by Nicci Harris
Promise #1 We will go on a Merry-Go-Round.
The entrance is nothing if not grand, with its natural tree pillars that seem skyscraper-high, and the yellow flags that flap from various limbs. Decades of work went into forming the trunk arches that act as a threshold into the maze made of hedges and oak. Blesk and I walk hand-in-hand through the dirt into the labyrinth. Children shoot past us, almost bowling us over, with water pistols and happy, cheeky faces. Other than the accompanying adults, we are the only ones over the age of twelve.
She grins at me and shakes her head like I’m crazy. “Where are we going?”
I point into the labyrinth as children whiz past, getting a mouthful of water from a nearby Water Soaker. “In there.”
She laughs, and her smile is so beautiful. My heart feels too tight, too in awe of those lips and the way they curve. “Okay, let’s go,” she says, tugging me in.
When we hit the first green grass fork, she looks at me mischievously and says, “Beat you to the centre!” Then she disappears to the right, giggling as she bounces away. I duck off to the left, jumping over kids as they scoot around my legs. I halt in front of another fork: left or right? I dodge off right and sprint down a weird row of water fountains. Hopscotching over them and around a statue of a goblin, I suddenly reach a complete dead-end. She can’t beat me. I shove what looks like a perfectly normal wooden wall in front of me. It opens.
As my feet jog carefully, attempting not to collide with any little people, I listen for any sign of Blesk. Then I hear her voice not too far away, but I’m in a tight hallway of hedges now. Kids sound riotous in this section of the maze, but their sudden absence around me seems eerie. Then I hear a splutter of laughter and I’m running, picking the directions by chance and following the noises. As I corner a grass mound, I come to a screeching stop, and find myself standing in front of it. Alone. Silent. It is as awesome as I remember
Goblins, unicorns, archers, and centaurs, all of which can be ridden, stand under the roof of the labyrinth’s main attraction—the merry-go-round. I’m encircled by dark green hedges that are lit up by the colours beaming from the carousel.
The air is crisp and distinct as it blows through the channels and arches, and the silence seems to conflict with the vibrancy of the ride. I frown and wrinkle my nose as I dart my eyes around suspiciously. There is a strange nonattendance of children. The whole carousel is empty, shimmering and waiting. There is only me halted in front of it. Then out of nowhere a kid appears and stares at me.
An abrupt chuckle escapes him. Then the kid pulls out his gun and squirts me in the face. My jaw drops as the noise of their feet surrounds me, quickly then followed by the contents of their pistols. Before I know it, I have a crowd of children running at me, spraying me with water. She appears from behind the carousel as her minions fly out and soak me.
She is giggling the kind of giggle that will flash in my mind the moment I take my last breath.
“You got here first, hey?” I yell to her and shake my wet hair like a dog.
Blesk sticks that tongue out and nods innocently. "Apparently kids will squirt anyone you ask them too." She walks towards the rear of the carousel and grabs a pole twirled with ribbon to pull herself up onto the platform. Before I know it, she has swung her leg over a unicorn and is riding it, a big grin pulling her cheeks back. All the kids follow, filling spaces quickly. I jog up as the carousel begins to spin and jump on, moving around the objects to find a spot beside her. I sit on the side of a centaur paired with her unicorn and watch her smile at the eager and noisy children. She offers me her attention and, in that moment, looks so much like Liz that I fight the tears that are threatening to come out.
I mouth, “You’re beautiful.”
She blushes an exquisite colour of pink, and says, “So are you.”
Promise #2 We Will Dance Together
Afterwards, I had the best and worst lunch date of my life—hot dogs from a street stall, which Blesk suggested. It was the best because it was without a doubt, the juiciest Italian hotdog I have ever eaten. The worst, because it was prepared by a guy named Kim whose wandering eyes on Blesk made me a little less fond of him. I wanted to take her somewhere with a view of the Stormy River, where a waiter would pull her seat out and treat her like a lady. But she just wanted a hotdog. . .
I fucking love that.
After a stroll hand-in-hand down the docks, watching her skip instead of walk, watching the sun flicker through her flowing hair, we head to our next destination. This is how I want every moment for the rest of her life to be—skipping before walking, laughing without consideration. We are not too far away, and this was my most risky of date ideas. Nothing too grand, or expressive, or private, but important to me.
One night while I was asleep, my sisters Cassidy and Flick discreetly woke me in bed, and all three of us climbed out my window. I was the middle child but acted like the youngest until I was about twelve. Losing four years of development will do that to a kid. What blew my mind was the act of climbing from the window, that there was a window to escape from, and to me it was a portal, a way into the world that no one could take from me. I used it often after that night. As often as I could. Not running, chasing, or escaping anything, just because… I could.
That night a friend of Flick’s was busking down at the docks. They usually only went together, my new sisters. That night I officially became one of the Slater kids… they wanted me to be there and experience their harmless childish rebellion. Flick is the eldest of us three, sauntering instead of walking, swaying her hips and loving the attention she gets. She is a crazy, feisty, affectionate, headcase and I wouldn’t have her any other way.
Cassidy is the youngest of us, adorable, but with so much weird energy. It was a beautiful night, with the smell of the ocean and the stars overhead. I played the brother role they cast me in, and it felt right. The girls bounced and teased me, but it was all just good fun. Their faces that night were filled with freedom, the pure kind one can only really appreciate when they’ve been stripped of it. Their hair rushing in the wind, silly faces, jumping on park benches, pushing each other and acting like exactly what they are—children. It is still one of the best nights of my life.
Today, I have taken my best friend… my everything back to the exact spot I first remember feeling true freedom. Dennis isn’t here to play for us on the dock this time; but instead, we have some bohemian dude playing guitar. I sit and pull Blesk down with me. She shivers and I wrap my arm around her shoulder, rubbing her affectionately.
I study her face while she watches him and appreciates his talent, giving him the respect he deserves. Blesk is loving this. Her smile is content and sweet, and it makes my heart beat a little faster. I grab her hand and attempt to pull her out in front of the crowd, linking our fingers together and watching her eyes widen. She tries to park her heels into the ground and tugs away gently in protest. I lock eyes with hers and tilt my head slightly, pleading for her to trust me. Her body feels so soft beneath her shirt as I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her against me.
“Trust me,” I whisper as I begin to dance with her and… she lets me. It’s a weird rhythm to dance to, but we laugh, and I take responsibility for our inadequacies. I lead her and watch as her eyes shuffle through emotions like a deck of cards: nervous, excited, happy, sad, happy again, giddy, and the last could be mistaken for love. But if not, I’m getting close.
Promise #3 We Will Scream As Loud As We Can
We watched the sun drop behind the horizon and then made our way back to my apartment. While waiting for Blesk to come out of the bathroom, I begin to feel nervous about her meeting the rugby lads. I swig on the bourbon in my tumbler, and the heat from the alcohol warms my body. I don’t have the most valiant reputation when it comes to women, and the last thing I want is some Arsehole saying something about my past indiscretions to Blesk. For her sake and mine. She isn’t just Blesk to me. Every time I look into her eyes I see glimpses of that fragil
e little girl looking back at me. I wasn’t able to protect her then—from her father, from her isolation—and it tore me apart. So now I will destroy anyone who does anything less than make her smile. I owe her that.
The door clicks open and my train of thought is immediately on hold. The sight of her slides pleasure through me not unlike the liquor in my hand, warming and soothing. She looks bashful, crossing her feet in front of her while I ogle every inch of her flawless appearance. Her little black dress clings to every curve, treading boldly on the edge of too short. There are little pink ribbons at the bust line, just to remind any guy who looks at her that she’s sweet. Her hair is pinned up loosely and every inch of porcelain skin from neck to breasts is exposed. I love that part of her body, it’s so delicate. Her pulse beats within her throat, and the need to kiss it is overbearing. Her heels are pink, with thin silk ties that wrap around her calf.
“Wow… Fuck, Duch. How am I meant to be a gentleman when you look like that?”
She giggles, rolling her shoulder up to hide her blushing cheeks.
“It isn’t funny. I’m serious.” I jump up, but I’m almost unsure if I should approach her yet. I want to peel that dress off her and watch every inch of her slowly become exposed. Then I want to taste every little dimple, curve, and soft portion of her skin, and then make love to her in those heels. I gulp and try to think about something else—my coach, the lady at the coffee shop with the whiskers . . .
“Do you want me to change?” she laughs.
“Hell no! I mean yes, I mean… no.” I walk over to her and peer down then kiss her forehead. “You look extraordinary.” She leans up and kisses my cheek. Her lips part slightly as they linger on my skin, and when she pulls away, our eyes lock inches from each other. I drop my eyes to watch her lips as she breathes, long, deep breaths that summon every part of me.
She pulls away to give us some much-needed distance and bats her lashes at me.
“You’re gorgeous, Konnor.” I’m standing like a statue. If I let so much as one muscle do what it’s pulsing to do, her breasts would be pressed against my chest, my tongue would be in her mouth, and I would be swallowing her moans. I shake my head and inhale. I thread my hand through her long fingers and we exit my apartment together. Adolf gives me a gracious smile as we stroll from the rear elevator across the foyer.
“Mr Slater, Miss Bellamy, enjoy your evening.” He raises his hat and tilts his chin.
Blesk beams at him. “Thank you, Adolf, and you, too.”
I love how polite she is.
I wait until we walk past and then turn, gesturing to Blesk’s back, and I cover my heart with my hand and smile. Adolf nods, mouthing, ‘Look after her.’
✽✽✽
The hall is technically off campus, however, it is walking distance from my apartment and most dormitories. By the time we get there its already buzzing with the lads, and a few of them are obviously already a little pre-partied. Probably started drinking at lunch time, not that I can judge since I take a flask with me almost everywhere, I go. Strangely, Blesk doesn't seem to judge me based on my drinking habits, which is usually the first thing girls share their objectionable opinion on.
We walk in, fingers thread together, and the first sign of trouble hits me square in the face. Pemberton scowls at us from across the hall with a look that would crush most men. She is wearing a red halter dress that screams give me attention, with a plunging neckline that flashes everything except nipple, and a slit up to the seam of her underwear. She looks hot. But Blesk is hotter, there is no question. Curvier, softer skin, with a natural glow, and an authentic beauty. Pemberton was always too fake, inside and out.
I whisper under my breath, 'why the hell is she even here?'
Blesk's brows pull together. “Because she’s in love with you, Konnor."
I nearly cough with laughter. “She doesn’t love me, she hates me. I was an accessory.”
She rolls her eyes. Sassy Blesk. I like Sassy Blesk. “Sometimes girls don’t know how to show you that. She does. I can tell. Be nice to her, please.” I want to tell Blesk what horrible things Pemberton said about her. Yet, I want more than anything for her to smile, so I never will. Even if it means I’m the bad guy.
“Alright I'll be nice, Duch,” I say and run my knuckles down her cheek.
She blinks at me a few times. "Boys just don't get girl cues."
I shrug. “You're kinda enigmas." And then stroke her cute button nose with my index finger.
The night passes by and Blesk gets along seamlessly with everyone I introduce her to; she is charming and witty. Although her specific variety of perfection does attract irritating amounts of attention from a lot of Arseholes in the hall, she stays by my side, and she doesn’t pretend to want to be anywhere else. She is rare. Our togetherness is rare. Taking manly sized gulps of my bourbon on the rocks and listening vaguely to the lads around us chattering, my gaze gets drawn to her. Her long delicate fingers clasp the stem of her white wine glass as she sips her drink modestly, and every time her lips wrap around the rim tingles run directly to my groin.
Stop staring, Konnor.
I’m slowly slipping into a nice inebriated state. My attention is short, and my temperament is becoming unpredictable. I am completely distracted by Blesk, her every graceful movement, her every little smile. It’s probably because I’ve still yet to kiss her, and the anticipation of her and me, pressed together, is too much to handle.
“Slater? Slater!”
I get drawn back to the other people around me when through the fog in my mind I hear my name. “Huh?”
“You and that bloody phasing out thing. Freaks me out, dude, stop it.” Jax grimaces at me. “Yeah, buddy, she’s smoking hot. Stop drooling.”
“Get fucked.” I playfully shove him. Blesk giggles as we continue our immature, testosterone-based banter, and wraps her hand around my forearm.
Someone from behind us shout, “I know that arse!”
Jax’s face drops in response to whoever the voice belongs to, which inundates me with immediate unease. Every muscle in me tightens when I hear a slap. I know someone has just slapped Blesk on the arse. Her eyes widen, and her legs buckle noticeably beneath her.
I spin around, seeing nothing but red. “What the fuck?!”
Fucking Max Butcher.
He holds his hands up in a ceasefire kind of motion. “Whoa, no disrespect Slater, I’ve had a few too many.” He smirks at me. “You know all about that.”
I fist my hands at my side in preparation, but then notice Blesk smiling with recognition at him. The familiarity in her eyes unsettles me further. I don’t want to think about him and her, or whatever kind of acquaintances they are. Or why she is smiling at him. Why is she smiling at him?
My brain starts to short circuit, the scowl etched on my face becomes painful, and my molars grind together.
“Hey, darlin’, I forgot your name.” Max grins at her, his lips lopsided and arrogant, and presents her with his hand. “Know that arse, just not the name. My bad.” My eyes go directly to his hand, and I watch as she places hers delicately in it. Then his fingers wrap around and enclose hers within them, and maybe it’s in my head, maybe I’m just too drunk, but it seems more sensual than necessary. My eye twitches. If I didn’t know any better, I would be throwing my elbow into his jaw right now.
I fantasise about picking up the chair to my right and shattering it over his disrespectful head. The only thing stopping me from teaching him some manners is Blesk. She hates fighting. Any retaliation against Max would definitely end that way, resulting in me bludgeoned and him walking away with a few meagre scratches. That doesn’t bother me as much as Blesk having to witness something like that again. She has a gentle heart; she always did. Despite that, if he puts his paws on her again, I won’t be able to stop myself.
“Blesk. Erik Bellamy’s little sister.” She shakes his hand, and they linger on that gesture far too long. A deep rumble, like a growl, courses through my chest.
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His face lights up with recognition, and he smirks while leaning back on his heels. “Ah… of course!” He pats me on the arm and I want to break that hand. “Slater, I went to school with her dickhead brother.”
He tilts his head to eyeball me and then folds his arms across his chest, peering down on me. “So, I hear you beat the shit out of him?”
Fuck, news travels fast.
Of course, Max is a District kid, too; we don’t have any bloody private lives.
Blesk narrows her eyes at me and shakes her head. It’s clear she doesn’t want me to join in on this particular male banter. “Not something I’m proud of,” I lie.
He palms his jaw until hit cracks and scoffs, “Yeah, right.” Then he pats me again like a dog, knowing I can’t do a single thing if I want to keep all my teeth. “Been there, done that. Funny it’s over the same girl, though.” He snickers and slowly saunters off, whistling to himself for getting under my skin.
I turn, lock-jawed, and stare at Blesk with the calmest questioning expression I can muster. Every part of my face is on fire, akin to someone igniting a furnace behind my eyes. “Funny it’s over the same girl, though.” “Funny it’s over the same girl, though.” “Funny it’s over the same girl, though.” FUCK!
“Blesk? Can you explain, please?” I barely get the words out without yelling.
Her face tightens at my tone and expression. Then her lips curve up and she smiles at me.
“Nothing happened,” she giggles. “We kissed a little. Don’t let him get to you. Max derives great pleasure from messing with people.” Then she cracks up, laughing. “It’s just a game to him.”
Max is messing with you. I hate the way she says his name.