by Lucy Knott
‘Ha-ha, I guess I did.’ I smile as it dawns on me that yes, I guess this has been my superhero lair all these years; a secret den unknown to the world around me. ‘And speaking of lair…’ I start throwing blankets at Devon and moving boxes ‘…I think it’s missing something.’
‘A fort?’ Devon catches on making me smile. For the next ten minutes we busy ourselves stacking boxes and throwing blankets and throws over the top until we have a cave-like situation. I only pause to put on some Christmas music and pop open the wine. We have to adjust the height of the boxes a few times to accommodate Devon, and finally I nip out to change into my pyjamas and collect my duvet off my bed, so the floor is cosier and squishier, completing our fort and making me a thousand times more comfortable and fort ready.
I sit at the entranceway allowing Devon to hand me the pile of treats, followed by the wine, then I hear him shuffling around, opening a drawer or two before his face appears and he crawls in holding our childhood book.
‘How did you know I’d still have that thing?’ I ask, taking a sip of wine as he makes himself comfortable. I’m surprisingly not fussed that he found it. It makes sense to look at it in our fort. Maybe we could add a few things, I find myself thinking. Like what, I’m not quite sure. Devon has achieved the ultimate goal of becoming a superhero and I imagine he has a nice big house in New York. I’m unaware of the tree situation in Long Island so I can’t say if a tree house would be on the cards in future for Devon, and I’m just here in Springhollow being an assistant, not exactly saving the world, but I suppose a tree house could be possible for me. The park has enough trees, though I don’t have a superhero outfit like Devon has.
I let Devon flick through our book and reminisce as I lie back on the blankets enjoying the peacefulness of our fort that’s lost to the world, while I mull over such thoughts in my head. A few moments pass when I register that Devon is lying beside me, our book held in the air above his face as he continues to read and look at the pictures.
‘Does it bother you anymore how Ruby used to treat us at school?’ I muse, the question casually finding its way out into the open as my thoughts move in and out of childhood while I study the colours of the Christmas throw we’re using as the roof of our fort. I can feel Devon’s elbow against mine and hear the swish of him turning the page of our childhood book. Maybe it’s the mulled wine, maybe it’s the magical time of the year, but I feel the last remaining foundation of my wall shatter as I allow myself to enjoy the feeling of this amazing day – well, amazing besides the Ruby bits and my sudden remembrance of the way she gripped on to Devon earlier today.
I do suppose Hope was right at the cookie competition, more than anyone I do feel I can talk to D about everything and anything and I guess now is as good a time as any to talk about our love lives, we are grown-ups now after all.
‘I don’t know, I tend not to think about the negatives anymore. Sometimes that’s easier said than done being in the public eye now. I have to work a little harder, but I much prefer to see the positives.’ I can feel his shoulder move up and down as he shrugs against me. His feet are most certainly sticking out of our fort with his head almost level with mine and I wonder if that’s what he had been upset about at the skatepark, that he had found himself worrying too much about what other people thought in his new world of fame.
‘But you obviously like the person she’s become. I saw you laughing with her, how she’s always clinging to you. I have to be honest with you though, D, she’s not changed the way she treats me, but if she makes you happy and she somehow shows a different side to you then I’ll just have to learn to accept it.’ I smile at the cotton snowmen, wanting with all my heart to believe and act on what I just said, even though it feels like The Hulk has just inhabited my stomach and is thrashing around.
Devon shifts on to his elbow, placing our book on my stomach. I stay on my back tilting my head up so I can meet his gaze. Were his eyes always this vibrant, a deep brown with flecks of hazel in the low light?
‘What do you mean if she makes me happy?’ he asks, creases forming on his forehead, confusion etched on his face. I scrunch up my nose. Is he going to make me say it out loud?
‘You know if you and her are lovers. Hope tells me that’s what the magazines are saying, and you never seem to mind when she’s all pressed up against you. I mean she is gorgeous, like on the outside. She looks like a woman,’ I stammer, averting my gaze to the Christmas throw once more. It really is a pretty throw; handmade by Emily. She really does make the most beautiful things. A giggle escapes my lips as my brain registers the word “lover” lingering between Devon and me. I know I’m definitely high on Christmas right now, but also the pure joy I feel when Devon’s eyes crinkle with amusement too. His cheeks flush and he gives me the toothiest, cheesiest smile.
‘Lovers?’ he questions, an eyebrow raising like he’s that man in the action movie Hope and Jess had me watch. What’s his name? The Rock. Then a smirk replaces the awkwardness and if I wasn’t lying down, I think I would have been bowled over by how sexy Devon looks right now. How dare my nerdy ex best friend look so sexy propped up on his elbow with a slight red flush in his cheeks, those brown eyes huge and sparkling. What’s he playing at? He pokes me above my heart with his finger, which causes a firework to explode there, in all its green and red festive glory.
‘You think I want to be with Ruby? And did you actually just use the word “lovers”?’ He pokes me again, which sends a firework shooting towards my stomach. I try and ignore the embers heating my body and making my own cheeks a Christmassy shade of red.
‘Well, yeah, I guess, I don’t know. Are you not? I mean you came to see her two years ago – I thought you two might have kept in touch. And she’s glamorous and perfect for your red-carpet life,’ I say, only a little bit confused but determined to state out the facts and saying them out loud, getting them out in the open makes me feel more like I can come to terms with it if it’s actually true.
D bends his knee, now resting it over my shin. He shuffles to get comfy on our mound of blankets on the floor. He doesn’t seem bothered by our limbs touching and neither am I, though my body is deftly aware, distracting me ever so slightly from my attempt at a serious grown-up conversation.
‘Scar, you do know Ruby is a stylist – that’s why she’s been on set and hanging around,’ he says with a half-smirk and a small chuckle like he can’t believe what I just thought, but then his entertained features soften to a more serious tone, his eyes become slightly hooded as he absent-mindedly plays with the hem of my baggy tee and he lets out a heavy, “here goes nothing” kind of sigh.
‘I didn’t come here to see Ruby two years ago. I was nearby for a shoot and I wanted to see you. All these years I’ve wanted to see you. I’ve thought about you every day, but then I saw you. At the summer fair, I caught a glimpse of you. You were laughing with Jess and well, obviously I didn’t know who Jess was back then and I assumed he was your boyfriend.’ The blush creeps back on to his cheeks. His hand is now fiddling with the bow of my shorts. I seem to have forgotten how to breathe.
‘I saw you happy and I didn’t want to ruin that happiness. The last time I had seen you I had put a hurt behind your eyes I couldn’t bear. He made you laugh, and, in that moment, I knew everything had changed for good and we could never go back.’ I take my eyes off his dimpled cheeks to look him in the eye. He’s already looking at me intently and I suddenly feel like I’ve caught the kerb with the edge of my skateboard causing me to hurl towards the ground.
‘What do you mean, D? You don’t think we can be friends anymore?’ Our eyes are locked on each other’s and I find my hand tracing over his fingers that are messing with my bow. Devon clears his throat.
‘Not quite, Scar. You were wearing the sweetest denim pinafore with a yellow tee and your yellow pumps. Your hair was a little longer than it is now, maybe touching your shoulders, and I could see your blue eyes glistening in the sun. I couldn’t take my eyes off you, al
l grown-up. I realised then that I still loved you and that love had somehow grown, in all our years apart and through all the growing up, into something so much stronger. I wanted to be the one to look after you, like when we were kids, but so much more than that. It felt wrong seeing you with someone else. But I couldn’t fool myself. We’d spent so much time apart and seeing you with him – so radiant, so beautiful, so happy – I panicked. I worried I would only mess up again, that too much time had passed, and my feelings were just confused. Then you crashed into me at the press junket last week.’
His brown eyes are glistening now under the moonlight that’s sneaking in through the cracks in our fort and with the tears that are forming puddles on his lash line. But no more words leave his lips.
I’m trying to process all that he has said. He’d used the word “love” but I knew that. I knew I loved Devon when we were kids, just like I knew I loved my mum and dad and little Steve Rogers. But what did he mean stronger? Did it feel stronger, different somehow now? I want to reach out and stroke his cheek to assure him it’s OK and there’s no need for tears, but nervous laughter bubbles up inside me as I go over everything he said. ‘Wait, you thought I was with Jess?’ Giggles erupt and I swat D in the chest, making his shoulders relax as he joins in with my laughter. I may have ruined the moment a little but if we’re clearing the air, I feel nothing is off limits or an invalid point to make, and I need a second to make sense of my thoughts.
‘Well I didn’t know who Jess and Hope were then did I? I just saw you with a guy.’ He shoves me back playfully before lying back down so he’s staring at the snowmen on the roof of our fort once more. This allows me some space to breathe.
‘Just to clarify, Jess and I have never been together. It’s been him and Hope since day one.’ I lift our book from my stomach and place it to the side of me carefully then swivel my hips so it’s my turn to prop myself up on my elbow. I watch as Devon closes his eyes and breathes in deeply and then I take a brave breath myself.
‘I never apologised for shouting at you and letting you leave the way you did. I wanted to run after you, but I felt defeated. I couldn’t stop you going. I messed up, D. I should have replied to your messages, but I thought it was better to just forget about you. I wanted more, I didn’t want to be pen pals; I wanted you with me. I just sort of retreated in on myself and was angry with everyone. If it wasn’t for Hope and Jess, I don’t know what I would have done at college. I dated guys but I never felt like I could be me. I didn’t know how to act, so my relationships never worked out.
‘All this time I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. But I was so confused. I wanted you back, I wanted you here, but I was still mad at you. I wasn’t myself around other men. I guess I was thinking about them leaving before they’d even left.’ I pause, scared to say more and so I lie back down to gather my thoughts.
Back then, when I was dating, my thoughts would often drift to Devon. I thought relationships were supposed to be easy, comfortable and bring a sense of familiarity. I missed being able to be completely myself around a guy and at ease in their company. Then the guys would leave, and it would hit me again – that’s what they all did, that’s what Devon had done too and I would feel hopeless.
But then when I bumped into him a week ago, it felt like something more was bothering me. Had I been angry because of something other than his simply leaving? When dating, did my brain turn to Devon because it was Devon I wanted to be dating? This whole week my feelings have been all over the place. Having him next to me just feels right. He fits. Is this what he means by our love being stronger? More than friendship?
My heart rate begins to pick up as I feel Devon’s fingers interlock with mine down by my hip. His thumb brushes over my hand. Does he understand it too? That electricity is back. A powerful surge of passion takes over my entire body and mind. I sit up ready to make the boldest move I have ever made: I want to kiss Devon, I really want to kiss him. I turn, move forward and bend down towards his face when Devon mirrors my actions causing us to meet halfway with a cracking headbutt.
I blink as my eyes fill with tears, my forehead pounding. I let out a yelp, which again Devon matches, though his is more of a deep grunt.
Trying to balance with one hand on my forehead and the other on Devon’s chest, I shuffle my weight so I’m sitting cross-legged and when I open my eyes D’s are but an inch away. I send a prayer to Odin himself that Devon had been thinking the same thing as me, as with the throbbing in my forehead I don’t think I will be quick enough in making up an excuse to get me out of this one.
‘Were you about to kiss me?’ we ask in unison, our voices turning to a whisper at the end. Heat radiates off both our cheeks. Devon’s hand is now gently soothing my forehead. A dimple forms in his right cheek, his eyes crinkle with a smile that lights up his whole face and then his lips find mine. My hands find his face and hair as I melt into the softness of him. His movements are gentle. One hand moving to the back of my head, the other on my waist pulling me closer to him in a way that’s both passionate and sweet.
Our kisses are a slow and steady rush as we tumble down into the blankets. Devon’s hand moves to the top of my shorts as our hips connect. ‘I prefer the tiny pants.’ He breathes, rubbing his nose against mine. His eyes look at me so attentively as he runs a finger over the drawstring of the shorts I remembered to put on this time. A laugh escapes my tingling lips as I trace my palm over his five o’clock shadow. Stronger? I do believe our love may be surpassing the strength of Hercules right about now.
19
A rush of heat sweeps over my body. My eyelashes flicker until I manage to force them to stay open – my twinkly lights catch me off guard with their brightness in the dark room. I don’t have a clock in my spare room so I have no idea of the time. All I know is that my stomach is rumbling after the evening’s events. I don’t fancy any of the snacks Devon and I brought up to the fort, so as quietly as I can I wriggle free of Devon’s sleeping limps that are wrapped around me, securing my warmth. I push myself up off the floor and sneak to the landing, grabbing my shorts on the way out.
The heating hasn’t come on yet, so the house is chilly. I rub my hands together and do a little shiver as I make my way to the kitchen. The clock on the cooker reads four-forty-five, which surprises me as I don’t usually see this side of six a.m. if I can help it, but this morning I feel oddly sprightly. I rub my hands over my arms to warm myself up as I set about boiling the kettle and pulling out ingredients from the fridge and cupboard. I know what I’d like for breakfast and the thought simultaneously makes my stomach growl and my lips curve up into a small smile. Pancakes: my dad used to make Devon and I pancakes whenever we had sleepovers. They’d fill us up and give us plenty of energy to battle any bad guys throughout the day, my dad would tell us.
While I let the batter rest for ten minutes or so, I retrieve some blueberries and raspberries from the fridge along with whipped cream, then some leftover chocolate slivers and a jar of Nutella from the cupboard and place them on the dining table before I grab my coffee mug and wander through to the living room. I flick on the switch and my Christmas tree illuminates. A gasp escapes my lips. Every. Time. Eddie isn’t awake yet so I leave him to rest and perch myself on my favourite spot – the cushion on the window ledge, so my view is either the tree or my street, and well, both when I catch the reflection of the tree in the glass. Outside, snow lays thick on the ground and there are more flakes falling. I smile into my coffee feeling the peacefulness of the season when I hear shuffling.
The tree demands all the light leaving the rest of the room in a shadowy darkness, but my Spidey sense is tingly. I can feel Devon’s presence. Sure enough his large figure appears from around the tree. He doesn’t talk, just stands behind me wrapping his arms around me, taking in the scenery out the window. The holly wreaths and colourful bauble wreaths on the rows of houses make the street look idyllic enough for a Christmas card – maybe that could be next year’s Christmas
fair idea? A few moments pass before Devon drops a kiss on the top of my head, making my toes curl under. I turn to him and wrap my legs around his waist, which receives a low groan and a flustered smile. I know he’s blushing, but contradictory to his rosy cheeks I can just make out his features under the gold glow of the tree and there’s a confidence in his eyes that is ridiculously sexy.
‘Breakfast?’ I croak out, unable to take my eyes off him, even though I’m sure it’s going to leave a crick in my neck.
Devon takes the coffee mug from me and places it on the window ledge then slides his hands under my bum, scooping me up with ease. My legs are still wrapped around him like a koala. ‘Yes, please,’ he says, before kissing me. His kiss is tender yet passionate, a mixture of a slow but hungry pace. It sends goose bumps over my entire body. One of my hands rests against his chest; the other I have on the back of his neck. He’s gorgeous and strong and home.
The sunrise has slowly started to add a little more light to the room, making the Christmas lights more a soft twinkle than a harsh yellow glow. Devon’s eyes are fixated on mine. I see a hint of naughtiness behind them and know he was thinking of a totally different kind of breakfast – just as I had been.
‘I thought you said you didn’t have telepathic powers,’ I joke, raising an eyebrow and brushing my lips over his. I like that I can do that, and I love how his body reacts towards mine. I’m not ready to move away from him just yet and will happily choose from the menu he is thinking of.
‘I can’t go around giving away all my secret superhero powers now, can I?’ he notes through a mock modest smirk.
‘So, these powers…’ I start as Devon moves his hands to my hips and throws me over his shoulder. I shriek and try to get away but when my wriggling has no effect, I relax and let my head dangle admiring my view; it truly is the perfect view, hmm buns of steel.