Red Dagger

by H G Lynch

  I tried to catch Islay after Maths, hoping to talk to her, or at least keep her company, since Ashley seemed to have taken Angus’s side of things. She hadn’t spoken to Islay at all during class, which for someone as talkative as Ash, was a sign something was seriously wrong. But Islay slipped into the crowd before I could grab her attention, and I got the feeling she was avoiding me too. God, what if she’d changed her mind about the dance after all? What if she’d realised what an asshole I was and wanted nothing to do with me?

  I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. Jesus, when had I turned into that guy? The insecure one who was always worrying about what the girl thought of him? I’d never been insecure before, never cared before. Then, that was the problem, wasn’t it? I cared about what Islay thought of me. I cared about her.

  As I watched her brunette head stride away through the crowded hallway, I wondered what I’d ever done to deserve this shit. Oh, yeah, I remembered. I’d let my father die at the hands of a demon.

  I was so going to Hell. As if I wasn’t already there.

  I spent the rest of the day trying to snag a few minutes alone with Islay, which should have been easy, seeing as nobody seemed to want to get too close to her—as if being with me had turned her into a social pariah. Somehow, she always saw me coming and slipped away. By the end of the day, I was sick of chasing her around, so when I saw her sneak into the girls’ bathrooms, I followed her in.

  For a second, all I could see was pink. Blaring pink, on every wall. And the smell of roses and soap. I wrinkled my nose, and then turned as I heard a toilet flush and one of the stall doors swung open. A younger girl stepped out, and yelped at the sight of me, her brown eyes going all deer-in-the-headlights. I snarled at her, and she scurried out without washing her hands. I didn’t care.

  I went along the row of stalls, glancing under the doors to check for feet. All the stalls were empty, except for the one at the end. The door was locked, but I heard soft sobbing coming from inside, so I knocked. “Islay? Is that you?”

  The sobbing went silent, and Islay’s voice whispered through the door, “Ruairidh? What are you doing in here?”

  “I came for the décor,” I muttered sarcastically, and then checked myself. Snapping at her wasn’t going to help. “I was looking for you. What else would I be doing?”

  “Why?” she hiccupped.

  “You’ve been avoiding me all day. I want to know why.”

  She sniffled. “I haven’t been—”

  “Don’t bullshit me, Islay. You’re a bad liar, remember? Even if I can’t see you, I can tell when you’re lying. So tell me, what’s the deal?” Please don’t say you changed your mind about me. Please don’t ditch me because of my brother, his stupid mouth, and stupid jealousy. I didn’t think I could take that, not from her.

  Islay didn’t reply, and the sounds from inside the stall had gone quiet. I had a feeling she was sobbing silently behind the door, and it made me want to break it down to get at her, just so I could hold her in my arms. Of course, there was a good chance that if I tried to hold her, she would push me away in disgust.

  Swallowing, I murmured in a rough voice, “Please come out, Islay. Please.”

  A minute passed before I heard the bolt being pulled back, and then the door swung open slowly to reveal Islay’s tear-stained, miserable face. She was a mess. Her eyes were puffy, her nose was red, and her cheeks were blotchy. Her lips trembled as if she might burst into tears at any second. So I did the only thing I could think of, I made a joke. “You look different. Did you do something new with your hair? Or is that a new lipstick? Whatever it is, it looks good on you. I bet all the models in Paris will be wearing this look in a couple of months. They’ll call it Eau De Miserable. Or is that just for perfume? Whatever.”

  I saw the corners of Islay’s lips twitch, and a bird soared in my chest at the small victory. Sighing, I gently wiped my thumbs under her eyes, swiping away the tears, and murmured, “Talk to me, Islay. What’s wrong? Have you changed your mind about the dance?”

  She closed her sad whiskey-gold eyes and leaned into my hands, so I left my fingers where they were, cupping her face. Her damp lashes stuck to her cheeks, her mascara leaving inky marks on her reddened skin.

  “No, I didn’t change my mind,” she whispered, shaking her head slightly in my grasp.

  I let out a silent sigh of relief. “Then what is it?”

  Her eyes flicked open, the gold in them amazingly bright and shimmering with unshed tears. She covered one of my hands with hers, her soft fingers small compared to my long, rough hands. Her mouth trembled again, and I resisted the urge to kiss it until she stopped crying, until she forgot about whatever had upset her so much.

  “I can’t go to the dance,” she said, her voice cracking.

  She should have just punched me. It would have hurt less. “But . . . you just said . . . .”

  Islay shook her head, more tears running down her cheeks and dripping over my fingers. “I didn’t change my mind, Ruairidh. I want to go with you, I really do. But my dad . . . yesterday . . . it’s a long story, but I’m basically grounded the night of the dance. I have to stay home and babysit Peter.”

  I frowned. “I thought your dad said you could go?”

  She sighed. “That was before I forgot about my baby brother and made my neighbour worry that I’d been kidnapped.”

  I raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t making any sense. Was that a sign of hysteria? Was she hysterical? I didn’t think so, but I couldn’t be sure. She waved her hand at me dismissively. “Don’t ask. Just . . . I’m sorry, Ruairidh. You should find another date for the dance. There’s still time, and no sane girl in the college would say no to you.”

  I scowled at her, wondering how she could possibly be so blind. How could she not understand that I didn’t want to go to the dance unless she was there? “Islay, I will not find another date for the dance.”

  She looked confused. “Of course you will. There are plenty of girls who—”

  I blew out a breath in exasperation and leaned my forehead against hers, looking into her honey-bronzed eyes, so she would know I was serious. “How many times have I got to tell you? I don’t care about those other girls. I only want to go to the dance if you’re with me. I don’t give a fuck about the balloons and bowties and shitty music. The dance was just an excuse.”

  Shy, she seemed to shrink under my palms, but her eyes were fixed on mine. “An excuse for what?” she whispered.

  This girl was going to be the death of me. But I was so glad she’d said that, because I could do what I’d been longing to for weeks. Holding her face lightly between my sword-callused hands, I whispered, “An excuse to do this.”

  I kissed her.

  ** Islay **

  Ruairidh bent his head and pressed his lips to mine, completely ignoring the fact that I was a soggy, sniffling mess. My heart was pounding its way out of my chest, and I raised onto my tiptoes to meet him better, his rough hands holding my face so gently as he kissed me. His lips were soft and warm, and I could feel the cool metal of his lip-ring pressing into the corner of my mouth.

  Then, slowly, he parted his lips, and I gasped as a tingle shot through me. He slid one hand to the back of my neck, tilting his head, and my toes curled in my trainers. The stubble on his jaw gazed my chin as he moved his mouth lightly against mine, soft touches of pressure and teasing retreats. I was quivering inside and out, my hands fisted in his shirt, my blood boiling. Oh God, I hoped I was doing it right. I’d never kissed a boy before. The practise kisses with Angus when we were thirteen didn’t count. And this was real kissing. This was . . . wow, amazing. And hot. So damn hot.

  I didn’t want it to end. My entire world was focused on that one kiss with Ruairidh, the meeting of our lips, the mingling of our breaths, the sensational way I was feeling inside.

  Slowly, he pulled back, and I let out a long breath, feeling as if my chest might explode. His eyes were burning emerald as he looked at me, his lashe
s lowered and his expression serene, like he’d been carrying a huge weight on his shoulders, and he’d just let it go. My lips felt damp and a little tender, and when I touched them, I felt a small dent from where his lip-ring had pressed into my skin. Oh God, I was trembling all over. Christ. This man had some insane power over me.

  Ruairidh smiled slowly, licking his perfect lips, and my breath hitched in my throat on a sound embarrassingly close to a whimper. His voice, when he spoke, was low and husky, and the deep timbre made the butterflies in my gut kick up wildly.

  “I’ve been dying to do that for weeks. It was so worth the wait.”

  A huge, stupid grin spread across my mouth, and he returned it with one of his cocky, crooked smiles. A little, giggly voice in the back of my mind whispered, He is so beautiful. I had to agree, though Ruairidh’s beauty was the harsh, unfinished kind, like a quick sketch of something incredibly beautiful that was a little too rough to be quite right.

  Carefully, he unknotted my fingers from his now-wrinkled shirt, and I blushed. He brought both my hands to his mouth and kissed my knuckles, one at a time, until I was breathless and weak in the knees.

  Then he whispered, “I’ll see you tomorrow, babe.”

  He finally released me and strode out of the girls’ bathroom. I turned to the mirrors over the sinks and saw the massive smile on my face, and suddenly, I couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

  Chapter Twenty

  ** Islay **

  I floated through the rest of the week in a bubble. I was distantly aware that people were talking about me, about Angus and Ruairidh, and speculating as to why Angus and I were clearly on the outs, but it was all just white noise. The glances and whispers couldn’t get to me, and even Angus’s glares from across the canteen at lunchtime didn’t burst my sunshiny bubble of happiness. Any time I got close to letting all of it bother me, I thought back to Monday and the way Ruairidh had kissed me, and I was floating again.

  He hadn’t kissed me again since then, but I could feel him staring at me in every class we shared, and he walked me home very day. He didn’t say much on our walks from class to my house, but he didn’t have to. I got that he wasn’t really a talkative guy, except when he wanted to piss someone off—he was good at that. It didn’t bother me because, most of the time, since I was too nervous around him to know what to say anyway. But just being near him put a smile on my face, and he seemed quietly pleased by it every time I broke into a grin when he came around.

  I wasn’t entirely sure what we were doing, if we were going out or whatever. He hadn’t asked me to be his girlfriend or anything, but we were definitely more than friends. It was all a bit vague, a bit casual, but I didn’t really care. I didn’t think we really needed to define what we had going on between us, like putting a label on it would take away some of the spontaneity of it. I liked that whatever it was, it was unpredictable.

  It felt like freedom.

  Even my dad noticed my sudden buoyant mood, when he was home. I played my music loudly from the living room stereo and danced around the kitchen with Peter, who giggled and shrieked happily. I did my chores without complaint. I hugged Dad and gave him a kiss on the cheek every night when he got in from work late, until one evening he asked if I was feeling all right.

  I shrugged, swatting his hand away from my forehead as he pretended to check for a fever. “I’m fine. I’m just happy. What’s wrong with that?”

  He gave me a smile, shaking his head at my oddness. “Nothing. It’s just . . . I thought you were still mad at me about stopping you from going to the dance.”

  Honestly, I hadn’t even thought about it all week. I’d been somewhat distracted, and it no longer seemed like such a big deal. “Not really. It’s just a stupid dance. There’ll be other dances.”

  Dad gave me a probing look over the rims of his glasses, but I just smiled at him and swung Peter around, shimmying my hips to the music. Peter tossed his head back and screamed in delight. Dad laughed as he watched us, and eventually he joined in with the dance, doing a totally embarrassing version of the robot. Soon, we were all laughing, red-faced, and tired. Peter, worn out, fell asleep against my chest, and I handed him over to Dad. Dad kissed me on the forehead and wished me goodnight as I climbed the stairs to my room. I fell into bed exhausted, and toppled over the edge of consciousness into dreams of dancing with Ruairidh in a hall glistening with candlelight.

  Unfortunately, my good mood didn’t make it to the end of the week. Sitting in class on Friday, I was crabby. Nobody was doing any work, all too busy chatting about the dance, and the teacher had given up on trying to make everyone focus on class work. Part of why I was short-tempered was because Peter had been restless and had woke me up with his wailing three times during the night, so I hadn’t gotten much sleep. But the rest of my bad mood was due to the fact that I’d heard that Angus was going to the dance with Malina, a beautiful student from Romania.

  I knew it was stupid and selfish of me to be jealous. I had no right to be after I’d agreed to go to the dance with Ruairidh behind Angus’s back, but I was angry that he’d had the guts to ask out an older girl. He hadn’t even been able to ask me, his best friend, though he claimed to be in love with me.

  It wasn’t just about him going with another girl, though that was a little part of it, I had to admit. It was also the fact that he getting to go to the dance at all, while I was stuck at home.

  I was still sort of angry with Angus, but at the same time, I missed him horribly. I wanted my best friend back. Ashley was finally talking to me again, after apologising to me profusely for bailing on me the last week. Although I was glad to take her back and have someone to sit at lunch with, it wasn’t the same without Angus.

  By the end of the day, I was grumpy and tired, and I wanted to go home and watch some teen slasher movie to make myself feel less miserable. Even seeing Ruairidh waiting for me in the hallway, his arms crossed over his leather jacket, couldn’t cheer me up—well, not much.

  “Who rained on your parade?” he asked as I trudged up to him with my personal rain-cloud hanging over my head. I was unsurprised he could see it.

  “Who do you think?” I muttered as we walked out of the college together.

  Ruairidh sighed. “Don’t worry about Angus. He’s no good at holding grudges. I’m surprised he’s held out this long. Give it another week, and he’ll be on your front porch, begging you to forgive him.”

  I shot him a glance out of the corner of my eye. “He’s held a grudge against you since he was twelve,” I pointed out.

  Ruairidh shrugged. “Thirteen. And that’s different,” he said simply. He didn’t elaborate on how it was different, but before I could ask, he said, “I’m sorry you can’t go to the dance tonight. I know you were really looking forward to it.”

  My shoulders slumped. “Yeah.”

  “Are you sure your dad can’t be home to look after Peter?”

  I nodded. “He’s got to work late. He probably won’t be home until midnight.”

  Ruairidh chewed his lip, his teeth tugging on his lip-ring. “Do you want me to come over to keep you company? It’ll be better than us both sitting at home alone and moping.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks. I think I need some alone time to mope. You know, get it out of my system.”

  You sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  He shrugged again. “Okay. Whatever you say. But if you change your mind . . . .”

  He stopped and reached into his pocket, pulling out his mobile; I hadn’t even known he had one. I’d never seen him use it. He held out his hand.

  “Gimmee your phone.”

  I dug it out of my pocket and handed it to him. He fiddled with it a moment before handing it back. “There. Now you’ve got my number. If you change your mind about the moping, give me a call. Even if you just want to talk. It’s not like I’m going to be doing anything anyway.”

  I smiled. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  He glanced
away, and I realised we’d stopped in front of my house. The walk hadn’t taken as long as I wanted. It seemed like the more time I spent with Ruairidh, the more time I wanted to spend with him.

  “I guess I should go get Peter from Mrs Wallis, or Dad’ll have another fit.”

  He nodded. “Sure. I’ll talk to you later.”

  He bent and kissed me chastely on the lips, pulling away before I could grab hold of him and demand a real kiss. Damn him. He smirked, as if he knew what I was thinking, and then winked before turning around and walking away.

  I watched him go, noting the way his trousers hung low on his hips, so I could just make out the shape of his ass underneath. I wanted to grab it. I grinned, my cloudy mood officially lifted thanks to Ruairidh, and went to collect my baby brother from next door.

  ** Ruairidh **

  I walked away smirking, feeling Islay’s eyes on my back, and knowing I’d be seeing her again later, whether she called or not. I had plans for tonight, plans I’d been working on all week, and Islay was going to be in for a surprise. I just hoped she liked it.

  And if I was really lucky, I might even be able to make her forget about Angus, at least for a few hours. I was determined to have her full attention tonight.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ** Islay **

  After putting Peter down for the night at around nine, I changed into my sloppy pyjamas—an oversized t-shirt and a pair of running shorts—and flipped the TV to the Horror Channel. There was some cheesy B-movie on, and the blonde chick got axed in the first five minutes, which made me sure the movie was going to be a bloodbath. Exactly what I needed to watch.