by Emery Hale
Wow, I needed to get out more, but given Jessica had stabbed my friend’s foot, I reckoned I was pretty far down on the invite list. I still couldn’t believe it – the average person didn’t go around impaling others. To be fair though, we do live in Scotland.
‘Look!’
‘I am! You know you should get tested because with your hearing, sight and absurd sense of smell, you may as well be something off the TV!’
‘Right! That’s it, they’re going in the bin!’
‘Carol!’
I knew Jessica and Katie didn’t get on, but that never meant one of them would end up in A&E. I heard a rumour that Katie slapped her once – school gossip would be the death of students. It was all about the popularity competition that the faculty swore wasn’t a thing.
‘Naomi, will you tell your father!’
‘Naomi, will you tell your mother!’
There was something about Jessica that I didn’t understand. All she could give me were half-hearted promises. Like the one where she was meant to call and explain whatever that was the other day but didn’t bother her ass.
I let out a breath, spinning in my seat so my back rested on one of the many cushions, pulling the blanket over my black pyjama bottoms.
I watched how the pair on TV twisted and turned around the dance-floor. Apparently it was musicals week so I didn’t recognise too many of the songs, not really my area. Although I vaguely remembered the one they were dancing to, it was one that Jess sang in high school. Even though she loved musicals I couldn’t stand them half the time: everyone’s either dead happy, dead sad or dead.
‘Oh for crying out loud, I’ve worn it twice!’ Dad was still fighting the losing battle with my mother. ‘I’ll wear it tomorrow night.’
‘You are not wearing it to the MacKinnon’s house-warming party.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s filthy!’
‘We must have different eyes, Carol, there is no stain there!’
‘You’ll wear the yellow shirt I got you –’
‘I hate yellow!’
‘You’ll wear it.’
‘Naomi!’
Then, as though sent from the angels above, there was a loud, brash knock at the door.
‘I’ll get it!’ I shouted, bolting up from the couch and running to the door.
I didn’t even think twice before opening it, a smile of relief plastered on my face as my parents’ yelling ceased. Since the door was open they’d resume the ‘we’re not a crazy, overbearing or deranged family’ act until it closed again.
Yet stood before me wasn’t someone handing out charity bags or the man who checked the meter, it was a complete stranger. He was around my age with a broad face, sharp cheekbones and a jawline that would give anyone a paper cut, his teardrop-curved eyes drawing me in. Despite the charming smile he wore, his outfit spoke volumes. All his clothes were dark: a thick black leather jacket, a navy shirt that fit tightly around his waist emphasising his muscular body . . . going down he wore black jeans and big black combat boots.
Well, he had all the makings of a bad boy – presumably a really bad boy with a motorcycle and a really big –
‘Excuse me.’ His heavy baritone voice cut me from my thoughts.
Then I realised I must have been staring at him for a solid five seconds, in pure silence. What must he think? I probably looked like a total creep.
‘I think this is yours,’ he said, and my eyes filled with confusion as he held out my phone, the purple case battered and torn.
What the – how on earth did he find my phone? Sure, I wasn’t attached to it like Allie, but I’d been sure it was in my bag when I got off the train. How hadn’t I noticed?
If mum knew I’d lost it, she would lose it.
‘I found it on the platform at the train station,’ he explained as I took the phone from him, quickly sliding it into my pocket. ‘One of the girls on the lock screen is a friend of mine and she told me where you lived – don’t worry, I’m not a stalker.’ He let out a nervous laugh, sticking his thumbs into his jeans pockets, then stared at me, his eyes tracing me up and down.
He sounded and looked fucking gorgeous. Woah, OK calm down.
I could just make out his warm hazel eyes and olive skin in the low light, as he took a small step towards the door. Then suddenly it occurred to me that through all this, I still hadn’t said anything back.
‘Thank you,’ I blurted, grasping the phone in my pocket. ‘I didn’t even realise it was gone. Thank you so much, I honestly don’t know what I would have done if I’d looked later and it wasn’t there.’
‘It’s no trouble,’ he said. ‘My name’s Kayson, Kayson Ashford.’
Oh my fucking God.
Kayson flashed a charming smile and it felt like my heart melted into a mushy red puddle. He could take my hand right now and I would willingly go with him. Jesus! No I wouldn’t, who was I, Bella Swan?
‘I know how attached to the phone some people can be, so I thought I should bring it back asap.’
I nodded along with whatever Kayson was saying but everything, including the dog walkers and the buzz of the streetlights, faded into the background. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his. There was something about him that piqued my curiosity – perhaps it was the way he held himself or the way the wind rustled his jet black hair.
‘W-Well thanks,’ I managed, but my voice came out stuttered and quiet as I tried to compose myself.
For goodness sake! Pull yourself together Naomi!
I should clarify, I wasn’t the kind of girl that guys hung around with outside of school, I was always the friend they could rely on for homework if they needed it. So when a random stranger rocked up at the door with decency and manners, it meant something.
‘Are you alright? You look a bit shaken up,’ Kayson asked.
‘Yeah, course.’ I nodded.
Unfortunately, my rapid head-bobbing didn’t seem to convince him – by the look on his face he was even more concerned than before. I probably looked like a Duracell bunny on steroids.
‘I know it’s late on a Saturday and everything.’ Kayson cast his eyes down for a moment, embarrassment evident on his face.
‘Oh no, it’s fine. More than fine, actually,’ I answered.
I briefly glanced at the lock screen photo and saw it was of Jessica and myself . . . what the hell? How did she know everybody?
That meant he was one of them, a student at the Reign Academy.
I mean, just because he went there didn’t mean he was a right ass who ditches his old friends for new ones, skips coffee dates or cancels for no reason at all. I may have had some pent-up anger against Jess.
‘How do you know Jess?’ I asked, taking a small step forward – although when I mentioned her name, Kayson coughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck – did they not get along?
‘She’s in my year. Share a couple classes, nothing too exciting.’
So, they were acquaintances then. Interesting.
‘You’re Naomi, right?’ he asked and I almost let out an audible groan of frustration. I really needed to catch up, I hadn’t even told him my name for crying out loud!
‘Sorry, yeah, my name’s Naomi Jade.’ A blush burned through my cheeks.
‘Yeah, I gathered,’ Kayson said, shaking his head with a smirk. ‘I mean I thought I should know your name before I came sauntering to your door. Right, well, I’m happy you got your phone back.’
Then suddenly he turned and started to walk away.
Wait, what now? No, he was not walking away from me! I mean not that he couldn’t, it’s just I thought I should do something to say thank you first.
‘Wait!’ I blurted, going down a step.
Kayson whipped around, his eyebrows rising, waiting for me to say something. Crap, what was I supposed to say? I had not thought this through. Come on Naomi, you got an A in Higher English, you can string a few sentences together.
‘Uh . . . sorry you brought m
y phone back.’
‘It was no trouble,’ Kayson said dismissively.
‘Yeah, but still do you wanna, I don’t know, come in for something to eat?’ I asked crossing my arms over my chest in the bitter wind.
Come in for something to eat? What kind of an invitation was that? Kayson seemed sceptical, beginning to shake his head in protest but I quickly added ‘It’s dark, I mean you could come in for some food and then I could drive you home?’ I tried to gauge his reaction.
For a moment he looked like he could be warming to the idea, when the shrill tones of my mother called from inside.
‘Naomi Jade! I know it’s June but there’s a chill in the air, whoever it is they either come in or shut the door!’
Mum should be on one of those talent shows: she had incredible sight and smell, and apparently amazing timing to ruin any chance I had with this guy! Not that I had any sort of chance with him to begin with, but maybe he could be one of those friends she’s always on about.
‘You know, I’ll just leave it,’ Kayson said, and I felt myself physically deflate.
‘Right.’ I trudged back towards the door, glancing him over one last time while I still had the chance.
I wanted to remember every feature of the boy before he disappeared. His chiselled jaw, tanned skin and inviting hazel eyes. Well this was it, dream boy was going, never to be seen again. I placed my hand on the door handle ready to walk inside when, abruptly, he spoke again.
‘Although if you want, you could take me for a drink.’ Kayson took out his own phone and clicked a few buttons before showing me his number.
Oh my God! Oh my God! It was happening, the James Dean of Scotland was giving me his number. This was actually happening! OK calm down, it’s just a drink.
‘Drinks.’ I nodded, with a hopeful smile instead of the crazy excited one I wanted to pull.
I took out my own phone and punched his number into my contacts, this was one I wouldn’t lose.
‘Great.’ Kayson’s smile widened as he tucked his phone away. ‘Well then, call me some time. We can go for a drink and you can thank me, again.’ Then he flashed another charming smile but this time, there was something devilish about it.
That’s when he turned and strode up the street, the wind now whipping through his hair.
I felt utterly smitten.
Of course, I knew it was just drinks, but the way he spoke to me made me believe it was something more. Maybe I was overthinking this? So without another thought I walked inside, shutting the door.
Had Jessica maybe mentioned something when they talked? Maybe she thought we could be friends?
The contact in my phone seemed to glow as I stared at his name.
Kayson Ashford
He’d asked me out for drinks! Did he ask me out on a date? I mean, that’s impossible since we’ve only just met, but I mean . . . no, this was just a friend thing, he seemed like a nice person to hang out with. Kayson could have walked away, but instead he’d stayed and given me his number. He gave me his number!
Giddy, I took in a breath as I walked into the living room and sat down on the couch, practically bouncing. This was crushing on someone, right? Not just some celebrity, since Kayson actually knew I existed, unlike Jamie Dornan.
‘Naomi, who was that at the door?’ asked my mother from the kitchen, over the sound of the washing machine clattering.
‘No one. Just a friend.’
As soon as my dad walked back into the living room, an instant cover story rambled its way through my brain but it didn’t seem I had time for one, as he sported a disappointed frown. Oh crap! He knew I was lying, he overheard I’d lost my phone. Well, that was the end of this story since I would be grounded forever.
Then again, I’m eighteen so technically they can’t ground me, that’s a thing, right?
‘Dad –’ I started, ready to blurt out an apology when he cut me off.
‘I can’t believe I somehow married your mother.’
Oh, I couldn’t have been happier! I’d gotten away with it! Mum and Dad were none the wiser about my lost phone and new friend.
For once in my life I wanted someone to look at me instead of Jessica. I wanted someone who would like me for me.
I think I’m falling for him.
Calm down, you’ve only known the guy five minutes!
I pulled out my phone, nodding along with whatever my dad was grumbling about this time, as he turned his attention back to the television. As his voice faded I pulled out my phone, punching a couple of buttons before typing a quick message.
Naomi Jade Seriously thank you for bringing my phone back, means a lot. Let me know if you’re free and we could go for those drinks?
CHAPTER 5
Lyssophobia
The irrational fear of going insane.
JESSICA-GRACE WINTERS
I couldn’t decide if the staff were in a bad mood or just taking the piss.
Amongst the dark abyss that claimed the sky, thunder snapped like a bone and thick clouds swarmed over the beach, ready to wipe us out. The shadows so damning, it was like a black and white film.
My threadbare grey top was like a second skin on my arms as the torrential rain pounded the fabric, my leggings resembled a wetsuit, covered in clumps of grey sand, while my bare feet were ice-cold. We weren’t allowed to stop, not until either Harkness or Duke gave us permission. I wasn’t a rule-breaker, and after I got off lightly last time, I didn’t intend to be.
The purpose of this training exercise was to build up stamina in tough terrain and conditions (it certainly was a shitstorm out here). Various stations were set up around the beach; some filled with circuit training from hell, while others meant carrying a partner over your shoulder as you ran, or submerging yourself neck-deep in the ocean, the current determined to pull you under, as you held a weighted bag over your head.
I was powering through one of the circuits, my arms beginning to shake under my own weight as I held myself millimetres above the sand before pushing myself back up.
Up and down, up and down.
My teeth clenched as the pain in my torso begged me to stop but I couldn’t, not until they told us to. My nails clawed into the sand, fingers clenching for any grip, but all they did was sink. There was no relief, not even from nature.
Through my exhaustion, I couldn’t tell my own tears from the rain.
There were only thirty people on this beach, but from the pounding of our steps and cries of exhaustion it sounded like ninety, our heavy sighs and pained breaths drowned by claps of thunder. The salt air nipped at my nose and dried my already cracked lips.
I wanted to give up – we’d been doing this for nearly four hours, two in the dry and two in the storm. Not even the rain could keep me cool; my cheeks were burning to cinders.
‘Stop!’ Harkness yelled, his rigid voice finally bringing relief rather than pain.
My head thumped against the ground as my entire body caved. I brought my knees to my chest, trying to even my laboured breathing, but each one was filled with a powerful ache, my throat raw.
It’s over, it’s over for now, I thought.
A polished black shoe smacked down in front of me, and with great effort I lifted my shaking head. Duke towered over my limp figure, his clothes bone dry as his slender fingers held a large black umbrella over his head, his dark hair seemingly unaffected by the high-speed winds battering against my back. His harsh glare penetrated my last shreds of composure.
‘Get up, Winters,’ he ordered. ‘Follow.’
With quaking arms I pushed myself up, holding my head as high as I could, putting my best foot forward. I couldn’t show any sign that I was ready to give up; in the field that choice didn’t exist.
When I went to Harkness’ office he sent me away with no punishment. He didn’t even look in my direction, just dismissed me with the flick of his hand. Disobedience was usually followed with something but for once, there was nothing.
I trudged forward, my
head bobbing up and down from the weight of the pummelling rain, Duke keeping just enough distance so I wasn’t shielded by his umbrella. Dick. He didn’t speak or look at me again, the umbrella blocking out most of his face, as if I wasn’t meant to be looking at him. That’s when I knew he was taking me to Harkness, and instantly my heels dug into the sand.
Harkness hadn’t forgiven my disobedience, he was waiting to make an example of me, in front of everyone else.
Even though my mind protested, my body was on autopilot, following orders even when I wanted to run in the opposite direction. Doing what I was told without question. Why didn’t I question it?
Harkness stood up ahead, his head held proudly as he observed the other students who wheezed in pain as the storm battered them down. Of course he was shielded from the rain by his own umbrella, but I had no problem spotting every single one of his features; his dark brown hair, angled eyebrows and the two scars running diagonally from the base of his forehead to his chin.
As I clambered over he turned to me, and that was what shot the fear of God through my body. His eyes were cold and calculating, but there was something ferocious about the way he analysed me; something almost wicked.
A wicked man with murderous rage and barbaric tendencies.
I could barely hold eye contact with him as I came to a stop at the end of the beach, the rain filtering into the background as I focused on the man who had yet to speak. All Harkness seemed to do was stare at my heaving chest and aching torso before his eyes finally came back to mine.
No matter how much I tried to hide my exhaustion I simply couldn’t. Painting a different emotion on your face was one thing, extending it to your entire body was a different matter.
I opened my mouth, but he cut me off before I could utter a syllable.
‘Pull yourself together before you even think about talking.’
I tried to compose myself, but everything loaded on my spine like a ton of bricks: my throbbing thighs, the spiking pain that shot through my chest every time I took in a breath, my hands shivering from the bitter temperatures, the icy winds finally settling deep inside my bones. I wrapped my arms around my body, trying to conserve some heat, my teeth clattering together as my body felt the extremes of what fighting in a storm would be like.