All In My Head (First Tracks Book 1) Read online

  ***

  “Marcus!”

  Huh? She was waking me up for a change?

  “Marcus!” she hissed.

  Morning to you too, beautiful.

  Then I remembered she was flaming mad at me. I came around and saw she was holding the notebook up in front of her.

  “Who is this?”

  That’s me in one of them.

  “I got that. What about this one?”

  You’re not excited that we have a picture of me now?

  She growled. Wow, jealous! I didn’t stop my chuckle in time, ticking her off even more.

  I don’t have any romantic feelings for whoever she is.

  Then why are you drawing her?

  Avery, all I can think about is how I want to kiss you.

  “That’s not an answer. Who is she? What is her name? How do you know her?”

  I don’t know her name or anything else, just that she must be someone important to me.

  I realized I didn’t have anything but brotherly feelings for the girl I’d drawn, which might mean she was literally my sister. Easy answer. I could have shared that with Avery, but I liked that she was jealous. It’d been me this whole time, dealing with all the guys drooling over her.

  Avery seethed about it but bit her tongue, not wanting to let me see how much she cared. I felt it all anyway.

  She turned back to the drawing of me, taking in each feature, then holding the paper farther back. Her gaze rested on my mouth. She pictured us stepping closer, our arms embracing, our lips touching.

  I expected one of those slow, tender, high-school-movie kisses, but she fantasized something rougher, needier.

  She fantasized that I pulled her back, raking my fingers into her hair, parting her lips with my kiss—

  She looked at the clock and cursed.

  “You made me late, and I have to ride my bike today.”

  Yeah, well, have fun sitting next to Nash in class today.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Avery

  I didn’t go to class. After everything, I really didn’t feel like it, and I didn’t want to pedal there with my bag full of books, since my car was still in the shop. Instead I ambled through the house, half thinking I’d run into Kris or Jazz and we could talk. The living room and kitchen were empty, the house quiet. With a sigh, I stretched out on the couch with my phone.

  Nash had texted, Are we ok after last night? Don’t want you to feel weird.

  The truth was I felt weird after Marcus had revealed so much, but I didn’t want to put that on Nash. I texted back saying we were good. I figured he was in class but he texted back anyway, saying he didn’t know how to act around Kyle now. So we got into a long texting conversation, which was even longer with Nash because he doesn’t, on principle, abbreviate in texts. I liked that before, a lot actually, but now I didn’t want to look stupid, so I had to type everything out.

  Marcus was trying so hard not to laugh about that part.

  “Marcus, can I have a few minutes by myself?”

  Ahhhh … all right.

  Big sigh as he left. I was getting better at telling when he was out of the picture—out of my brain, to be exact—and it felt like I had the place to myself for the time being. I couldn’t be sure though … how could I be?

  I just wanted a few minutes to think about him and Nash, which is so messed up. Here I am, trying to decide between an imaginary voice in my head and a real, live guy who is super smart, reliable, and likes me. Except there was no deciding between because Marcus wasn’t real, at least not in a physical sense where I could touch him. Who knew how real he was in any other sense. The bigger question might have been, who knew what I wanted anymore? I sure as hell didn’t. What if I didn’t want Marcus out of my head?

  Something big had changed. And if this was all in my head, I liked the crazy part.

  Of course I couldn’t admit that. I spent the day texting with Nash while he was in class and then talking on the phone, juggling my conversations with Nash and Marcus, which completely wore me down. Ever since this started, I’ve been wanting to get away from real people more and more, so I could talk to Marcus. Or at least just have one conversation at a time.

  Not sure if I should get mad over that or say thanks.

  Yeah, let me know when you figure it out!

  But at least I’d talked Nash down. Thanks to Marcus, he’d been upset about Kyle, and for a while I thought he might do something about it. I wasn’t even sure what time it was when I crawled into bed, but I felt myself slipping off to sleep instantly.

  ***

  I felt like I was coming out of a pleasant sleep as I watched my hand sketching on a blank page. I was drawing myself again. He was drawing me, starting with my eyes, somehow capturing a hopeful expression on the flat medium. He worked in my other features: a slight line for my nose, some shading, my lips, my eyebrows …

  That’s when I noticed it wasn’t really my hand. It was bigger, with long fingers. Manlier. His hand. The very way the hand moved wasn’t mine; it was sure and quick. His hand paused.

  I watched, holding my breath, waiting for the rest of my face to fill in. I was mostly there, but something seemed missing.

  Hmmm.

  That was Marcus … but his voice came from behind me, not in my head. I wanted to turn but I was lying down and couldn’t. His breath lightly warmed my neck and ear. I thought I heard him chuckle, and then his fingertips touched my shoulder, followed by a quick kiss, and then his hand feathered down my arm and onto my hip.

  “Marcus?”

  He spoke quiet and low in French, saying things I couldn’t understand. His legs curled up against mine so his body touched me all the way down. His mouth touched my back, sending goosebumps down my spine. I arched back toward him before I could stop. A second later, his lips teased a line from my shoulder blade up to my neck.

  I gasped awake.

  It was dark. Middle of the night still.

  I’d been dreaming … dreaming like I was Marcus in a way, but feeling the sensations as myself. Had we been dreaming together?

  Okay, not cool. We would have to talk about boundaries.

  Listen, babe, I can’t help what I dream about, and I’m around this totally hot babe all day long now, and …

  And?

  And you’re smart too. You don’t spend all your time trying to impress me or look pretty.

  I punched the pillow hard and flopped down with a huff. Marcus actually listened and left me alone. My body felt wired. I wasn’t sure if I liked the odd sensation—actually, it was the fact that I was so wound up now and couldn’t do anything about.

  You could actually …

  GO AWAY!

  I covered my face, even though it was dark, and even though Marcus couldn’t see me.

  ***

  First thing when I woke back up, I sat on my computer chair, turned on my laptop and opened my file on this problem. And yes, Marcus, this is a problem. YOU are a problem.

  And YOU keep on telling me that. I’ll submit a report.

  I still had all the possible causes listed, but I wasn’t any closer to a solution, let alone understanding what was going on.

  Yes, you do. Said it yourself. You couldn’t have drawn that picture, or played my song, or told off that ass on the street, and you didn’t just decide to start running all of sudden.

  “So I’m possessed.” I leaned back in the chair, making it squeak. “Great. Freaking great.”

  Let’s call it improved.

  He grinned. I could tell. And strangely, I got the slightest impression of his smile. Full lips. White teeth. Then it was gone.

  “Marcus, are you picturing yourself?”

  Wha … why?

  “I thought I almost saw you smile.”

  Maybe it’s time for that bike ride. Clear your head. Clear my head. Get some exercise.

  I groaned.

  You promised.

  The real hurt in his voice pushed me into action. I dug out my
cycling pants and a fitted cycling jacket. Before leaving, I made a quick trip to the kitchen to fill my water bottle, then walked my bike to the street and took off, feeling the bite of the cold breeze at first, but I knew I’d warm up soon. It wasn’t raining, but there were still giant puffy clouds that blocked the sun at times, so I went from chilly shade to bright sun and back to shade again.

  Ashland is small enough that you can pedal out of it in just a few minutes, and then you have lots of space without the cross walks and traffic.

  “So, Marcus, maybe you could try to picture yourself. Maybe we’re making progress.”

  Maybe.

  I’d forgotten how great this felt, pedaling away from my problems. Back in the beginning of college, I rode twenty miles a day, several times a week.

  Seriously?

  “Why’s that so unbelievable? Back then, I had a lot going on, and needed to clear my head.”

  Was that related to your mom, and why you won’t talk about your dad?

  “Yeah.”

  Had I really just answered him about that? My boundaries were fading. I reminded him we were out here to clear our heads and get some air, not dredge up the past.

  But suddenly, the past was right here again—the long, lonely days when my parents were gone. Living in a new house with a different family, going to a different school. I shivered, shuddered really, and snapped back to the present and scenery around me.

  Avery, listen to me. I’m the one person you can talk to that will never tell anyone else.

  “Until we figure out who you are and where you belong.”

  Even then.

  Was there a “then?” Would we ever fix this? I reached the top of a small hill and coasted down, the wind blasting me, reminding me I was still alive. Flying down the hill loosened something in me, like I could really take flight. And I let Marcus see:

  How crazy fun my dad was. The dancing and twirling. The off-key songs and smiles. Pancakes every Saturday with my name in syrup. How he scared off the monsters under my bed. How he called me Sweet pea. How he romanced my mom. He was our sun, our center, our everything. He was more fun than anyone I’ve never met. My dad was all adventure, charm and happiness … until he pushed it too far. Dad couldn’t say no to any fun or challenge or dare, or a drink, or a bet. As I got older, I started to see the dark side of the moon where he crashed and grew angry. But he always bounced right back up. Mom would ask me to give him a day to right himself, and he always did.

  I was never angry with my dad, not even once. It all changed one rainy night. My mom said dad couldn’t make it home for dinner, but he called while we were eating homemade tacos. He needed a ride.

  Later I would find out that Dad had insisted on driving back, even though his blood alcohol was .16, double the legal limit to drive.

  Avery, I’m so sorry.

  Now he knew. He knew why I didn’t have my parents and spent high school in foster care. Why I wanted to stay away from those loud, fun types. I should have stayed away from Kyle, but instead I broke my rule and, of course, it ended badly.

  Marcus started to say something and wisely decided to keep his mouth shut. I was done talking about it, especially when I realized there were tears tracing back on my cheeks, whisking away in the breeze.

  I rode another five miles and pulled over for a quick break and a drink from my water bottle. My legs felt shaky because it’d been a while since I rode, but talking and exercising had worn me out in a good way.

  I’ve done this before, but I think I went mountain biking. I can feel the trail dropping down a hill full of boulders and fallen logs. Lots of giant trees and ferns all over.

  “So one more outdoor thing you’ve done. But that still doesn’t tell us about your job, family or life. Wait! Who did you ride with?”

  Ah … not sure. I can see some other guys but not their faces.

  “Hmm. Well, this is helping. Just let your mind wander again.”

  I turned around and headed back to town, enjoying the half awareness that comes while cycling. I keep an eye out for traffic and other dangers, but I’m able to see the big picture of life and think about things. It’s that nice kind of daydreaming you can do on a trip, when you don’t have to worry about the little details.

  ***

  When I got back, I found a message on my phone from the car shop. My car was fixed and ready for pick up! And cost four hundred bucks.

  Ouch.

  “Well, I need a running car.” Summer was right around the corner, and I could probably find a part-time job if I needed. My trust fund had paid for my car, college and some life expenses while still leaving some to help after college. I’d rather have my parents. They would have helped me with all this too, more than money would, but the money did get me by.

  I stripped out of my clothes, staring at the ceiling like I’d been doing, but I wasn’t so worried about it anymore. I felt him come with me into the shower and didn’t even yell at him.

  That’s why you didn’t want to talk to me about your money before—you got an insurance payout after your parents died?

  “Yeah, I got life insurance money, social security as an orphan, and their savings. The house sold two years later and I got another lump sum. All of it went into my trust fund until I turned eighteen. That’s when I kissed my old life goodbye.”

  He was quiet for a long minute.

  “Did I offend you somehow?”

  No. I was thinking, I guess. Getting lost a bit. I just can’t imagine how hard it was … and going through high school.

  “Thanks.” I stepped out of the shower and dried off. As I got dressed again, I said, “The thrill must have worn off.”

  Thrill?

  “You don’t go nuts trying to see me naked anymore.” I blushed.

  It’s bittersweet.

  I paused in my doorway, puzzled, and unsure if I wanted to ask for an explanation. I heard a car outside and headed down the hallway. The front door shut and Kris saw me.

  “Hey, you.” She dropped her bag on the counter, where she usually claimed two thirds of the space. She’d pulled her curly hair back into a loose ponytail, making her look like a cheerleader.

  “Hey … want to drive me to Medford to get my car?”

  “Sure.” She picked her bag back up. “I was just going to watch TV anyway.”

  We jumped in Kyle’s car—they shared it most of the time because she hadn’t bought her own car since coming to SOU. The music came on loud until she turned it down.

  “Where were you today?” she asked as we reached the freeway onramp—only a few minutes from our house. It seemed like an innocent question, but it didn’t feel that way.

  “Just riding my bike. I took ninety-nine up a ways.”

  Kris did a double take. “Are you mad about the ski trip still?” she asked, throwing me for a loop.

  “No, not at all. Seriously, I wasn’t upset to begin with.”

  “Really? You haven’t been hanging out with me since then. Like today. You were gone for hours. You’ve been staying in your room a lot more too. I miss you.”

  “Oh.” I leaned over to give her a one-armed hug. “I’ve just been … things picked up with Nash.” I totally fumbled that, but she broke into a pretty smile.

  “Okay, I want details. What’s going on with you? He’s so hard to read.”

  I laughed because I knew exactly what she meant. “He’s my Mr. Mysterious.” I let myself get into it, giggling and talking about Nash, until I felt Marcus brooding. Listen, dude, it’s our cover.

  “So, we have to get lunch while we’re up here,” Kristina said as she took an exit into Medford. “You don’t have to go straight to the mechanic’s, right?”

  “Lunch it is.” I could hear Marcus complaining, but I wasn’t sure why. Probably Nash. Or maybe because I was spending time with Kris, and away from him, not that I could get completely away from him.

  Despite that, I had fun with Kris. Life felt normal for two hours.

  The
n, later, after I picked up my own car, it felt too quiet without Kris or Marcus talking. Everything came crashing down. It’d gotten dark and I felt encased inside my car, cut off from the outside world.

  “Still upset?” I asked him.

  Ah, no. Just giving you space.

  “Really?”

  I couldn’t feel his emotions as much as usual. As I drove home, I thought about what it would be like to be stuck in someone’s head. We were both quiet then.

  At home, my thoughts turned to the guitar, hidden in my closet. Maybe it was Marcus thinking about it. I retrieved it and sat on my computer chair. He must have been dying to play. We went from one song to another with him playing and me listening. “Summer of Sixty-Nine.” “Stairway To Heaven.” (So cliché!) Some Greenday. “Hey There Delilah,” one of my faves. A few that sounded like Bruno Mars. I loved listening to him play and sing. He wound down and his playing sounded like mindless strumming.

  Someone knocked.

  I jumped, then froze. Music played out in the house but I hadn’t heard it over my own. I could pretend I’d been listening to music too, but I knew it didn’t sound the same.

  “Yeah?” I asked, looking around for somewhere to put the guitar, on the false logic that I could hide it before opening the door.

  We’ll just fiddle the truth a bit. Say you’ve had it a while.

  Kristina stuck her head in, glancing around. “Who’s playing?”

  “Oh, just messing around.” I started with that one instead of the all-out lie.

  “That was you?” She looked astounded as she came in and sat down on my bed. “Wow. I didn’t know you could play.” Kris was all done up: hair conditioned into perfect, soft ringlets, her cocoa skin glowing, pretty glittery pink eye shadow, and barely there pink lipstick. She’d pulled off party girl and classy in the same look.

  “I’m learning, I guess,” I said, because that seemed like the best answer. “I saw this old guitar in a used store last summer and bought it on a whim.”

  “You’re pretty good.” She ran her fingers down the strings. “So, Kyle brought over some beer and wine to kick off spring break. We have some people over. Want to come out and join us?”