Curved Horizon

by Taylor Brooke

  A door opened. The darkness pulsed and turned.

  “Daisy, whoa, hey,” Aiden grabbed her hands and halted their jerky movements. “What’s wrong?”

  She wrenched away from him. Don’t touch me. The words were there, right on the tip of her tongue, but she caught them before they struck. Aiden wasn’t the person her mind had cooked up. He wasn’t the shapeless, nameless entity her memories decided to reproduce. When Daisy opened her eyes, Aiden, looking wounded and worried, sat on the floor beside the couch with his hands in front of his chest where she could see him.

  “You gotta breathe,” he whispered.

  Daisy opened her mouth and forced air in. She pawed at the blankets until her arm flailed off the couch. She wiggled her fingers at him.

  “Can I touch you?” Aiden asked.

  The question pained her, but she forced her chin up and down in an exaggerated nod.

  “Okay, I’m gonna pick you up, all right? I’m putting my hands under your legs and your back. Ready?” Aiden scooped his arm beneath her knees. The apartment was deadly quiet, but Daisy’s body was filled with sounds: her teeth grinding, her heart pounding, her throat tightening.

  She didn’t want to break down. She would not break down.

  As soon as Aiden pulled her against his bare chest, Daisy’s resistance crumbled. She sucked in heavy, deep breaths. Her weight sagged against him, and she kept her eyes open, afraid that if she closed them she’d return to the nightmare, to the wall outside of 101, to the hands she couldn’t peel away.

  “Breathe,” he said softly. “C’mon, like you taught me. One.” He inhaled a deep breath. She did the same. “Two.” Another deep breath, another long exhale. “Three.”

  The dread in the pit of Daisy’s stomach dissipated, but something else remained, a stain that she couldn’t scrub away. No MMA class would remove it. No breathing exercise would cure it.

  “Do you want to sleep with me and Mercy?” Aiden kept her tight to his chest, with her legs folded over his elbow and her head pillowed on his collarbone. She didn’t know just what, but something about the small space, the envelopment, simulated safety.

  “Yeah, yes,” she croaked. “Is that okay?”

  “Want me to carry you?”

  “No,” she said through a laugh. She sniffed hard and smacked wetness off her cheeks. “I can get there myself.”

  She climbed out of Aiden’s lap and grabbed a blanket from the couch before they walked down the hall, bouncing off each other as the hazy, weighted ache eased from her chest. Mercy meowed from the foot of the bed. A half-smoked joint was in the ashtray on the nightstand; clothes littered the floor, and the blinds were open, showcasing a bright, full moon over the ocean.

  Daisy refused to be broken, but if she had to fall apart, she was glad Aiden was the one who witnessed it. She combed her fingers through her hair and flopped on the bed; her lips flapped as she exhaled. She almost asked if they could smoke the rest of the joint, or if they had any juice to mix with the vodka stashed in the freezer. But if she smoked, she might try to talk about it, and if she drank, she’d definitely try to talk about it.

  “How’d you do this?” Daisy asked. She hadn’t meant to. The question just tumbled out, spurred by a nightmare and memories and a shared, ugly past.

  “Do what?” Aiden slid into the bed beside her.

  She stared at the ceiling fan. Mercy’s paws were tiny, pudgy weights on her shins, her thighs, her stomach, until the cat plopped down on Daisy’s chest and stayed there. She couldn’t not ask now that she’d brought it up, but the idea of discussing Vance and the past and what happened at 101 knotted her stomach. “How’d you get over it?” she said softly.

  “There wasn’t anything to get over, Daisy. Me and you are different,” he whispered.

  Daisy scoffed. “You asked me if I’d seen him. Like I’d actually give Vance the time of day after what he did.”

  Aiden turned toward her. His eyes hardened under a furrowed brow. Daisy watched Aiden’s top lip peel away from his bottom lip. The words seized her when he said, “You mean what I did.”

  “I mean what he did,” she corrected sternly.

  They endured the silence. It pulsed between them, a secret they’d both chewed on, unruly memories neither one could shake. Daisy could still taste the nightmare. It lingered in the back of her throat, scraping her vocal cords.

  Daisy refused to be weak. She would not let this have her.

  After she closed her eyes, and Aiden turned over, his back to her front, she heard him quietly say, “It took me a while.”

  Moonlight crept over the floor. Mercy hopped off the bed to sit in the windowsill. Daisy scooted over until her torso was plastered against Aiden’s back, and her arm was snug around his chest, and she felt the ghost of his fingertips touch her wrist.

  “Can I hold onto you?” she asked.

  A soft sigh fluttered from him. “Course you can.”

  Daisy didn’t sleep. She couldn’t tell if Aiden did or not, but when the sun peeked into his bedroom and midnight turned into morning, they pretended to wake, made coffee, laughed about the concert Chelsea would surely hate attending, and they didn’t talk about it. Not what happened to her. Not what happened to him. Not 101. Not Vance.

  None of it.

  They didn’t talk about any of it.

  00:00

  Javi and Daisy sat in the courtyard on the first Friday in June.

  Summer had rolled into Southern California in the middle of April, but now the sun had settled and tourist season was here to stay. Billowing clouds rose high in the sky each morning and dissipated as the heat intensified, turning Laguna Beach into a postcard by noon. Irvine was no different—crowded with corporate buildings, two colleges, a large outdoor mall, and the amphitheater.

  “You and your friends still going to that show tonight?” Javi chewed on the straw shoved through the top of his Tea Station cup. “I heard it’s one of the last ones they’re hosting before they tear it down.”

  Daisy shrugged. “They’ve been saying that for years; nothing’s ever come of it. That stadium’s been around for forever, and I doubt it’ll be going anywhere anytime soon.”

  “That’s what they said about the safari park.”

  “Yeah, I know. Did I ever tell you my friend’s dad used to sneak into Irvine Meadows through the rhino pit when he was a teenager?”

  Javi’s brow furrowed. “They used to sneak in through the rhino… like, at night? They walked through animal enclosures to get into concerts for free?”

  “Yep. Aiden’s dad.”

  “That makes sense from what I’ve heard about Aiden.”

  “Yeah, and you haven’t heard much.” Daisy snorted and bit pieces of spicy potato from the stick it was skewered on. “Speak of the devil.”

  Shannon’s Jeep Cherokee roared into the guest parking lot across from the courtyard. Through the windshield, Daisy saw the soles of Aiden’s boots propped on the dash and watched Chelsea apply a coat of lipstick in the back seat.

  “Is your girlfriend with them?” Javi teased.

  “Not my girlfriend,” Daisy snapped, “but yes, Chelsea’s coming.”

  Soon enough the three of them were walking toward the courtyard. Aiden and Shannon argued with Chelsea, who obviously took the conversation far more seriously than they did.

  “You told me it was an alternative rock band,” Chelsea said.

  “I told you it was a good band,” Aiden said, winking at Daisy as they approached. “You think Chelsea will like the music?”

  “Absolutely not,” Daisy said quickly, grinning apologetically at the other woman.

  “Who’s this?” Aiden flicked his hand at Javi.

  Javi, who couldn’t close his mouth, stared openly at Aiden. His gaze ran rampant over bare shoulders, black tank top, and shredded jeans tucked smoothl
y into apocalypse-chic combat boots. Daisy looked at Javi and tilted her head, confused. She noticed Shannon did the same, both of them watching Javi watch Aiden.

  She’d forgotten what it was like to meet Aiden for the first time.

  “Javi, this is Aiden, my roommate, his boyfriend Shannon, and you’ve met Chelsea,” Daisy said, attempting to wrangle the awkward situation.

  Chelsea looked up from her cell phone; her sunglasses slid to the tip of her nose. “He won’t bite, honey; that’s just his face.”

  “She will bite,” Aiden said smugly, arching a brow as he jutted his chin at Chelsea. “Daisy, we should go. There’s already a line.”

  “We’re not eating first?” She pulled the last bit of potato off the skewer as she stood up, slinging her purse over her shoulder.

  “Venue food,” Aiden said.

  “Disgusting,” Chelsea sang.

  “Guys,” Shannon said through a sigh.

  “Nice to meet you, I think,” Javi tested quietly.

  “I’ll see you on Monday, Javi.” Daisy threw the words over her shoulder as she walked next to Chelsea, enduring the taunting flirting going on between Shannon and Aiden two steps in front of them.

  “See? That guy couldn’t even talk to you.”

  “Shannon, he looked terrified.”

  “Of how ridiculously good-looking you are.”

  Aiden blew air past his lips, but Daisy caught the distinct burn of a blush forming in his cheeks.

  Chelsea gave a breathy laugh. “Can we go one hour—just one—without you two doing this?”

  They climbed in the Jeep Cherokee, boys in front, girls in back, and drove over the bridge across the interstate to the amphitheater.

  “How was work?” Chelsea asked softly, still staring down her nose at her phone.

  As much as Daisy wanted to feel utterly dismissed, Chelsea being engrossed in whatever she was reading gave her the chance to look at her. Really look. They hadn’t seen each other since the date-gone-wrong two weeks ago, mostly due to conflicting schedules and cowardice. But they’d texted every morning and every night: small things and deep things, easy jokes, strings of emojis, and helpless two a.m. please tell me you’re awake messages.

  Daisy had looked at every picture on social media of Chelsea Cavanaugh, dating back to high school, and even found a few of Shannon along the way. She’d seen lots of documented family vacations at world-renowned resorts, pictures from medical conferences and holidays abroad. Every achievement was showcased on Chelsea’s Facebook for her extended family and college friends to see.

  But—Chelsea posted very different pictures on her Instagram.

  Daisy found her favorites there: pictures of cocktails from dinners with Shannon and Karman, shots taken of half her face against a backdrop of the beach, old pictures from years ago of Chelsea tending to her horse in Georgia, new ones taken on Aiden’s balcony of her holding a wine glass against her mouth, looking like herself and like a stranger at once.

  This was another instance where Chelsea was herself and not. Daisy catalogued the place where her thighs disappeared into the hem of her denim shorts and looked a bit closer at her stomach through strips of a fringed white top.

  “Work was fine,” Daisy said, mostly to get it out of the way, and stared at Chelsea’s belly button. “Is that a belly ring?”

  “It is.” Chelsea’s smile darkened. She set her phone down, stretched out in the back seat, and held up her shirt. She poked the curved, silver bar, adorned with a seahorse charm. “I got it done my freshman year of college.”

  “No fucking way!” Aiden hollered. He unbuckled his seat belt and whipped around, practically climbing over the center console. “How have I not seen this before?”

  “For one, I haven’t been wearing it much; I just put it back in. And two, I don’t usually take my clothes off when you’re around,” Chelsea said. Her attention shifted to Daisy, and she smiled again, smug and confident. “I’m a doctor, not a nun.”

  Daisy grinned, but decided to keep her thoughts to herself. A part of her desperately wanted to push the limits, to demand that Chelsea prove it, and another part of her feared what she might unleash if she did.

  Daisy asked for space. Daisy asked for time to process. She wanted to give it back, the time, the space.

  Chelsea’s hair fell in her face, sticking to her coral lips. She blew a long piece of it away and grinned. She looked younger and happier and more alive than Daisy had seen her look since they’d jumped off the cliff.

  Maybe they were jumping off another cliff now.

  “I want one,” Aiden declared. He flopped back in his seat as they were parking and, of course, pulled a bottle of whiskey from the glove compartment. “Should I pierce my belly button?”

  Shannon was the only one who said yes.

  00:00

  “We didn’t even get seats?” Chelsea’s agitation wasn’t an easy thing to deal with. “We have to stand up here?”

  “Do you ever stop complaining?” Aiden’s teeth clicked, and his eyes blazed. He resumed his role as wild animal and, as the stage lit up and the sun went down, he became more and more uncontrollable.

  Aiden Maar needed to release things. Daisy knew that more than anyone, even more than Shannon. She caught his eye and lifted a brow, daring him to keep going.

  Someone was getting hurt tonight.

  “Down boy,” Shannon growled—an empty, yet valiant attempt.

  Lips twitching at the corners, Aiden licked his teeth when he grinned at Shannon.

  They stood at the very edge of the lawn, an expanse of grass that went on and on above the amphitheater. A guardrail prevented them from falling, but it didn’t stop some rebellious music lovers from hopping over it and making a run for the pit. Row upon row of plastic seats angled toward a stage that was larger than it looked from where they were, and the amphitheater was louder than she’d expected when the band started.

  Chelsea tucked her mouth against Daisy’s ear and said, “It’s just noise. It’s not even music.”

  Smoke rose in the air behind them. Heat hit the back of Daisy’s bare legs. She looked over her shoulder and watched flames climb into the darkness. People circled a man-made fire pit, taunting each other with jabbing fists and daring glares. She rested her arms on the railing and leaned closer to Chelsea with her gaze pointed at the band.

  “It’s power metal,” Daisy half-yelled to Chelsea. “You don’t like it?”

  They smiled at each other: Chelsea’s knowing and sarcastic, Daisy’s all fangs and teeth.

  “Why do they start fires?” Chelsea asked. Their elbows touched, then they were arm against arm and hip against hip, thigh against thigh and faces far too close together. “What’s the point?”

  Daisy looked over her shoulder. Silhouettes danced and fought in an ongoing circle around the growing patch of flames. “Something about this,” she waved from the stage to the moon to the horde around them, “wakes up the primal part in us that we pretend isn’t there. People like to let it out once in a while.” She shifted onto one foot, using the other to scratch behind her knee. Her platform boots gave her a few extra inches, allowing her to look Chelsea in the eye. “You ever wanted to tear something apart, Charm School?”

  The glaciers that kept residence in Chelsea cracked. There was heat in her gaze, magnified by the reflection of flames and strobe lights. “Wanted to, yes, but I never have.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  “We’re leaving,” Shannon’s voice cut through their conversation. He leaned between them with one hand tugging gently on Chelsea’s elbow, the other wrapped under the back of Aiden’s belt, hauling him like a toddler. “It took three songs for him to get in a fight.”

  Aiden spit blood on the grass and turned his eyes to the onlookers.

  The concert-goers around them stepped back, giving the
group a wide birth.

  “Always the gentleman,” Chelsea said, but she laughed as if she’d been expecting worse.

  They walked down the steep cement path from the lawn to the venue’s main common area. Shannon and Aiden bit at each other with harsh words, Aiden explaining why his actions were necessary, and Shannon constantly shaking his head. Finally, Shannon simply reached for Aiden’s hand and took it, and they both quieted.

  Daisy listened to a long-winded guitar solo echo through erratic chanting from the crowd. Her shoes thumped on the pavement. Aiden spit on the ground again. Noticing how red it was, she made a mental note to look at his mouth later and make sure he hadn’t lost a tooth.

  How many times had she told Aiden to open his mouth to check for a baggy hidden under his tongue, to make sure he hadn’t bit through his cheek during a fight? Four years, and some things didn’t change.

  Shannon’s hand in Aiden’s was like a sigh of relief, though, a reminder that some things did change. Aiden had a Rose Road now. He might still be getting into fights, but he was looked after. Sometimes she had to remind herself that he’d be okay if she skipped a mental note or two.

  That’s what it’s supposed to be, Daisy thought, watching Aiden’s thumb rub back and forth across Shannon’s.

  The delicate brush of fingertips whispered on the top of her hand, under her knuckles, on her palm. Chelsea slipped her hand into Daisy’s and waited, curling her fingers just so. The very tips of their fingers intertwined—a warm, silent proclamation.

  Oh, it said, there is my supposed-to-be.

  “You guys want Denny’s?” Aiden glanced over his shoulder and grinned. From what Daisy could see, he still had all his teeth. “I’m buying.”

  Chelsea’s thumb played with one of Daisy’s jagged crystal rings.

  “Might as well,” Daisy chirped. “You sure you won’t punch the waiter in the face?”

  Aiden’s grin turned sinister. Shannon inhaled a deep breath and let it out as a sigh.