by Zara Rivas
We fell silent, watching the storm. Neither of us was really paying attention to the lightning though; the electricity in the room was charged enough without any sort of manifestation of it outside. And then lightning flashed and I was looking at his face, and when I saw the light reflect off his eyes I realized he was watching me, too. We both understood something at that moment.
"If you want to avoid being murdered by my brothers in case they come home early," I swallowed, "you should lock the door."
"It's your room," he challenged mischievously, "why don't you lock it?"
"I really think standing would present some difficulty for me right now," I confessed. He made a noise of amusement in the back of his throat.
"She finally succumbs to my charm," he announced to the room, standing.
"Oh shut up," I muttered, "or you won't get any tonight."
I heard the lock click on the doorknob and suddenly he was in front of me, his hands gently holding my face.
"Sloane, I am in no hurry," he said seriously, "and if you don't want this, all you have to do is say the word."
I looked into his eyes for a moment, and gave him my answer when I pressed my lips to his. He responded immediately, of course, his fingers running gently through my hair. We sank back into the mattress, taking our time, and I played with the hem of his shirt, fingers brushing his spine. Finally I decided the shirt was an annoyance and started pulling it over his head, and he obliged me by raising his arms (and his eyebrows), at the right time.
"Impatient, hmm?" he asked, leaning over me and resting his weight on his elbows. His chapped lips brushed my neck and I shivered. He made a noise of satisfaction and I lightly punched his arm.
"Are you going to be violent?" he asked against my neck, "because I'd really like some warning."
"No violence," I promised, and ran my foot up the back of his leg. From his small intake of breath I guessed he liked that.
"Oh good," he murmured, and moved down to kiss my stomach. I squirmed a little, but let him nonetheless. My shirt ended up somewhere near his on the floor, and he looked up at me again when he reached my pajama pants. He saw no protest in my eyes and slowly pulled them down, carefully working them over my ankles and feet, and dropped them on the floor. He traced my scars with his hands, his eyes, then his tongue, and when he did that I nearly knocked him off the bed in my haste to get him back up to my level so I could kiss him on the mouth.
"I never knew scars could be such a turn-on," he said, pulling away for air. We looked at each other in the darkness—mussed, grinning, out of breath.
"Neither did I," I said, breathing hard. "And I'm sensing a little inequality here."
I pulled at the material of his jeans.
He grinned.
"I can fix that," he said, starting to unbutton them. My hands stopped his and I shook my head. Pushing his hands aside, I worked at the button and the zipper on the jeans. He ducked his head and kissed my shoulder, his fingers pressing into my spine. I pushed his jeans down partially, and he kicked them off the rest of the way. Suddenly we were in our undergarments, and I shivered. More out of nerves than the cold, but Xavier still picked me up and pushed the covers aside, putting me back on the bed and sliding in beside me.
He kissed me slowly.
We lost ourselves for a long time.
oOoOo
We'd fallen asleep at some point, and I woke to the sound of a door down the hall slamming shut. I started, and turned to find Sinclair looking at me in the dark, eyes wide. The lamp in my room was back on, but I had no idea of what time it was, or even when the storm had stopped. It hadn't, I realized, as I heard the rain sloshing against the windows. But the lightning was gone.
Sinclair leaned over the side of the bed and started reaching for his clothes in a hurry, but I put my hand on his arm and put a finger up to my lips. I pressed the button to turn my lamp off and we listened, barely breathing.
"Sloane must be asleep," Finn said from the hall, voice muffled.
"Wouldn't surprise me," Nic replied, and someone flicked the hall light off. "Xavier's motorcycle is out front."
"Yeah, he probably came over to find out why she was ignoring him."
I smiled at Finn's perception. Sinclair rolled his eyes, and mouthed 'you told him?' and I nodded.
'Sorry,' I mouthed back. He smiled and brushed my hair back from my shoulders.
The voices disappeared down the hallway and we both relaxed. Xavier started shifting around again, groping for his clothes.
"What are you doing?" I asked quietly, stilling him with a hand on his arm.
"Trying to find some clothes, in case one of them changes their mind and tries to look in on you," he whispered back. I shook my head with a smile, drawing his arm back over the bed and pressing myself against his side.
"They won't," I promised. "And besides, the door is locked. And you're really warm, so if you move and put on a bunch of cold clothes I'm not sure I'll want to cuddle with you," I teased.
"Well in that case," he said, and turned on his side, pulling me closer, "I guess I'll stay like this."
oOoOo
I set an alarm for early the next morning so we could both get up and shower. Somehow I didn't think it would be appropriate to say goodbye to my baby sister and Logan smelling like sex. I wrinkled my nose at that thought as I shampooed my hair. It sounded downright disgusting. I took the first shower—somehow Sinclair didn't feel like it was a good idea for him to be the first person to say good morning to my family. I teased him and said that there was no way they could know, and he retorted that fathers are psychic about their daughters.
"I guess it's a good thing he isn't much of a father, then," I said morosely, and stepped into the shower. It still didn't convince him.
We stepped into the kitchen and it was barely two seconds before I had an orange chucked at my head by Finn who was, surprise surprise, raiding the fridge.
"Thanks," I drawled, starting to peel it. He tossed one to Sinclair as well and then handed the buttermilk to Nic, who seemed to be mixing up pancakes.
"Betrayal!" I cried dramatically, pointing at the mixing bowl.
"Oh calm down," he said, and moved aside to reveal a skillet with sizzling French toast behind him. I relaxed and smiled a little.
"And I thought I was going to have to disown you as my brother. I still can't believe you're making pancakes too, though."
"Daphne's choice," Nic shrugged.
Sinclair and I grabbed a couple of stools around the island, next to Daphne. I gave her an extremely embarrassing bear hug, and she squealed and tried to escape. Finn figured out what was going on and bounded over, crying "group hug!" and squeezed the both of us. Daphne and I both squealed, then, trying to wriggle our way out of Finn's grip.
"Where the hell did you get your unnatural strength?" I wheezed, as Xavier and Nic laughed at my mussed hair and rumpled appearance.
"I'll take the blame for that," a voice said behind us, and it showed how much we'd all gotten used to Logan when none of us tensed up.
Finn actually grinned at him, and I shrugged and said, "That makes sense."
Xavier watched my face to gauge my reaction but I smiled to show him I was fine.
"Yeah, I got all the good genes," Finn teased.
I rolled my eyes at him and pretended to ignore him, so when I scooped a handful of flour out of Nic's mixing bowl, he didn't see it.
I decided to go for a simple tactic and said, "Hey, Finn!" and when he turned, flung the flour into his face.
The entire kitchen erupted in snorts and giggles.
None of us escaped the food fight without a second shower for the morning. I had to work to scrub the flour, orange juice, pancake batter, and syrup off of my arms, and even Logan laughed uproariously when someone upended the pitcher of apple juice over his head. The kitchen was an absolute disaster, but we actually all felt like a family.
Sinclair went home after a couple of hours, saying he hadn't said anything a
bout spending the night, so he'd probably better go make sure his mother wasn't home.
Finn, Nic and I loafed around the den for a while, moping a little bit after Daphne and Logan left. Nobody had made a big fuss about it, but it was depressing nonetheless.
"Let's watch a movie," Finn intoned, "I'm tired of all this silence."
"Agreed," Nic and I said together.
"What do you want to watch?"
I sat up suddenly, kicking my legs onto the floor and standing up.
"I have a good one, give me a minute," I said, walking out and starting my way up the stairs. I felt an ache between my legs as I walked, like I was a little bruised, and I smiled to myself. It was a reminder of what Xavier and I had done the night before, and it was mine, and mine alone. I walked into my room and started fishing around for a DVD Torrance had lent me a few days prior.
We put the movie in and I flopped onto the couch between them, content to be sandwiched by my brothers.
Epilogue
END OF MAY
Finn prodded a piece of glass, watching as it turned with a fascinated expression. Thousands of tiny shards of glass hung from translucent wires attached to the entrance hall of the school, in a swirling mass of color and light and movement. Roughly half of them were pure, vibrant shades of blue in every hue of the deep ocean, and the rest were covered in absolutely miniscule photographs, tiny snapshots of ocean life that when pieced together with the glass, formed larger fish and coral and made up a giant picture of a living ocean.
Light shimmered around the entrance hall as I watched him rove around and through the middle of the CAP I had helped create. It reminded me of being in an aquarium, in a glass room completely surrounded by water. It was always my favorite part of any aquarium, because then I could imagine myself as a sea creature, living in such a beautiful place.
"This really is fantastic, Sloane," Finn said to me, tugging on my deep purple graduation gown. The Valedictorian's cords swayed a little and I glanced at them with a smile.
"Thanks," I said softly, looking around at the school. "I wanted to leave an impression. It feels weird to think that I'm never going to be back here."
"Never say never," Finn said. "You might come back to visit your teachers. I'm here, aren't I?"
"You're here because I graduated today," I teased, shoving him a little. He stumbled backwards into the ocean glass, and a tinkling noise echoed through the room as the rippling shards collided. It was beautiful.
Someone made a noise in the back of their throat and I turned to see Logan watching with a smile on his face. Daphne poked her head around the corner behind him, and they started circling just as Finn had done. Nic wasn't too far behind, and Blake leaned against the doorway with a grin as he watched all of us. I felt a strange contentment, having my family around me like this. The awkwardness had dissipated, at least for the time being, and I loved every minute of it.
I was pretty sure most of the school had gone by then; my family had a knack for sneaking off and exploring when they got bored, and graduation ceremonies? Not the most exciting things in the world. They'd disappeared after they watched me walk across the stage, and I was not surprised to find Finn analyzing the collaboration Xavier and I had worked so hard on.
Speak of the devil, I thought with a smile as Xavier huffed into the room.
"Good of you to join us," I said smoothly, as he straightened his graduation gown, looking annoyed.
"I had to tear myself away from all my admirers," he said, adjusting his expression to one of extreme arrogant satisfaction.
"Of course," I said drily. "It couldn't have anything to do with the fact that your sister wanted five million pictures and wouldn't stop hugging you."
"Oh shut up."
"And is that ruffled hair I see?"
He shot me a playful glare.
I heard a snort and a giggle from Daphne and a muttered comment from my father, and turned to see what all the fuss was about. Blake and Nic had started a bizarre ballet, mocking dancers and gracefully pirouetting their way through the glass. I shook my head as they took each other by the arms and pretended to bow to each other, and even Logan cracked a grin at my goofball brothers. Finn was pretending to conduct an orchestra at the edge of this ruckus, and Sinclair pulled me to the side and laced his fingers through mine.
"You come from a strange family, Lexington," he said, making his tone seem deep and wise-sounding. He threw in a sage nod and it was all I could do to not roll my eyes and laugh.
"Indeed, Sinclair. Do you think you have what it takes to stick around, and put up with all this madness?" I raised one eyebrow and smiled, eyeing him out of the corner of my eye. Daphne laughed in delight and clapped her hands as my brothers whooped and twirled and acted like idiots.
He grabbed my other hand, so both our hands were laced together, and rested his forehead against mine. My heartbeat picked up in a rapid drumbeat against my chest, and I couldn't help the soft smile that spread across my face as he looked at me.
"Yeah," he said softly, "I think I do."
Prom King
His bright blue eyes pierced through me.
I wasn't sure how long he had been looking at me. I ignored him at first, but found it impossible to concentrate on anything else. Eventually I met his gaze evenly, and watched as his lips turned up into a smirk. It took effort not to roll my eyes when he raised his eyebrows slowly.
His eyes were burning through me; their intensity made me uncomfortable, but I wasn't going to let him know that.
"Mr. Fitzgerald!" my new English teacher, Mr. Oldman, barked. "Could you please at least pretend to pay attention?" Mr. Oldman sounded so exasperated. There were still three months left before graduation, but most of the seniors were already acting as if they didn't need to be in school any longer.
"Sure, Mr. Oldman," he said, never taking his eyes from me. I didn't back down even after realizing people were staring at us.
"Casey, what do you find so fascinating about Ms. Fuller?" Mr. Oldman turned to him again a few minutes later after realizing he still wasn't paying attention. If it was the teacher's goal to embarrass him, it didn't work. His smirk just widened.
"She's new," he said simply, his blue eyes sparkling. Casey's caramel brown hair was messy, his style trendy. He reminded me of every popular guy in high school, except for the confidence he exuded. It was as if he knew he was the shit and was daring anyone to say otherwise.
Mr. Oldman ran his hand through his graying hair, a defeated expression on his face. "Ms. Fuller, would you please introduce yourself so I can continue teaching?"
I nodded and stood, but didn't tear my eyes from Casey's gaze. This was a contest and I was going to win, whether he liked it or not. "I'm Katie Fuller." Then I promptly sat back down.
"Where are you from?" Casey asked.
"Virginia," I narrowed my eyes at him, "You know, if you wanna play twenty questions, I'm sure after class would work better."
"Thank you, Katie," Mr. Oldman sent an appraising glance my way, though it barely registered since Casey was still looking at me.
He held on to my gaze for a second longer, winked at me, and turned his attention back to Mr. Oldman's lecture on Hemingway.
I doodled in the margins of my notebook, having had the exact same Hemingway lecture at the last three schools I had been to. It was old news. When the bell sounded a half hour later, I gathered my things and headed for the door. Casey caught my eye again over the shoulder of one of his friends. "So we'll play that game later?" he asked casually, his eyes gleaming.
I had no response and he knew it. He smirked at me as I strode past and I could feel his eyes on my back until I rounded the corner to my next class.
Lunch used to be the hardest part of the day at a new school, but it eventually stopped mattering. I could tell by walking in the room who was who—who mattered. In middle school, I flocked to them, having already figured out exactly how to act and what they wanted. In high school, I avoided them.
>
I went through the line silently, grabbing a burger that definitely wasn't made from beef and sat at an empty table. There was the possibility that I was intruding on someone's territory, but it didn't matter. Like me or hate me, I was going to eat there.
"Who the hell are you?" a blonde kid with a serious attitude problem addressed me.
I opened my mouth to speak, but the question was answered for me. "She's Katie Fuller," I heard him say from behind me. I knew he was smirking without even turning around. It made me shudder to think that I was already able to recognize it.
"She's in my spot," the blonde kid said to Casey.