George is almost frozen, his expression unmoving.
"I hope you don't," he finally whispers softly, "for it will be even worse for you then."
"What?" I cock my head, "why worse?"
He stares at me, a dead-set expression on his face, and I suddenly know that he isn't going to say another word on this subject.
I try to prevent the terrible silence from occurring once more.
"George, can I put my head on your thigh and try to conjure a spirit spear again?"
I ask curiously, subconsciously hoping to prove him wrong. Hoping that I can do the near impossible.
He nods, then motions to the fountain.
"Sure! Maybe this will help out too."
With a dastardly handsome grin, he takes both of his hands and pushes me towards the water.
There is a splash, and then I am submerged in the clear substance, my jeans and shirt completely soaked. He steps in also, peeling off his shirt as if it is a second skin.
His tanned skin is so close, it sends sparks through my spine.
"Caleb!"
