Die for Her A Die for Me Novella by Amy Plum

Author:Amy Plum [Plum, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: english eBooks
Amazon: B009NFH6OG
Publisher: HarperTeen
Published: 2013-04-01T14:00:00+00:00

NINE

THE PARK IN FRONT OF KATE’S BUILDING IS silent on weekend mornings. Everyone must be sleeping in, I think. For an hour it’s only the pigeons, a pair of ravens, and me enjoying the spectrum of autumn colors, of the changing leaves in the early Saturday-morning chill. After a while the warm, yeasty smells coming from the bakery across the street draw me from my hideaway, and I take a break to buy a pain au chocolat, savoring the flaky pastry as the chocolate baked inside melts in my mouth.

I wait another hour before I see her come out the front door, and then follow her to—surprise, surprise—the Café Sainte-Lucie. The café owner greets her and gives her a table in the front window. To avoid all semblance of stalkerhood, I wander around the neighborhood for a half hour before returning to the café. I walk silently up to her table and slip into the seat facing her. She’s so caught up in The Catcher in the Rye that she doesn’t even notice. I wait until she turns a page and glances around the room, and when her gaze finally lands on me she jumps.

My heart turns a flip in my chest. Now that I’m looking into those incredible blue-green eyes, I find it difficult to resist touching her hand. I sort through my various masks, select a wry smile, and affix it to my face. “So, Miss America,” I say, “you thought you could pull a disappearing act and just abandon all of us? No such luck.”

I can tell from her expression that she is happy—relieved, even—to see me, and my pulse speeds up about ten notches. I run my hand through my hair and try to calm myself. I feel almost nervous. What the hell is wrong with me?

“What’s the deal with you dead guys?” she teases. “Are you following me or what? Last night it was Charles, and now you!”

Wait, what? “You saw Charles?” I ask, astonished.

“Yeah, he was at a club I went to near Oberkampf,” she says, her eyes narrowing as she sees my surprise.

“Which club?” I ask.

“Honestly, I don’t even know what it was called. There wasn’t a sign or anything. Georgia dragged me along with her and her friends.”

I have a bad feeling at the pit of my stomach knowing that Charles is still in Paris but avoiding his kindred. “Did he say anything to you?” I ask.

“No, I was just leaving when I saw him standing outside. Why?”

She looks puzzled. I decide to turn the conversation back to the reason I’m there. “So . . . when are you coming back?” I ask.

Her face falls. “I can’t, Jules.”

“You can’t what?” I prod. I’m not letting her off the hook.

“I can’t come back. I can’t let myself be with Vincent.”

“How about being with me, then?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. Where’d that thought come from? I chastise myself, and cover up by winking suggestively, and she laughs.

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