He hadn’t confronted her earlier, when he knew she was following him, because he didn’t imagine even fearless Delilah would have the guts to climb the fence. Before he could think better of it, he was out the door, pushing through Gate and chasing her down the street. “Delilah!”
She froze, turning to face him with a blush that could have set his mouth on fire. “I’m sorry! I just. . .” She blinked, shrugging as if she’d lost her words. “I just wanted to know if you still lived here.”
“I do,” he answered, confusion giving way to another feeling entirely when she met his eyes. Hers were green, and she had a dusting of freckles across her nose. He should have been focused on the fact that Delilah absolutely did not belong there. He should feel protectiveness for House welling inside him instead of the odd urge to pull Delilah closer. Nobody had ever dared scale the fence that surrounded House before, and certainly no one had dared to get this close in years. This was completely new territory for Gavin, talking to another person while House silently vibrated behind him.
He doubted Delilah could feel it from where she stood, but he could.
But with her so close, Gavin had to work to keep his attention from her mouth: It was soft and pink, with a top lip as full as the bottom. It was a mouth made for trouble, lips to be caught between teeth. Over the past six years, and with only tiny glimpses of her from afar when she was home over school breaks, he’d imagined how she might be growing up and, recently, that involved some interest in what it might feel like to finally kiss Delilah Blue. Standing here on the sidewalk in front of his house, he was closer to her than he’d ever been.
“Don’t follow me home,” he said as gently as he could. “Please, Delilah, don’t ever follow me home again.”
“I was curious,” she admitted, adding, “Then with the gate. . . I just wanted to know you were okay.” Her jaw had set with a familiar twist of protectiveness.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Gavin asked, eyes not quite meeting hers.
Delilah shifted her weight to peek at House behind him, as if the question alone might send it rising up from its foundation. “People talk about this place,” she said.
“People talk about you,” he replied.
“People don’t think I’m haunted.”
“Bet you wouldn’t be insulted even if they did.” He hadn’t missed the things she doodled in the margins of her English book.
“No, I wouldn’t.” They stood at an impasse for a moment before she added, “Is it haunted?”
“Do you think it is?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said, and he could tell that she really didn’t. “I might not know exactly why it looks the way it does, but I’m not blind, Gavin. Look at it.”
He didn’t need to turn and look at his house; he knew it better than anyone in the world. “I like that you wanted to make sure I’m okay, Delilah. I promise I am. Please, don’t do this again.” That wasn’t at all what he wanted to say, but he knew it was for the best. Delilah couldn’t come this close again, and she definitely couldn’t come inside.
Her eyes narrowed, and for a minute she looked fierce and determined. He couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. For a heartbeat, he hoped she would shove him, because it looked like she wanted to, and he’d always wanted to know how such a forceful touch would feel. Delilah looked at him a beat longer and then turned and walked away.
Gavin didn’t know what to expect from Delilah the next day. He’d always known the rumors about his house, how it was haunted, or the site of the gristly murder of his entire family or—his personal favorite—the unofficial headquarters for all of Kansas’s satanic rituals. He didn’t know if anyone actually believed any of the stories, but even if they didn’t, the terrible possibilities kept people away from the place.