Twisted Christmas

by Sara Cate

  It’s a mid-size town, notably recognized as a metropolitan area. It makes sense; otherwise, there would be no need for a new District Attorney. But here we are in a place that feels nothing like home.

  We ride through a part of the city that is underdeveloped, sketchy dealings happening right before my eyes. I notice it because it’s the only area of the city that isn’t festive. There aren’t any bright lights or Christmas decorations shining through windows. Just grim blackness throughout.

  Next, we pass several suburban neighborhoods, a stark difference from the landscape that’s just a few blocks away. It’s cheerful here, full of massive displays with inflatable Santas, elves, Baby Jesus, and other things. It’s beautiful and somewhat hopeful—joyous.

  A moment later, the sounds of birds greet us, and the scent of saltwater fills my senses. I glance to my left, spotting a beach off in the distance. Aside from a few boardwalk storefronts that are open tonight, it’s otherwise deserted. The only thing to be seen are seagulls flying around.

  Ashton pulls into a parking space toward the edge of the beach. As we get off the bike, I take in my surroundings. Except for one other vehicle on the opposite end of the lot, we’re the only people out here.

  There is talking in the distance, and I follow the voices across the beach with my eyes, where I notice a couple playing in the ocean. I’m so busy watching them that I forget I’m still wearing the helmet until Ashton surprises me by taking it off for me.

  “Earth to Ivy,” he says with a snicker.

  I put my focus on him. He twists awkwardly with his brows hiked high as he looks at me.

  “Sorry,” I add when I realize he’s waiting for me to climb off the bike so that he can.

  Once we’re on our feet, he secures the helmet into place and grabs me by the hand. I follow him without resistance, allowing him to lead me to some part of the beach that’s tucked away. It’s a struggle to keep up with him, the sand underneath us making the walk near impossible. It doesn’t help that I am still wearing high heels.

  We make it to a wall of rocks, and I frown out of confusion. Ashton lets go of my hand and proceeds to climb over the barricade, stopping to look at me from the top. I haven’t budged, and he’s crazy if he thinks I’m going to.

  “Come on,” he encourages out of breath.

  “Uh. No,” I quip.

  “Ivy. We had a deal.”

  “Yeah, one that included nothing about climbing up some rocks and possibly breaking my neck in the process.”

  “You’re being extra.” He tilts his head to one side.

  “I’m being realistic. Where are you even taking me?”

  He sighs, his shoulders slumping sharply. “There’s a spot I like to come to, and I want to show you.”

  I breathe in for a moment, contemplating his words and whether I trust him enough to head off to some secluded area. This is how people end up murdered; going off with strange men to places unknown. I know this. I’ve dedicated my career to studying the behavior of serial killers.

  “Why can’t we stay on this side where we are supposed to be?” I challenge him, still unsure about his plan.

  “Do you always do what you’re supposed to do?” He stares down at me, but the look in his eyes tells me he doesn’t expect an answer. And something tells me that no matter what I say, it won’t matter to him.

  “I haven’t all night,” I admit, my voice lower than it was a second ago.

  “Then what’s stopping you now?” He pauses for a beat, continuing when I don’t respond. “Let’s go. I’ve got you.”

  “Why are you so determined to do whatever this is we’re doing? You don’t know me, and I’m sure you’ve got friends your age to hang around.”

  Ashton doesn’t speak for a moment, only staring down at me intensely. Then gazes off into space while waving a hand around. “I like you, and from the looks of that conversation you had back at the school, you needed to get away.”

  I drop my head. It doesn’t shock me that he heard that. I figured that out the moment I noticed him watching me. But up until this point, he hadn’t come right out and acknowledged it. A wave of shame and embarrassment overcomes me, and I fight the urge to run away.

  Throughout the years, I’ve gotten good at hiding my misery and bruises from the outside world. People who know me see me as a strong, confident, brilliantly fearless woman. And once upon a time, I was. Now, I’m just a shell of the woman I used to be. And to know that this kid sees through my facade makes me feel vulnerable. It makes me feel—noticed.

  “I’m in a dress and wearing heels,” is all I have to say to combat him.

  He grins and squats. “Shoes off and hike that dress up.”

  I huff and shake my head as I get to work on removing the strappy sandals. I hold them out to him, using my eyes to instruct him to take them. He does, his smile growing wider as he waits for me to bunch my dress up over my thighs.

  “Atta girl,” he teases.

  “Shut up,” I snip.

  Ashton laughs and tosses my shoes over the wall, and then he reaches for my hand again. Stepping up on the first protruding rock, I stretch to meet his grasp. He pulls me up while directing me where to step to keep from falling. When I make it to the top, I grunt and work to catch my breath.

  On the other side, there’s another stretch of beach covered mostly by coves of rocks. Unlike the public side, there are very few footprints and absolutely no litter. The waves crash against a boulder that sits a few inches from the shoreline.

  It’s peaceful. Serene.

  When I refocus, Ashton has already climbed down, a sinister smirk plastered on his face. I realize his eyes are on my bare thighs, and I shift awkwardly from his gaze.

  “Jump, I’ll catch you.”

  My eyes grow wide, and he laughs.

  “Ivy, it's easier than trying to climb down on your own.”

  I pinch my lips together, rolling my shoulders in an attempt to ready myself. “Don’t let me fall,” I plead.

  “I’d never.”

  I swallow my nerves, drop the hem of my dress and leap into his arms. Just like he promised, he catches me and slowly sets me on my feet. My body seems to drag against his, the friction sending tingles across my skin. He holds me for a moment, so close his breath tickles my nose.

  It’s not until I clear my throat and push off his chest does he let go. Ashton steps back then bends to pick up my shoes before turning to walk away. I gulp down a deep inhale, run my hands over my dress, and head behind him.

  He stops once he makes it to a tiny mountain of rocks. It isn’t as high as the wall we climbed over or the other reefs surrounding it. It’s low enough that we tower over it, making it easy for him to position himself atop of the structure, once again offering to help me up. I accept and settle in next to him.

  I run my sights over the dark sea, the only light coming from the moon and a few strategically placed lamp posts. Seagulls fly overhead, some of them diving towards the water then over to the shore. We watch as they fight over their food then fly away when they’re done.

  I glance at Ashton, who seems to have zoned out. “So why this place?”

  He blinks, then leans back to dig into his front pocket. My eyes fall to the joint he now holds in his hands, and I watch as he lights it. Ashton puffs, the cherry tip burning brightly.

  When he exhales, he forms circles of smoke only to pull in another drag. Holding the weed out for me, he blows the smoke from the corner of his mouth.

  I wave a hand to decline, and his face twists into a disappointed pout.

  “Tonight only. You can follow the rules tomorrow.”

  I exhale, take the joint from his grasp, and bring it to my lips. Unlike earlier, I do much better this time, managing not to break out into a coughing fit. He observes as I release the smoke, silently encouraging me to take another hit when I offer it to him.

  “I found this spot a few years ago. I was out here with some friends from school, and we wanted to kn
ow what was on the other side of the barrier. We used to sneak out here to get high and drink, but after a while, we stopped,” he finally answers my question.

  I nod and pass him the joint. “But not you?”

  His chest heaves when he puffs, his shoulders relaxing on his exhale. “Naw. Sometimes I come out here when I just need to clear my head. It helps me think.”

  “Do you come out here a lot?”

  He shakes his head and flicks the ashes from the joint. “Not as much. It’s probably been a while.”

  “So why tonight?” I ask while looking down at my hands.

  From my peripherals, I notice him staring at me. “Thought maybe it’ll help you too.”

  I don’t respond right away because I’m not sure what to say. It’s always good to have a moment of solitude to let go of whatever demons are wreaking havoc in your life.

  “Thanks.” I fiddle with the hem of my dress.

  “What course do you teach?” he asks between the drags of his joint then hands it to me.

  I accept it, holding it between my fingers. “Criminology.” My lungs burn this time as I pull way too hard.

  Ashton pats my back, only stopping when the coughing subsides. “Wow. Really?”

  Passing him the joint, I nod then wipe my hands on my dress. “Yes, my specialty is serial killers.”

  He chokes around a laugh. “No shit,” he finally adds. “So what, you get excited about mass murders and shit?”

  I can’t help but chuckle at how serious he is. “I studied Psychology in undergrad and got my masters in Criminology. Before I started teaching, I worked as a Psychological Profiler.”

  “Damn,” he lets out, his brows raised. “That’s pretty fucking amazing,” he admits, then takes another pull of weed.

  “Hmph,” I sound out. “Yeah, I guess it is,” I grumble. If it were amazing, my training would have helped me figure out who my husband truly was.

  “But that’s a lot of schooling. You’d have to be one of those child geniuses or something because you don’t look old enough to have done all that.”

  I laugh, grateful he pulls me from my thoughts. “How old do you think I am?”

  “Late twenties at most,” he says confidently.

  I drop my head and take a deep breath. “Ashton, I’ll be thirty-six in February.”

  “Fuck,” he exaggerates. “You look good as shit, momma.”

  “And now you’ve made it weird,” I add sarcastically.

  He smirks. “Naw. I meant it as a compliment. It’s obvious you’re fine as fuck, but man—” he cuts off mid-sentence and rubs his hand over his head, a crooked grin hanging from his lips.

  “What?”

  He looks at me for a moment, then shakes his head. “Nothing.”

  “No, tell me.” I slap his thigh with the back of my hand.

  “The career path—you, it’s sexy.”

  I gulp down an inhale and point my gaze back out at the ocean. “Thanks.”

  “Yeah,” he mutters. “I’ve never seen you on campus before.”

  Leaning back on my palms, I crane my neck in his direction. “You wouldn’t have. I don’t officially start until the spring semester.”

  “Then what were you doing there tonight?”

  “The Dean insisted. But the better question is, why were you there? You totally crashed that party, didn’t you?”

  He smiles and gives me a jerkish nod.

  “I knew it.”

  “I needed to get something done, and it’s better to work at night—fewer distractions. Then I saw the memo about the faculty party and knew they’d have food.”

  I shake my head, and my shoulders rattle with laughter.

  “Listen, I had the munchies, and that chicken was good as hell.”

  I smirk. “I wouldn’t know. We left before I could try any of it.”

  “Where are you from, Ivy?” He leans back on his hands, mimicking my positions, his fingers brushing against mine.

  The contact, though minuscule, charges through me, throwing me for a loop. At the same time, we peer down at our connection. I take in the contrast of his ivory, inked-covered skin next to my light-brown complexion. Realizing that I hadn’t noticed the tattoos on the backside of his hand, I begin to trace the design with my index.

  Ashton stares at me through his lashes, not bothering to stop me. It’s almost as if I zone out. The only thing on my mind is his art.

  “Did it hurt?” I say after a long pause but never take my eyes away.

  He shakes his head. “Maybe for some. But I like pain.”

  I peel my eyes up to his with that statement, something about the tone of his voice that distracts me. His gaze is dark, the whites around his eyes red from the weed. I can only imagine mine are the same way.

  The effects of the weed take over. My vision goes blurry, and the world around me seemingly enhances. The slight breeze from the ocean feels more like a heavy wind. The seagulls and the couple we saw earlier sound loud and clear despite their distance. I can even smell freshly baked bread.

  “Is there a bakery here or something?” I crane to look over the wall, nearly losing my balance and falling over.

  Ashton catches me. “Whoa. Careful, momma, I don’t need you cracking your shit open tonight.”

  I burst into laughter, finding it hard to contain it. Ashton squints at me, his face twisted in amusement.

  “You definitely don’t smoke.” He snickers.

  “How can you tell?” I crack up again.

  He’s up on his feet, jumping over me, sending sand flying through the air when he lands.

  “Wait, where are we going?” I throw my legs over the side, attempting to join him.

  He stops me with his hands on my thighs. The feel of his hot palms on my skin alerting me that my dress has somehow hiked up without me noticing it. I swallow a breath, but touching me doesn’t affect him.

  “You are going to stay put, and I’m going to get you some water.”

  I sigh and lean back on my palms again. “Water would be good,” I slur.

  “Yeah, it would.” He finally takes his hands from my legs. “Ivy, don’t move. I don’t want you getting hurt while I’m gone.”

  “Okay. I’ll stay right here. Hurry back.” I point at him.

  Ashton leaves, staring over his shoulder at me every so often, then disappears on the other side of the wall. I lay back on the rocks, counting the stars to pass the time until he returns. Intoxicated and left alone with my thoughts, my mind wanders, and before I can even make sense of anything, tears are pouring down my face. Every emotion I’ve tried to bury over the years comes flooding to the surface.

  I’ve lost myself, and the raw fact that I no longer know who I am hits hard. The same four words play on repeat in mind until all that’s left to do is recite them aloud.

  “What am I doing?”

  Chapter 4

  Ivy

  My eyes are still closed when he returns. If not for the sound of his voice against the waves crashing, I wouldn’t have known he was here.

  “Did you fall asleep?” I hear him say.

  Luckily my tears have long since dried up, but I wipe my face anyway. It’s more of a reflex, really, something I’ve adapted into my life without truly knowing when the habit started.

  I grunt when I sit up, my legs still dangling off the rocks. “Um. No, I’m not.” My words come out strained, so I clear my throat before trying again. “You were gone for a while.”

  He smirks. “You’re just high cus’ it’s only been ten minutes. Time can sometimes feel longer when you’ve been smoking.” Ashton digs into the plastic bag then hands me a cold water bottle.

  “Thanks,” I say and shuffle in my spot to make myself more comfortable.

  The water goes down cold, and I realize now that my mouth has gone dry. It's most likely due to the weed, but then maybe it’s the crying I did while he was away. Ashton continues to feel around in the bag, pulling out a small pastry box. Tucking his wat
er bottle under his arm, he opens the flap and presents me with an assortment of miniature baked goods.

  I smile like a kid in a candy store, sucking in a breath as I reach for the frosted lemon one. “There is a god,” I exaggerate while tilting my head to the sky and shoving the entire danish into my mouth.

  “Yeah, and his name is Baby.”

  I dart my gaze back to his, shaking my head at the arrogance radiating from him. “You are such an asshole.” I laugh.

  He settles between my legs and bites into one of the desserts. “Thank you.”

  I huff, my smile never faltering. Ashton picks up another treat and holds it out to me. When I try to take it from him, he pulls back, swatting at my hands.

  “Open,” he directs with a tilt of his head.

  I stare at him for a moment, unable to move or even process what he’s saying to me. It also doesn’t help that I am still feeling the effects of the weed. Every sense is already heightened, and every nerve is on fire. The last thing I need is to be fed by him.

  And as I continue to look at him blankly, his face twists with concern and confusion. Ashton’s brows are pulled tight, and he drops the snack back into the box, setting it down beside me. But he doesn’t move from in between my legs. I see the change in his demeanor and attempt to glance away.

  He doesn’t allow me to, grabbing me by the chin and forcing me to look at him. Ashton searches my face, neither of us saying anything for a moment. I can’t tell you how long we stay like this, gazing at each other. My expression is weak and probably full of fear, while his matches that of a protective lover.

  “You were crying.”

  It’s not a question; the evidence is written all over my face. I know because my skin is tight in the places where my tears have dried.

  I drop my chin to my chest, anything to break eye contact. “I’m fine.” I tuck my curly hair behind my ear. “Where are the pastries from?” I ask in a feasible attempt to change the subject.

  “Don’t lie to me.” His voice is stern and somewhat dominating.

  “Really, Ashton, I’m okay.”

  He doesn’t believe me if the frown lines on his forehead are any indication. I’m grateful that he doesn’t push the subject because explaining why I broke down after he was away isn’t something I want to do. Especially when I don’t know the reason myself. The only thing I am sure of is that everything is all too much—my life and being here with him.