“Megan!” Nick called behind me, rushing to catch me in case I aimed to lock myself away in the bathroom. He gave me a tight squeeze just as the tears rushed out. “Don’t,” he soothed. “Don’t let what that jerk said get to you.” His hands moved to rub my arms up and down. I cringed, feeling every bump in my skin against his palms, fearing he’d feel it too. And when my sleeve pulled up on one of his passings, I reached down to fight the rise, which only seemed to set him off. Out of nowhere, he shoved both sleeves up to my elbows and snagged my biceps in such a way I couldn’t break free, forcing me to leave that disgusting skin visible for him. “Why do you hide this from me?” he asked harshly, just shy of yelling at me.
Why? Wasn’t it obvious? The tears broke free of their corner ducts, despite my best effort to contain them. “Because it’s disgusting! Just like Joe said!” I hated that he held me that way, hated that he wouldn’t let me lower my sleeves to cover the patchwork of abstract bumps and unnatural color patterns. With a cracking, shaking voice, I cried, “I’m ugly.”
“Ugly?” His grip on me lightened, but he still held me firmly in place. “Megan, you can tie your hair back, cover yourself head to toe with clothes that are too big and avoid wearing any type of makeup. But people are still going to notice you. Men are still going to want you. You’re the fucking opposite of ugly. Everything about you is beautiful.”
“Not everything,” I whispered. I’m ugly inside, too. No kind, decent person is capable of doing the things I’ve done.
I swung the metal within my shaking grasp and his head whipped to the side, blood splattering against the beige linens, his body falling unnaturally to the floor.
Fire billowed on the ceiling, reaching down, down, down…
Nick’s eyes darkened when they narrowed at me, seemingly pissed as I began to weaken in his arms. I tried to pull away, craving nothing more than to cover the nasty burns before my eyes and the horrible memories they always triggered.
Leading with my rear, I went limp, hoping he’d just drop me and let me be. In one swift motion, he released me, only to thrust his biceps beneath my arms, lifting until our shoulders met and slamming me against the wall, mashing his body into mine. I barely had time to gasp before his lips shoved against mine. His kisses were hungry and rough, almost desperate, and tasted of salt as my tears came between us.
That annoying part of my brain that knew it was wrong, kept screaming that I should push away, but my lips just wouldn’t obey – they had ached for this so much they’d never give it up now.
Fear of falling got me to wrap my legs around his waist, but it clearly didn’t worry Nick any, because his hands were more interested in ripping my hair free of its bind and roughly tangling his fingers through my roots.
Nick. Just the touch of his hands on my body was enough to make me moan.
Nick. Whose caress I’d slowly been craving more and more. Who was kind and protective and loving. Whose arms I felt safe in, even when they were rough. Whose kisses were sending my heart into overdrive and wetting me down below.
I fully gave in to the kiss, slinking my arms around him, leaving one hand at the base of his neck while the other explored his head. Mashing my lips against his, I couldn’t believe how much I wanted this, how much I wanted him. I tugged at a clump of hair, and a sexy guttural sound rumbled from his chest. His mouth tasted of wintergreen and his hands smelled of the fresh basil he used on the pasta special he made all night.
Hot and heavy and out of breath, our kisses ended all too soon. My eyes opened, and for once I got to look down on him, his piercing green orbs still hungry. After a few deep breaths, he leaned his forehead into the niche between my neck and shoulder, moaning, “God, Megan…I’ve needed to do that for so long.” Continuing to press my body into the wall with his weight, he sighed as I scratched his scalp lightly with my fingernails.
We began again with lighter, more sumptuous kisses to the mouth and neck, both of us releasing all that pent up sexual frustration in a series of long, drawn out moans. But soon after, we could hear the back door open, followed by Paul and Darla’s voices in quiet conversation. They’d be on us any second if we didn’t break the embrace.
“Later,” he whispered, kissing me one last time. I didn’t want to go, but he slowly slid me down the wall. Feet planted firmly on the ground, he squeezed my hand with a smile before heading back into the diner.
Now out of sight, I sated the pestering urge within and pulled my sleeves down to my wrists, then stepped into the bathroom to clean myself up.
I would have been happy to keep the advancement of our relationship a secret, but once Tish dropped in and made a beeline for Nick, he was quick to stand behind me and wrap his arms securely around my waist. That brought her to an abrupt halt, but it wasn’t anger or jealousy that resided behind her bright blue eyes, it was more a knowing smile, more an I told you so kind of glare, the kind that wanted to take responsibility for two people being together, when in fact, that person had done nothing.
Nick and I were the last to walk out the front door, so I locked it behind us and clipped the key to my belt loop, pulling my shirt over it like I always did. He took my hand as we followed our three co-workers down Main Street and down a secondary street that would lead us to a huge field by the middle school. We could already hear the live band and the occasional announcement via loud speaker.
I couldn’t help but notice that with all the additional cars, there were a lot of places someone could hide and I didn’t like the feeling of uneasiness stirring inside my stomach, regardless of the warm hand securing mine.
I’d never been to one of Myrtle Creek’s gatherings before, but it seemed like a typical carnival or fair, only done on a much smaller scale. There were homemade booths scattered around that offered all sorts of food like corndogs, BBQ, sausages and burgers, and sickly sweets like chocolate dipped cherries, cotton candy and fried dough. A few of those smaller, kid-sized amusement rides were mixed in between it all, including the spinning tea pot and a train that followed a circle around the entire festival. The live band and dance floor seemed to be smack dab in the middle, where most of the adults without kids seemed to gather.
Upon entering, our hands were stamped to mark that we were given free tickets that would cover a meal, but for anything more, we’d have to ante up our own money. Paul and Darla went straight to the BBQ booth while Tish bolted towards a group of people she called out to. I could feel Nick pulling back, slowing our speed to quietly lose our company, then turned us in another direction. We wandered through the thick of things, surprised at how many of the residents actually showed up for this event.
When we made our way to the table for firefly catching, I picked up one of the mason jars to study it. Holes in the lid, leaves on the bottom. “You know, I’ve never caught a lighting bug before.”
“Oh, sure you have.”
“No, seriously. L.A. isn’t actually known for its lightning bug population.”
Nick grabbed the jar I had just returned to the table, saying, “Well then, let’s go get you one.”
I tried digging in my feet, but he playfully jerked me along. “This is a kid’s game. We shouldn’t take one of their jars.”
“Oh, please. We’ll bring it right back. Strictly catch and release.”
Thinking what the hell, he led me to the edge of the tree line and let me go. Tons of kids were running around in circles and playfully yelling and giggling. It seemed there were far more kids out than lightning bugs, and very few had even one bug in their jar.
Crouching down beside a tree, he sifted through the ground debris, and shortly after several round glows took flight. Passing me the jar, he sweetly said, “Catch away. They’re not that fast, it’s just a matter of being able to follow them once their butts turn off. And keep moving the jar in a wavelike motion. It’ll help keep them from escaping.”
Laughing lightly and feeling a little silly doing it, I unscrewed the mason jar and swept the air around me.
After a few passes, I saw something blinking within the glass. My level of excitement rivaling the kids’, I bounced in my shoes and merrily chased after the others flying around me. Within a few minutes, I had six fluttering around in my jar.
“This one’s not blinking,” I noted out loud.
“Then you’ve got a female too. Only the males blink.”
He grabbed my hand and pulled me farther down the tree line. “How do you know so much about lightning bugs?”
Chuckling, he replied, “I grew up in Washington. They’re everywhere.”
I pulled him to a stop and held up the jar between us. “Alright then, Mr. Expert. What do you think of my first attempt at catching little bugs that light up their booty?”
When he didn’t answer right away, my eyes shifted from the glowing jar to Nick’s eyes. His hand reached out to caress my face, and he softly said, “I think the fireflies are doing wonders to light up your face. Sexier than candlelight, I bet.”
Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about him. A sense of calm flooded my senses before he leaned down to bring his lips to mine. This kiss was the complete opposite of our first, this one being slow, controlled and gentle. But still just as magnetic, as I yearned to lean in and merge our bodies into one, but was held back by the jar that filled the space between our stomachs.
The pounding of the ground and the crunching of leaves got us to pull away, reminding us of where we were. A little girl around eight had her sights set on the cluster of lights blinking around us.
Out of breath, she cried, “Wow!” when she spotted my jar, her eyes wide with amazement, as dazed as a doe in headlights. “I caught one, too!” She held up a jar that had a single blink occasionally making itself known. “I had more, but I keep losing them when I try to catch more.”
“Wow!” Nick cried with enthusiasm, leaning down to poke her jar. “But it’s so big! Much bigger than any of Megan’s little bugs.”
It was really no different than mine, but she still got all excited about it.
“Yeah, but they choose the winner by how many, not by how big. My brother’s caught three! He’ll probably win. He always beats me.”
That last remark got her a little down, and she looked to her bug with sadness. I leaned down and quickly traded out our jars, lifting my finger to my lips in a shushing manner. She got all bug-eyed with excitement again and cried, “Wow!” really loudly, then skipped off to where her mom was waiting, watching, and who offered us a quick wave in acknowledgement.
I held up the jar between us, jesting, “So how’s my face look against the light of just one little buggar’?”
His face was still as he looked my way, like he was seeing me clearly for the first time, but there was a smile nonetheless. “Even better. Because now, when I drag you just inside the tree line, no one’s going to be able to see us.” He playfully tugged me about twenty feet through the trees, then spent the next ten minutes supplying my lips with some much needed affection.
How had I ever survived without these warm lips? Why did I ever think I would be better off without them? And the way his arms wrapped tightly around me, made me feel safe for once, even out here in the open, in the darkness I’d come to hate.
After releasing our single lightning bug back into the wild, we snuck back out and returned to the festival. Picking up dinner at the BBQ booth, we took our plate to an empty table, but soon noticed Paul and Darla heading our way.
“Just to let you know. Paul’s been giving me the look all night.”
“The look?” I asked curiously.
“Yep. The look that says we need to talk. He doesn’t have a policy about not dating your co-worker, does he?”
“Please. Paul doesn’t have policies, period.”
“Oh, goodie. Then it’s probably just the don’t have sex in my restaurant talk.”
I chuckled, but couldn’t say anything more, as they sat down across from us at the picnic table. We chit-chatted over some nonessential topics, then boring shop talk about work. When Nick and I were done eating our sandwiches, Paul ever so subtly asked Nick to come grab a beer with him. Darla and I gathered the trash at the table and threw it away.
The wind picked up and chilled me to the bone. As much as I loved living in Oregon, people who were always on the chilly side pretty much needed some type of jacket year round during the night time. And since I wasn’t expecting to come to the festival tonight, I hadn’t grabbed one on my way to work. Crossing my arms to huddle for warmth, I spotted an unoccupied fire barrel. “Oh, yes! You coming, Darla?”
I didn’t wait for her to answer, but she hoofed it to catch up to me. Unfortunately, the damn fire wasn’t exactly roaring, its embers pathetically glowing at the bottom. Still, it was better than nothing, and I dipped my hands inside until I felt the heat permeate my palms. It was something I knew I’d never be able to do if the fire had been really burning.
“Girl, you know if you’d put a few more pounds on, you’d have natural warmth like me.” She playfully swung her hip into mine and I shook my head in amusement. I wasn’t going to respond to that, and luckily, I didn’t have to since Tish was catcalling us as she made her way over.
“You-hoo! Girlies!” she sang, embarrassingly loud, drawing the attention of several spectators. I could already tell she had a good buzz going.
“This fire sucks,” I muttered, rubbing my hands to build up some friction. Yeah, ironic for me to say, but I was pretty freaking chilly.
“Yeah, it does,” Tish blabbered. She splashed some of the clear liquid from her cup into the barrel without warning. The embers kicked to life and its fiery tendrils whipped their way up the barrel. I felt the heat against my hand intensify, and I yelped as I pulled my hands out.
Fire licked across my skin, the red inflammation growing darker and darker in color as the pain attacked my nerves.
“Damn it, Tish!” Darla yelled, snatching the cup from Tish’s hand. “What the hell is in there? I thought they were only selling beer here.”
“So someone brought a little vodka to the party. So not a big deal.” Surprisingly quick, Tish stole her cup back from Darla.
I checked my hands, my skin still tingling from the heat, my heart feeling the strain. “Thanks, Tish,” I snarked. “I think I just wet myself.” Well, not really, but I was lucky that burst of fire didn’t make me literally crap my pants. My comment got Tish’s drunk ass laughing, her drink sloshing haphazardly around the edge of her cup. “I’m going to go stand in line to finish peeing,” I jested, pointing to the set of port-a-potties.
“Oh, honey. No,” Darla stated with a hint of disgust. “Just go use the one at the diner.”
“Good idea.” I turned and scanned the area, but didn’t see Nick and Paul anywhere. Oh, well. “I’ll be back in a few.”
When I turned off the side road and headed down Main Street, I came to an abrupt halt. It was eerily deserted. Cars still filled most of the parallel spots and occasionally one would drive by, but I only saw two people walking hand-in-hand way out in front of me.
I didn’t like walking alone in the dark, even on a night when everyone in town was just a block away, the music and voices still replacing the silence around me.
This isn’t safe.
I turned to look back. How could so many people be in one direction and not the other? My heartbeat increasing with each passing second, I stood there under the yellowish glow of the street lamp. Which was completely stupid. Not only was the light inhibiting my eyes’ ability to scan the darkness efficiently for shadows, I let everyone out there know I was standing here all alone.
Suddenly those port-a-potties were looking a lot better.
Damn it, Megan. Just move. It’s not that far.
I sidestepped three times, holding still while my eyes adjusted. I needed to get it through my thick, paranoid head that I was safe here. Myrtle Creek was safe, way off the radar of everyone.
I could see the diner down the way. We had forgotten to turn off
the exterior sign, so it still glowed red and yellow in the night sky, acting like a beacon to guide me on my journey. Alright, journey might have been an overstatement for the short expanse of road. But the distance between here and there was so daunting, I considered it to be an epic journey, because the terror clenching the muscles in my heart made me fear I may never return.
I sucked in a deep breath. I needed to do this. I needed to not be afraid. To prove to myself that I could walk alone in the dark for a quarter of a mile and have nothing bad happen in the process. I needed to take that step and move forward in my life.
One small step to reduce the fear that crippled me at times. One small step closer to being the kind of girl that could date someone like Nick. Someone who wouldn’t unleash a shit load of baggage onto him. I really didn’t want to be this version of Megan anymore. Scared. Paranoid. Haunted.
Exhaling slowly, I took that first step. Then a second and third, until my feet finally gave into rhythm and advanced my trembling body down the path. My eyes continued to worry, shooting left and right and behind at the slightest movement or noise in the vast darkness. Unlike the normal person, I found myself maneuvering around the light, finding safety in the blackest of blacks. As brave of a front as I had put on, I was still terrified to be out by myself, and my feet quickened their pace, yet were light as air against the pavement.
Unfortunately, I had to brave the light to get through the front door. My key already leaving its imprint inside my fisted hand, I quickly turned the lock, ignoring the sounds that seemed to use these precious few seconds to amplify around me, closing in faster and faster. My heart pounded against my ribs, yelling at my shaking hand for taking three attempts to get the key into its matching groove. I shoved myself through the door and locked it quickly behind me, not caring if I looked the fool to anyone outside. Stepping backwards, I allowed myself to blend into the shadows of the dining room, escaping the reaching tendrils of the outside light.
I began to register the familiar sounds in the kitchen behind me: the hums of the coolers and freezers, the buzz of the light by the back door that we always kept on at night, and the gentle whirring of the fan that kept Paul’s hard-drive cool.
NEARLY Trilogy Page 6