Claire De Lune Read Online Free Page A

dad’s not out-of-town gone like your mom is. I mean, he deals with werewolf attacks all over the world, but mostly he just does that over the phone from his lab, like consulting with other governments and scientists and stuff, trying to get them to try his cure. He’s having an easier time talking people into things, now that he’s on the FHPA. Anyway, enough about my dad. He’s not half as interesting as you are.” Matthew dragged the popcorn closer to the couch and put one of the sodas on Claire’s side of the bowl.
    His words sent a sudden rush of heat through her that made it hard to talk. Claire sank onto the couch, leaving ahalf-cushion length between her and Matthew.
Close enough that he can reach me but not close enough to look desperate.
    Matthew held up a DVD case.
    “Is this okay?” It was some sort of action movie. The cover featured a sports car midexplosion.
    Claire nodded. She didn’t care what they watched—she was too hyperaware of Matthew sitting next to her. As casually as she could, Claire left her hand, palm up, on the cushion between them. The rough nub of the fabric felt good against the back of her itchy hand. Matthew shifted like he was just changing positions, but when he settled back, he was at least six inches closer to Claire than he’d been before. His arm was stretched across the back of the sofa, behind Claire but definitely not touching her.
    Claire’s breath caught, and Matthew looked over at her. She wanted to move closer, to be touching him. But wasn’t he supposed to make the first move?
    Oh my God, this is so stupid
.
I don’t
care
who’s supposed to start things.
Claire scooted over and leaned into Matthew. He stiffened slightly and Claire’s heart froze in her chest.
Oh, crap. Crapcrapcrap.
She started to sit up, to pull away.
    “Not a chance.” Matthew wrapped his arm firmly around her shoulder.
    Claire didn’t think he could see the enormous smile that spread across her face.
    Score one for the rule breaker.
    While cars flashed by on the television and police sirens blared from the surround sound, Matthew traced a pattern on Claire’s shoulder with his fingertips, which made her shivery in a distinctly not-cold way. The movie—which she hadn’t really been watching, anyway—became just a blur of images on the screen. All she could focus on was Matthew’s touch.
    When the closing credits popped up on the screen, Matthew turned his head toward her. “Claire?” he asked.
    “Yeah?”
    His face was inches from hers. In the dim light, his eyes flashed. “This is okay?” His voice was low, beckoning.
    Claire swallowed hard. “It’s very okay,” she whispered.
    “Good.” He leaned toward her, his mouth hovering close enough to hers that she could feel the heat of his skin.
    The door creaked open at the top of the steps. Claire pulled away from Matthew, but he caught her hand, keeping her close. The look of pained frustration on his face was so obvious that Claire had to fight back a giggle.
    “Claire?” Matthew’s father called down. “Your—er, someone is here to retrieve you.”
    “We’ll be right there,” Matthew shouted back. He looked at Claire, and a slow smile spread across his tanned face. “This is the only day in a month he’s been home. Next time, he’ll be bugging some reporter, instead of us.”
    “That sounds … better.”
Next time! He said “next time”!
“Or we could hang out at my house. Lisbeth’s not, like, overly invasive, or anything.”
    Matthew glanced up at the open door and sighed. He reached over and traced the line of her jaw with his thumb. “I’ll call you, okay?”
    Claire floated out to the car.
    “I told you nine on the dot,” Lisbeth said. “The sun’s already set.”
    Claire looked out at the streaks of pink and orange spread across the sky like fire. “I know,” she sighed. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”
    Lisbeth snorted. “Ahh, young love,” she teased.
    “So, how were your
plans?
” Claire shot a