by Ellie Marney
‘Ah–nepotism. That old standby of circus work.’ I grin. ‘I forgot your Dad was part of the life for a while. I was a bit young to remember him.’
‘Yeah, he was only with the show for a few years.’ Marco snorts. ‘But you remember how grown up he and Mum were after the divorce–I had lunch with Dad every other weekend, and on my birthday and at Christmas, all that. And he and Mum have always gotten along amicably. I guess that’s why she finally gave in about letting me go.’
I examine his face when I ask the next question. ‘Is that why you and Genie fought? Because she didn’t want you to leave?’
‘It’s…complicated.’ He dumps another folder on the ‘Ruled Out’ pile.
‘You’ll have to talk to her eventually.’
He purses his lips. ‘Eventually is a good word.’
I roll my eyes. ‘Okay, I’ll shut up about it.’
‘Now do I get to ask you something personal?’
‘I guess.’ I squirm a little. Getting personal with Marco might be a bad idea.
‘Tell me about the accident.’
Hot wires sizzle under my skin. Of all the things to bring up, he wants to talk about that? I lean forward and carefully place my mug on the coffee table, buying some time. ‘Well there’s been more than one accident. You’ll have to specify which–’
‘Fleur.’ His face doesn’t change, but his voice firms. ‘You know which accident. Just tell me.’
I sit back and draw my feet up onto the couch. I need to create a safe little nest around myself when I talk about this.
‘What’s to tell?’ I shift against the cushions. ‘The net rigging broke mid-routine. The strength crew pulled the net back up, I fell into it–the end. You heard all this stuff already.’
‘Why didn’t Luke haul you up to the trapeze bar?’ Marco frowns. ‘Surely that would’ve been safer than releasing you into a dodgy net?’
I let out a slow breath. I haven’t shared this with anyone before. Marco knows what happened: he was there when I gave the outline of the trapeze disaster to the police. Now he’s asking for more detail. He wants to see inside me, and I don’t know if I’m comfortable giving him that access.
Part of me is scared that he won’t like what he sees. Sometimes I don’t like what I see. But it’s all or nothing with Marco. I think I’ve known that for a while.
‘I had to let go and fall.’ My words come out flat and low and hesitant. ‘I knew…I knew Luke was losing his grip on me. His hands were sweaty. He’s very strong, but his hands were sweaty.’ I make a nervous smile. ‘I was sweaty, too. Fear makes you sweat.’
Marco puts his folders aside. His eyes are intent as he leans forward on the couch. ‘But you knew you might die.’
My nervous smile turns into a nervous laugh. ‘There was no “might” about it. I should have died. The net wasn’t ready. Colm and Seb and Dita were doing everything they could to raise it, but it wasn’t really high enough. I should have died.’
It’s enough. I’ve talked about the accident plenty, and my soul gets a little more abraded every time. Marco has had his glimpse inside, and I don’t want to discuss it anymore.
But I see his expression change, and I know he’s figured it out. He always was too smart for his own good.
‘You didn’t want Luke to think he’d dropped you to your death.’ Marco’s eyes are narrowed, mouth open in realisation. ‘So you let go. You didn’t want him to feel responsible–’
‘Wouldn’t you have done the same thing?’ I make my look an appeal. If he understands this, he’ll understand everything. ‘Luke would have carried that forever. I couldn’t do that to him.’
‘Fleur…’ Marco says my name like it’s a thing of wonder.
‘He’s a good man.’ I look away. ‘Nobody deserves that. It would have destroyed his life–if our positions had been reversed, it would have destroyed mine.’
Marco’s voice hitches. ‘Fucking hell, Petal.’
‘Apart from signing the forms for Dad’s surgery, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.’ I keep my eyes focused on the coffee table. ‘Just…opening my hands, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever–’
Marco moves so fast I don’t have time to startle; one second he’s on his side of the couch, and the next second, he’s beside me, pulling me into his lap. Cradling me. Warming me. He wraps his arms around me and holds me against his chest, and it’s as if this soft groove on his body is made for me alone.
And I need that, because for some reason, I’m trembling. I’ve gone over the accident before, but I’ve never been this honest. I’ve never really shared the facts of it, and now my whole body shivers as Marco squeezes me tight and breathes into my hair.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ he whispers. ‘Christ, Petal. If I catch the person who did this to you–’
‘Don’t talk like that.’ I push on his chest weakly. My eyes are wet. I wipe them against the heel of my hand. ‘I’m okay. I’m fine. And please don’t say anything to Luke.’
‘I would never.’ He tucks me into his neck. ‘But this community doesn’t see what it’s got in you. They don’t know what you do for them.’
‘They know.’ I make a sad laugh. ‘They know I’m a hard-assed ringmaster’s daughter with great resting bitch face–’
‘If they only think you’re a bitch, they don’t understand you very well.’ He sits me up and brushes back my hair. ‘I understand you. I’ve always understood you better than anyone.’
‘Well you have the benefit of years of experience.’ I laugh again. How can I relax so completely in his arms? I’ve accepted that he’s leaving now, but something electric in our blood still makes me feel safe when he’s holding me. When he’s kissing me. I shouldn’t think about that. ‘But I can’t be that open all the time. This is circus. You need a tougher skin.’
‘Sometimes showing a bit of your vulnerable side isn’t a bad thing. You can’t be tough all the time, Petal.’
‘I can’t afford to be that soft, Marco.’
‘You can.’ He strokes my arm, like he’s trying to calm me. ‘You’re soft like that with me.’
‘You’re different.’
‘Am I? And why is that?’ Marco’s gaze moves over me like a touch.
‘You know why.’ I sit here in his lap, pressed against his warm body. All my limbs feel heavy, and he keeps looking at me in this amazing way.
‘Did you ever realise that you were always the best part of my whole day, Fleur?’ His words come out quietly.
I know straight away that he’s talking about the old times, when we were still too young to understand that things fall apart. Memories surge up inside me, leave me breathless.
I have to swallow before I can reply. ‘I know I used to drive you insane. But I just…loved being around you. Being with you.’
Gently, carefully, he tucks back a lock of my hair. His eyes never leave mine. ‘Can you just be with me again, Petal?’
I know what he’s asking: he wants me to trust him that much again. And I don’t think about it, because I already know I do. I make a tiny nod. Then Marco slides his hand into my hair, and suddenly I realise what this level of trust involves.
Everything inside me hums with anticipation, even as my mind bleats out a warning. ‘Marco, we shouldn’t…’
‘Tell me to back off and I will,’ he whispers.
I look at his mouth, and I don’t say anything at all.
‘Fleur.’ He makes my name sound like a sigh.
The want in his face is mesmerising, and he seems equally mesmerised by the sight of my lips. We move in slow motion. His head leans, and his hand encourages me to tip towards him, so I do. And then…
I let go.
And it happens again. It’s as if when I’m kissing Marco, with lips and tongue and soft groans, I’m not thinking of anything else. I�
��m not worried about the carnival, or Daddy, or what I should be doing next. I’m just Fleur. I’m just me kissing Marco, being kissed in return. Me, sliding my palms up Marco’s chest to his neck. Me, melting all over, being pulled in closer by his familiar hands.
I feel so incredibly relaxed; all my skin is tingling. I could dissolve now, into a Fleur-shaped blancmange. There’s a throbbing warmth low in my stomach. Marco’s lips slide against mine–soft, soft lips, such a gift–and his hand kneads my waist, and the ache inside me is like a banked fire slowly being fanned back to life.
He pulls back suddenly, gripping my arm. ‘Are you okay? Does this feel weird? Jesus.’
He’s breathless, and he says Jesus like Jeezus, a touch of the burr he picked up in Scotland slipping out. He looks so serious, I can’t help but smile. ‘It’s not weird.’
‘Okay.’ He looks at me, dazed.
‘You really wanted to kiss me, huh?’ I grin.
His eyes darken further. ‘You have no idea…’ He leans in and kisses my mouth, just for an instant. ‘…how much. When I saw you again, that first night, you looked so fucking amazing…’ He captures my mouth again, releases. I’m gasping. ‘…I wanted to push you up against the ring curtains and…’
He pushes now, until I’m lying back against the padded arm of the couch. Papers tumble onto the floor. Marco’s eyes flare like embers as he settles his body over mine. God, the weight of him feels amazing. He props himself on his arms, caging me in, and it doesn’t even scare me, how much I like it.
‘You really are the bossy one these days.’ My voice comes out shaky. ‘I used to try to boss you around, when we were kids, but you always resisted.’
‘I couldn’t ever give in,’ he murmurs. ‘I knew if I did that, I was screwed. I would’ve followed you around like a puppy.’
‘Even then?’ My eyes go wide.
‘You’ve always had more power than you knew.’ His gaze drops from my eyes to my mouth. He dips forward, brushes his lips across mine. Brushes again, harder. Our legs tangle together, and our next kiss is deeper still. Then: long and bruising.
I am coming apart with these kisses. My fingers squeeze and smooth along Marco’s muscled shoulders, thread through his hair. His bare skin has a deep, heady scent: of male sweat, and the faint trace of spice. I’m drunk on it. He sinks his body closer, and I feel the coarse rub of his jeans against my hip, where my sweatpants have ridden down. He’s heavy on me, but I need to get him closer.
‘D’you remember how you used to tease me?’ Marco’s eyes gleam. He drops his head and feathers light kisses across my collarbone to my neck, to my ear.
‘I-I never teased you that bad.’ I’ve been reduced to terrible comebacks and stuttering.
‘You were merciless.’ I can feel his smile against my neck. His next words are husky. ‘I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how I’d like to tease you back. Would you like that, Fleur?’
It’s not just the words: it’s the tone of his voice. A jolt goes through me like an electric current. When I jerk with it, he gasps. Then his face gets very serious and he clutches my nape, and we kiss with a hunger I never knew I had, never knew existed.
I push him against the back of the couch so his hands are free and I can hold more of him. The friction between us is making me sweat, and I’m starting to think we’re both wearing too many clothes. Marco’s hips are rocking against mine, and his skin beneath his undershirt is hot satin. I tug up our shirt hems and press my stomach against his, and we both groan in unison.
Marco’s eyes go fiery black. He eases the strap of my tank aside and finds the right spot for his mouth and sucks hard, and I moan–
Then, in an instant, he’s scrambling off me.
‘Shit.’ His eyes are wild, and he’s panting. ‘Wait.’
‘What?’ I sit up awkwardly. I can’t do anything but stare, my breath heaving. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Fucking hell, we have to stop.’ He sits back against the other side of the couch, pulling at his clothes. His face is pained and he rakes a hand through his hair. ‘Fucking hell. We can’t do this. I should go.’
‘You’re going to go now?’
‘I’m not kidding, Fleur.’ His face looks savage, for the blink of an eye. ‘I want to kiss you again.’
‘Do it.’
‘I want to kiss you everywhere.’
White lightning travels straight through me. I grip the couch cushions.
‘But this is…’ He rubs a hand across his face. ‘Jesus, Fleur. I mauled you.’
‘I let you.’ I sway forward.
He puts up a hand, his eyes closed. ‘Fleur, this is only going to end one way. And we’re not having sex on the couch of your van while your dad is asleep in the next room, okay?’
I press a knuckle against my mouth. I’d completely forgotten about my father. But the sex part sounds pretty damn good.
‘Jesus.’ Marco glances at me, wets his lips. ‘I really want to touch you again, but I’m scared of what will happen.’
‘Try it and see.’ I am never this brazen, but my body is on fire. My voice sounds throaty. Oh, god.
He tilts closer helplessly. Then his expression changes and he backs away. ‘I’m supposed to leave in a week.’
‘Oh.’ All the blood drains out of my face. I fall back onto the cushions. ‘Oh right. That.’
Marco looks at me, taking in my dismay. His voice softens. ‘But this changes things.’
‘It does?’ My body is trembling for other reasons now.
‘Of course it does.’ He frowns. ‘Come on, Fleur. We didn’t kiss by accident. We both wanted this.’
But now I don’t know anymore. My voice comes out dull. ‘So you didn’t kiss me just to test out an old crush?’
‘What?’ He looks confused.
‘Or was it because you knew you were leaving soon, so you figured this would be a nice way to cut ties? Or maybe because we’re both young and unattached, and both attracted, so why not?’
His face darkens with his flush. Now he’s angry. ‘Fleur, you know that’s not–’
‘See, that’s the thing, I don’t know.’ I straighten my clothes, avoiding his eyes. ‘You keep saying you know me. But it’s been five years, Marco. You fall back into the show like you’ve dropped out of the sky, and in a week you’ll be gone again, and I don’t think you know me like you believe you do. Not anymore.’
‘That’s not true.’
He looks so hurt I almost cave. But then some bitter knife twists in my gut. He’s leaving. Leaving. Will this all just end up as background scenery to him?
I force my chin to lift, to stop wobbling. ‘Maybe I kissed you because I’m relying on you. Because I’m grateful for the support. Maybe I–’
‘Or maybe you’re blowing smoke. Having a tantrum, because you don’t like relinquishing control.’ Marco’s lips are thin and white.
‘I think you should leave.’ I clamber up off the couch. I stand beside the coffee table with my arms crossed, giving us both plenty of space.
Marco slowly eases to standing. ‘Fleur, why are you pushing me away? What are you doing? Do you even know?’
‘I know I can’t rely on you to be here in a week.’ I will not cry. I will not. By willing it, I can make it so. ‘So this is about me being sensible. I’ve got to protect myself, Marco. I’m split into pieces here, looking after myself, and my dad, and this show. I can’t afford to give another piece of myself away to someone who isn’t planning on sticking around.’
Marco has pulled on his boots, now he snatches up his shirt. ‘I don’t want a piece of you.’
‘Yes, you do. You–’
‘Listen to me.’ His face is alive with anger and longing. He’s radiant. ‘I’ve never wanted just a piece, Fleur. I want all of you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. If you can’t handle that, then…’
He shakes his head sadly. ‘Then I’m glad I’m not sticking around.’
He walks out of the van, out the door and into the night. The door closes quietly behind him. I stand frozen to the spot. My arms are still crossed; I put them up as a barrier, but now I need them to warm me.
Marco wants…all of me?
My brain isn’t working very efficiently, because my heart is hurting too much. It’s a stabbing kind of hurt, but I can’t let it mean anything. I can’t. There’s too many people relying on me, too much at stake.
How can he want all of me? Even the shitty, bitchy parts? The scared-to-let-go parts? He doesn’t mean it. He’s trying to spare my feelings. It’s typical Marco: he didn’t even slam the door on his way out, because he knew my father was sleeping…
I put my hand over my mouth.
Marco comforted me after I revealed the truth about the trapeze accident. He wants me, but he didn’t want to take advantage, here in my father’s van. He didn’t slam the door. Even when he’s furious, he’s thinking about me.
You were always the best part of my whole day, Fleur…
A sob bursts out of me. I gasp behind my palm. Then I sit down on the couch, because my legs don’t support me anymore.
Oh my god. I’ve screwed this up. Marco cares about me. And I practically threw him out the door. I couldn’t run away tonight, so I made him go. He poured his heart out, and I rejected him. Again.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Eight
It’s Tuesday morning. I have a rip in my trapeze costume, so I’m in Eugenia’s van while she fits the repair. Basically, I’m in hiding.
‘Lift your arm higher. Higher.’ Genie prods me into position. She secures the fabric at another spot, her mouth full of pins. ‘How on earth did you get a rip all the way down the side seam?’
‘I caught it on something.’
This is a lie. I made the rip myself. I wanted an excuse to be in Genie’s van, because I know it’s the only place on the lot where Marco won’t be.
This is officially my lowest ebb. Jesus.
‘It’s good you brought it in anyway. It’s sagging in a few places.’ Genie looks at me critically. ‘You’ve lost weight, Fleur. You need to start eating more.’