Patterson, James - The Lake House by Patterson James

Author:Patterson, James [Patterson, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-06-28T01:52:49+00:00

57

IT WAS OZ, and she was unbelievably happy to see him. He was flying, hovering actually, in the clouds above her—and then he dived right past her.

Max followed close behind. “Watch your butt, bub!” she hollered. “I’m on it!”

She spotted Oz bouncing on a tree limb down below, and since she could see every particle of motion, it seemed as if he were bouncing in slow motion.

She landed on the same slow-moving branch. “Hey,” she said. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Likewise, I’m sure.”

Ozymandias reached out his arm to steady Max, touching her at the sensitive place between her wings and shoulder blades.

A kind of electrical jolt went through her, an amazing [192] shock of pleasure that made her a little dizzy. Hey! What is this all about?

She uttered an entirely involuntary whistle: “Whooooooh.”

“You’re flushed,” Oz said, concerned. “You okay? Max?”

Max felt her face and her cheeks. They were warm. “I had a fight with Kit,” she said. “It’s nothing. No biggie.”

“I heard.”

“We’ll get over it,” she said. “I can’t stay mad at Kit for very long. Nobody can.”

“Come on, Max. Why are you keeping big bad secrets? From everybody.”

“Can we forget it right now?” Max said, and turned away from Oz. “Just forget it.”

“Okay, okay.”

He plucked a spruce branchlet and stripped away the needles. He looked contemplative. He also looked incredibly beautiful, handsome, whatever. “I’m glad to be away from home. I hated it there. My mother was always selling interviews and appearances. She played the saint, the martyr, but she wasn’t.” He looked Max full in the eyes. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot. Just about every day. Every minute.”

Max caught her breath. So it isn’t just me thinking about Oz. Picturing him in my mind. Hearing his voice all the time.

As they looked at each other, she felt the same dizzying feeling she’d had when she’d been with him at the raptor center. Oz’s pupils dilated and contracted rapidly. His stare was superintense.

Max furtively grabbed the trunk of the tree and held on tight. Oh boy. What now?

“I’m feeling kind of crazy,” Oz told her. “But I think I like it.”

[193] “You think you do?”

“I know I like it. And I know I like you an awful lot, Max. I always have. Almost since we were babies.”

Max could barely contain the wild emotions she was feeling. She wanted to laugh out loud, only she didn’t think that would be the right thing to do.

But what was the right thing? What was she expected to do now? She was supposed to be so damn smart. Well, how did this work?

She wanted to touch Oz, to kiss him on his sweet mouth. And just about everywhere else.

She wanted to hold him so bad, and to be held.

If he feels it, too, he’ll reach out for me. Max concentrated on that simple thought.

Do it, Ozymandias. Reach out and touch me. Do it now. Plee-ease.

Please kiss me, Oz. Then I’ll know I’m not crazy. Or at least that we both are.

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