Spellbound - Cara Lynn Shultz [59]
Seeing my face, Angelique corrected herself. “I doubt it’s a human sacrifice, Em. I wonder… Hmm. I’ll ask my mom about getting another copy of the book. One that’s in better shape.
“Oh, and, Emma, it’s so obvious that it’s Brendan, but I guess I’ll just wait for you to admit that to yourself before you admit it to me,” Angelique said matter-of-factly, rolling her eyes as she said his name with a dramatically exasperated tone. I just pretended to be preoccupied with my cell phone and showed her the time. We had to hustle back to school, barely making it in time for chemistry. On the way back, I was silent, mulling over Ethan’s other warning.
It’s not safe with him. Can you stay away?
I knew the answer.
No, I could not.
Chapter 12
Of course, I was running late on Saturday. I raced through my homework on Friday night, getting it done so I wouldn’t have to deal with it for the rest of the weekend—and I even spent a little extra time on Latin, my subjectus terriblus. But mostly, I was trying to distract myself from obsessing over my impending time alone with Brendan.
I vacillated between going through with the date—I mean, meeting—and chickening out, but ultimately decided that canceling would be rude. After all, I reasoned, even though he had the same medallion in his locker, that didn’t mean that he was my destined true love. And all we were going to do was talk, right?
Still, once I’d finally decided to go through with it, I’d had all day to get ready. At the last minute, I changed from a pair of cords into jeans. I paired a lightweight black sweater first with a pair of boots, then with my gray Vans sneakers, then the boots again, and finally, going with the Vans. My indecision had cost me: I had to run to make it there on time, and the unseasonably balmy temperatures told me my eyeliner would pay the price.
As each foot hit the pavement, my internal monologue spoke out matching rhythmic lyrics.
Oh. My. God. This. Is. Real.
I slowed my jog at Seventy-ninth Street and pulled out my cell phone to check the time, realizing that I was already eighteen minutes late. I spied Brendan, lounging against the stone entrance to the park. Seriously, did he ever stand upright?
He was holding a plastic bag filled with what looked like takeout.
“Hey,” I said, a little breathless.
“I was starting to think you weren’t going to come,” he said dryly, his smile not quite matching his tone.
“Sorry about that. I have a problem with being on time,” I said sheepishly, running my fingers through my hair—and feeling my face turn red when my hand got caught in a knot that had formed during the run over.
“You don’t like to be on time?” Brendan asked, bewildered.
“No, no, it’s not like that. I’d like to be on time. In fact, I’d love it,” I said, fidgeting a little as I tried to explain my rudeness. “I just can’t seem to make it happen. I’m always misjudging how long it takes to get somewhere. I think everything takes five minutes and it always takes so much longer.”
He smiled, looking amused by my mini-rant, and pushed himself off the stone wall.
“Okay, let’s go,” he said.
“Where are we going?”
“Into the park. There’s someplace I think you’d like.”
I looked around confused, which Brendan interpreted as a sign of concern.
“Central Park is totally safe. You’re with me. Didn’t you see me with Anthony?” he bragged, puffing his chest out a bit as we started walking into the park. “I’m no joke.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” I muttered. We walked wordlessly along the leaf-covered pathways until a tall, looming structure appeared, perched high on a bed of rocks.
“That’s one of my favorite places to go. Belvedere Castle,” Brendan said, leaning into me and pointing. I looked up at the stone structure, rising out of the rocks proudly as the sun started to set behind it.
“It’s where we’re going for dinner,” he said, holding up the takeout bag.
We hiked up the pathway to the castle,