Aven's Dream Page 25

  “Terrific. Wait—she? I thought Jean was a guy’s name,” I said, imitating his French accent.

  “Genevieve is my other companion. We call her Gen for short.”

  I knew that I should have been worried about Fidatov, but now I was more worried about meeting Will’s companions. Darcy suddenly jumped up from where he had been at the foot of my bed, and I shook my head. So much for him being a guard dog—he hadn’t even moved when Will came in the window.

  “Your father is here,” Will said. “Would you like me to go?”

  I didn’t want him to go, but I also didn’t want to push my luck with my dad.

  “Maybe come back later?” I asked.

  I got up from my bed and walked to the window. Looking out, I saw my dad taking stuff from the backseat of the Volvo. As soon as he started walking toward the house, Will stepped to the windowsill, reaching back to touch my cheek. Then he was gone. When I turned back, I saw that Darcy had already abandoned me, and I followed him out the door toward the stairs.

  “Hey, Dad,” I said as he walked in the front door.

  He looked around, and I could tell he was looking for Will.

  “How are you doing, sweetie?”

  I’m being stalked by an immortal serial killer who showed up at my school today, I thought.

  “Fine.”

  “You want to get out of here for dinner?”

  I quirked an eyebrow.

  “Uh, sure. What’s the occasion?”

  “Dr. Pitt—David—asked if we wanted to have dinner. His son just graduated from UC San Diego, and I thought you might want to talk to him about schools.”

  I swallowed and quickly tried to hide my horror at the thought of going out to dinner with complete strangers.

  “Where are we going?”

  “The sushi place over on Pearl. We haven’t tried it yet.” He studied me. “Are you going to change?”

  I looked down at my outfit and thought, ‘Nope.’ Then I sighed and nodded, heading back to my room to sift through my closet. After a minute, I found a black scoop-necked top that was almost fancy, and at least I wouldn’t stain it if I got soy sauce on it. I liked sushi, but chopsticks were not my friends. Quickly I combed out my hair, put on some lip gloss, and grabbed the black ballet flats out of my closet.

  By the time I got downstairs, my dad had changed shirts and was waiting by the door. I smiled, but it was forced. I would have been so much happier if dinner had just been my dad and me.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  No, I thought, smirking as I realized that I never said half of what I was really thinking during the rare times my dad expected me to do something objectionable—like having dinner out with complete strangers.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” I mumbled under my breath as I went over to the closet to get my jacket.

  My dad opened the front door and waited for me to walk out ahead of him. I glanced around the street and felt my heart pump faster when I saw a motorcycle—Will’s—parked down the street. Farther down there was a black SUV—also his. I was relieved when my dad got into the Volvo without noticing the protection detail on our street.

  “How are classes?” he asked as he started the car.

  “Everything’s good, except Trig.”

  He frowned.

  “Do you think you’re going to need a tutor?”

  I winced.

  “I hope not. They’re expensive, right?”

  “Maybe I can find someone through the university.”

  “I could ask Will,” I said tentatively.

  My dad looked over at me.

  “He’s in Calculus this year—and he’s free,” I added.

  “You know, I tried tutoring your mom when she was finishing up grad school. She was stubborn and didn’t like getting ‘bossed around by a Ph.D. know-it-all’,” my dad said humorously.

  “Well? Were you a bossy know-it-all?”

  “Probably,” my dad laughed.

  He turned on the radio, and I looked back and saw a motorcycle and the SUV a few cars back. It made me wonder what Will would be doing if we had never met. My dad turned onto Pearl and parked on the street.

  “I probably should have let you drive—get some practice in before you take the driver’s test.”

  “Practice with my bossy know-it-all dad?” I teased.

  He looked across the street and saw someone.

  “There’s David. And that must be his son Tyler.”

  I swiveled in my seat and saw two men standing in front of a huge black Mercedes sedan.

  “Uh, Dr. Pitt’s in the same department as you? You should ask for a raise.”

  My dad laughed, and I opened my door and got out, trying not to feel so insanely nervous. It was stupid to get this edgy over a dinner, but with the way things had been going lately, I didn’t need any more surprises. We started walking toward Dr. Pitt, who looked a couple of decades older than my dad—graying and a little paunchy. The younger man standing next to him, who I assumed was his son Tyler, was a little taller than his father, but easily half a foot shorter than Will. He had wavy, light brown hair, shifty light-blue eyes. The slight smirk on his face—and the cocky attitude that he emitted like cheap cologne—told me all I needed to know. The college-age version of Jason Everett and Scott Adams.

  “David,” my dad said as we reached them. “This is my daughter Aven.”

  “Hi,” I said, holding out my hand.

  “Aven, you’re prettier than your picture.” I glanced over at my dad, wondering what picture he had at work. “This is my son Tyler. I’m sure you two will have a lot to talk about with you leaving for college next year.”

  “Hi,” I said as politely as I could.

  When Tyler Pitt looked me up and down, I dug my fingers into my palm and forced myself to keep smiling. Okay, so maybe my first impression had been right. Jerk. Creepy jerk.

  “Hi,” he said back in a mocking way that made me squirm.

  It reminded me of the morning Will had shown up at school in a super-psycho mood because of the sunny weather. At least he had had an excuse—he had been trying not to drain me of energy. Tyler Pitt on the other hand—he was one of those guys. The kind that lived to make other people nervous. I could tell. He reminded me of the character from some movie I couldn’t remember the name of. Prep school jerk playing games with girls to entertain himself. As we started walking toward the restaurant, I struggled to think of something to say. Inside, the host showed us to our table, and I prayed for a spot with individual seats, but instead it was a booth. I slid in, and my dad sat next to me, leaving me across from Tyler Pitt.

  “So you graduated from UCSD,” I said, trying to sound like I was interested. “Did you like it?”

  “Better than here. Anything’s better than here.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “I like Oregon,” I said sweetly.

  “You’ve been here since the summer?” he sneered. “Just wait. Another couple months, and you’ll be begging to go back to Southern California.”

  I smiled.

  “I doubt it.”

  Picking up my water, I looked out the window toward the street, and my heart sped up when I saw Will standing on the sidewalk watching me. Right now I wanted more than anything to be with him instead of the jerk I was sitting across from. Smiling, I lifted my fingers toward the glass and watched as Will took his phone from his jacket pocket. A second later my phone buzzed in my jacket.

  Does your dinner companion know you’re spoken for?

  I nearly laughed when I read Will’s text. Then my dad nudged me. I looked up and shrugged when I saw Dr. Pitt’s son was on his phone, too.

  “Aven, I’m sure Tyler would be more than happy to show you around the area while he’s in town,” Dr. Pitt said.

  I stared at him blankly, hoping someone would save me from the worst possible suggestion in the world.

  “I, um … I actually got to know the area really well over the summer,” I muttered. />
  I glanced over at Tyler, hoping to find the same sense of dread in his expression, but he was still on his phone.

  “Aven, to be fair, I think you spent most of the summer in the bookstore,” my dad said.

  Oh my god! I was going to kill my dad when we got home. When the server came over with waters, I let them order. I had already lost my appetite. Glancing over at Tyler Pitt, I decided it was best to put in a modicum of effort so that I didn’t embarrass my dad. But he was going to owe me for this.

  “So … what was your major?”

  That was what you asked people in college, right?

  “Poly sci.”

  “Oh. Are you thinking about law school?”

  “That’s what the old man wants,” Tyler said in the same mocking tone.

  I glanced at his father, realizing I wanted to stay out of the middle of whatever their father-son issues were. Tyler’s phone buzzed again, capturing his attention. A second later, he looked up again and grinned at me.

  “Some buddies are having a party this weekend in Portland. You interested?”

  Dr. Pitt cleared his throat.

  “What I meant to say was, do you want to go to the movies this weekend?” Tyler asked.

  I struggled to keep my face blank when I was really thinking: Hell no, crazy person!

  “I already have plans Friday and Saturday,” I said, shaking my head like it was too bad.

  I looked over at my dad again, trying to figure out why he was acting so freaking weird. It felt like he was trying to pawn me off on this sketchy weirdo.

  “Dr. Pitt?” I asked. “What kind of research do you do? Are you in the same field as my dad?”

  He laughed like I had said something cute, and I bit my lip to keep from glaring.

  “As chair, I don’t get to do as much research these days as the younger professors like your father who still have something to prove.”

  A light bulb went off in my head. Got it. This guy was head of the department my dad taught in. That was why my dad was acting so bizarre. They started talking about university stuff, and then the sushi arrived, giving me the perfect opportunity to sit and be quiet. Picking up my chopsticks, I silently begged them to cooperate. I glanced out the window, and Will was still there. For some reason it was oddly comforting not to be going through this completely alone. But as I watched him, Will’s expression changed. I felt a chill as I turned and saw a man being seated at the end of the bar across the restaurant. He had long, dark hair, but I couldn’t see his face. I told myself it could be anyone, not necessarily Vladimir Fidatov. Nervously, I reached out for the soy sauce at the same time as Tyler Pitt. When his finger brushed mine, he grinned at me.

  “Dad? Excuse me,” I said stiffly. “I have to use the restroom.”

  Jumping up, I headed in the opposite direction of the bar, past the host station to the other end of the restaurant, trying to get my breathing under control. There were two single-person bathrooms, and one of them said vacant. But just as I reached for the door, I felt a hand come down on my shoulder. Turning, I nearly screamed until I saw Tyler.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, not trying this time to hide my annoyance.

  He grinned.

  “You gave me the signal.”

  “What?”

  “You know, the signal,” he repeated suggestively.

  Before I could throw up in my mouth, Tyler was suddenly twirling around like a ballerina before his head smacked up against the door with a thump. I watched in shock as he crumpled to the floor. Then I looked up—and up—into the shining black eyes of a young man at least as tall as Will, yet even broader. With a shaved head, he was unquestionably beautiful, like Will, but his skin glowed with a color darker than dark chocolate. He smiled at me and held out his hand.

  “I’m Edmond,” the man said in a faintly British accent. “William sent me in his stead. He said it was likely he might dispatch your dinner companion if he were here.”

  Swallowing, I held out my hand.

  “I’m Aven. It’s nice to meet you …” and very surreal to be talking over the unconscious body of the son of the chair of my dad’s department, I thought to myself. “Is he going to be okay?”

  I motioned to the limp body between us.

  “Most certainly. Perhaps a terrible headache,” Edmond smiled.

  “I’m okay with that. Edmond, do you mind if I …”

  I pointed to the bathroom, and Edmond nodded. Stepping over Tyler Pitt’s slumped form, I opened the door and walked inside. After using the bathroom, I washed my hands and splashed water on my face. By the time I had patted my face dry, my phone buzzed.

  Now you’ve met Edmond.

  I sent a note back that, yes, I had met Will’s companion—right after he had knocked out the son of my dad’s department chair. When I walked out of the bathroom, Edmond smiled and gestured back to the restaurant. I heard Tyler moan from the ground.

  “He’ll be with you shortly,” Edmond said with a smile.

  “Keep him if you want.”

  I walked back toward the table, turning slightly to scan the bar. My heart leapt when I saw Will with his back to me. He was sitting at the bar in the same place Vladimir Fidatov had been. Or maybe seeing Fidatov really had been my imagination. I walked toward the table, slowing when I heard David Pitt talking about his son. I caught the words youngest, rehab, out of control, mother, scandal, graduate assistant.

  By the time I reached the table, my dad looked a little paler. He stood up, and I slid into the booth, looking to where Will was sitting. Then I carefully picked up a piece of nigiri with my chopsticks. David Pitt craned his neck, looking around for his son.

  “Did you see Tyler?” he asked me distractedly.

  I shook my head, and he mumbled something under his breath, snapping his fingers when he saw our server. He handed over his credit card and grumbled something about being in a hurry. Jerk. Like father, like son, I thought. Looking up, I saw Edmond cross the restaurant and walk outside, and a few seconds later, Tyler appeared from the back of the restaurant and began stumbling toward us. The server came up with the bill just as Tyler lurched to the table. His father stood up as he signed the credit card receipt.

  “Aven, it was very nice meeting you. I’m sure you’ll be hearing from Tyler.”

  I smiled and looked over at his son, who was swaying on his feet, and thought, I hope not. When Dr. Pitt turned, my dad stood up.

  “See you on campus, Aaron.”

  “Thanks for dinner,” my dad said. “Tyler, it was nice to meet you.”

  Tyler grunted as his father put his arm around his shoulder in a less than warm gesture. When my dad sat back down after they left, I gave him a look.

  “Were you planning to trade me for a goat? A few chickens maybe?”

  My dad scrubbed a hand over his face and laughed.

  “Sorry, Aven. I didn’t realize that Pitt was going to try to pawn off his ne’er-do-well son.”

  “Uh, yeah. Not to mention, I’m seventeen,” I laughed.

  “Remind me to tell your boyfriend that the next time I see him,” my dad said dryly. “He seems older, or more mature at least, than Tyler Pitt.”

  I bumped him with my elbow and glanced at the bar where Will was. If only my dad knew the truth about Will.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  I nodded, and he slid out.

  “Can I make it up to you by swinging by the store for ice cream?” he asked as he took out his keys.

  “I’m always willing to accept bribes.”

  I linked my arm with his as we walked out. Looking up, I got hit by a giant raindrop.

  “Have you thought about going back to California next year for college?” my dad asked as we reached the car.

  I looked across the car roof at him.

  “You get a discount on tuition in Oregon, don’t you?”

  My dad nodded as we got in the car.

  “Then I’ll stay in Oregon.”

  “You
’re such an easy kid, Aven.”

  I frowned at him.

  “If you want more of a challenge, I could start hanging out with Dr. Pitt’s son.”

  He laughed again.

  “No thanks.”

  My phone buzzed, and I looked down.

  Please tell your father I’m coming over.

  “Uh, Dad. Will’s coming over to work on the paper, okay?”

  “Anything’s a relief after Dr. Pitt’s kid,” he said humorously.

  My dad pulled into the parking lot of the shopping center. As I got out of the car, I looked around and saw the black SUV and Will’s motorcycle.

  “You said you were busy this weekend?” my dad asked as we started walking toward the store.

  I nodded. I hadn’t realized he had been listening to my conversation with Tyler.

  “Or was that just for Tyler’s benefit?” he added.

  “Actually, Sean’s new girlfriend Lizzie was going to drive us up to Portland to look for dresses.”

  My dad raised an eyebrow.

  “Is there a dance?”

  “Fall formal,” I nodded.

  I grabbed a basket.

  “Are you and Will going?”

  “That would be a no.”

  “Why not, kiddo?”

  “Too much humanity,” I said, heading for the freezer section.

  When I found the ice cream, I studied the selection critically.

  “Aven, what are you going to do in a five-hundred person freshmen lecture next year?”

  I pulled out a pint of cookie dough ice cream.

  “I don’t know. Portable sensory deprivation chamber?”

  “Ah, my little misanthrope,” he smiled.

  I shook my head.

  “I don’t hate people; I just don’t want to be around too many of them.”

  My dad sighed.

  “What are we having?” he asked.

  “I’m having cookie dough. You get your own ice cream, old man.”

  “Are you saying I need to dye my hair?”

  “What do you have?” I smirked, studying his hair. “Three gray hairs?”

  “Let me just tell you, Aven. Having a teenager ages you.”

  I punched him on the arm and left him in front of the ice cream while I went to pick up a few other things. When I got to the produce section, I caught sight of Edmond. If he was trying to be incognito, it wasn’t working. Like Will, he was noticeable. Nodding to him, I grabbed some apples and walked quickly to one of the self-checkout counters where my dad was waiting. On the way back out to the car, I saw Will, still leaning against the SUV. As we reached the Volvo, I watched Will get into the SUV.