Free Touched by Cyn Balog Page A

made a huge mistake telling me to leave her alone. Instead, all I could mutter was “Huh?”
    She pointed at the board over the counter. “I was going to get a number eleven. The Italian. But number six looks good. And then there’s number twenty.”
    I looked up at the board above the head of the guy at the register. It might as well have been in Chinese. I never bought subs here. “Uh—”
    “You’re the local.” She pointed at the paper-wrapped roll in my hands. “So I’ll let you make the decision for me.” She turned to the guy behind the counter. “Give me whatever you got him.”
    I grinned slowly. Revenge.
    At the guy’s confused look, I said, “You heard her.”
    He got busy packaging up her “sandwich,” as Taryn gave me a shy glance that made me a little remorseful for what I was doing. Just a little. I’d shaken it off, when suddenly my nose began to sting. Out of nowhere, I thought of pine trees.
    She asked, “What’s in it?”
    I pressed my lips together. “It’s a surprise.”
    “No anchovies, I hope.”
    I shook my head.
    She quickly peered over the counter at the worker. “Oh, and make mine without onions.”
    He looked at me, even more confused.
    I shook my head at him. “Doesn’t come with onions.”
    “Oh, good.” She looked down at her toes, the nails of which were now painted bloodred, a striking contrast against the paleness of her skin. I had the momentary vision of those pale toes against a backdrop of black-green water. “I’m allergic.”
    “Um,” I began, focusing on a rack of chips and pretzels behind her head, a display of car air fresheners shaped like pine trees dangling near the register, not sure where I was headed. “Fancy meeting you here.”
    The shy look returned. “I heard this place had the best subs in town.”
    I shrugged. As if I had any idea.
    “Really,” she said, as if she had just been caught in a lie. Then she smiled. “Actually, no, I followed you in here.”
    Too good to lie. God, I was liking her more and more. And she was not what I needed right now. What I needed was to find out what was going to happen to Nan, and try my best to prevent it. Alarms were blaring in my head, but instead of helping me, they were crowding out the You Wills, allowing my hormones to take control. All I could do was raise my eyebrows and savor this new thrill surging through me. It was the first time a girl was admitting to following me instead of running in the other direction.
    “I wanted to apologize,” she began.
    “Order up,” the man behind the counter said. He pushed the package over to her.
    I took it before she could put her hand on it. “Allow me,” I said.
    She grinned. “Seriously? Thanks.”
    It was the least I could do. “It’s nothing.”
    As I paid for the two packages, she inspected the net, poles, and bucket at my feet. When I collected my change, she said, “Look, do you have time?”
    I stared at her. Time? Did she want the time? I pointed to a clock on the wall.
    She shook her head. “No, do you have time for a talk? I want to explain things.”
    “Things? You mean the”—I stretched out my hands and wiggled my fingers—“touch?”
    She nodded.
    “Fine,” I said, but then I realized that if I had to be present when she opened that wrapped package, it wouldn’t be pretty. Didn’t need a vision of the future to know that. She might sic her scary grandmother on me. “After lunch? I’ll be at the pier.”
    “Great,” she said, chewing on her lip. “Again, I’m sorry for acting a little crazy, but you don’t know … well, I’ll explain it. After lunch.”
    She started to shuffle down the stony path in her flip-flops, cradling the fish in the crook of her arm, and then turned. “You really have no idea why you’re the way you are,” she mused. “That’s fascinating.”
    “What way am I?” I asked, amused by her attempt to understand me. Most people wouldn’t bother. There were so many easy ways to fill in that