by Mason, V. F.
“Eudard.” For the second time today, we both look to Eachann, who slowly comes toward us, his hair still tousled after Patricia’s kiss and worry shining in his eyes. “Let her go.”
A bitter chuckle escapes his twin and he frees himself from me, as he says, “Your saint is here to save you from the devil.” If I had a penny for every time he mocked me, I’d be a billionaire by now.
Yet what he says still plays in my mind, and despite my confused emotions, I want to understand him.
He addresses his twin, “She is all yours, brother.” And he darts toward his bike so fast I don’t even have time to catch a breath.
“Are you all right?” Eachann says, gently running his hand over my hair. “I’m sorry you had to face him twice today.” For the first time in my life, revulsion rushes over me at his touch, and I sway to the side, avoiding it, even though my heart is torn in two.
We’ve played this out so many times I’ve lost count, with Eachann coming to the rescue in the middle of our fights that we never get the opportunity to finish.
Maybe the time has finally come for that.
“I think you should return to Patricia and not interfere in my relationship with your brother,” I tell him with a bite in my voice. He winces, opening his mouth to maybe explain the entire exchange, but I don’t care.
Right now, all I care about is Eudard Campbell, which is so weird and ridiculous in light of my crush on Eachann. I don’t even know what to think of it.
What if I crushed on one of the twins because the other one was unattainable?
Without waiting for Eachann to comment, I dash to his brother, who is already on his motorcycle, his hands squeezing the handlebars harshly as it roars to life. I barely have time to hop on, pressing myself tightly against him while the machine vibrates between my legs.
Goose bumps break out on my skin, because I’ve never been on a bike before, and a thrill runs through me at the prospect of experiencing it.
“What the hell are you doing, Arianna?” My name has a different sound on his lips, and something flutters in my stomach, but I shake my head, not wanting to examine it.
“Could you please take me away?” I ask, resting my chin on his shoulder while our gazes clash. “I don’t want to be here, and I want to finish our conversation.” He tenses under my hands, his tight muscles going almost rigid, when I see the vein on his neck pulsing. My eyes flare when the desire to bite on it zips through me.
He removes his hands from the handlebars, and I expect him to throw me off, but instead he snags the helmet from his head and gives it to me. “Put it on,” he instructs, and I do as he says, while his fingers check the underside of my chin that I closed it right. “Hold on tight. You are about to ride with the devil.” I wrap my hands around his middle, using all my strength to squeeze him, and he revs the engine, riding to the gate with such speed the wind hits me in the face and I can barely catch my breath.
The feeling of this is unexplainable.
Everything becomes a blur. The feeling of freedom sinks into my bones, reminding me of the jumps I do on the ice. Where there are no boundaries to what I can do, and while high up, I don’t belong to anyone, nor am I subjected to any rules.
The only difference is that the emotion lasts and lasts on the bike as he rides it into the evening, allowing me to see a magnificent sunset in the distance, the sky turning orange and blue, and probably kissing the ocean somewhere.
He speeds up a little once on the empty road leading to the outskirts of the town, and I wrap my arms tighter around him, pushing myself so firmly against him I can feel every muscle.
Are all football players built like this? As if they are made out of brick?
The machine roars again and lifts up a little in front, and I yelp into his ear, ready to catch him like an octopus does its prey so he won’t drop me in the middle of the freaking road.
He glances over his shoulder at me, his hair tickling my nose, and asks, “Scared?” And even though I want to scream hell yeah at that, I shake my head in denial and wrap myself so tightly around him it must be hard for him to breathe.
Because he’ll probably leave me in the middle of this road if I show an ounce of doubt about accompanying him.
Strangely, I’m really not afraid of him or where he’s taking me. Despite all his assholeness toward me for years… I don’t believe he will truly hurt me.
Or maybe I’m just a naïve fool; only time will tell, I guess.
“Prove it. I dare you,” he says right before speeding up again, and my brows furrow at this weird request.
I lean closer and repeat, “You dare me?”
“Raise your hands up in the air and feel true freedom.”
Is he freaking insane?
The protest is about to spill from my lips when I notice a slight smirk on his face in the side-view mirror, anticipating my refusal.
The stubborn streak I’ve discovered in me since our morning encounter fuels my blood, and before thinking on it too much, I spit, “Sure.”
Oh my God, what the hell am I doing?
My heart beats wildly and fear rushes through me at the prospect of trusting him this much, but a challenge is a challenge.
I’m sick and tired of people thinking I’m this delicate flower.
His body tenses when I slowly unlock my hands from his stomach, and I hear him mutter, “Fuck.” But I ignore it and lift my arms, the wind slapping me in the face as the air whooshes from my lungs and I gasp, my eyes widening in fear while I focus only on the road ahead.
Pressing my legs tighter to the outside of his, I close my eyes and allow the sensation to spread through me, with a weird sense of euphoria and happiness attached to it. I arch my back a little, allowing the wind to envelop me whole.
Eudard was right.
It’s freedom.
“Oh my God!” I scream through the wind, digging my nails into his shoulders. “This is the best!”
He laughs and squeezes the handlebars, shouting, “Enjoy, ice princess.” And he once again speeds up, but this time I’m ready, raising my arms again and swaying them a little.
This is flying. I had no idea anything but the ice had the ability to give this strong an emotion.
In this moment, the worries of today and the future—like facing my best friend after her actions—seem like nothing, leaving only a sense of belonging to nature and finding calmness with the boy who always brought only chaos.
In time, the tempo changes, gradually slowing down, and my eyes snap open, my mouth hanging wide at the picture in front of me.
We are in no-man’s-land, right inside the freaking forest, riding on the narrow path that leads us farther and farther into it.
Gasping, I hug Eudard and whisper, “Why are we here?”
“Maybe you should have asked that before you hopped on my bike,” he fires back, but before I can react, he softens his voice. “At my special place.”
“You have a special place here? Is it even legal?” Based on my knowledge, the founding five didn’t have any lands here, so how can he have a special place?
Besides, it’s dangerous as heck hanging around here!
“More or less.”
What does that mean?
I have no time to ask the question, because he stops in front of a weird small cabin made out of wood, hidden behind two oak trees. It looks way out of place here and has probably seen better days, as the paint on it is almost nonexistent.
I get off the bike, and he follows suit, saying over his shoulder, “Leave the helmet on the handlebar.” I do as he says and quickly join him, and he fishes for the keys, twisting the lock and stepping inside.
The first thing that greets me is the smell of dust floating in the air as he blows on the table. He flicks his lighter and lights up the candle, adding light to the sunset peeking through the small holes in the wood.
It’s a small cabin with a couch, as well as fluffy rug near the fireplace that looks like no one has used it for
at least two decades. And a small table with about a dozen candles and several bottles of water.
“It’s… nice.” I wince a little, because my words sound fake, even to me.
He chuckles, throwing his jacket on the couch and dropping onto it himself, raising a little bit of dust. I wave my hand to get it away from my face. “No need to be polite. It’s a shack.” He rubs his chin, scanning the place. “Ideally, it needs to be taken down completely. This way I can build a new and improved version of it.”
My brows furrow while I sit at the other end of the couch, twisting my palms on my knees. “You seem to have big plans for it.”
He shrugs, placing a fresh cigarette in his mouth and flicking the lighter. “One day.”
I reach for him and snatch the cigarette away, fisting it in my palm. Fury flashes in his eyes, but I don’t care. “Don’t smoke inside.”
He snorts. “You trying to boss me around in my own house?”
“This is not your house,” I snap and then exhale heavily. “This is leading us nowhere.”
“Why did you come with me?” he asks, ignoring my statement, and I freeze, afraid to even breathe.
Because I don’t have a coherent enough answer for it.
“Eachann was there to save the day as always. Why didn’t you stay with him?” He fires another question, so I glance to the side, gathering my thoughts.
For how can I explain something that doesn’t even make sense to me? My whole day has been one bizarre thing after another.
My lack of an answer however has a meaning of its own for him, because he laughs, although it lacks any humor. “I guess being in my company is better than facing Eachann after his kiss.”
“No!” I protest loudly, and his brows rise. “Because it happens all the time,” I finally say, almost pushing the words from my mouth.
Confusion mars his face. “I assure you he doesn’t go around kissing Patricia.”
“I mean us. You say something mean. I try to defend myself, and Eachann shows up to save the day.” I hold his stare while his green pools become a lake of blank emotions, not allowing me to know what he thinks. “We have been going in a circle for almost ten years now, and I’m tired of it. Let’s settle it.” I pause, gulping for breath, and then add, “No more fights.”
The silence that greets my statement is almost deafening, although he keeps his stare on me, drilling me, as if searching for my weakness or any kind of hidden agenda.
But surely he doesn’t think we should go on like before, after what he told me?
We are graduating next year. Shouldn’t we put this childish thing behind us?
After a prolonged pause, he speaks, although his tone is as blank as his freaking face, not giving me anything. “And how do you propose we do that?” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Talk it out?” he asks mockingly, sighing dramatically. “So that our feelings are clear and no hidden pain remains?”
Despite my annoyance, I bark a laugh. “This sounds so much like James with his lectures about friendships.” He blinks at this, but then I see amusement flashing in his gaze. “Remember those long-ass speeches he gave us back in kindergarten?”
Eudard chuckles. “Yeah. He told us not to punch anyone who looked at you wrong.”
“You never listened though.” I remember how some kids made fun of my bruised knees from figure skating practice. “All the kids knew not to mess with me.” Until school, that is. But come to think of it… no one teased me much there either, besides small incidents.
“They hurt you” is all he says, as if it explains everything, but that reminds me of his earlier words.
“What did you mean when you said I have no idea of the lengths you went for me?” Once again, that freaking blank expression covers his face and he gets up, lighting several more candles, because the sun is almost completely gone.
“Curiosity.”
Is that supposed to be his answer? “What?”
“That’s what led you here, away from your saint. The desire to know the hidden meaning must be so strong you even overlooked the company of the devil himself.” Anger dances on the edges of his tone, even though he keeps it even as he walks to the door, cracking it open. The sound echoes in the space. “You live in your make-believe world, Arianna, where people are innocent and everyone is perfect, with no evilness polluting their blood.” His knuckles turn white when he grabs the wood, stepping outside the cabin. “You wouldn’t survive knowing the truth.” A beat passes, and then, “That’s why I protected you from it. But it’s not enough, is it?” The hollow laughter slipping past his lips sends chills down my spine. “Because I’m not him. And in your world, only saints and holy people have a chance while sinners like me have to forever burn in the fire that God has sent for us.” With that, he shuts the door loudly, the walls shaking from his fury, and I groan in frustration.
Are we just not destined to have a normal conversation with each other?
He is talking in riddles, not letting me in, and it’s not that I blame him, all things considered. But I wouldn’t have been mean to him if he hadn’t been mean to me in the first place.
And why does he need to stick Eachann everywhere? It’s not like I brought him up!
I don’t really trust Eudard in his less-than-great moods, so I get up, ready to follow him in case the ass tries to leave without me. That’s when several black leather journals along with pills on the table catch my attention.
Frowning, I come closer and slide my fingers over the leather, noticing a Celtic symbol on it that reminds me of the letter E. There is also an emblem of some stone and a snake wrapped around it tightly with fire coming from the throat.
A dragon would have been more fitting with the design in my opinion.
Each one of them has a gold lock on it with a key nowhere in sight. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he belonged to some kind of underground brotherhood or something.
But even the thought is laughable.
I pick up the pills to read the description but there is none. Is he sick? Or maybe he has a condition that has to be treated?
Why else would he keep something in this place if he didn’t need it on a daily basis? I’m about to split some open and examine them further when a roaring snaps my attention, so I drop it on the table and dart outside right into the pouring rain as thunder echoes in the night.
I watch Eudard on the bike, riding in a circle before he pulls in slowly under the roof next to the cabin that will cover the bike from the rain.
I rub my arms, because the weather has turned a bit cold, and he hops off his bike, his brow rising. “Did you think I’d leave without you?”
“With you, who knows?” I fire back, fed up with his mood. Clearly being nice got us nowhere, and we are once again going in circles.
“Right. Because an asshole like me would do something like that. Bet you wouldn’t have expected that from Eachann.”
Standing there, both of us soaking wet, our hair plastered to our faces, our chests rising and falling, my mouth drops open at this accusation, and I step toward him, digging my finger into his chest. “You are the one who brings him into our conversations, not me. I’m trying to understand our relationship!” I scream, and his jaw tics, while fury still blazes from his gaze.
“We don’t have a relationship. You have a crush on my brother, or did you forget?”
Oh my God, I can’t believe this guy! He is acting as if he is a scorned boyfriend and I have a thing with Eachann behind his back.
The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. “Well you certainly never gave me a reason to crush on you, did you?” He jerks back as if I slapped him, and panic swirls through me at my statement, the implication, and hints of it.
But isn’t it the truth? Back when we were kids, he spent more time with me than Eachann did. He was always there to blow on my knees when I scraped them, give me his carton of juice, or watch me dance on the grass, mimicking the ice rink.
&n
bsp; Eachann usually read books during that time, close by, but never participated much. Either that or he’d play piano in the background, so I’d have a live soundtrack for my practice. After they turned seven, he didn’t change much. The only difference was he wasn’t mean to me like Eudard.
What if my crush on Eachann was fueled simply by the fact that he reminded me of Eudard in looks and didn’t push me away?
This thought is scarier than anything else in the world, because I realize I’ve dreamed about one brother while unknowingly wanting another.
We stare at one another for what seems like ages before he mutters, “Fuck it.” And then he fists his hand in my hair, presses me flush against his chest, and captures my mouth with his.
His lips are cold and harsh against mine, rubbing them a little before he bites on my lower one. I gasp, allowing him to slip his tongue inside my mouth and tangle with mine, locking us in a deep kiss that wipes all thoughts from my mind except the need that slowly creeps into me, awakening desire in my body that is so unfamiliar to me.
I try to push him away, but he grabs my wrists, holding them next to my head while we continue to kiss, our teeth clacking a little, but then he finds the rhythm, and we both groan. My lungs demand air and I twist my head, gulping for breath, while he tugs on my hair, exposing my neck to him. His lips slide down my skin. He nips it a little on his way, leaving small bites in his wake, all while bringing us closer.
“We shouldn’t do this,” I murmur, even though I step closer, pushing my chest against him, needing to feel him as close as possible, because he is the source of pleasure searing my blood.
If kissing is this good, no wonder everyone does it so often during school breaks! Movies and books don’t do this justice.
“It’s the only thing we agree on, ice princess,” he murmurs before biting on my shoulder, eliciting a small moan despite the sting.
Maybe he is right though. Conversations never helped us much, but this… this we manage to do right, despite it being my first time.