by April Smyth
Hearing him sound so low makes the sadness dissipate and instead all I want to do is comfort him. He shouldn’t be spending so much time trying to reassure me that my life will get better when he feels so dismally about his. I wish I could make him feel better. He deserves a reason to wake up in the morning. Without thinking I lean over, place my trembling fingers on the side of his face and give him the smallest, softest kiss I can offer.
His mouth stretches from a solemn pout to a wide grin. ‘What was that for?’
My cheeks turn pink with embarrassment. I shouldn’t have kissed him, I know that, but I was overcome by sympathy and a desire to rid him of all his sadness. I wish I could be that girl to fill up his empty life but I know I can’t. My heart belongs to Gabe, perhaps not wholly, but that is where my love lies.
I shouldn’t have kissed him. I have broken the seal that keeps things at a safe, manageable distance and in doing so I let the emotions rush in. Things will get complicated now and that is the last thing either of us need. It was just a kiss. It was only a kiss out of kindness. My lips barely touched his. So why am I shaking like this?
‘I don’t know. You looked sad,’ I frown.
He is still smiling, ‘Thanks.’
I am frightened that he might want to kiss me again. Well, I want to kiss him too. I liked the scratchiness of his beard against my skin and that I could still taste the rich chocolate cake on his lips. It was such a brief kiss; I would like to explore his mouth and discover what it would be like to really kiss him. I want all of these things but I am terrified that he will want them too. That’s when things could get dangerous.
My body is tense as I lie there. Conflicted. He is looking at me with that big, beautiful smile. If only I could just lean forward and press my lips against that heartwarming smile. Nobody would ever have to know, right? No. I can’t imagine how badly it would hurt at night to lie alone in that hut and think about Gabe, knowing what I’d done, knowing how I would feel if he was kissing other girls. I could argue that he doesn’t know who I am anymore but I don’t believe that. His love for me exists somewhere and until he realises it I will love him enough for both of us. That means I can’t kiss Oliver again even if it is killing me.
The best thing I can do is change the subject before this romantic tension builds any further. ‘If you’re a wolf, some of the time, why aren’t you more aggressive? I always imagined werewolves would be moody bastards,’ I say lightly.
I hadn’t ever given much thought into werewolves or witches before going to Toulouse. The only ‘mythical’ creature which has outed themselves to the world is the vampire. They are in every magazine and on every television in America but witches and werewolves, goblins and fairies, remain lurking in the shadows. I have thought about them sometimes I guess. I wondered if they were real before I had ever even met a bloodsucker and wondered what they’d be like. Vampires were supposed to be elegant and beautiful and sensual. Were witches ugly and resentful? Were werewolves hairy, angry and smelly? Well, Oliver had the hairy thing nailed but certainly not angry or smelly.
‘Regarding temperament, I am less of a wolf and more of a labrador,’ he is still smiling and I can’t help but think it was my gentle gesture that is making him grin like a goofy twelve year old. Then he adds, ‘Is this question time now?’
I resent that I never got the chance to know every inch of Gabe. I wish I’d asked him all the countless questions that popped into my head when we were together. I will never know about his childhood, was it happy? I won’t get to hear stories of his time with Claire and falling in love. Was he smart at school? Did he stick in and try hard? Of course not. What were his dreams for when he was older before the vampires stole his future? Was he a cat or a dog person? What was his favourite movie? I will never, ever get to find these things out. They are gone forever. Maybe Rose can fill in some gaps but it won’t be the same.
‘I guess,’ I shrug speaking sad and quietly. I won’t let Oliver slip away from me. One day, possibly soon, I will have to leave his world and return to my own and I don’t want to regret not knowing every facet of this man. I won’t let that slip away like with Gabe. Although I’m fearful that exploring what makes Oliver so great will only make me fall for him more and make that urge to kiss him deeper.
‘My turn?’ he says. His smile fades now and his face relaxes into a warm, peaceful expression. ‘When is your birthday?’
‘October first,’ I reply quickly. I can’t believe it has been a month since I turned eighteen. I thought the last six months had dragged in slowly but in reality this year has flown by.
I remember my party so clearly. Yet another event where I had to pretend to be happy and normal. I wore a new dress, black, gothic and lacy, and I curled my long blonde hair. I remember Jonathan telling me repeatedly how sexy I looked and how lucky he was to be with me. I remember what Lucy and Kate were wearing. Lucy, who looks like a little imp, had on a pair of high waisted black jeans, a chiffon shirt and her eye make up was dramatic. Kate was the girly girl of the group. Her face was bright pink from the blusher and lipstick and her dress was so sparkly it could have blinded me. They came over before the party and we drank champagne and giggled. I guess for that night I was sort of normal and I had liked it but when I blew out the candles I was wishing for Gabe.
‘Where’s your head at?’ he asks. I have noticed he likes to get inside my mind a lot but if he really knew what was going on there I don’t think he would want to spend a minute inside.
‘Oh a lifetime ago,’ I sigh. ‘It doesn’t matter anymore.’
SEVEN
Three days pass sweetly. I’m stuck in between throes of longing for Gabe and my guilt over these rapidly growing feelings for Oliver. The tension between us doesn’t die down but it’s bearable enough that I don’t lunge across the living room and throw myself on him. We watch movies, we laugh over the delicious meals June prepares, lustful glances are exchanged but, ultimately, ignored.
There are no more phone calls from Rose or if she does call it is when I am fast asleep. Oliver stays with me in the hut until I fall asleep but now when I wake up he is gone leaving me with that familiar sense of emptiness when I open my eyes.
I want to kiss him again. It doesn’t seem right that I could want anyone’s lips except Gabe’s but there is a waiting comfort to be discovered in Oliver’s kisses. I want to taste the saltiness of his lips even though I know it is wrong. I think he wants to kiss me too, although I’m not sure what reason he has to.
In three days, Oliver has awoken my heart which had been hibernating for the past six months and, in three days, I learn and memorise the contours of his face and the roughness of his hands.
Our favourite game is still ‘question time.’ We are constantly quizzing one another and discovering new facets of each other’s lives and as I feared learning more about Oliver’s life only deepens my admiration for him. He is funny and tender. He talks about his parents and how his mother died of cancer then his father died from heartbreak. He doesn’t elaborate on his parents’ death any further. He seems forlorn but at the same time he talks about his family with a fondness rather than sadness. I wish I had enough memory of my mother to talk about her. All I know is that she was a Healer too and died at the hands of Maurice, like I’m going to.
We are lying side by side on Oliver’s bed again facing the ceiling which is decorated with carved wooden beams. The questions range from our favourite things to the absurd. When we lie here laughing like children it’s easy for me to forget the stupid kiss ever happened. I sink into the laughter which eases the raw sensuality he exudes. He makes everything seem so easy which is very hard for me. I know the reality is that the more we laugh with one another, the more hours we spend lying here together, the harder things will be when I have to say goodbye but Oliver seems to be blissfully ignorant or doesn’t care about it. To him, only today exists. I wish I could live like that. I can’t stop living in the past or the future.
‘Would you
rather jump from an aeroplane or... eat a worm?’
‘Easy,’ I laugh. ‘Aeroplane.’
‘Not much for fine cuisine?’ he tilts his head and raises a thick eyebrow at me.
I stifle my giggles, ‘Nah, I’m just... I mean I used to be a bit of adrenaline junkie.’
I ignore the fleeting signs of surprise and then admiration that make Oliver’s eyes sparkle. I push away the realisation that Oliver might be as besotted by me as I am by him. Every time I say something funny he laughs more than necessary or if I say something bad about myself his frown is deeper than you would expect from an almost stranger. I clear my throat, ‘You can be any animal in the world, what would you be?’
‘I don’t know,’ he hesitates. ‘A bunny rabbit?’
A burst of laughter escapes from my mouth at top volume. Okay, this whole finding each other remarkably hilarious thing is a two way street. ‘A bunny rabbit? Seriously?’
‘Yeah! They are extremely adorable, like myself, and spend most of their time fucking, don’t they?’ he laughs.
‘Fair point,’ I reply. God, I wish he hadn’t mentioned that. I had done a good job at keeping things friendly today. I had succeeding in ignoring the obvious but the mention of sex makes my palms sweaty. Who knew it was possible to make being a bunny rabbit seem sexual? Apparently Oliver can. ‘Not a wolf?’
There is a short silence while Oliver contemplates my question then he says, ‘No, I don’t think I’d like to be a wolf. I’ve had enough of that for a lifetime.’
‘Don’t you like it?’
‘Not so much,’ he says.
‘Why? It’s who you are,’ I can’t understand why someone like Oliver would have reason to dislike a part of himself but, then again, it’s probably hypocritical of me to think that when I know that everyone has dark elements to them. I’m sure most people would assume being a Healer is great and that I must love never having to worry about pains, aches or illnesses yet being a Healer is brought me infinite pain. I just wish Oliver would open up to me about why he hates being a werewolf. It seems to be the only thing he keeps locked away, out of my sight.
‘It’s my turn to ask questions now,’ is all he says. He has been so open with me up until now but I am so curious. Does he think he is a monster? I shudder. He is the furthest thing from monstrous.
‘What was your first kiss like?’ he asks.
I groan, ‘Can we not talk about it?’
I don’t want to talk about it. Not because my first kiss was awkward or gross or embarrassing or all of the above but because my first kiss was shared with a villainous vampire. It was with the same man who now wants me and everyone I love dead. That special moment was given to the person who has ruined my life entirely. Everything bad in my life is because of him and I gave him my first kiss and my virginity. I turn cold just thinking about it.
‘That bad?’ Oliver raises an eyebrow.
‘That bad.’
‘Okay, you get a free pass,’ he licks his lips. Why did he have to start talking about kissing? Is that kiss of our’s still playing in his mind? I know that I can’t help but think about it every night when his arms are wrapped around me before I fall asleep. Yes, our touches are friendly now but they are charged with something more, something that that kiss ignited.
‘What about yours?’ I ask. I shouldn’t be encouraging this conversation when I want to feel his lips all over my skin. I should get back to talking about worms. I think I might even prefer the bunny conversation to hearing Oliver talk about his past romantic experiences.
‘I was twelve and I really liked this girl in my class so I asked if she’d like to go a walk. She said yes and we spent the whole day getting lost and at the end she said she had a great time. I hugged her and I was too nervous to kiss her but when she walked away, I just plucked up the courage, ran back to her and did it,’ he explains. ‘Romantic, eh?’
His sweetness is making functioning like a normal human being next to him a challenging task. All I want to is to climb on top of him and smother him in my kisses. I want to heal the pain that I know he is hiding. I want to make him feel my appreciation for how much he has saved me these past few days.
‘Very,’ I smile. My breathing is quickening.
‘Okay so if you won’t tell me about your first kiss, what about the best one?’ he says. ‘I won’t be offended if you don’t say ours. It was very brief.’
I laugh. I know I shouldn’t talk about Gabe when it upsets me so much but something compels me to. ‘My best kiss was about six months ago with a boy I was, am, very in love with. I have never felt more me or more alive in my life. It was wonderful.’
I am surprised by how composed I remain and how much I enjoy revealing such a great moment, the best moment, in my life. By talking about Gabe in such a fond way I feel like he is with me. I feel his light radiating on me but it’s bittersweet.
‘Sounds beautiful,’ Oliver says distantly.
‘Back at you. Best kiss you’ve ever had and trust me I will be offended if you don’t say mine no matter how brief it was,’ I tease.
Oliver laughs heartily. ‘Honestly I don’t think I’ve had any spectacular kisses.’
‘That’s sad.’
‘I don’t think I’ve ever met anybody who makes me feel like me like that yet. I would like to. I would like to fall in love I mean,’ Oliver’s voice is dreamy and far away.
Oliver has never been in love. I don’t know whether to pity him. Love is spectacular, I learned that in the very brief time that I experienced it. It makes you more aware of yourself. It’s amazing to look at a person and feel so intensely connected to them. Loving Gabe has been a blessing but it has been a burden too. Having such a passionate relationship with someone can be torture especially if the love is not reciprocated. I feel sad that Oliver has never felt the highs of love but I can’t feel sorry for him when he has never had to feel the lows.
‘You’re supposed to kiss me now,’ he says with a cheeky smile and I am taken aback. We have been avoiding this for days! Even when we laid together on that cramped single bed in the cabin out the back we managed to keep it innocent. Why is he ruining this now?
‘What?’
‘I’m kidding, Cassie!’ he chortles.
‘Not funny!’ I slap his chest playfully. My heartbeat has tripled in speed and I feel like it’s working so hard that it might be able to burst through the thick membrane of my body and start beating rapidly on the bed. I press my hand against my chest to keep my heart in place. Wow, I really am regretting that kiss now.
‘Don’t look so serious,’ he says. It’s easy for him to say. He’s not in love and never has been. To him, this is harmless but every time he flirts with me, licks his lips, looks at me with those hungry eyes, whenever I think of ravishing that amazing sculpted body of his, I am being dragged in all directions. My heart is being tugged by a magnetic force towards Gabe wherever he is in the world and it kills me to know that I am capable of feeling the way I do about Oliver. His smile fades as he realises my genuine frustration. This isn’t a game anymore.
I turn away from his face now because I am suddenly aware of how overtly intimate it is that we are lying on his bed together. I’m intensely conscious of our fingertips which are almost touching and I’m scared to look into his eyes again because I know one more gaze could make or break this thing.
‘You don’t have to be so scared around me, Cassie, you can be yourself...’ He says it quietly as if he is trying to disguise the hidden meaning of his words. He knows what I am afraid of, how can he tell me not to be scared? Everybody I love is in grave danger because of me and all I can think about is a night of passion with this, albeit crazily good looking, sweet and funny, guy. That is terrifying. I am being consumed by this lust and the last time I let that animalistic desire in my gut get the better of me, well, that’s how I ended up here in the first place.
The awkward silence and my obvious avoidance of him perturbs Oliver. He nudges me again and even
the simple action of his knuckles skimming my back makes me shiver. Sometimes you want someone so badly you can feel it all over your body, even in your elbows and right now I can feel it in my elbows a lot.
‘I’m not that bad, am I?’ he says.
I don’t reply. I curl up tightly, putting my knees under my chin, and am glad I’m facing away so he can’t see my face and, in turn, the lone tear trickle down my cheek. I am so done with crying. Is it really that bad that I want some relief from all this pain? Is feeling Oliver’s lips on my skin really such a horrible thing to want when I have been to Hell and back this year?
‘Hey you,’ he nudges my back. ‘Come on, what’s up?’
‘Drop it Oliver,’ my voice is muffled. I want him desperately to curb the growling appetite I have, to stop the tears and the pain, and that same desire makes me want to run to my own bed where I can shove my face into my pillow and scream like I always do when life gets too much to bear. It is a vicious cycle of lust then guilt and I need it to end somehow.
He tugs at my shoulder and uses his effortless strength to flip me over so our noses are touching again. ‘Hey,’ he says with intense eyes. His breath is warm against my face. I drop my gaze to avoid his burning eyes but find myself more distracted by the small strip of bare flesh showing where his shirt rides up. I lick my lips as I take in the russet tones of his skin and the pleasant trail of hair above the zip of his jeans. My mind is elsewhere but Oliver remains firmly in reality, ‘Would you stop stressing out so much and talk to me, Cassie? Is it the Gabe thing?’
Guilt hits me so hard I feel like I can’t breathe. I should be thinking about ‘the Gabe thing’ but I’m not. I’m thinking about how I would like to trace every line of Oliver’s well-sculpted body with my fingertips and then with my tongue. I’m thinking about the steamy bath I had the first morning here and how much I would love to recreate the scene only with Oliver as an additional character. I should be worrying about Gabe, my family, Rose... Most of the time I am preoccupied with those things but, right now, no, I’m not thinking about ‘the Gabe thing.’ I’m sick of crying and feeling like life is too unfair to be bearable. I’m sick of being sad; now all I want to feel is Oliver. The guilt starts to ebb away again.