“Would you be offended,” he whispered, “if I asked you to come up to my bedroom with me?”

I opened my eyes and tried not to choke. I had no idea about my past life, but I was more than sure a boy hadn’t asked me up to his room since my death. Of course, there was a first time for everything. So I answered in the steadiest voice I could.

“That doesn’t offend me. And, yes, I’ll come up. But just this once; don’t expect it to become a habit or anything.”

“I wouldn’t count on it if I were you.” Joshua moved back and flashed me a wicked grin.

I rolled my eyes, all the while telling myself, Don’t let your jaw drop. Don’t giggle. Just be cool.

“Let’s go, Joshua,” I sighed, trying my hardest to project an aura of total nonchalance.

He laughed and turned to climb the stairs. Whatever amount of “cool” I demanded from myself, it wasn’t enough to stop me from shivering once more as I followed him.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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Chapter

Eighteen

The first step into his bedroom transformed me into a mass of giddy, spastic fidgeting. Although Joshua left the door slightly ajar, the whole room was a heavy black except for my creepy glow. So while Joshua fumbled around, I forced my hands together behind my back and prayed that my nervous squirming wasn’t visible in the dark.

I heard a click, and the dim glow of lamplight bathed the room. Joshua stood across the bedroom from me, his hand on a small glass lamp that looked like an old miner’s lantern. He looked up at me with an expectant smile, but his expression quickly turned amused when he saw my stance. I stood with my hands nearly glued together behind me, rocking ever so slightly on the balls of my feet.

I flashed him a tense smile. Likely, an unconvincing one.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Yeah.” For some reason my answer came out as a high-pitched yip. I instinctively started coughing to cover the sound, and Joshua burst into laughter.

“You know, Amelia, I don’t think I believe you.”

“It’s just . . . it’s, well, my first time in a boy’s room.” Then I shrugged in a little gesture of qualification. “I think.”

He laughed again; and, in just a few short steps, he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around me. He laid his hands upon mine, which were still clutched behind my back, and pulled me to him until we were pressed against each other.

We were now as close as we had been when we’d kissed. Maybe even closer. My whole body felt as if it might explode, gloriously and uncontrollably ignited. My breath quickened into a near pant; and when it did so, something entirely unexpected occurred.

I breathed in heavily and felt my head swim from the suddenness of an actual, physical sensation.

Scent. A fantastic scent—sweet and musky—rushed at me. Not delicate, but appealing nonetheless. And vaguely familiar.

It took me a moment to realize the scent was the same one I’d encountered earlier today when I’d nearly collided with Joshua in the cafeteria.

I stared up at him in delight. His answering smile was surprisingly shy. Gently, he unclasped his hands from mine and released me.

Immediately, the scent disappeared. I dragged in another heavy breath. Nothing. Empty. Void. I exhaled slowly, trying to retain the memory of the scent while also trying not to let my breath sound like the disappointed sigh it threatened to become.

Luckily, Joshua didn’t notice. He leaned back against one of the posts of his bed and crossed his arms against his chest. Once again he looked expectant, perhaps waiting on my assessment of his room.

I clutched my hands, this time less tightly, and began to look around me.

As one might expect in so old a house, Joshua’s bedroom was small, but cozy. The room was mostly dominated by his dark, four-poster bed. Across from me, a large window faced south, looking out onto the night sky. Beneath the glass, a broad window seat, covered in inviting blue cushions, beckoned.

Then there was the most striking feature of the room: the columns of black, wooden bookshelves that lined the walls. The bookshelves filled the room so completely that I couldn’t see an inch of wall space except for a bit above the bed and a narrow border around the window.

Despite the amount of furniture in it, the room felt strangely uncluttered. Its only real disorder came from within the bookshelves. The shelves were literally overflowing. They were lined with rows upon rows of books, then books stacked on top of the rows, then more books in front of the rows. Leather-bound leaned against paperback. Creased and much-loved covers sat next to fresh, ready-to-read ones. A lifetime’s worth of books crammed into the room of a teenage boy.

I walked over to the closest shelf and looked back at Joshua with raised eyebrows. He continued to watch me without speaking, but a slight smile twitched at his lips. The expression was as close to permission as I would get and so I let my fingers trace lightly across some of the spines.

“You have way more books than I did, Joshua.”

He shrugged modestly. “Just a few.”

“I know these titles,” I muttered in amazement. “Lots of them.”

“I had a feeling you might.”

Something in his tone made me turn to look at him again. His expression had softened even further, especially his eyes. The way he now stared at me . . . it made me uncomfortable and happy at the same time. I couldn’t think of a word to describe how I felt. Jubilant, maybe, came closest.

Before I could ask him what he was thinking, he cleared his throat and shifted his weight against the bedpost. He uncrossed his arms and tucked one hand into his jeans pocket while running the other through his hair: his classic, awkward pose. It was utterly endearing, as was the blush that suddenly flooded his cheeks.

“So, what do you think?” He gestured with one hand to the room. In turn, I gave him my brightest smile. I had just enough courage to make a confession of my own.

“Before I give you my opinion on the room, I really should tell you—the scenery doesn’t really compare.”

“Compare to what?” he asked, frowning. I ducked my head and sighed. Then I looked right into his lovely eyes as I spoke.

“You,” I said, my voice surprisingly bold, even to my ears.

Joshua’s face set again into that intent stare. Several moments passed, each one almost palpable in the charged atmosphere. Then, ever so slowly, he raised one arm and held out his hand. I reached out, too, and placed my hand into his.

The feel of his touch flared across my skin. This time the warmth spread faster, as if each renewed touch intensified the effect. And this time the fiery tingles now reached strange places on my skin, places that made my breath quicken until it was audible. Joshua must have experienced a similar sensation, because he closed his eyes and let out a low moan.

That sound was enough for me. I grasped his hand tightly, almost fiercely, willing the tingles to fade. Within only seconds I could feel his actual skin, rough and warm against mine.

I closed my eyes, too. Still holding on to him, I moved my hand across his and up his arm, to his shoulder. I began to draw closer to him until I stood only inches away from his body. Finally, I rested my hands upon his chest. Once I lost contact with his skin, everything went numb. But for once the numbness was worth it, to be this close to him again. I kept my eyes shut, even when he pressed himself closer to me.

“Amelia?” he whispered, moving his lips right next to my ear. “Can I ask you something?”