Collide Series Box Set

by J. C. Hannigan

  "Harlow?" Iain asked gently, squeezing my hand again. I looked at him, noticing how concerned he was.

  "I'm okay," I said, smiling to reassure him. And I was. I was with Iain. Iain had a tremendous way of making me forget everything, and at the same time I felt like I could tell him anything. I decided to focus on us this weekend, not the drama of the Police Chief's son. It was easier to do with every mile that we drove further away from North Bay. "I'm excited. I've never actually been to Niagara Falls."

  "Really?" Iain asked, his blue eyes sparkling.

  "Really." I laughed.

  "Well, good." Iain gave a half-smile and brought my hand up to his mouth so he could kiss it. "I can't wait to take you out to dinner," he added, smiling at me. My heart skipped a beat. It would be the first time we ever went out in public together. I had to physically restrain myself from squealing like a schoolgirl—which I was, more or less.

  This weekend we could act like more of a couple. We'd be far away from anybody that knew us. That prospect excited me, and I knew it excited him too. His hand was still holding mine. I was looking forward to the five-hour car drive and the whole weekend. Although we tried to spend a lot of time together, between working and pretending to not be involved with one another, we only really got to see each other alone a few times a week and on weekends. During the week, we jumped into bed with one another as quickly as we could to fill those urges that we both worked hard to repress all day long. On weekends, we were able to take a little more time together, but my mom was becoming overly curious about my long disappearances. In fact, I'd been shocked that she hadn't put up a total stink about me wanting to leave town for the whole weekend, but the woman worked in mysterious ways. She probably knew that the likely reason I was gone so much was a guy, and a few times she had expressed an interest in meeting him. I kept telling her there was no guy, but she didn't buy my excuses. She just nodded and smiled knowingly, then told me he was welcome to come around when I was ready.

  We stopped at a drive thru a few towns away for coffee, and continued driving. We held hands practically the entire time, sometimes silent, sometimes talking. Now that we had an entire weekend to spend together, things didn't have to be rushed. We didn't even turn the radio on at all.

  We finally got to the hotel around eleven o’clock. The moment we got up to our hotel room and dropped our bags on the floor, we fell in a massive mess of tangled limbs and clothes onto the bed. Iain peeled off my layers one by one, tortuously slow as he kissed me and pressed into me with his own longing. I moaned eagerly into his mouth, willing him to just rip off my pants and get at it. He took his time though, and afterwards, I was grateful.

  * * *

  The next morning, Iain presented me with an "early" Christmas present before I was even awake: a Polaroid camera.

  "What's this for?" I smiled, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

  "Taking pictures, duh." He rolled his eyes. Iain set it up and turned to me, aiming the lens at me. I was lying tangled up in the blankets, not wearing anything. He took a picture of me seductively looking at him and waved it to dry. "Yup, keeping this one," he said after looking at it. "I just love Polaroid cameras," he added appreciatively.

  "You're a dork." I laughed, rolling my eyes and watching as he set it on the end table beside the bed.

  "Sure am." He grinned wickedly, a dimple appearing on his left cheek. "Now I regret to inform you that you must cover up that gorgeous body. We're going out for breakfast."

  "I could go for breakfast," I said, my stomach growling in agreement. I stood up, walking over to the bathroom naked. "I want a shower first though."

  "I'll join you." Iain threw back his blanket and sauntered over to the bathroom, coming up behind me and putting his arms around my waist. He nestled his head against my shoulder, kissing me.

  "I really do need to shower, though." I laughed, leaning backwards into him. Having his arms around me felt amazing.

  "So do I," he agreed. He released me and turned on the tap, adjusting it so that it was perfectly hot—the temperature I loved. I stepped inside it, sighing contently as the hot water instantly hit the top of my head and cascaded down my body. I opened my eyes to see Iain staring at me with a smile on his face, his eyes bright and happy. I felt vulnerable. I had never had a shower with a guy before; the concept seemed strange.

  "You're gorgeous," he said, stepping in to join me. Before I could respond, he was squeezing the hotel shampoo into his hand and started to massage it into my hair.

  "Are you washing my hair?" I asked, tipping my head back and enjoying it. I could get used to this.

  "It would appear so. You're not very observant this morning. Didn't you get enough sleep last night?" he joked.

  "Surprisingly, no. Someone kept me up all night," I replied. I moaned as his fingers massaged my head with expertise. He worked the shampoo in and rinsed it, making sure none of it remained. It took him a while, as I had a lot of hair, but he insisted on doing it by himself. He trailed kisses down the back of my neck after he was finished.

  "Alright, your turn," I said, squeezing some shampoo into my hands. Iain stepped under the water, soaking his own hair, and allowed me to wash it for him. He had to bend his knees and duck his head for me to be able to reach him. He groaned with pleasure and smiled at me after he rinsed it out.

  I lathered up the rest of his body, taking extra time down there. It was a good hour before we finished in the shower, and what a finish it was.

  "Okay, now I'm really hungry." I laughed, my stomach growling. I quickly started braiding my hair, not wanting to spend time blow-drying it.

  "Me too," Iain agreed, stepping into a fresh change of clothes. He was wearing snug jeans that fit him in the most complimentary way, and a gray thermal shirt that made his blue eyes appear almost gray. He styled his hair quickly, and was ready to go while I was still braiding my hair. I envied men and how little they had to put into their efforts to look good. I put a headband on, then left the bathroom to go find Iain.

  He was standing by the window in his quiet perfection, staring out the window. I snuck over to the bed, grabbing the Polaroid he'd given me. I stood a little ways behind him and snapped a picture, focusing on the scene he was looking at. I waved it the same way he did and waited until the picture came into focus, and when it did, I put the camera and photo down on the end table and went to stand beside him to see the view firsthand.

  "Whoa…" I said in wonderment as Iain wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me close to him. He smiled down at the expression on my face, gently kissing the top of my head. Our hotel room window faced the Falls, and we had a perfect breathtaking view of it. "It's…beautiful."

  "I know," Iain said, still looking at me. I got the feeling he wasn't talking about Niagara Falls.

  A few minutes later, we were on our way down to the dining area of the hotel to have the continental breakfast. It was both thrilling and odd holding Iain's hand the entire way down. Usually, we acted as if we weren't a couple. We never went out in public together and we tried our best to ignore each other at school. Holding his hand and having him pull me close was great, but I felt a twinge of sadness that it couldn't always be like this.

  The rest of the weekend was just as amazing. Iain took me to several wax museums, on a boat tour, and to see a movie. We went out for lunch and dinner, and before I knew it, it was time to head home. The small twinge of sadness I'd felt Saturday morning at breakfast had grown…a lot. I wished we could always be like this. I think Iain knew what I was feeling, and I think his emotions mirrored mine. As we stood in the elevator riding down to the lobby, our bags at our heels, he pulled me toward him and tipped my chin up.

  "We'll do this again, very soon," he promised, touching his forehead to mine. His lips found mine and he kissed me deeply, intensely, longingly. The kiss only lasted a moment, and when he pulled away he smiled at me. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it and sighed.

  "What were you going
to say?" I asked, curiosity overwhelming me. The elevator came to a stop at the lobby and the doors dinged open. Iain swooped down and grabbed both our bags with one arm, and took my hand with the other. We walked toward the receptionist to hand back our key and check out.

  "Nothing." He smiled, secretive. I frowned. It hadn't seemed like nothing. He caught me frowning and sighed. "I just didn't want to tell you in a hotel lobby…that I love you," he whispered into my ear before releasing me and stepping up to the clerk to check out.

  I stood there, probably with my jaw on the floor, watching Iain as he took back his credit card from the receptionist. He…loved me? Loved…me? I just couldn't wrap my head around it.

  "Don't look so shell shocked," Iain said, approaching me with half a smile on his face. "You're giving me a complex. Should I not have said anything?" he added lowly, looking around the lobby. It was so weird seeing him vulnerable, but there he stood. I brushed my hair back behind my shoulders, biting my lip softly. I knew what I felt for Iain was strong—very strong. I'd never felt anything like it before.

  "No, it's just…hard to explain," I said, smiling. "I think I'm very close, if not already there…"

  "You don't need to feel obligated to say it." Iain spoke softly, tipping my chin up ever so slightly so I was looking into his eyes. "Just because I did. I mean it, more than anything, but don't feel pressured to say it if you aren't ready."

  I couldn't think of anything to say, so I kissed him. I figured it'd be the last time in a while we got to have a little PDA.

  After we got back from Niagara Falls, I went home to have a shower and do some homework I'd been procrastinating on. It was nearly seven when we got in, and Iain dropped me off at the end of my driveway before I shooed him away, paranoid that Mom or Larry would see him.

  I had a ridiculous smile on my face the entire time I showered and got dressed. I ran a comb through my hair, practically humming. When I stepped out of the bathroom into the hallway, Mom was standing there with a peculiar look on her face.

  "What is it?" I asked, a terrible feeling weighing heavily in my belly.

  "I need to speak to you," she urged, motioning toward my bedroom. Larry was snoring on the couch in the living room. I followed, the dread growing.

  "Sit," she ordered, pointing to my bed. She had something in her hand. I sat, robotic like. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my bags had been disturbed.

  "You went through my stuff?" I accused, angrily standing up.

  "Harlow Jones, you sit down." Mom's voice was final and struck me like a whip. I sat, mouth agape. She never spoke to me that way. Mom grabbed my desk chair, spinning it around to face me and sat down, her eyes deadly serious as she tossed the photos I'd taken with the Polaroid on the bed. "Who is he? He looks way too old for you."

  I breathed out a momentary sigh of relief. Momentary. I knew that bubble would burst. It was only a matter of time before she discovered just who he was. I looked at her levelly, weighing my options. I couldn't have her find out the wrong way, at a school function or even around town with other people to tell her…that's the English teacher at the Catholic school. If she found out from someone else, it would jeopardize everything. Mainly Iain's career. She'd find out either way, whether I told her or whether someone else did. But what if she didn't handle the truth well? I chewed on my bottom lip, conflicted. I felt dizzy and sick. I couldn't blame Iain for getting me the Polaroid; I could only blame myself for not taking more precautions, like maybe letting him hang onto the pictures, or at least hiding them somewhere the moment I got home instead of gallivanting off to the shower without a thought for my nosy mother.

  "Mom…do you believe in love?" I asked so softly she had to ask me to say it again. "Do you believe in love?"

  "Of course I believe in love." Mom frowned, glancing at the photos. "But he—"

  "We love each other." I took a deep breath. "He's not old; he's twenty-eight."

  "That's too old for you!" Mom said loudly. I hushed her, motioning to my closed door. We both got quiet, listening for Larry's snoring. When we heard it, she continued in a softer voice. "That's over ten years older than you, Harlow."

  "Yes, but Larry is fifteen years older than you," I whispered, trying to level with her. I was feeling sicker by the minute. If she was disgusted by our age difference, I couldn't see this ending well at all. I wrapped my arms around my stomach, trying to hold myself together.

  "We are at different stages in life, Harlow!" Mom put her hand to her temple, aggravated. "Who is he? Where on earth would you have met a twenty-eight year-old?"

  I froze again, uncertain of what to say. "He's…important."

  "Harlow," Mom said sharply, sensing it was as bad as…well, as bad as it really was.

  "Mom, please." I raised my hand, silencing her. "I'll explain…I just need…a minute."

  Mom's eyes were wide with worry and concern, but she nodded.

  "I want to tell you this, I do, but I'm scared you'll get the wrong impression or you'll freak out," I started. "I want to make it very clear to you: he is not taking advantage of me, now or ever. Do you understand?"

  Mom frowned, staring intently at me, trying to gauge my tone. I tried to express to her how serious I was being with my eyes, open and pleading. I worried that I'd chosen the wrong route, that I'd set her up for a freak out by assuring her that. I inwardly cursed myself, wishing I could take back my words, but I couldn't.

  "I can't tell you any more if I don't have a promise from you," I whispered, hugging myself. "It's that you won't tell anyone. And you'll try to understand."

  "Alright fine, I promise!" Mom said. "Just tell me, Harlow; who is he? How did you meet him?"

  "He's….a teacher." I flinched, waiting for her to yell obscenities at me and call for Larry. "My teacher."

  I couldn't look at her; I stared at the pictures in her hand. She was holding one we'd gotten a stranger to take of us standing near the Falls. His arms were around me and we both looked at each other with happiness and open affection. After several moments, I grew wary of her silence. I looked at her and noticed she was staring at the same picture, her lip trembling.

  "How?" Mom asked, looking as if I had betrayed her.

  "It didn't happen how you think it happened," I said quickly. "It just…happened."

  "Harlow, he's twenty-eight, he's your English teacher!" Mom looked horrified. "He's taking advantage of you, baby. We'll get a lawyer, we'll—"

  "Stop," I cut her off harshly, glaring. "I told you, he is not taking advantage of me. He loves me."

  "How can he love you?" she asked. "You're not even eighteen!"

  "Oh, so age determines whether or not someone can fall in love with you?" I scoffed. "Or is it because I'm too horrifying to imagine anyone possibly actually loving me?"

  "That's not—"

  "That is pretty much what you meant. Just because I'm young, doesn't mean I'm stupid or foolish or incapable of recognizing love. Contrary to your belief, I do know when I'm being taken advantage of. And I'm not—not by Iain."

  I stood up, grabbing the pictures from her hand and clenching them close to my side. "I think I'm able to recognize the difference by now, since it's happened so many times before." I said the last part with tears in my eyes. I knew that would sting her, and she flinched against the harshness of my words, but I didn't care. At least not in that moment.

  "Harlow, I just want to protect you and make sure you're safe," Mom argued, pulling on my arm to get me to sit back down.

  "You can't protect me from everything, as we both already learned. And I am safe. At least with Iain," I answered. I opened my mouth, about to tell her about the Coopers, but stopped.

  "There's more, isn't there?" she urged. "Are you pregnant?"

  "No," I spat.

  "Thank God." She closed her eyes. "Harlow, listen to me. You need to break things off with him before anyone can find out. Your entire academic year could be questioned if this ever came to light."

  "It's not
going to," I said, unsure. Thoughts of Carl Cooper came to mind, but I tried to repress them.

  "I don't want you seeing him anymore," Mom said, fresh tears welling in the corner of her eyes. "Please, call it off."

  "I can't, Mom, I love him. I want to be with him," I whispered. I was in too deep to just stop everything, and it was the last thing I wanted.

  "If you really love him, you'll walk away," Mom said, shaking her head and standing up. She walked toward my door, resting her hand on the doorknob before she turned back to look at me. "Not only could this ruin any chances you stand on getting into university, but it could ruin his career too. Think about that."

  She closed the door behind her with a firm click.

  * * *

  It took me ages to fall asleep that night. I kept tossing and turning, worrying that Mom had told Larry, worrying that he had called the cops and had Iain arrested. I woke up with extreme bags under my eyes.

  I could hear Larry and Mom talking in the kitchen before he left for work. The smell of coffee assaulted my senses as I quietly got ready for the day in my bedroom. I waited until I heard the front door shut behind Larry before I went to find her. I had already slipped into my winter gear and grabbed my backpack, knowing that I didn't have long before the bus arrived to pick me up.

  "Mom?" I asked timidly, seeing her standing by the sink. She was scrubbing a plate with much more muscle than required. She didn't answer me, but I knew she heard by the set her shoulders took. "Did you…did you tell Larry?"

  She sighed deeply, letting the plate fall with a soapy clatter into the sink. "No, Harlow. I didn't tell Larry. I don't really think that conversation would go over well, do you? 'Oh, good morning honey, my daughter is sleeping with one of your employees.'"

  "How do you know I'm sleeping with him?" I demanded. Mom gave me a sarcastic glance over her shoulder. I closed my mouth, feeling ashamed. It was just like that time she'd heard the rumors from one of the PTA moms. Remembering that sent a wave of anger pumping throughout my bloodstream, and I heatedly took a step toward her with my finger raised. "Is it because you think I'm a giant slut?" I asked. "Do you think I'm sleeping with the whole town now too? Just like old times?"