I Love You More Than I'm Afraid (Our Forevers #2)

by Rebel Hart

  But call it my aesthetic.

  I slipped into the bathroom across the hall, fortunately making it in just before one of my sisters. They were a little more into their appearances than me, which of course was fine, but it was always irritating in the morning when I had to wait forty-five minutes just to run my fingers through the half-head of my hair, put on a light coat of eyeshadow and mascara, and slide some lotion across the shaved half of my head—done in ten minutes.

  “Should I swap?” I asked myself, looking at my current set of neon green gauges in my reflection. They didn’t necessarily match, but then again…

  Neither did I.

  There was a knock on the door before I could swap them out regardless, so I waved a hand and walked out of the bathroom. Willow was standing in the hallway outside the door. She was the older twin by a few minutes, and she reminded me of myself sometimes. Her natural brown hair had now turned almost entirely blond, giving it a cool ombré look from the dark roots to the bright tips, and her lilac eyes were a reflection of my own.

  “Hey kid,” I greeted. “Love the look.” She was wearing a tan jumpsuit, rolled down to her waist, with a black blouse top and plenty of flashy accessories. “I’m pretty sure some of that stuff is lifted though,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

  She twisted back and forth with a sly look on her face. “Mayyyybe. I remember you wearing this suit last year and it looked so good. You haven’t worn it since then, so I thought it would be okay.”

  “It’s totally okay. Help yourself. Rolling it down because it’s too big is a good move, although…” I looked both ways down the hallway before slipping back into my bedroom. “Come here.”

  Willow followed me into my bedroom and I closed the door. I rolled the jumpsuit up, helping Willow pull the arms back on, and I giggled at how limply it hung off of her. There were six years between us and she was a fair amount smaller than me, but rather than allowing it to hang that way, I started to bunch up the jumpsuit from the waist, hiking it up from the bottom and pulling the pant legs up from the ground until they were mid-shin. After that, I grabbed a belt and a pair of roman sandals from my closet and then handed the shoes to Willow before using the belt to secure the jumpsuit in place.

  I flipped Willow around so she could look at herself in the mirror hanging on the back of my bedroom door. “There we go.”

  Willow quickly pulled on the sandals and then looked at herself in the mirror and smiled. “It looks way better this way!”

  “Your way was pretty good, but stick with me. I know how to put things together better than anyone out there.”

  She smiled. “Thanks, Arden.”

  I flashed her a bright grin through the mirror. “Any time, gorg.”

  A single knock preceded the door opening and my mom walked into the room. She looked not much different from myself or Willow, just older and graying. Her figure was slim, but modest—just like the good lord intended it.

  She looked Willow up and down like she was wearing a rainbow flag with a ton of cleavage and her whole ass out. “Willow, dear, what are you wearing?” She immediately dropped down and started yanking on the base of the jumpsuit to try and pull the pant legs back down, but the belt didn’t want to give the leeway back. “Sweetheart, go change into something else. Something more appropriate.”

  Willow frowned. “But—”

  “Quickly, please. Breakfast is ready and then you have to head off to school.” Though she was smiling, her eyes were all ire. Telling Willow do it, or else.

  “Yes ma’am,” Willow said, her eyes turned towards the ground. She slipped around our mother and out into the hallway, giving me a sad glance from behind her back before walking off towards her room.

  “I think a jumpsuit would have been okay,” I grumbled.

  “She is only twelve years old. You shouldn’t be inundating her with your… lifestyle.”

  I scoffed. “Oh, tell me more about my lifestyle and how sharing hand-me-downs with my little sister makes me a harlot.”

  My mom’s gaze narrowed. “Keep your voice down, Arden,” she growled. “Even you.” She gave my outfit an up and down look with her nose wrinkled up. “You could stand to wear something a bit more… feminine.”

  I looked around my room and spied a piece of pink ribbon from a project I’d worked on recently. I grabbed it and pulled my hair up into a ponytail, fastening it in place with a bow. Pointing to it, I raised an eyebrow and smiled at my mom. “Pink bow. Huh? I think the boys are ready for me now.”

  “I don’t know where you got that nasty attitude from, but you could stand to drop it for a day or two.”

  “Why? You certainly haven’t dropped talks of trying to force me into skirts to fit your wholesome Christian narrative. Tell me, mother, does god feel better now that I’m wearing a pink bow? Do you?”

  “You are insufferable,” my mom hissed. “We’ve already come to the conclusion that you’re a lost cause, but don’t drag your sisters…” Her voice died there.

  “No, no, finish your thought. Don’t drag them where? To hell, where I’m obviously going because I prefer women to men?” I said. “Tell me something. You made me and gave birth to me, even raised me. So if I’m going to hell, what’s going to happen to you?”

  My mom raised her hand and brought it hard across my cheek. It wasn’t the first time she slapped me, and it wouldn’t be the last, but it never ceased to hurt for more reasons than one when she did it. “I tried with you, Arden.”

  “Tried what? Tried to stifle who I am? Tried to scare me straight by sending me to a camp that locked me in a basement and didn’t feed me—oh that’s right, I forgot, you don’t believe that it happened.”

  “Those adults would never do something like that to a child.”

  I shook my head. “Nah, of course not. That’s why they were investigated and shut down.”

  “They were investigated and shut down because of unsubstantiated claims by you and other students who were fortunate enough to go there. You ruined lives with your lies.”

  I narrowed my gaze and my lips sewed into a tight line across my face. “I guess you’d know all about that.” I reached down and grabbed my backpack and slung it over my shoulder. “Would you step aside, I’d hate to accidentally get some of my gay on you on the way out.”

  My mother shook her head in disappointment, but did step far out of my way. I walked past her, stopping only when she whispered, “I do love you, Arden.”

  I scoffed. “Yeah. Just like hunters love deer.”

  There was no use in hanging around for her response, so I didn’t. Outside the door, my father was postured up, his arms crossed, and his eyes beating down at me. My sisters were at the other end of the hallway, squeezed together and watching me with concern.

  “Don’t speak to your mother that way,” my father huffed. His gray eyes were stabbing and terrifying. “You won’t be allowed in this house.”

  “Please,” I said. “You and I both know you’re not letting me out of here because you’d hate for the people at the church to start talking about old Harvey Namon who abandoned his daughter. That does not read well on the Sunday newsletter.” His nostrils flared out, but he didn’t respond, because he knew I was right. “Don’t worry, I’m keeping the whole lesbian thing at a minimum, because god forbid you experience some embarrassment.” I continued past him, my heart pounding and a little bit of sweat coming to my brow as I did, but he fortunately didn’t do anything. “For what it’s worth, if neither of you wanted to say anything to me until I moved out, I’d be perfectly fine with that.”

  “Be careful what you wish for,” he growled after me.

  “If that means it’ll come true, then I’m doubling down,” I responded. “Bye.”

  There were only four plates set at the table for breakfast, not that it was a big shock, but just to be a shit, I passed through anyway and grabbed a handful of the bacon stacked high on the plate. Apparently being gay is wrong, but fudging on the lord’s ban aga
inst pork is no issue. I wrapped the pieces in a paper towel, then grabbed a bottle of orange juice from the fridge, ‘accidentally’ poured my father’s coffee down the kitchen sink drain, then grabbed my car keys off the wall and headed out into the morning. Texts started to bling on my phone—likely Aria texting me for the morning. I smiled as I pulled my phone out, but didn’t get to read them before I heard the front door open again.

  “Arden!” I stopped and turned and saw Willow, now dressed in a pleated skirt with her black blouse. Whitney was behind her, similarly dressed, though her skirt was a longer, floor-length one. They were both so beautiful, and what they chose to wear was their prerogative, but I wished my mother didn’t insist on making them dress like pioneers. “You’re leaving already? What about breakfast?”

  I held up the paper towel. “I took mom and dad’s share of bacon, don’t worry.”

  Whitney chuckled behind Willow, ducking her head so it wasn’t too obvious, but Willow still wore a face of concern. “I got you in trouble… I’m sorry.”

  “Hey…” I walked back up to Willow and put my hand on her head. “You didn’t do anything wrong except make a bold statement in fashion. A girl after my own heart.” She looked up at me teary eyed and I sighed. “Aw, come on, don’t do that. I’m fine. Your big sis is made of steel. I gotta be for all of this.”

  “Why is it so bad?” Willow asked. “Does it matter if you like girls instead of boys?”

  Whitney watched Willow with a knowing gaze, and my heart broke for my little sister. I would never want her to be anything other than her honest and happy self, but if she ever chose to be more honest about her sexuality, it was going to create a long, rocky road for her. One I’d never wish on anyone.

  Still, I couldn’t lie to the girl.

  “No,” I said. “It doesn’t matter. In fact, people are just born this way. Just like you have blond hair and rare purple eyes, I like women instead of men. It’s normal. No more in my control than my unfortunate height.”

  Willow finally cracked a smile at that. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Unfortunately, we are surrounded by people who try very, very hard to change what they shouldn’t be tinkering with. I’ll tell you something.” I flicked a couple of Willow’s tears away and looked right into her eyes. “You believe god created everything exactly as he intended.”

  Willow nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Then how could we be born wrong?” I said. “Something that I feel deep, from within my core. Something that I know I can’t change, and wouldn’t want to even if I could. Would god give me something like that if it was bad from the outset?”

  “No.”

  I winked at her. “No.”

  “Are you going to see Aria?” Whitney said, speaking up for the first time. My entire family had met and rapidly fallen in love with my best friend, not that it was a shock for that living, breathing, angel. “She’s texting me, so if she’s ready a little early I may hang with her. Otherwise I’ll see her at school.”

  “Can we go out to lunch with her again this weekend?” Whitney said. “Maybe…” A blush rose to her cheeks. “Maybe Tristan can come too?”

  “He’s dating Aria,” Willow hissed.

  “I didn’t say anything!” Whitney squeaked.

  I just laughed at them. “You know I’m always down for some sisterly bonding, it’s whether we can get around the wardens that is the issue,” I responded.

  Willow shrugged. “I’ll tell them we’re hanging out with some of our church friends.”

  I fake cried and put a hand on Willow’s shoulder. “You’ve become such a good manipulator.” I wiped away fake tears. “I have nothing left to teach you.”

  “Weirdo,” Willow said.

  “Feeling better?” I asked.

  Willow nodded. “Yeah. You’re really strong, Arden.”

  “People keep telling me that,” I said. “I’m not sure that I see it, but thanks.” I ruffled her head, then reached behind her and pinched Whitney’s cheek. “Love you two. Be good at school, alright. Education is a farce, but necessary. At least—”

  “Make it worth it,” they both finished the statement.

  “Love you too,” Willow said, and Whitney nodded behind her.

  I turned around, glad that at least some of my family didn’t hate me down to the bones. When I graduated high school in a few months, I was leaving that house and never coming back, but I’d still have to try and find a way to see my sisters. How my parents managed to create anything so wonderful was beyond me.

  But I wasn't going to let them take everything away from me.

  2

  Hannah

  I knew the second I woke up that I’d overslept. My phone was playing some calming, lo-fi music that had failed to wake me up, and the sun was already streaming in through the window. I sat up and stretched my arms above my head, bathing my cream skin in the rays before finally pulling back my covers and climbing out.

  Just as my feet were hitting the floor, there was a knock on my door that preceded the door opening. My mom poked her head around the corner, her dark brown hair fluttering in her eyes.

  “Oh, you’re awake. I didn’t hear you moving around and thought you might have overslept,” she said.

  “I did, technically. I just woke up.”

  My mom held up her hands. “Well, I won’t distract you then. I know that beauty takes time. Breakfast will be waiting for you when you're ready.”

  “Thanks, mama,” I said with a smile, and she gave me one back before retreating from my room.

  Checking the clock, I saw it was just a little past seven, which meant I only had about thirty minutes to get ready if I wanted to eat breakfast and not race through my ten minute drive to school. Fortunately, I had some idea of what I wanted to wear to school, so the bulk would just be preparing my face.

  I grabbed my phone and rushed into the bathroom, noticing I had a flurry of texts, so I set my phone to read them aloud while I got ready.

  First up was my makeup. It was mostly second nature by now, my concealer, my blush, my eyeliner and eyeshadow. Highlighter, lipliner and lipstick, and then I finished everything off with a spritz to hold it all in place.

  “Text message from—Tristan,” my phone started as I worked. “Good morning, gorgeous. I finished the paper for history last night and sent it to you to look over. See ya at school.”I smiled, imagining my best friend’s face in spite of the robotic voice talking. “Would you like to respond?”

  “Yes,” I replied. “Cool, thanks buddy. I'll see you soon!”

  I glanced down at the text and made sure the speech-to-text had translated correctly, then I hit send.

  “Next message,” my phone said. “Text message from—Ceradi.”

  “Unexpected, but okay,” I grumbled out loud.

  Though Ceradi had actually remained halfway decent to me since Tristan and me split from the popular kids’ group, she hadn’t really reached out to me. Back in the fall, my best friend and the most popular guy in the entire school, Tristan, chose the love of his life, Aria, over Ceradi and all of the popular kids. Aria was an unashamed debate nerd who wasn’t stick-thin, but rather wore her curves like trophies. Even I could admit she was stunning, and she and Tristan had a history that had them rapidly falling in love when she transferred to our school at the beginning of the year. As happy for Tristan as I was, Aria was a struggle for me.

  And Ceradi knew it.

  “Hey slut!” Ceradi's text began, which sounded weird coming out of my phone’s tech voice. “Just checking in to see if you’ve given up on those losers Tristan and Aria yet and are ready to come back?” My phone paused for a minute and then, “Next message from—Ceradi. I’m sure you don’t wanna talk about Tristan’s stupidity. Just sit with us at lunch today and we’ll act like it never happened.” Another pause. “Next message from—Ceradi. When you’re ready, we’ll get Aria back, just let me know—Would you like to respond?”

  I sighed. “No.”

 
; “End of messages.”

  In the midst of listening to Ceradi’s messages, I’d plugged my curling iron in, and, waving my hand over it, I could feel the heat wafting off. I reached behind my head and pulled the ponytail holder out of my blond hair and grumbled at it falling straight against my face. Hair that was slightly curly was more fashionable, at least in Ceradi and the rest of the school’s opinion, but my hair was as straight as an arrow. Though it took time out of my morning to do so, and I actually didn’t mind my hair being straight, I always gave my hair some beachy curls.

  Once my hair was done, I opened up the medicine cabinet and pulled out the packet of blue contacts. Looking inside, I saw that I was down to only a few sets remaining. I made a mental note to myself to order more, and fished a pair out. I blinked in the image of my naturally brown eyes briefly before slipping a blue contact into each of my eyes, and then I took in the sight of the fresh blue irises. I frowned a little, but ultimately let it go.

  The last thing I needed to do was also my least favorite, applying my fake nails. I absolutely hated wearing nails. They made everything more difficult to use, and given I was a natural klutz I tended to scratch myself a lot. They were also unbearably expensive for something that I didn’t even want. It was fine when it was an occasional trip with Ceradi and some of the other popular girls, but to maintain the image without actually having to deal with them outside of school, I just used fake pop ons and tried my hardest to be careful. I packed extra tape just in case.

  Finally, I’d completed my speed-run of getting ready for school, and I bolted out of the bathroom with my phone in hand to get dressed. Since I didn’t have time to pick out anything more complicated, I went with a sundress that I knew I’d pulled out of the laundry recently and grabbed a jean jacket to hide my arms and shoulders. I topped the look off with a pair of wedges, grabbed my backpack, and took a sigh of relief.

  I was finally ready to go.