by A. M. Brooks
“I understand trauma. Plus, I’m pretty impressed with the extent you went to for this. I’ve seen some hack jobs over the years, but this was professional level. Make sure you tell Reed he should take me up on my offer to run this next year,” he laughs.
My mouth drops open. “You knew? Wait, where are you going next year?”
“Curious about me, Gossip Girl?” Flirty Kai is back. For the first time, I notice a small dimple in his right cheek.
I shrug. “I just figured you’d be here helping Matt, I guess. I forget you’re seniors.”
“We’ll be back eventually,” Kai responds, nodding his head. “Part of the requirement for Rogue is that we enlist in the military.”
“For real?” I ask intrigued.
“Yup,” Kai laughs. “I’m excited, actually. I can’t wait to blow some shit up.”
This time, I laugh in response. “What branch?”
“I’ll be Army. Doing more cyber warfare training. Ciaran is also Army, but Silas is still undecided,” Kai answers my question. His words are enthusiastic, and again, I’m reminded how different he is from his broody counterparts.
“I better get back out there.” I stand and point to the door. “I. Thank you again, Kai. I don’t even know what to say.”
He shrugs. “Just be smart, Gossip Girl. This better not come back to bite either one of us. And you will tell them.”
“I know.” I wince and nod in agreement. The mental image is too painful to think about right now.
“Get to work,” he orders and spins back to his station.
My legs are unsteady and shake as they carry me out of Kai’s office and back to my own desk. So much for getting anything done tonight.
Another week passes without any further contact from Oaklynn. I want to ask Kai what he did or for help, but he hasn’t been alone at school. Even at work this week, he wasn’t alone. Matt has been spending copious amounts of time in that office as well. With Kai knowing Reed helped me, I’m freaked out to bring him into this any further.
Winter can tell I’m preoccupied, but she doesn’t pry. I would feel guilty telling her about my plan as well. I’m grateful for Winter, and I’m happy we’re friends. I just hope she can meet Oaklynn someday. Winter knows my life now, and Oaklynn has known me since I was seven.
Listening to Winter, I put a strained smile on my face and hope it looks legit.
“It’s in March,” she states, while looking through me.
“I’m sorry, Winter,” I shake my head, “I’m really trying to stay focused; it’s just extra hard today.”
“It’s okay.” She lifts her shoulder, while biting into the banana in her hand.
“What’s in March?” I question, turning to face her this time.
“The talent show.” Her eyes brighten when she says the words.
I cough and choke on the water in my mouth. “Is that a thing here?”
“Only the second biggest school event next to prom,” she answers. I feel as if she’s barely contained in her seat, ready to bounce right out of her chair. The whole table nods in agreement with her.
“Oh, okay.” I smile. “Are you entering?”
“We usually do a dance routine.” Winter nods to the others around the table. “Do you want to do it with us this year?”
“Uh,” I hesitate, “I’m not a good organized dancer. The whole counting steps thing throws me off. Seriously, I’d ruin it for you.”
“Everyone can dance.” Winter gives me a lopsided smile.
“Oh no.” I hold my hand up. “Don’t try to Footloose me. I’m not the Willard to your Ren. We’re not getting matching shirts that say ‘Dance Your Ass Off’ either.” I point a finger at her accusingly. Knowing Winter, that is exactly where her mind would go.
She laughs, until she’s in tears, and people are eyeing our table. My cheeks are pink from the attention, but she finally calms down.
“Fine,” she huffs out in between giggles. “Be a fun hater. But seriously, though, is there anything you can do for a talent?”
I pause. The old me would have jumped at this opportunity. Trinity Prep did not have a talent show, but they did do productions and musicals.
“I, ah, I used to sing,” I answer, keeping my voice low, for only Winter to hear.
Her smile turns mega-watt bright. “This is perfect!”
“What? Why?” Her smile is freaking me out as much as that calculating look in her eye.
“Ah, because, Cassidy and her cronies usually do a song set, and they always win, because nobody is brave enough to go against them.” Winter rushes through her words. Her eyes get even bigger, if possible, the pupils stretching until they’re barely rimmed in grey.
“I don’t think I’m going to enter,” I tell her gently, letting her down easy.
“Think about it at least.” Winter’s smile is small this time. I want to tell her it’s too close to home. That my vocal cords haven’t been used like that in months, but I don’t. I should tell her I used to practice with my mom and that, without her, I don’t think I could carry a tune, but I stay quiet.
I continue eating my lunch while their conversation goes on around me. I’m lost in the past, soaked in the lies I find there, now that I know what I’m looking at. Sharp pain pulses against my temples. Using my pointer fingers, I massage in circles, until it lessens. Warmth touches my skin and tingles rise from my chest to the roots of my hair. I hesitate before lifting my head, knowing what or who is waiting for me. Taking a breath in, I lift my face to the challenge. The minute my eyes look up, they lock with Ciaran’s from where he sits across the lunch room. He just arrived, judging from the snow still on his jacket. His blond waves are damp and pushed back from his face. His gaze roams my face, almost caressing it, which is the most contact we’ve had in weeks. He holds me captive, even when I want to look away. He doesn’t deserve my time.
“Are you going tonight?” Winter leans in to whisper, finally freeing me from Ciaran’s hold.
“Where?” I ask, turning to face her.
“The lot,” she answers and tilts her head back in Ciaran’s direction.
The lot, the fight, the place Winter took me after the game weeks back. “He’s fighting again?”
“It’s a monthly thing, usually,” Winter answers, shrugging, “It keeps the peace and stops people, without this town’s best interest in mind, in-line. Ciaran is up again tonight, though.”
“Oh,” I respond, still feeling shaken. “I have a lot of homework. I’ll probably stay in tonight.”
“Same girl,” she responds. We share a smile, before going back to eating our food. I keep my head down or only look at the others at the table. I continue to feel the heat from Ciaran, but I ignore it. He doesn’t get to win; I tell myself over and over, even when I’m tempted to take just a peek.
The rest of the day continues the same as always. I’m more aware now of the neon colored posters that read Talent Show in the hallways. After school, I work a few hours at the repair shop, before heading back to the house. Matt lets me know before I leave that he’ll be home late tonight and that Ciaran may not be back either. I nod and smile but I also feel guilty. Kai’s words echo in my head, and I know I’m on borrowed time to come clean to Matt.
I’m not even hungry by the time I get home. My anxiety is eating me from the inside out. The mere thought of food is nauseating. I go to my room with every intention of going to sleep early, only sleep won’t claim me. Every noise and bump in the house has me on edge. My conversation with Kai, waiting to hear from Oaklynn, being unsure about my mom and Mila, all of it is crushing my chest with pressure. I wish there was a way to know what the future holds. I wish I could be one of those people who didn’t surrender to anxiety. I would give anything to be one of those people who shrug things off and keep going. Instead, I overthink, and when I overthink, I create a bigger problem out of a smaller problem and then I create an even larger one for those problems to live in. It’s messed up how my brain works aga
inst my body and emotions like that.
Frustrated, I slide out of bed and walk over to the dresser to get my iPod. Right as my hand closes over my lifeline, a loud bang sounds from downstairs, and I’m instantly frozen in place. Cold sweat breaks out on my skin. I struggle to listen over the sound of my own breathing and heartbeat. Footsteps climb the stairs and enter the bathroom.
“Shit,” I hear Ciaran’s voice, followed by a clatter of bottles and boxes falling onto the counter. I finally let out my breath and throw my sweatshirt over my head, before opening my door to see what he’s doing.
The bathroom light is on, a package of band aids and gauze sits on the floor. Ciaran leans against the sink, a strip of cloth in his mouth, holding it while he uses one hand to wind the material tightly around his knuckles. Red droplets of blood stain the fabric.
“Do you need help?” I ask, hating the timid way my voice sounds.
Ciaran’s head snaps to mine, his eyes are unfocused for a minute, almost like he’s confused at how I’m standing there.
“I’m fine,” he bites out.
Heat rushes up my neck and I take a step back out the door, ready to flee to my room. Anytime I think I can take a step forward with Ciaran, he sends me ten steps back.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just almost done.”
“Okay,” I say, before preparing to leave again.
“Actually, can you open that bottle for me?” He nods to the Tylenol on the floor.
I bend to pick it up and unscrew the top for him. “How many?”
“Well, it hurts like a bitch, so three?” He laughs.
The sound sends rings of warmth through me. A genuine smile cracks his perfect lips, and I’m stunned for a moment.
“Are you okay? Did you hit your head or something?” I question, moving closer, in case he’s going to pass out. What if he has a concussion?
“No.” He smirks. “This is the worst of it.” He nods to his knuckles.
“Hmm.” I pour three tablets into my palm and hold them out to him. He scoops them from my hand, his fingers dragging lightly across the sensitive skin. “Okay, well, night,” I say and turn to leave.
“I’m sorry.” Those are two words from his mouth I never thought I’d hear. My body instantly tenses, waiting for another attack. I whip around and almost collide right into his bare chest.
Small bruises decorate the whole left side of his abdomen, their color marring his golden skin. My eyes drag over the loose black joggers, sitting on his hips, showing off and highlighting the perfect V, before moving up above the waistband to his cut, six-pack that tenses under my watch. It’s honestly not fair that such a jerk can be wrapped in such a beautiful package.
My mouth is dry by the time I can actually meet his gaze again. He’s watching me watch him. A blush forms on my cheeks again. I really checked him out this time. “Saylor,” he swallows, his eyes moving up my bare legs to the edge of my sweatshirt that ends mid-thigh.
“You’re apologizing to me? For real?” I ask, hating to be hopeful.
Ciaran’s long fingers touch the edge of my jaw, before sliding strands of hair behind my ear. “I guess I am.” The words leave his mouth, and his eyes never leave mine. A current moves between us. Flames dance over every inch of skin that is in contact with Ciaran. Even my hair can feel his touch. He cradles my face between both his hands. My body sways into him. I place my hands at his sides, holding gently, so I don’t fall.
“Don’t say it unless you mean it,” I choke on the words, not wanting to kill the moment we’re in. Maybe we need a healthy dose of reality, though.
Ciaran’s stare moves over my face. Learning it. Memorizing it. Pink creeps its way up to my hairline from being under his scrutiny. “I do,” he clears his throat. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
My brain skips over the part where he doesn’t actually apologize for what he said, only that it hurt me, and stashes it away for another time. Ciaran will probably always view me and my family as the enemy. My dad wronged Silas’ family in some way, enough for all three of them to hate my family. I can only hope Ciaran sees me separate from my dad, one day, and not as part of the mistakes he made.
Tears leak over the rims of my eyes. Ciaran tilts my head back, before lowering his head to mine. A soft kiss lands on the corner of my jaw, before his tongue darts out, catching the fresh round of tears that are spilling over, and licks them up. Heat and wetness cling to my skin from his mouth, making my stomach clench and heat flood my core. Ciaran pulls back, dropping one hand to my waist, and pulls my frame up against his. His other hand palms my face and tilts my head. He kisses me so hard, my lips bruise. It’s an angry, all-consuming kiss that steals my breath and forces me to hold on tight. My fingernails scrape his skin in their quest to keep my body upright. My bottom lip is pulled between his teeth and sucked on until it’s red and shiny when he finally lets it go. The pad of his thumb traces over the bite mark from his teeth, a predatory gleam in his eyes.
“Just like a raspberry,” he mutters, before squeezing my jaw in his hand and kissing me again. My hands fly to his biceps, enjoying the way the muscles flex under my hold. He groans into my mouth, and I swallow the noise. Our tongues meet and clash in battle. He tastes like mint and sugar from an energy drink. I don’t feel his hatred or dislike, only the tightening of his arm around my back, forcing me onto my tiptoes to give him deeper access to my mouth.
A pained expression crosses his face, when he pulls away panting. I like that I make him breathless. His lips are glossy and even puffier than before. “Matt’s truck just pulled up.” His voice is hoarse. My brain processes his words slowly as he lowers me to my feet.
“Oh God.” I jump back from him.
“Shh!” His finger comes to his lips, a smile dancing in his eyes. Ciaran pulls me behind him, keeping watch over the banister, covering me until he reaches my door.
“Go,” he whispers and nods to my door. I crack it open and slip inside. Ciaran reaches out to pull it closed. I race to my bed and hop in quietly, right as the front door opens, and Matt stomps his boots off. That was close. My fingers trail over my now sensitive lips. Ciaran kissed me. He touched me, and I let it happen. I liked kissing him and being in his arms. I sigh and turn in my bed. My emotions are all over the place, scattered around with my thoughts, but one thing I know for sure, I want it to happen again.
Saylor
Ciaran has become an addiction. One kiss wasn’t enough for him or me. He’s been a frequent presence in my room every night for the past week. By morning, he’s gone, and we go back to being at odds with each other. I keep my distance, and he goes back to ignoring me. If Oaklynn knew, she’d tell me I’m his dirty little secret. I’m glad, for once, that my best friend isn’t around. There is no way I could tell her that I don’t mind. Ciaran is a force, and he is feared as much as he’s respected. He’s complicated. He’s well-known, and I don’t want that much attention on me. By some miracle, no one has figured out yet that we live together, much less that he sneaks into my room every night and whispers dirty things in my ear until I moan his name. In a way, he’s my little secret, too, and I love that. A part of me loves that he’s different in the dark than he is in the light of day.
“Tell me something about you,” I ask, while dragging my fingers through his hair.
“Are we sharing feelings now?” He cocks his eyebrow, and for the first time since he walked through my door, his voice hardens a little. I roll my eyes.
“Kai says you’re enlisting in the Army after graduation.” He stills while I’m talking.
“You and Kai best friends now?” His eyes flash to mine. Possessiveness and irritation radiate off him as goosebumps rain over my skin.
“Work gets slow sometimes, so we make small talk.” I keep my tone light, feeling like I’m suddenly treading on thin ice. Ciaran’s eyes swing around my room and silence hangs in the air, acting as a barrier between us.
He clears his throat. “I want
to run Rogue for Matt someday.” His shoulders lift. His face tenses, and he looks uncomfortable. “Part of that plan is needing military training. One of Matt’s friends is a recruiter, so he hooks us up with where we need to go and what we need to do.”
“What’s your favorite color and your favorite thing to eat?” I rattle off basic questions, hoping he’ll be more willing to answer.
“What are you doing?” he counters, a hint of frustration lacing his tone.
“I’m just curious,” I lift my shoulders, “I don’t really know anything about you.”
“I didn’t realize we were the sharing kind of friends?” His voice is mocking, and now, I’m getting upset. I sit up, and he rolls to his side. His face is guarded.
“Are we friends, Ciaran?” I lay out the real issue, not caring anymore.
His ice blue eyes are watching me intently, his jaw hardens to stone. His body unfolds and lifts off my bed. My heart thumps painfully in my chest, but I don’t stop him. He stands and swipes his shirt off my floor, before throwing it over his head. Without a word, he takes two steps to my door before stopping, his back still facing me. My stomach twists and drops.
“Green.” His head turns halfway to meet my gaze. “And, can you stop eating all those fresh raspberries Matt buys? Some of us like them, too.”
Without waiting for a reply, he stalks out of my room and closes the door behind him. I slide down farther into my covers stunned, elated and confused. Ciaran gave me a piece of himself then took his physical presence away. I don’t know if I won the war or lost the battle. He didn’t deny that we’re friends but he also didn’t confirm it. How he feels about me is still in a limbo without a name. I don’t need him to label his feelings. I just want to not have the rug pulled out from under me one day, if he all of a sudden decides to freeze me out again and goes back to ignoring me. Ciaran is loyal to his friends. My chest aches to be on that level.
I wake up the next morning with a sense of dread in my bones. It’s still dark, the sky barely carrying a hint of light, which is not unusual for this time of year. My room is abnormally cold. The kind that makes you ache and want to layer up, before sliding under a mountain of covers. Turning onto my side, I pick my phone up to silence the alarm going off when it dings in my hand.