All Chapters of Intercrossed : Chapter 1 - Chapter 6

“This is not Australia.”“You're a genius, Maryelle—too clever for the world,” my mother deadpans.“Mom, what the heck! You said we were going on a summer vacation. You were taking me to Australia and Rome. Again, I have to point out that this place looks like neither.” I hadn’t been suspicious when our plane landed in Atlanta's Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport. But I grew wary when we exited the plane, and my mother walked me to the car rental kiosk instead of the next gate for our supposed connecting flight. It turns out the trips to Australia and Rome were nonexistent. No wonder the ticketing agent had looked at me crazy when I asked her if there were any dos and don'ts I should follow in the land of down under. It also explains the dirty look she gave me as she pulled on her skirt to cover more of her knees.We pull into the driveway of an old home. Really, calling it old is a compliment. The house is three trash bags away from being a dump. The building has a broken door,

In the club, the music pounds against the speakers like an angry woodpecker trying to demolish a tree. Al yells her order over the noise, and the bartender hands her two shots in return. She shoves one in my direction, and before I can decline, a guy jumps in front of me and shoves the glass filled with dark-gray liquid away. “She's not allowed to drink that,” he says to the bartender, who nods and reaches for the glass. I grab it before he does and turn to stare at the boy with the audacity to tell me what I can and cannot drink. I immediately recognize him. It’s the same guy Gaston fought earlier. Holy mother of all that is hot! The boy—excuse me, man—in front of me looks even more gorgeous than he did earlier. Under the flickering lights, his face is chiseled to perfection, with a square jaw, high cheekbones, magnetic sapphire-blue eyes, and a set of full yet firm lips pressed into a tight line. I avoid staring at the muscular torso hiding behind the gray shirt and dark jeans he's

I come out of the bathroom, thankful Martha left my clothing from yesterday both steamed and smelling like fabric softener. The woman should be nominated for sainthood. I'd call the Vatican myself if I had their number. I'm positive I barfed on myself last night, but confirming it will cause me to die from embarrassment, so I won't. I step back into the room, and their bickering stops as their eyes land on me. Gaston has a smirk on his face, and Phantom looks peeved. “Tell this idiot you're not leaving with him. He seems to think you are.” Phantom glares at Gaston.“Well, that's because I am leaving with him.” “Like hell you are! I forbid it!”I give him the death glare, and it gives me a headache. Damned Edge potion! “I'm sorry. I think you have me mistaken for one of your subjects. So in case you haven't figured it out by now, I don't take orders from anyone.” Phantom huffs. “Um... Maryelle…” Gaston says, obviously still enjoying Phantom's irritation. “You are his subject, and he