The Haunted_Edit Copy 4-9-17 final final 5 Upload

he watched the little flame dancing across the white surface. His
marshmallow rapidly blackened and sprouted bubbles.
“You like them that burned?” Gunner asked through a
mouthful of white goo.
The smile resurfaced on Tucker’s lips as he clicked off the
lighter. “Yeah.” He stood up and reached over to hand me the
lighter. I kept my feet as far from him as possible, but when my
fingers brushed over his the familiar tingles spread through my arm.
I jerked the lighter away probably too quickly and
concentrated on effectively burning my 'mallow. Damn it, Tucker.
Why must you be so hot now? Why can’t you still be the dorky
bookworm I first met so I wouldn’t have to be in this situation at all?
When I was done, I passed the lighter back to Gunner, who
toasted the second layer of his marshmallow and then handed the
kitchen tool along. Tucker hadn’t even taken a bite out of his own
marshmallow yet, but he lit the flame again and held it up to the
blackened sweet. After a few moments, he pulled the lighter away,
watching the tiny blaze burning steadily. He held it up right in front
of his face, and my marshmallow turned to ash in my mouth when I
recognized the cold gleam in his eyes.
Before I could move, or swallow the ashes so I could speak,
Tucker moved the lighter back toward the fork in his hand. But
instead of focusing the flame on the marshmallow, he held it against
the skin on his wrist.
“Tucker!” Gunner shouted, jumping up. His half-eaten
marshmallow splattered against the carpet with barely a thump.
I dove forward at the same time and grabbed Tucker’s hand
that held the lighter. When I tried to pull it away from his wrist, I
was shocked by how much resistance I met. He was never this
strong; I could always pretty easily overpower him.
Luckily, the action of me grabbing him was enough to shake
him out of whatever the hell kind of trance he was in. He clicked off
the flame and blinked, staring first at me, and then at his wrist, which
was a horrible shade of red. His mouth hung open in this perfect
little “o.”
165