The Reaping (The Fahllen #1)(43)
Author: M. Leighton

When we were a little over half way to the island, I got out my flashlight and shined it across the water to where the tiki torches lined the shore. I concentrated and, with a flick of my fingers, the first one sputtered to life. I shot Derek a cheeky grin and I saw the corners of his mouth twitch a tiny bit in response.

I shined my flashlight on the next one and brought its flame to life then the next and the next. By the time I trained my flashlight on the fifth one, I had begun to feel pretty confident. Too quickly, I flicked my fingers at its tip, the entire top of the torch exploded.

“Woops,” I said sheepishly.

“Yep. Got too cocky,” Derek said, shaking his head.

By that time, we’d reached the tiny island. Derek rowed ashore, much as Stephen had done, then got out to drag the boat further up the bank. He walked on ahead of me then stopped halfway up the beach area and turned back to me.

“Watch this,” he said. With a snap of his fingers, all the other torches sprang instantly to life. There were torches there I hadn’t even seen, ones that hadn’t been lit the night I’d been there before. And Derek had lit them all at once.

“How did you do that?” He was constantly amazing me with his power, his strength, his focus.

“I saw them as I walked up the beach and then, when I turned around to you, I just pictured them, just like I’d seen them, in my head.” Then, with a satisfied grin, he said, “Easy as pie.”

“Show off,” I mumbled, trying to keep the boat steady as I disembarked.

I was getting ready to step out onto the sand when Derek swept me off my feet and carried me up onto the beach. When he sat me on my feet, he let my body slide down his until the tips of my toes barely touched the ground.

The friction kindled a low fire in my belly, like contact with Derek so often did. I looked up into his handsome face, the torch light warming his bronzy skin and turning his eyes to shimmering pools of mercury.

There was a day’s worth of stubble on his chiseled cheeks. My fingertips itched to touch it, but I was on a mission and getting all hot and bothered this early wasn’t part of the plan.

“So,” I said, clearing my throat. “Are you up for some fireworks?” I saw Derek’s pupils dilate. He had no doubt mistaken my meaning, which I knew he would. I knew before I asked what his answer would be.

I wiggled myself onto better footing then stepped out of Derek’s arms. I unzipped my backpack and took out a blanket to spread on the sand.

“Sit down,” I said with a wink, chastising myself for being such a tease, but loving every minute of it. Then I turned back toward the shore and took out the rest of my goodies.

My father had bought a bunch of fireworks for the fourth of July, but the church had had a big production so we never got to use them. I laid them out in a row, fuses stretched out facing the blanket, and walked back to Derek.

“First rule of the night: there are no rules,” I said dramatically, using my best “Fight Club” voice. Then I giggled. “Just kidding. Whoever gets the most fireworks in the air and makes them explode before the fuse does wins.”

“Wins what?”

“Uh,” I paused. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Winner gets a wish.”

“A wish? What kind of a wish?” Something about the way Derek said “wish” made my stomach flutter.

“Whatever kind of wish you want,” I said softly.

“Hmm” was all he said.

I sat down beside him, close but not too close. “Let’s get ready to rum-ble,” I said, doing my very best Michael Buffer impersonation.

“I’ll go first,” I declared, focusing on the thing string trailing behind the first firework. I flicked my fingers and the fuse sputtered to life. Seconds later it launched into the sky. I concentrated on the little torpedo as it rose, but I wasn’t fast enough. It exploded into a shower of beautiful sparks before I could blow it up.

“Not bad,” Derek said. Without even sitting up, much less breaking a sweat, Derek lit the fuse of the next two fireworks. When they left the ground, they didn’t even make it ten feet into the air before they burst with a loud pop, sending colorful embers falling to the ground.

“Two–zero,” he boasted. “Looks like you’ve got some catching up to do.”

“Show off,” I mumbled, directing all my energy to the fuse of the next firework. As soon as it was lit, I immediately began to focus on the body of the projectile. Unfortunately, my concentration was too complete and too early; the firework burst while it was still on the ground, skipping and sputtering along on the sand.

“Ouch,” Derek said. “Still two–zip.” He sat up and pushed up the sleeves of his black Henley. “Now let me show you how it’s really done.”

A tiny frown of concentration creased his brow just before Derek flipped both his hands up, like a maestro leading his orchestra to raise their instruments. Instantly, all the remaining fuses lit and seconds later all the rockets launched into the air. Once they were airborne, Derek flicked his fingers out as if he was brushing the dust off something and every firework exploded simultaneously in a brilliant, glittering display.

The light show was dazzling, erupting into an amazing conglomeration of shapes and colors then falling to the lake and sand like diamonds from the sky. Though it lasted only a minute or so, it was awesome. It was like sitting beneath a galaxy of shooting stars as they breeched our atmosphere and rained down on our heads.

Acrid smoke hung in the air like a thick cloud. I looked toward the water, where the fireworks had lain. They were gone and my bag was empty. I turned to look at Derek. “Well that sucks.”

We looked at each other for several seconds before we both burst into laughter. It was the first time I’d laughed like that in a long, long time and it was the first time I’d ever heard Derek laugh, really laugh, at all. The sound was a deep, velvety rumble that made my toes tingle. I wanted to hear it again and again. As our mirth died off, I silently promised myself and Derek that I would make him laugh more.

Derek leaned back on one elbow and patted the blanket beside him. Obligingly, I leaned back, too. His face was relaxed, giving him a rakish, devil-may-care look that made my stomach contract.

Reaching out, he wound a piece of my hair around his finger, rubbing the smooth strands with his thumb. “One wish, huh?”

He was still grinning when he tugged my hair, urging me toward him. When my face was a couple inches from his, he leaned forward and nipped at my lower lip with his teeth.