irrational thing I’ve ever done.” I looked for his eyes, but he had turned his face away.
“But I don’t think I’m in danger,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood. “You don’t look like you’ve killed that many people recently.”
His laugh was hard and forced. “No, you are right. Not recently.”
CHAPTER 6
Payton ducked under the stream of hot water in the shower. He shut his eyes and let the water pound against his eyelids. What a day he’d had. In the morning, he’d felt like some remote-controlled robot, drawn mindlessly toward the girl. He hadn’t fully considered what might happen. He’d been following her for days, though, so he realized that in some way, he was deliberately asking for pain.
The entire time, he’d thought she could sense she was being followed. She’d look around, puzzled, then go back to what she was doing. But he hadn’t let her see him. Hadn’t given her a chance. Then the feeling started growing more intense. The pain, the fire, that devoured him every time he got close to her, was rising higher and higher. It had been so long since he had felt something, anything, that the pain he was experiencing—so strong it could take his breath away—felt like a powerful drug. He didn’t know where the pain was coming from, but he was determined to find out.
He had watched her get on the tour bus. Then he got in his car—he’d decided not to take his motorcycle—and followed her. He thought about how it might all play out. Clearly, something big had happened to him. He wasn’t hollow anymore. But while he was glad to feel sensations, the pain when he was near her was barely tolerable. It was taking a toll, draining him of his strength. When he thought back to the day she had touched him while on his motorcycle, the torment still hit him like lightning.
The pain. That probably explained why he lost control of his motorcycle the first time he saw her. And that had been the only reason he had stopped and looked back.
Despite the hot shower, Payton had goose bumps. When had he last had goose bumps, he asked himself. 1740?
He soaped up vigorously, trying to scrub off the confusion flowing through him. Earlier, when he saw her climb up the monument, he had wondered whether he could stand being so near to her. He had climbed up after her, shaking and afraid.
She was standing in the sun. Her hair was shining golden and her face was in the shadows. Although he’d been following her for days, he had never really seen her properly. And now her back was to him again. He was grateful for that because the hot pain that seared through his body seemed to be increasing, like he might suddenly explode. He took several deep breaths before he regained control. His hands curled into fists. After a few minutes, he could breathe a little more easily, and he knew he could bear the pain—if only for a short time. But she mustn’t, for God’s sake, come any closer. Then something unexpected—but he supposed, inevitable—happened. She looked at him, and she laughed.
That face, he thought. Could it really be true?
No, he said to himself. He had to be mistaken. That was impossible—absolutely impossible! And yet, it would explain everything.
So from then on, there had only been one option for him: stand up to fate and find out everything he could about her.
Payton turned off the water and wrapped a towel around his hips.
She had also felt something, he was sure. Something more than pure curiosity. That had become clear when she agreed to take a walk with him, and later when she decided he could drive her home.
He went through all the times they had touched that day. The first time, on the monument, it was like brushing against a hot iron, and he had instinctively pulled his hand back. Even long after she let go, his skin still burned where her fingers had been. But if he moved back a little, the burning died down and became more of a steady pressure on his body instead. As long as he kept a safe distance, he thought he could be close to her. Sitting near her on the rock was warm, but not burning. Actual contact, though—like when she’d taken his hand at the stream—that was too much. Even the icy water didn’t ease the painful scorch of her touch.
He was almost crazy with fear when he’d imagined sitting in his car with her. He wasn’t sure why he’d offered her a ride.
But during the drive, he conjured up almost superhuman strength, so much so that he’d actually enjoyed it. Other than his family, she was the first person he had talked to in a long time. And he’d been ridiculously happy when she asked whether they would see each other again.