by Abigail Haas
‘I was just asking.’ Oliver turned back to the lake.
‘Let’s talk about something less depressing,’ Ethan announced. ‘Like what we’re going to do with this deer when we get it.’
‘That’s not depressing?’ I laughed, glad of the change of subject. ‘And who says you’ll get anything.’
‘We always do,’ Ethan told me. ‘Believe me, Olly won’t go home empty-handed.’
‘I always get what I want, even if it takes all night.’ Oliver gave me a smile that sent shivers down my spine. ‘Ethan will bring the truck round, isn’t that right? We’re not more than half a mile from the road now.’
‘And then you’ll what, mount its head on the basement wall?’ I was intrigued by their casual confidence, talking about a dead animal like it was nothing. I’d grown up around hunting – this was wild country, after all – but I’d never been this close to the action: fascinated and repulsed in equal measures.
‘No.’ Oliver’s voice dropped, serious. ‘You don’t fuck around like that. You have to eat the meat, bury the bones. Honour the life you’re taking.’
‘Oh.’ I blinked, thrown. ‘Sure, I mean, that makes sense. In a twisted sort of way,’ I added.
‘What’s twisted about it?’ Oliver tilted his head, watching me now instead of the lake. ‘You eat meat, don’t you?’
‘Yes, but that’s different.’
‘How?’ Oliver countered. ‘It comes from an animal, it all does. In fact, this is far more humane a way of dying than all those abattoirs serving up your Big Mac and Whoppers. As long as man existed, we’ve hunted: it’s primal, deep in our DNA.’ Oliver smiled. ‘Survival of the fittest.’
Ethan leaned in. ‘Don’t get him started, he’ll be on about this for days. Man’s essential nature, all that crap.’
‘I forgot,’ Oliver chuckled, ‘you essentially want to watch football and drink beer.’
‘Nothing wrong with that!’ Ethan laughed as a ringing noise came, muffled.
Oliver sighed. ‘What did I say about noise?’
‘Sorry, dude.’ Ethan fished his phone out of his pocket. ‘It’s the site.’ He made a face, then retreated a little way into the woods, out of earshot.
‘Come look.’ Oliver held the binoculars out to me.
I hesitated a moment, then got up, moving to join him at the edge of the undergrowth. I held the viewer to my eyes, adjusting to the clarity, magnifying even the smallest clump of weeds with perfect vision. ‘Wow, these are strong,’ I exclaimed.
‘Military-grade,’ Oliver replied. ‘My shells are too. I get all kinds of things online.’
I watched through the snow, Oliver standing beside me, his breath fogging the air.
‘You think about what I said?’ he said quietly.
‘You say so much, it’s hard to keep track,’ I replied glibly.
‘About being honest with yourself.’ Oliver’s hand closed over mine on the binoculars, and even through the thick knit of my mittens, I could feel his heat.
I slowly lowered the viewfinder. ‘I thought about it,’ I admitted, meeting his eyes. My heart shivered in my chest, but I forced myself to stay calm.
‘And?’ Oliver arched an eyebrow.
‘And, I wonder why you even care.’ I gave a careless shrug. ‘We’re all beneath you, after all. Little chess pieces in your game.’ My eyes narrowed, determined, expecting another sarcastic comment, an ironic quirk of those eyebrows.
Instead, Oliver looked away.
‘I guess I hoped you were different,’ he whispered, as Ethan came trampling back loudly through the snow.
I took a half-step back.
‘Bad news.’ He sighed. ‘They need me on-site; someone delivered the wrong kind of insulation, and I have to go sort it out.’
‘But it’s your birthday!’ I protested.
‘It’s OK,’ Ethan said. ‘I won’t be more than a couple of hours, we can still go out for dinner like we planned.’
I made to grab my backpack, but he waved me off. ‘No, you guys stay here, you’re all set up.’
‘No way, I’m coming with you,’ I protested, but Ethan was firm.
‘I have to head straight to the site, you’d be hanging around for nothing.’ He kissed me on the forehead and grabbed his gun. ‘Stay, watch Olly in action. It’ll be fun.’
I paused, glancing back at Oliver. He smiled. ‘You’re welcome to stay, you could learn something.’
My pulse kicked. Staying out here, alone in the snow with Oliver . . . It was dangerous. Reckless. I’d spent weeks keeping my distance, trying to focus on the good with Ethan, but now, the opportunity to spend time with him all alone suddenly seemed thrilling.
Hadn’t he said, the deer knew better than to stay when they smelled trouble?
I didn’t know what his next move would be, but that was the point. In the long stretch of sameness, he was the live wire. Unpredictable. His eyes glittering bright in the sun, waiting for my response.
‘I’ll stay.’
I watched Ethan wave goodbye, turning to tramp back through the snow on the path we’d taken. His bright blue jacket weaved through the trees, getting smaller and darker. I could have changed my mind and run to catch up with him, but instead, I just watched him walk away, until finally he was gone and I was left alone with Oliver.
‘Well, aren’t you just full of surprises.’
Oliver’s voice wasn’t arch this time. Instead, he sounded almost impressed.
I smiled to myself, glad that I’d managed to do something unexpected. That was what I wanted, wasn’t it? To get under his skin and figure him out. It was why I’d stayed.
I turned back to him. He was drinking from the Thermos of coffee, leaning back against the frozen bark of a tree in a casual pose, all angles and cool assessing gaze.
I raised my eyebrows. ‘I thought you were never surprised. People are so dull and uninteresting, remember?’
Oliver smiled. ‘Why does it make you so angry that I say the things you already know are true?’
I felt an automatic spark of protest, but I fought to stay in control. ‘I’m not angry,’ I said lightly. I knelt down by our stack of bags and supplies and found the water, but when I straightened up again, he was still watching with a thoughtful look on his face.
‘I didn’t realize you cared so much about what people thought of you.’
I blinked. The way he said it, I knew it wasn’t a compliment. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Oliver straightened up, taking a few paces, kicking at the powdery snow. ‘How about the way you smile and act so sweet and innocent with Ethan all the time?’ He looked up, his eyes cutting through me. ‘You tie yourself up in knots to avoid showing any real emotion; I’m surprised you can function at all.’
I shivered. He was doing it again: seeing all the things I thought I’d kept so well hidden, saying my secrets out loud as if they meant nothing at all. ‘Don’t we all do that?’ I shrugged. ‘Everyone pretends to be something they’re not. Even you.’
‘No. I don’t.’ Oliver looked certain, but I laughed.
‘Sure you do. You play at being so nonchalant, but you care what people think too. Your family, Ethan . . . Imagine if he knew what you were doing,’ I added meaningfully. ‘What you did.’
‘What we did.’ Oliver corrected me with a smile. ‘And no, I don’t care. I’m not his keeper, his life is his choice. And mine are mine.’
It sounded glib, like the kind of platitudes we all said, but when I looked closer, I realized that he meant it, every single word.
He really didn’t care about the consequences, or about betraying Ethan. He didn’t care about his parents’ plans for him, or their pressure to finish school. And he didn’t care what I said or did next, if I judged him for his beliefs. In fact, I realized, with a shock of clarity, I could do anything right now. Say anything. It wouldn’t affect him at all.
My heartbeat quickened. There was something terrifying and liberatin
g about that kind of freedom, after months of play-acting. And to live your whole life that way like Oliver claimed . . . ? I couldn’t even imagine it.
I stared at him, fascinated.
‘Who are you?’
The words left my mouth before I could think them through.
I’d never met anyone like him before. Every rule I’d ever learned, he was breaking; everything I’d been taught to hide away, he announced it out loud.
I envied him. To be so bold and reckless, to care only about his own needs . . . My life was full of worries about other people: my mom, Ethan, the guys at the station. All my responsibilities and the obligation to keep their lives running smoothly. Keep them happy.
But Oliver? He only worried about himself.
As if he’d seen something in my expression, Oliver took a step towards me, and then another, until he was standing just inches away.
My pulse kicked.
I could feel the warmth of his breath in the air between us, and when he reached to touch my cheek, the leather of his gloves was cold against my skin.
Still, I didn’t flinch away.
‘Who are you?’ I asked again, a note of urgency creeping into my tone. Suddenly, I didn’t just want to know his secrets; I needed to, desperately.
I needed to find a way to be so free.
‘I’m the only person who will tell you the truth, the real truth,’ he murmured, leaning closer, until his lips were barely brushing my skin. ‘Not just all the pretty lies you want to hear.’
I swayed towards him. This was different to that night at the house. Then, I’d been taken by surprise, my mind scattered, powerless under his will.
Now, I felt desire twisting through me, waking every sense in my body. The icy air was sharp in my lungs, my body prickling with heat under the layers of sweaters and scarves. I saw the blue of Oliver’s eyes up close; not clouded with hues of grey like Ethan’s, but startlingly bright, like the harsh winter skies.
My eyes drifted shut, my breath caught, waiting for his kiss.
There was a noise, a rustling in the bushes near the lake. I felt the warmth of Oliver’s body leave mine a split-second before my eyes flew open. He was already back by the scree, reaching for the binoculars.
‘Look,’ he whispered, a note of excitement in his voice. ‘It’s here.’
I caught my breath, my heart still racing. I quickly crouched down beside him, peering through the undergrowth.
It was a deer, tripping delicately towards the water. She leaned down, her long neck stretching to take in the drink.
‘What happens now?’ I whispered, feeling a shiver of fear. ‘Do you take your shot?’
‘Not yet. It’s too easy.’ Oliver shifted his weight, passing me the binoculars.
‘I don’t understand.’ I frowned. ‘I thought the point of hunting was to kill something.’
Oliver turned his head. ‘The point is the hunt. You think I’m here just to blow that thing away?’ He was scornful. ‘I could walk out there, let off a couple of rounds, and she’d go down. Where’s the fun in that?’
I paused. ‘Fun,’ I echoed, uncertain.
‘You have to get to know her first,’ Oliver explained. His voice was low, still just a whisper, but there was something hypnotic about it, and the intensity of his gaze. ‘See what kind of beast you’re dealing with. No two animals are alike; they all have their habits and foibles, and until you get a glimpse of their true nature, you won’t be able to beat it.’
‘Just like people,’ I noted wryly.
Oliver let out a chuckle. ‘Just like people.’
We waited, watching from our hidden spot in the undergrowth for ten long minutes as the deer drank from the lake and then grazed around, nudging under bushes for grass that hadn’t been covered with the snow. Oliver barely moved a muscle, his focus entirely on his prey; every muscle tense and alert, while I tried my best not to fidget and shift my weight.
Oliver watched the deer, and I watched him.
He was so still. Ethan was like that, but his was a different kind of stillness: calm and relaxed, not this poised, precise energy. Oliver’s focus was absolute, and after a few minutes without a word, I wondered if he’d forgotten I was there at all.
‘You’re bored.’ Oliver’s voice came, but he didn’t look around.
‘No,’ I protested quickly. ‘I guess I’m just trying to understand.’
‘She doesn’t realize it yet, but these are her last few moments on this earth.’ Oliver did look at me, nodding for me to study the deer again. ‘This is the last drink she’ll ever take. The last meal she’ll eat. You’d rather rush it, and take all of that away from her?’
I frowned. ‘Does it matter? You’re going to kill her in the end, either way.’
There was a flash of motion, a bird landing by the lake. The deer skittered slightly at the movement, retreating a few paces into the woods. She looked around, and then slowly turned and began walking away.
‘Finally.’ Oliver murmured. ‘Come on.’
He didn’t wait for me to reply before setting off, footsteps light in the snow. He kept his distance, using trees and brush for cover, never losing sight of the deer as she meandered through the woods. His movements were swift, his body lithe, the gun slung across his back, the wooden barrel polished to a dull sheen.
I scrambled after him, trying my best to mimic his silent steps. I kept completely silent, watching every move ahead of me, my pulse thundering loudly in my ears. It was thrilling, like an adult game of hide-and-seek; waiting until the deer moved far enough ahead before slipping through the trees, my heart in my throat. I knew the smallest noise would spook her, so I made every step as delicate as I could, barely breathing to keep from making a sound.
We followed her deeper into the woods, before she stopped, nuzzling around the base of a tree that had sheltered the ground from the worst of the snow. Oliver held up his hand, signalling for me to wait. The woods around us were hushed, blanketed in white, as I crept up beside him, hidden back behind some trees.
Oliver took the shotgun down and lifted it into position; resting over his shoulder, his head cocked to view through the sight. ‘See,’ he whispered, ‘you hold it, just like this. Support the weight, here.’
He moved then, swiftly turning and placing the gun in my hands.
My heart caught in my chest. ‘I can’t . . . I mean, I’ve never used one of these.’
‘That’s why I’m teaching you.’ Oliver stood behind me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. I could feel the heat of his body, solid against my back as he moved the gun into position, angling my arms and hands until I was holding it correctly, supporting the weight. I felt a thrill, awareness shivering through me to have him so close.
‘Now, line up the sight,’ he murmured, his breath whispering against my ear.
I could see the deer through the rifle, the crosshairs of the barrel wavering with every breath I took.
‘Easy,’ he breathed against me. ‘Now get your weight behind it.’
His hands dropped to my hips. He moved them, shifting my stance, then lingering, slipping around to the front of my body. My jacket and jumper had risen up, just an inch by the waistband of my jeans. I could feel the touch of his hand, a tiny sliver of ice against my stomach.
Desire curled, tighter.
‘You only get two shots.’ Oliver’s voice was still low in my ear.
‘Not one?’ I turned my head, so our lips were almost touching. When he spoke, I felt his words whispered, as much as I heard them.
‘Two.’ Oliver corrected me. ‘One to wound her, the second, to down her, once she tries to run. So think about it,’ he breathed. ‘Where will she go when she hears the first shot? Which way will she bolt?’
I forced myself to turn back to the deer, trying to see it the way he did, to get inside her mind. She’d skittered left, back at the lake when she’d seen the bird landing. And now, foraging in the undergrowth, I could see her head lift, tilting to chec
k her right-hand side when she thought she heard a sound.
‘Left.’ I whispered. ‘She favours her left.’
‘Good. So when you aim, aim where you think she’ll be, not where she is. Cut her off before she has a chance to run.’
Oliver moved my hands more firmly on the trigger. I felt the resistance of the metal beneath my forefinger and it hit me for the first time just what I was about to do.
The weapon in my hand could kill.
The rounds in the chamber would damage and destroy.
That deer was a living thing, and I was about to take all that away.
‘Oliver,’ I whispered, suddenly scared.
‘This is how it was always meant to be,’ Oliver murmured quietly. ‘Man and beast. Remember?’
‘Still . . . ’ I couldn’t move, torn between his certainty and the sight of the deer, so oblivious to her fate.
‘Ask yourself.’ Oliver’s lips brushed my ear. I shuddered as his hands slid higher, until his palm was resting on the bare skin of my stomach, burning under his touch. I couldn’t move, flooded with the sensation of him against me, holding me in place. ‘Are you hesitating because you want to, or because you think you should?’
His question rattled in my mind.
‘What would you do if nobody was watching?’ Oliver continued. ‘If nobody would ever know?’
My breath caught.
Who was I when nobody was looking? Without judgment, without expectations. Without somebody to please. That was why he’d brought me, I realized; that was why Oliver had put the gun in my hands and pointed me here. To see who I was, away from it all.
To know the real me.
I raised the rifle.
Oliver’s breath quickened. I felt his body tense with expectation. I lined up the sight, carefully, carefully, holding my breath until the crosshairs were perfectly aligned on her chest.
The deer looked up, straight towards me. Our eyes met.
I fired.
The recoil shocked through me, but Oliver was holding me tight. The deer stumbled, hit, then bolted left, just the way I knew she would. I fired again.