The Hearts Series

by L.H. Cosway

  “That’s an odd picture of Bea you’re painting,” he commented, gripping my neck for a moment before letting go. I swallowed, watching as he went to grab a folding chair that had been resting against the side of the camper and sat down. I was secretly thrilled I’d done a good enough job of depicting her likeness that he knew right away it was Bea. He had a bottle of water with him, unscrewing the cap and taking a long drink. Staring at his profile as he drank made me feel flush as I remembered the previous evening, how he’d kissed his way down my stomach.

  “She asked for it. I think it’s pretty,” I replied, ogling him and dabbing my paintbrush into some yellow paint. I wasn’t sure why he’d decided to hang out with me, but I was pleased by the turn of events. A tiny part of me relished the fact that I never quite knew what he’d do next. We sat in companionable silence for over an hour. Jack alternated between watching me paint and reading a dog-eared paperback he’d brought with him. At the angle I was sitting, I couldn’t see the cover to tell what it was.

  Violet had parked her camper van in a quieter spot on the site, so not many people passed by. Then I heard women chatting and some feminine giggles approaching us. I turned to find Julie and her two sisters strolling along, arm in arm. I’m not sure why, but I got really self-conscious and itchy, like I was doing something wrong by spending time with Jack. I knew that he and Julie weren’t a couple, but still my anxiety wouldn’t abate.

  “Hi, Jack,” Julie called to him with a little finger wave. I pretended to focus on my painting as they drew nearer, while at the same time listening intently to the conversation that followed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him nod to the sisters and return his attention to his book. They stopped, and Molly asked, “What are you reading, Jack?” There was a flirtatious tone to her voice. “I do love a man who reads.” The other two giggled.

  When Jack didn’t answer her, she ducked her head to see the cover and laughed. “The Hardy Boys? You do realise those books are for children, right?” All of a sudden, her tone was mocking rather than flirtatious, and I grew tense. When I glanced up, I saw that Julie’s blue eyes were trained on me while her sisters focused on Jack. Her mouth had formed an unhappy thin line. Swallowing, I kept dabbing my brush to the same part of my canvas, hoping she’d lose interest in me.

  “Fuck off, Molly,” Jack replied, all matter-of-fact, and she let out a squeak of outrage.

  “No need to be rude! I was only teasing.”

  “Being a bitch, more like,” said Jack dismissively.

  “You’re the face-painter girl, aren’t you?” said Julie, walking around to look at my canvas. I felt uncomfortable under her attention and had never really liked people looking at my half-finished works. She was so petite and well-formed, slim but muscular in an attractive way, that I felt myself deflate. How the hell could I compete with that?

  I mustered a smile for her. “That’s me.”

  She glanced at my painting, found nothing of interest, and then stepped away again. I soon discovered that she wasn’t a woman to beat around the bush when she waggled her finger between Jack and me. “So, what’s going on here?”

  I was opening my mouth to say something, I wasn’t quite sure what, when Jack addressed her firmly. “Lille is painting. I’m reading. The three of you are interrupting.”

  “Well,” said the third sister, Mary, “we know where we’re not wanted.” She tugged on Molly’s arm and the two walked away, but Julie remained.

  “That’s not what I meant, and I think we all know that.”

  Jack set his book down then and stared at her head on. He didn’t have to say a word, because the look he gave her was silencing enough. In a split second, she completely changed her tack, taking a strand of hair and twirling it around her finger.

  She coughed to clear her throat. “Well, um, will I see you around the gazebo later? We’re having spaghetti bolognaise tonight, I think.”

  “That’s where I usually eat,” said Jack.

  She skipped forward, leant down, and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Okay, great. I’ll see you later, then.”

  Her attention flickered warily to me one last time, and then she left. I nearly laughed when I saw Jack roll his eyes before they slid to me and he frowned. “Sorry about that.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “No need to apologise. It’s none of my business.”

  The look he gave me seared me to the core, his voice dropping so low I almost didn’t hear him. “The fact I can still smell you on me says different.”

  I’m sure I flushed bright pink at his words. My paintbrush had been levelled on the canvas, and I’d completely messed up Bea’s butterfly ears. I tried to keep my voice steady as I whispered, “Don’t play games with me, Jack.”

  He ignored what I said, his face taking on a contemplative expression. “I wonder if we hadn’t been interrupted yesterday, would I have been able to make you come like that?”

  I swallowed deeply and glanced at him. His eyes held a thousand dark, carnal promises, and I felt completely lost, had no idea how to respond. He made a noise that sounded a lot like a growl then as he came and knelt before me, his hands cupping my knees and spreading my thighs apart so he could get between them. Next, he began running his hands up and down my thighs; they were so much warmer than the afternoon sun, and I was suddenly melting.

  “Do you come sweetly, Lille? Do you shake? Do you moan and beg for release?”

  I licked my lips and moved my attention from his eyes down to his mouth. I was so worked up I felt like pushing him to the grass and taking my pleasure from his perfect, beautiful body without asking for permission. I knew I’d promised myself I’d be his friend, but maybe I could be his lover, too. You didn’t always have to sacrifice one to be the other, right?

  I drew my gaze up to his eyes again and told him honestly, “You’re embarrassing me, Jack.”

  His thumbs rubbed at my inner thighs, and I trembled.

  “Am I making you wet, too?”

  Air left my lungs in a single whoosh, and I closed my eyes, unable to look at him as I answered, “Yes.”

  In the next second, his hands were travelling up to my neck, sinking into my hair, and my entire body felt a pull towards him like he was a magnet and I was a piece of metal. My face fell to his neck and I breathed him in, savoured the warmth of his skin. His arms went around me and pulled my body flush with his. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and hugged him tight. When I pressed a kiss to his skin, my mouth open, tongue slipping out to lick, I felt him shudder in my arms. It stunned me to know my touch could affect him so. Had he been yearning for me the same way I’d been yearning for him?

  “Your smell,” he growled, breathing deeply. “It drowns me.”

  If my heart could have exploded out of my chest, it would have.

  “Kiss me, Jack,” I begged, forcing myself to ask for what I truly wanted for once.

  “I can’t,” he replied with a sigh of frustration.

  “Please,” I whimpered desperately.

  “When I kiss you, it will be everywhere. When I kiss you, I won’t stop there. If I taste you, I’ll want to taste everything.”

  I fisted his shirt in my hand, silently cursing the fact that both Lola and Violet were inside the camper at this very moment and Jack’s camper was too far away. “Jesus, you’re killing me.”

  His hands roamed my back, my thighs, my neck. All he had to do was slip his hand beneath my dress, and he’d be able to feel me, feel how much I needed him.

  With a deep sigh he drew away, his jaw working like it took great effort to restrain himself. “Tonight, after the show, will you come to my place?” he asked, eyes hopeful.

  “Yes.” There really was no other reply I could have given him. I felt hot and flushed all over, from my temples to the tips of my toes. I’d never been so worked up before in my life.

  He brought his forehead to mine and breathed out, the air hitting my skin and strangely cooling it. “Thank you.”

  Standing
, he went to put away the folding chair he’d been sitting in and picked up his book. I frowned, remembering how Molly had mocked him for reading a kids’ book. I wanted to know why he was reading it. I mean, I knew adults read kids’ books all the time, but this was Jack. He was the last person I’d expected to be into stories like that.

  I nodded to the battered paperback. “Is it any good?”

  He grimaced, as though remembering that I now knew what he’d been reading. Was he embarrassed? For the first time since I’d met him, he seemed lost for words.

  Scratching the back of his head, he finally replied, “Yeah, it’s…uh, Marina gave it to me. Well, she gave me a whole bunch of them.”

  “Oh, right. That was nice of her.”

  “Yeah. I have to go now,” he said abruptly, and turned on his heel. I watched his long strides as he walked away, not knowing what to think.

  Eight

  Under the stars they came together

  I wondered after Jack’s abrupt departure whether or not he still wanted me to come by that night. Then I wondered about what he planned on doing with me when I got there, and I became tingly all over. The idea of being with him frightened me a little, but I sucked it up. This was freedom, and I was determined for it to taste good.

  The show that evening went over a storm, and there was a buzz in the air. I went to the gazebo with Lola for something to eat, and there seemed to be a bit of a party going on. There were some local women who had obviously come to see the show and were now enjoying an after party. I felt a little grimy in comparison. I was still wearing my blue dress from earlier, and it had paint stains all over; my hands were covered in paint, too, and my hair felt messy. I hadn’t had the chance to run a brush through it since that morning.

  A space had been cleared for people to dance, and music was streaming from the speakers, some kind of French rap. It was curious. I only caught the odd word here and there, but the basic gist was pretty racy. I guessed that was why Julie was dancing all by herself wearing a tiny slip of a dress. In fact, I thought it might actually be a slip. Huh. She shook her hips and threw her hands up into the air before seductively running them down her body and swaying from side to side.

  “Excuse me while I go pour some bleach in my eyes,” Lola deadpanned before steering me towards a table where Luan, Pedro, and Raphael were sitting. Air got caught in my lungs when I saw how half of Pedro’s face was bruised up. Lola sat beside Luan, chatting amiably, and I went to the opposite end of the bench, as far away from Pedro as I could possibly get.

  He glanced at me, brown eyes hardening, then knocked back a gulp of whatever drink was in his glass. I got the distinct feeling he wasn’t done with me yet, and my throat ran dry.

  “Don’t mind me,” came a hard yet humorous voice from behind me, and I jumped, turning to see I’d almost sat on top of King. I’d been so focused on Pedro that I hadn’t noticed him skulking in the corner.

  “Sorry,” I apologised, and sat down across from him. His eyes weren’t as bloodshot as usual, and you could actually make out the colour of his hair now. It was an attractive shade of dark blond. Almost the same colour as mine. Somebody must have forced him to take a wash. I wondered if it was Jack. His clothes were still pretty worn and dirty, though.

  His long hair and beard obscured half his face, but I thought he had probably been a very good-looking man at one time. I couldn’t really tell what age he was. It was difficult to pin down, due to his appearance, but he could’ve been anywhere between thirty and forty years old. And his eyes, man, I still couldn’t get over them. They were so beautiful and yet so sad.

  “I don’t think we’ve properly met yet,” I said, holding my hand out to him. “I’m Lille.”

  His icy blues narrowed on me somewhat warily, but he didn’t shake my hand. “I know who you are, love,” he said, then looked away over my shoulder where Marina sat with Winnie and Antonio, muttering under his breath, “Stupid meddling old bitch.”

  There was a harsh, cutting tone to his words that surprised me. He must have seen the wide-eyed look on my face when he went on to explain. “Not you. My sister. The bitch has everyone watching me. Can’t get a fucking drink around here to save my life. What’s the point of living in a shithole like this if you can’t have a drink every now and again, eh?”

  “Everywhere’s a shithole to you, King,” came Jack’s voice as he threw his leg over the bench and sat down beside me, his breath whispering over my ear when he said, “Hey.”

  I glanced at him, getting goose bumps. “Hi.”

  “Yeah, well, this place really is one,” King griped, and pressed his fingers to his skull. “Shitting cock bastards, I feel like someone’s trying to drill a hole into my cranium.”

  Jack laughed. “Your mouth is a real thing of beauty. And the hole drilling would be what the rest of us who actually stop drinking every now and again call a hangover.”

  “I wish somebody would hang me,” King complained. “Do you know that’s where the word comes from? Hangover? Historically, when there was a hanging, there’d also be a big street party, everyone boozing it up. Then the next day, when the hanging was over, they’d all feel like a steaming pile of shit, hence the now commonly used term. Kind of fucked up when you think about it. Having a party while some poor old sod gets hung.” He paused, his sad eyes growing even sadder. “People are depraved.”

  “Look at you, using your words. Seems like the alcohol drought is doing you well already,” said Jack, and King grumbled. I thought that maybe Jack was the only person in this whole place who King allowed to tease him like that.

  All of a sudden, the music got louder, and we all turned to see that Julie had gotten up on a table to dance. The straps of her dress had fallen down and hung low around her arms, showing more cleavage than before, along with the top of her black lacy bra.

  “Red’s putting on a show for you, McCabe,” said King, letting out a cynical laugh that then transformed into a painful-sounding cough. Sleeping outdoors must have been wreaking havoc with his body. I shot him a sympathetic look, which he didn’t appear to appreciate.

  Jack waved him away. “She puts on a show for everyone. Nothing special there.”

  King began coughing again, and Julie continued to dance her way across the tables, finally reaching ours. Her eyes were honed in on Jack as she swayed, then came to a stop in front of him. She licked her lips and ran her hand over her collarbone, then down her chest. I felt myself grow incredibly uncomfortable and a little bit upset. She was pulling out all the stops to get Jack’s attention, and it must have been working, because he was staring back at her. I couldn’t read his expression, but still, the fact that he was looking at her made me feel about two inches tall.

  Invisible, really.

  “Licence my roving hands, and let them go,” King began loudly over the music, “before, behind, between, above, below.” The way he spoke made me think he was quoting from somewhere, but I didn’t recognise the lines. Julie turned to him and scowled. He was ruining her performance.

  “Before, behind, between, above, below,” he repeated. “But if you let them all go, what is there left for anyone? What is there left for you?”

  He was talking in riddles, but Julie still seemed annoyed. She kicked her leg out in a calculated move that hit King right in the shoulder. He went flying backwards and almost fell off the bench.

  “That’s right,” he coughed, “hit a man when he’s down.”

  Julie narrowed her eyes and leaned over to him. I was the only one close enough to hear her whisper-hiss, “You’re no man. I bet your cock is necrotic by now.”

  When she turned around she was smiling again and I sat there in shock. She definitely didn’t know that I’d heard her. What a cruel, cruel thing to say. King might not have been the most pleasant person in the world, but it was obvious that he was the way he was because he was suffering.

  I looked at him and saw genuine hurt on his face. Without thinking, I reached across the table a
nd took his hand into mine. I don’t know why I did it. I guess I was just driven to comfort people when they were in pain.

  “Don’t listen to her,” I told him, and at the same time he swiped his hand from my grasp.

  “I don’t need your sympathy, girl,” he said, then got up from the bench and walked directly to a table of men who were drinking cans of beer. There was a half-full bottle of whiskey sitting right there in the open, and I was the only one who saw King swipe it, tuck it inside his coat, and walk right out of the gazebo.

  Julie was still dancing in front of Jack. She sashayed down to her haunches, then climbed onto his lap. His hands went to her hips to steady her as she gyrated for him. Ugh, I really couldn’t take much more. Standing, I took a leaf out of King’s book and left. The campsite was dark, lit only by the lights that shone from inside the camper vans.

  A chill ran down my spine, because the silence out here seemed punctuated by the loud music in the gazebo beyond. My throat felt tight and my eyes watered, emotion clutching at my chest. The past few days with Jack and me growing closer had really done a number on me. I’d gotten my hopes up. But what was the point in hoping when there were always going to be women like Julie throwing themselves at him?

  I felt lost.

  When I finally reached the camper, I sat on the grass outside, burying my face in my hands. Nobody could see me out here, so I let all of my pent-up emotions flow free. In other words, I cried. I was feeling so strange, an odd mixture of homesickness and lovesickness. I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to have feelings for Jack, and yet I found myself drowning in both of those things. I longed for the comfort of my own bed, but I didn’t want to be anywhere near my mother. I yearned for Jack’s strong arms to surround me, but I didn’t want to deal with the way he made my lungs feel like there wasn’t enough air to breathe.