Forbidden

Chapter One

"Shanaaaaaaa..." William whined. "I'm bored."

She glared at him over the top of her book. "And what, exactly, would you like me to do about that, you whiny little git? I'm not here to entertain you, Hannigan."

He rolled over on the blanket that they'd spread out on the grass, flopping in a gangly sprawl across her lap and knocking her book out of her hands. She made a sound of disgust at his antics, but he only smiled sweetly up at her and batted his eyelashes. "Come on, Delecourt. Entertain me."

"Gods, Will. You're such a brat. Why do I even put up with you?"

"Because we've been best friends since infancy and you love me."

"I do not love you. I tolerate you." She tried in vain to shove him away.

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her waist in a tight squeeze. "You do love me. You've told me so."

Shana rolled her eyes. "Fine. But like the annoying little brother I never wanted."

"We're the same age, silly."

"Brat." She crawled out from under him, pushing hard against the solidity of his immovable weight. "Get the hell off! It's too hot to have your smelly carcass draped all over me."

He sat up abruptly with a pout on his lips, giving her a wounded frown as he ran a hand through his short-cropped, wildly tousled blond hair. "I do not smell."

With a fond smile, she reached out and ruffled his hopeless mop. "No, you don't. You're actually the cleanest, most tolerable boy I've ever known."

He beamed a radiant grin at her as his indignation fell away and then he leaned over to their picnic basket, rummaging through for a snack.

Shana gave a little sigh, like she'd done frequently lately, and though he ignored it, he noticed it anyway. She saw the same things he did. She saw how he'd changed and how the differences were more apparent by the day. He was stronger than Shana now. His emerald eyes caught the attention of those around him and he wasn't oblivious to the longing stares aimed in his direction. Even smack in the middle of the awkwardness of burgeoning puberty, there was no doubt in his mind that he would have to deal with that kind of attention for years to come. Add to that his uncanny ability to win people over and his devilish penchant for mischief and no one seemed able to deny him anything he wanted. It was both fascinating and completely irritating. He just wanted to be normal, damn it.

He glanced at his best friend from the corner of his eye as he pulled a box of cookies from the basket. Shana worried about him more than anyone else. He knew it. She did love him—just as platonically as she claimed—and he knew she only wanted him to be happy. William was rarely happy of late, though. He tried to hide it from her, but she knew him too well. She could see that there was something bothering him, something that he didn't want to share, even with her. And he could see that weighed on her mind. He'd always been able to tell her anything. And now that he wasn't sharing his every thought and feeling, she was watching him for any opportunity to swoop in and rescue him. He didn't need a savior, though. He needed to figure himself out. And his inability to do that was what currently had him perched on the edge of madness.

As she watched him stuff a series of cookies in his mouth, Shana smiled with fond exasperation and shook her head.

"What?" he mumbled around a mouthful of food. "Want one?"

She nodded and reached out for the box.

With a mischievous grin, he snatched it away from her. "Tough. They're mine." He couldn't keep up the selfish act, though, and held the box out to her again with a smile. "Oh, go on."