by Nicci Harris
“Four years,” Elise mutters, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re so . . . normal.”
“Yeah, right, I’m really not. I drink like a fish,” he says, glancing at the empty tumbler. “I lose my shit in confined spaces, I struggle with lots of stuff, Elise. I’ll tell you, though, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for my adoptive family. They went through hell with me for those first few years, but they got me a shrink, loved me like their own, and gave me pretty much anything I wanted."
I choke down my tears. I just haven’t had time to process this, and hearing it out loud, from Konnor’s mouth is too much. He spins to face me straight on, and touches my cheek, rubbing his finger over my lower lip as it trembles. “I won’t continue if this is too painful. Maybe go see Adolf, or go out on the balcony, while I tell Elise.”
“No,” I say. “I want to be here, it’s just hard hearing this stuff, Konnor.” I sniffle. “I don’t know how you talk about it with such—”
Konnor’s finger goes to my lips, cutting me off. “Duchess, I’ve spent hours talking about this with my family and my shrink.” He blows out a long breath before turning to meet Elise’s line of sight.
“Blesk feels differently about this. She always did. But that little girl kept me alive and gave me hope. When you have nothing, what you do have becomes so much more precious. That sweet voice and golden hair that reminded me of the sun. Without it, I would have forgotten what that colour looked like. I called her my sunshine, and that is exactly what she was.”
TWELVE: Konnor
When he gets riled up, he usually spits.
“Fuck you, Slater! You missed the last two practices and now you wanna play?” he grumbles, spraying me in my face with his saliva. With his shitty breath and snapping jaw, he adds, “You’re a real piece of work! Ya know that? Mess with my time, and now you show up like nothing happened.”
Nodding cheekily, I speak through my mouth guard, “Yes, Coach. Sorry, Coach.”
“Well, fuck you! Sit on the bench. Maybe I’ll bring you in later.”
I frown at him. “You need me out there! You can’t put David on the wing!” I yell, aggravated and pumping with adrenaline that’s completely rugby-unrelated. I gesture disdainfully towards the clumsy tool taking my position on the field.
He flips me off. “Fuck you, Slater. David is reliable—he’s been here week.”
What an arsehole.
“Fine!” I saunter over to the bench, slam my body down, and chew on my guard. I glare out at the field, revelling in the smell of freshly mowed grass, and the sounds of the lads rumbling. I really need to play; the past two days have drained me emotionally, and I need a release from my thoughts.
Blesk and Elise will probably still be asleep. I really wish she had slept in my bed and let me hold her. Goddamn it, I don’t want to go another night without her next to me. When I woke up spooning her yesterday, with her perfect curves fitted snugly against my body, her feet tangled with mine, the smell of her hair in my face, and our fingers threaded under her cheek, I remembered this whole other side of me. A better side. Her presence was like a breath of fresh air, and I hadn’t realised until that moment that I’d been suffocating without her. Then those beautiful, wide, brown eyes peered innocently up at me from my pillow... and it all faded away. I had to do a double-take before I realised her face told me a silent goodbye. It was fleeting and diluted, but I saw it.
That was the first time I saw it. Then, when she thought she was alone with her thoughts, I watched her from the doorway, watched her face fall and terror fill her expression. She wasn’t happy to see me. A little bit of that air was squeezed from my lungs, and panic ran through me, filling my head with scenarios of losing her, again. The third time was when she made every inappropriate muscle in me pulsate at the mere sight of her wrapped in my towel. Her long blonde locks were wet and wild. When I saw her glistening naked thighs, all I could think about was them straddling my waist.
Her freshly reddened cheeks made me imagine her under me, kissing me madly, with those plush pink lips I’m still dying to taste. I had to look away, feeling completely wrong to want her after what she just went through. Hints of that farewell flashed in her face throughout the day, but I will be damned if I let her run away from me. Not now. I just want to play rugby so I can have a few hours of peace. Anything to keep my mind off the image of them together.
“Get on that field, Slate. If David wasn’t such a complete waste of space, you would be benched for weeks.” Coach grabs my jersey and drags me up before fisting my hair and tilting my head to stare at him. “Don’t piss me off today.”
“Yes, Coach!”
I jog out to join Jax and the lads on the field, flexing my neck, cracking my jaw, and jumping up and down to limber up. I spend a few moments sizing up the arseholes around me, and after a good amount of time on the sidelines, I know who I can dominate. There is one guy I haven’t seen for a while on the opposing team, Max Butcher. Last time I saw him, he was playing for The Wedges at Connolly High. We both grew up in The District, however, his mates were never the kind I wanted to associate with.
Built like a brick shithouse, and fast like a mother-fucking six-legged cheetah. I will have to keep an eye on him. I pump the air and stretch, thinking about a million things: Blesk and her personal brand of perfection; Liz; how good Erik would look without appendages; what I’m going to do when I graduate, how to stop my little sister Cassidy from attracting the wrong kind of guys… kissing Blesk. Then the whistle goes, and I eyeball the captain as Jacob feeds the ball into the scrum. I feel extra twitchy, and I just want to run. As soon as Jonno has the ball, and my feet start pounding the turf, I think about only a few things.
The ball. Their defence. The line.
It’s like dodgeball, but instead of dodging balls I am ducking and weaving through incoming brick walls with fucking arms. It is a good thing I’m fast. Now Flex has the ball, and I am panting while my whole torso drags me forward to make sure I catch it on release. He tosses the ball, and I feel the thud of the leather against my chest. The ball is in my hands. My fists ache momentarily, but now I have only one thing on my mind.
The try line.
My eyes dart around checking the incoming traffic, and I dodge and swerve, jumping over the dickhead too inept to take me down. And now I have a clear run. My feet thunder the ground. But I’m a cocky prick, so I give the bleachers a shit-eater-grin before I dive, and drive the ball into the grass.
Try, bitches!
✽✽✽
“What a game, hey? Too bad they didn’t put me in earlier,” I state, smugly.
A small scoff escapes Jaxon, and I turn to grimace questioningly at him. “What’s wrong with you?” I ask as we collect our clothes from the lockers.
He huffs. “A lot.”
This room smells like bleach, and despite its fundamental purpose, I usually leave feeling like I need another shower.
I wander over to him and put my hand on his shoulder. “Thank you.”
He tenses and tightens his features disapprovingly. “That was fucked up!” He slams his locker shut.
My knuckles tend to agree.
“That layer of fucked up is just the icing on top of a layered cake of fucked up. Trust me,” I say.
He lowers his voice. “You gonna tell me what I saw down there?”
Offering him a regretful smile, I shake my head. “It isn’t just mine to tell. Can you understand that? I mean, mate, I get it, you deserve to know, but I can’t tell you without Blesk’s permission.”
“You called her a different name and she freaked out.” he states quizzically.
I take a long-exaggerated breath in and blow it out with as much ease as I can muster. “Yeah, because, we used to know each other, as kids, and I lost her, but...” I pause and contemplate my next set of words. “Now I found her. Her name was Liz then.”
He shrugs at me. “Is that all you can give me?”
I nod apologetically and pat him on
the back. “Yep.”
“And Erik?” he queries.
I wince and tighten at the mention of his name. “Erik can go to hell... I promise if you knew what he was doing to her when I got there, you might not have pulled me off.”
His face hardened. “I still would have. Even if it was just to stop you from going to jail.”
“Just…” I pause. “Trust me? Please.”
Jax’s sighs. “Beer tonight?”
“I have to get Blesk. I have a few things planned, but maybe we will come by the hall after.” After every home game, we host a postgame piss-up. We didn’t win, but had I been on field for the whole game I claim we would have. Dealing with the hubris of the Preston Retreat University lads tonight would challenge all of our egos, and I have never missed a party; but Blesk is my number-one priority.
Whether she likes it or not.
The song she wrote when she was eight, “One Day,” has inspired the plan I have for her, and by the time the sun drops behind the horizon, Blesk will be madly in love with me. I know her predisposition to run from complications. I know she is in constant turmoil over what happened. I am the living embodiment of that tragedy and memory, and with my presence comes pain. I know this. I don’t want to cause her any pain. But we are worth the pain, worth the struggle, worth the fight. This is fate … us presented on a silver platter. It’s worth the effort, dammit! That little girl loved me, as much as I loved her and Blesk is retreating due to that familiarity. I won’t let her. She needs to remember the love we shared, the joy we brought each other despite the darkness around us.
That song is about a promise we made to each other, that one day we would do all the things we never could, and that is exactly what we are going to do today.
Konnor: Duchess, where are you at the moment?
Blesk: At home.
Konnor: Define home?
Blesk: You aren’t my English teacher, Mr. Slater.
Konnor: Lol, your dorm or home-home?
Blesk: My dorm ☺
I scruff my still-damp hair with my hand as I approach the gargoyle-manned steps of her dormitory block. Several girls skip down the chipped concrete hazards to my side as I stride up.
“Konnor!” One of them calls out to claim my attention. I look around and my eyes land on a pretty, petite, blue-eyed girl from my class.
“Hey?” I search my memory for her name, clicking my fingers as if it’s on the tip of my tongue.
Which it isn’t.
“Willow,” she gestures to herself with a sweet smile.
“Right! Willow, hey.” I shove my hands into my pockets and look at her questioningly. “What’s up?”
She turns to her girlfriends who have halted a few steps below us, and says, “Go ahead, guys. I’ll meet you there.”
She turns back to me, a little more flushed than I’m comfortable with, and says, “I watched the game today. My brother played nine, Jack Man.”
“Right . . . yeah. It was a nice win,” I acknowledge their accomplishment like the classy fucker I am.
She bats her eyelids at me, and I immediately think of Blesk, diverting my glance up towards the entrance. I’m not interested in a flirting session, especially not with a student of mine.
“You played really well,” she coos. “My brother wouldn’t stop talking about you on the way home. He said if Max Butcher hadn’t been on field, you guys would have won.”
“Yeah, Max is pretty aggressive. Well, that’s a nice thing for your brother to say, so thanks, Willow. Congratulate him for me, will ya?” I try to be as polite as I can but feel increasingly impatient to get away and go up to look at those incredible brown eyes. “Sorry, but excuse me, I have to meet someone. Nice seeing you.” I jog up the steps.
“Konnor!” she yells up to me.
Take a hint...
I roll my eyes and turn back to her with a feigned smile. “Yes, Willow?”
She twists a strand of hair around her finger. “Will you be at the party tonight?”
“Maybe.” And with that I continue towards room seventy-three.
The carpets are ripped, the walls are narrow, and I know the rooms are poxy. Poor first-year university students. I knock on her door and wait, listening intently to the shuffling of feet on the opposite side. The door swings open and Blesk fills the doorway with a subtle grin, looking exceptional in jeans that hug her thighs and waist impeccably, and a black tank-top with butterflies on it. I sigh loudly, taking her all in. Every time I see her she is more extraordinary. The butterflies are appropriate because that’s what she summons within me every time I see her.
“Duchess,” I say and take her hand. “I hope you are free for the rest of the day because I have some things planned.”
She angles her head curiously. “And what might they be?”
I immediately stiffen, because if I tell her, she might object. “An array of various activities.”
“Intriguing... And worrying.” She giggles.
She just giggled. Fuck, yes.
Her demeanour seems different from yesterday, more resolved. Maybe she just needed some time to absorb everything and Elise’s presence and support obviously help. She seems visibly more at ease with her best friend around. I would be lying if I said I didn’t wish I could make her feel that kind of contentment, but her feeling that, despite its origin, is enough for me, and I’m thankful to whoever can fill that void for her.
I grin at her. “So, is that a, ‘Yes, Konnor, I will come with you, and engage in said various activities’?”
She chuckles again, and her eyes crinkle in the corners as she smiles sweetly. “Yes.”
She’s going to be madly in love with me by the end of the day.
“Awesome,” I say with way too much eagerness to be cool, but I don’t care. “But after, I’d like to meet Jax and the lads at the rugby party. Will you come?” She straightaway hesitates and begins to fidget with her clothes, so I grab her idle hand and pull it to my chest. “It’ll be fun. I should go, and I don’t want to go without you.”
She nods. “O… kay,” she says in that cute, mocking, adorable tone. “Did you win? Because I’d like to go to the party with a winner.” Amusement plays on her face.
“Ohhhh,” I bellow, laughter knocking at my chest. “My apologies, Miss Bellamy. You’re going to have to go with a loser.” Grinning and shaking my head in awe, I’m again amazed by the woman she has become, the funny, witty woman standing in front of me, smirking.
“Oh,” she says, mock disappointment drawing her brows together. “I can’t go then.”
Cheeky little thing.
“Well, unfortunately I’m going to have to insist,” I say, cocking my head at her. “And pull rank on you.”
“What?” She gasps, faking shock. “Mr Slater, that seems like a personal request?”
“Well, Custom Coaching. Remember?” I pull her hand and begin to walk down the hall with her.
“Wait . . .” she says, tugging back on my hand, and parking her heels into the carpet.
I spin. “What?”
“I need a change of clothes for tonight.” She grins at me like I should know this.
“You look great,” I say. Which gives me another excuse to roll my eyes over her fantastic form, the slope of her breasts, the tiny slither of midriff, the little gap between her thighs. “Yep, looking good to me.”
She smiles, tilting her head at my obvious perusal. “It’s a party, Konnor. I need something else to wear.”
“Okay, Duch, go grab something else. But don’t worry, you’ll still be the most beautiful girl at the party.”
Now who is the smooth motherfucker?
She beams at me and rushes back into her room. As she bounds off, I watch her jeans stretch around her incredible arse, and I want more than anything to peel them off her, bend her over, and see what that arse looks like pressed to my pelvis. I want her, and my heart rate, imagination, and cock take every opportunity to remind me of that. But if she was half as
beautiful, I’d still be just as persistent. That little girl made me feel like I was worth something, long after everyone else had forgotten me. It’s a complete bloody bonus that the girl I’ve been in love with for most of my life is the perfect mixture of classy, sexy, and sweet… an awesome bloody bonus.
Blesk skips out with a bag over her shoulder and a sweet grin from ear-to-ear. I grab the fabric strap of her bag and slide it off her shoulder, watching as it pulls the neck of her shirt down, exposing her soft naked collarbone. I turn and kiss the newly exposed part of skin and then hang her satchel over my shoulder. The taste of her skin makes every part of me vibrate, and that scent that is exclusively hers hits me like a wave of pheromones. She freezes and looks into my eyes as if shocked by my lips on her body.
“Sorry,” I murmur, holding my hand out for her to take.
“Don’t be,” she whispers, feeding her fingers through mine. “Just wasn’t expecting that.”
“Good, ’cause I lied.” I stick my tongue out at her. “I’m not sorry.”
✽✽✽
When I was nine, two days before she died and before I lost her, we made a promise that has never been realized. We wrote down three things on a piece of paper that we wanted to do together in our new lives. The kind of things children dream about when they have nothing to stimulate or fracture their purest of desires.
When you are alone, when you spend hours looking into the black or being afraid of the man who is meant to protect you, your wishes become unique to that of a common child. There was a cage, is a cage, which consists of very narrow, cold metal bars, and they are so closely set together that even a finger struggles to move through the spaces between them. We used to index-finger swear. I would put my finger in between the bars, and she would meet mine with hers. That was the only human contact I had for four years. That’s why it took me nearly two years before I could cuddle my new sisters and not feel awkward. However, once I felt their warmth, I’ve never taken touch for granted. If it was up to me, I would always be touching Blesk, touching Liz.