Free Tainted Energy (The Energy Series Book 1) by Lynn Vroman

to clear the fuzz, and stepped back. "With my dad and
everything, I need some time. Alone."
    "That's
not what I think, Lena." He squeezed my upper arms, staring over my
shoulder. I gave a subtle shrug to indicate how tight his grip was, but his
hands didn't relax.
    "Let
go." I shrugged again, but he kept his bruising hold on my arms.
    "I
can't be away from you that long."
    I tried
to sound mad, but his weird act made it come out as a whimper. "You need
to let go." My voice sounded frail, pissing me off.
    His face
lightened and his grip finally loosened. "I'm sorry. It's just that I need
to be around you."
    I wouldn't
admit he made my skin crawl for the first time ever.
    Stalker,
co-dependent boyfriend, anyone?
    "It's
complicated right now. Dad wants me home a lot."
    "I
know, sorry. It's our fight today...I can't lose you."
    Being
close to him was no less overwhelming than it was Saturday, when he kissed me. But
unlike then, dread sat in my stomach.
     
    ∞ ∞ ∞
     
    I ran
home. By the time I made it there, the bus had come and gone. Some kids still
hung out at the park entrance, smoking and practicing their insult skills with
a witty jab or a sarcastic uppercut. The laughter sounded soothing, normal.
    What I
wouldn't give for a little slice of normal.
    I forgot
all about the heightened coloring of my face and hair until one of the guys
came jogging up and tried to hit on me. The kid, someone I've lived by my whole
life but never bothered to remember his name, stuttered over his tongue until
the words, "You look hot," came skipping out. I smiled, but otherwise
ignored him, as my trailer came into view. On the cement blocks, sat my dad
smoking a cigarette.
    I forced
a smile. "Hey, Dad."
    "You're
late." The shaking in his hands was twice as bad as yesterday. They barely
let him lift the cigarette to his cracked lips.
    "Sorry..."
I said, swallowing. "A bunch of us hung out at the bus stop, talking for a
minute." I searched behind me for the boy and gave him a wave.
    "You
look different." He took another hit, rocking. "Like a whore."
    Oh,
no... "I–"
    "Get
in the house and wipe that crap off your face." Pissed that he was sober,
I'm sure. Once he found the color wouldn't come off, he'd probably take it out
on me.
    "I'm
not wearing makeup. I..." Think "…cut my hair this morning.
And my lips are chapped."
    He
flicked his cigarette to the ground. "Don't be late again. We got to get
the house in order."
    Damn.

 
     

     
    Tarek
    Dimension of Exemplar…
     
    P rivilege wasn't always a curse.
    Lena would say that every time they
came to Shalen Cliff. Right before she leapt off the ledge. He'd bitch every
time she surfaced in the pool below. Examine her body for broken bones.
    Exposure therapy, she called it.
Why fear death when they both knew death wasn't the end of life?
    He stood at the edge of Shalen, not
really watching the water lap against the bank. Darkness never blanketed the
place, not with the blinking orbs littering the sky. Some were stars. Others
were the energy of Guides patrolling the dimension. The recon branch of the
Synod's authority. Privacy didn't exist here, no matter how hard he and Lena
liked to pretend. They were all under the government's microscope.
    Tarek backed away from the ledge,
never a fan of heights. Like Lena said, there was nothing to fear. The Synod
would just recycle him again if he slipped, broke his neck. Let him have
another round of hell in Exemplar. Give him back all the memories he wanted to
forget–and cling to. But a slip would be bad, seeing as he was this close
to Lena again.
    He even
managed to scrub the crud off his body, detangle his hair...shave for the first
time in weeks. Wouldn't want to smell like a toilet and make a bad first
impression on the woman he loved. Well, it'd be the fourth first impression,
but who was counting?
    If the
Synod found out, it'd probably be his last.
    He
checked his communicator for the thousandth time. No message.
    Shit.
    If
Mateusz didn't come