by L. A. Fiore
“Lark, you must have homework to do. Go do it. Girls, let's clean this up so we can start dinner.”
My attention turned back to the girls, “Thanks for the cookie. Those are my fave.”
“Anytime, Lark,” Carol said, but I was already halfway out of the room.
The look my aunt gave me as I passed had the hair on my arms standing on end. Not sure what it was I did this time, but I felt her glare until I was out of sight.
Chapter Eight
The following weekend I helped Bastian move into his apartment. His landlord had been reluctant at first to rent to a teenager—feared the noise and potential trouble Bastian may cause in their quiet building. His attitude shifted though when Bastian handed him the first and last months’ rent plus security deposit in cash. It was unclear if the landlord's change of heart was due to learning Bastian held a job that paid enough for him to afford the apartment, or if it was just that the payment was in cash. Having a trust fund certainly came in handy.
His new place was both close to school and the garage where he worked. The second floor, two-bedroom-one-bath unit seemed really cozy. He even had a fireplace and I couldn't wait for winter to curl up with him in front of it. A pang of sadness shot through me that his parents couldn't see the gift that they had in him. Never knowing my dad and losing my mom when I was so young, to see parents willingly and intentionally neglecting their child was both inconceivable and heartbreaking. Today was a good day for him, so I turned my thoughts to pleasant ones.
He had ordered a sofa, a bed and a television, so the day we were unpacking his boxes, the delivery trucks came one after another. Once we had most of his stuff unpacked, he ordered a pizza. After we ate, we relaxed on his new sofa.
“There's one more thing I want to do,” he said rather cryptically before he moved from the sofa and disappeared into the second bedroom. He came back into the living room holding my painting, a hammer and a picture hook. “I want to put it on that wall so I can see it when I'm sitting here.”
I was overwhelmed at the sight of him doing something so commonplace. He wasn't just hanging my painting. He was moving me into his apartment too. He confirmed this when he said, “You're turning eighteen. The door's open any time you want to move in.”
My blood actually sizzled in my veins just thinking about moving in with him and where that would lead. The most wickedly sexy look flashed over Bastian's face. Clearly he was thinking the same thing. “I absolutely want you in my bed but until you're ready, there is a second bedroom.”
I had to keep myself from agreeing immediately. I wanted my life as entwined with his as possible, but there was a part of me that held back because of Dominic's warning.
“I want to…but I'm just not there yet.”
“There's no rush, I'm not going anywhere.”
And even as I smiled in reply, I couldn't help the feeling of foreboding that slithered along my skin.
***
The weeks that followed Bastian's move flew by, and before long Halloween had arrived. The school was hosting its annual parade and dance.
Though I had attended these dances every year, I never dressed up for them. This year, my last year, I broke from tradition, but I was keeping my costume a secret. Bastian, learning that I wasn't going to share, decided he wasn't going to share either. Poppy and Sophia tried in vain to guess my costume as we sat in the lunchroom.
“A blue crayon.”
I looked at Sophia like she had horns popping out of the top of her head. “What am I, two?”
“A taco,” Poppy said.
“I don't even like tacos.”
Bastian's long legs stretched out in front of him as he listened, a grin tugging at his mouth.
“Black Widow from the Avengers?” Sophia guessed.
“I could definitely get behind that costume,” Bastian said; my eye roll at him was instinctual.
“You aren't going as something dorky like a water molecule or DNA are you?”
“Sophia, where are you getting these ideas?” Poppy asked.
“They were some of the ideas I had and rejected.”
Chuckling at Sophia's confession, I said, “You'll see it tomorrow night.” I was excited about my costume. The meaning of it would be lost on everyone but Bastian.
The look on Bastian’s face made my stomach flip flop. “And I'm really looking forward to that,” he said.
***
The night of the dance, I had the pleasant surprise of Deena and Carol appearing in my door eager and smiling.
“Can we help you get ready?”
Despite my aunt's behavior toward me, the girls had always been kind, if a bit distant, but since my uncle vowed that things would be different, the girls were also making an effort. Knowing this, it was still unexpected, but welcomed, when they did. “I'd really like that.”
“Are you a mermaid?” Carol asked, while she fingered the light fabric of my costume from its spot hanging on my closet door.
“A siren.”
“Like the ones who lure men to their deaths out at sea?” Deena asked.
“Yeah.”
The girls didn't get it, but Bastian would. My costume was a turquoise halter dress fitted in the mermaid fashion and even flared a bit at the bottom. I found a pair of jeweled sandals from the local Goodwill to wear with it. I wanted to curl my hair and tuck a few silk flowers into it, but I was struggling with the curling iron.
“Let me do that.” Deena took it from me and with the practiced moves of someone far more acquainted than me with the activity, expertly got to work on my hair.
“Turn to your side so I can work on your makeup.” I noticed the frown when Carol saw my unimpressive collection of makeup. I didn't generally wear it, so I didn't see the need to dip into my savings to buy it. “You've got no foundation or liner. Lark, you don't even have lipstick. I'll be right back.”
With the seriousness of her expression when she left the room, you'd think we were discussing food shortages in third world countries.
“Do you have any preference for where these flowers go?”
My eyes found Deena's in the mirror. “No, whatever you think works.”
“Cool.” She looked almost nervous when she added, “This is fun. We should do this more often.”
The feeling of belonging turned my voice a bit hoarse. “I'd really like that.”
My uncle had offered to drive me to the dance, but he was running late. The girls were now doing homework after having spent an hour helping me get ready. It was nice bonding with them, but it also had me reflecting on the kind of relationship my mom and aunt had shared. Had they been close? Did they paint each other's nails and gossip about boys, and if so, why hadn't my aunt noticed the change in my mom? Why hadn't she tried to understand the cause?
Grabbing an apple from the bowl on the counter, I was just taking a bite when my aunt walked in. The expression on her face was so similar to the one Jennifer Ross had given Bastian on the night of his birthday dinner that I had absolutely no problem understanding what was going on in her head.
“That's a bit revealing for a school function, don't you think?”
Self-consciously, I glanced down at myself. “No.”
“Once you're labeled a slut, it sticks.”
The apple piece I had been chewing on went down the wrong pipe, and as I coughed to get it out, she stayed rooted to the spot just across the kitchen from me. My throat felt raw by the time I was able to breathe again.
“Are you sleeping with that boy? You must realize that boys don't take girls like you seriously.”
Rage and hurt warred inside me. “And what kind of girl am I?”
She gestured with her hand, “Pretty on the outside and shallow on the inside. You're the girl they play with, not the one they marry; my girls, on the other hand, are prizes. You keep that boy away from them because once he's had his fill of you, he'll set his sights on them. He's nowhere near good enough for them.”
And it
was comments like this that drew into question her sanity. Was she serious? The idea that Bastian was only using me, or that he would move from me to the girls, who were so much younger than us, was so ridiculous I couldn't bring myself to be angry about that comment. However, I did object to her opinion of me. “I'm not shallow.”
“That's what your mom said too, and look how that turned out.”
I slapped her hard across the face. Really, I didn’t, but the image in my head was so life-like, it was oddly satisfying, watching her head snap back from the blow. I didn't know if I was more angry at the idea that she could sound so blasé about her sister, or because she compared me to my train-wreck of a mother.
How words passed my lips when I choked on rage was a mystery. “Don't worry, I'll keep Bastian away from the girls.”
Fueled by my anger, I turned, grabbed my coat from the hook, and walked right out the back door. It was cold, but I was so angry I hardly noticed. My feet carried me back and forth across the driveway as my temper stewed. I had half a mind to walk back into the house and slap her for real, but it would only land me in trouble. My uncle pulled up ten minutes later.
“Lark, what are you doing out here, it's cold?”
Oh, how much I would love to dump it on him, but why make his life miserable too? “I was warm.” The lie slipped silkily past my tongue.
“Hop in, you're making me cold.”
On the drive my uncle peppered me with questions about my day and though I answered, my mind was elsewhere. He pulled up in front of the school. “You look beautiful, Lark. Have fun tonight.”
“I will. Thanks for the ride.”
“Anytime.”
Climbing from the car, I pulled my long coat closed over my costume and hurried inside. I wasn't going to let my aunt ruin my night. It had been her intention after all. Likely she overheard the girls helping me get ready, and the thought of them being kind to me must have really burned her ass. She would not spoil my night and I was surprised at how easily I was able to dismiss her from my thoughts.
My friends had yet to arrive, so I dropped my coat at the coat rack before making my way into the gym. The dance committee had done a really great job of turning the gym into a haunted castle of sorts. The bleachers had been pushed back against the wall and black cloths had been draped over them, hiding the wires of the white fairy lights that shone through the fabric like stars in the night sky. The choir's grand piano had been wheeled in, a cloth draped over it, and an old candelabra, with black taper candles, sat on top of it. Life-size ghouls had been situated around the open space, ghosts hung off the basketball nets, and eerie music pumped in over the speakers. A table, dressed in an orange and black lace cloth, bore ghastly baked goods: bloodshot eye cupcakes, bread sticks in the shape of witch's fingers and skeleton bones, red velvet cake in the shape of a human heart that looked as if it was bleeding where slices had been cut.
Standing on the opposite side of the gym from me was Mica, dressed as a witch. Every inch of her skin covered which was odd since she usually covered just enough to not get thrown out. Again, I was tempted to ask her what was up with her odd behavior, but was pulled from that when I heard Poppy calling my name. Turning, I watched Queen Amidala and Anakin make their way over to me.
“Awesome costumes, guys.”
“Right back at you. What are you? A mermaid?”
“A siren.”
“I love it. Is Bastian here?” Poppy asked.
“Not yet.”
“I'm sure he's right behind us.”
I was so eager to see Bastian's costume that my eyes were glued to the entrance of the gym. As if I willed it, he appeared. I smiled the biggest, goofiest grin when I saw what he wore. His hair was down, but tucked behind his ears. He was dressed in faded jeans, his beat-up boots and a black tee with one word in large emerald-green letters written across his chest: LARK'S. Poppy must have seen my expression when she turned to see what I was looking at. Her reaction in response was priceless. “Well, there's the best costume of the night.”
I couldn't have agreed more. I walked, well ran, toward him, and the moment he saw me he halted and just stared. He took a very leisurely study of me from head to toe and back again.
“My siren—I'd follow you anywhere.”
I simply said, “Mine.”
His hand reached out to wrap around my neck to pull me closer. Right before his mouth touched mine he said, “Hell yes.”
***
Thoughts of sex would not leave my mind since the Halloween Dance. After the dance, to be more specific, when Bastian and I came back to his apartment and had a very hot make-out session on his new sofa. Despite myself, my aunt's hateful words lingered in the back of my mind. I didn't agree with her that Bastian was just using me, but it was infuriating that she had attempted to taint something as pure as my feelings for Bastian with her bullshit. I hated that she was in my head; that the idea of having sex with Bastian triggered the memory of that conversation. Again it was all a part of her plan, her mental abuse, but like Dominic had offered in regard to Bastian's parents, she only had power if I gave it to her. I ignored the same doubt I felt when Dominic shared those words of advice and turned my thoughts to a far more enjoyable subject.
Part of me thought Bastian and I weren't ready and that we should wait until we knew each other better. Another part of me still worried over his parents and how they intended to strike at us to break us up, but all the obstacles, real or imagined, no longer held the power they did because I wanted him. I wanted to touch every inch of him, taste him, wanted that connection to him: both physical and emotional. He was it for me, and so a larger part of me was ready to take that step with him. I could think of scarcely anything else.
It was crazy, because we'd only been together for two months, but he was who I wanted. I suspected I wouldn't be his first, but I wanted him to be mine.
We were sitting at the table Bastian had put in the kitchen so we had a place to do our homework. I hadn't meant to be so abrupt when I asked, “You've had sex before, haven't you?”
By the expression on his face, I had surprised him by both the question and the frankness of it.
“Yes, and not with just one partner.”
I already suspected this, but I couldn't deny I was disappointed. I think that was the word for the emotion his answer stirred.
He reached across the table and brushed his thumb across my lower lip before he touched my chin to lift my gaze to his. “You're upset.”
“Not upset. It would be unfair of me to be upset over something you did when we didn't even know each other. It's just the idea of you being intimate with someone makes me jealous.”
“And have you?” He asked.
“No.”
A possessive look moved over his features. He said, in a gruff voice, “If you had been with someone before me, I would have understood, but I would hate that guy because he knew you in a way only I want to know.”
Lowering my head, I struggled to find the right words because they were so foreign on my tongue.
“What are you thinking, Lark?”
Somehow I managed to find and hold his heated gaze. “I want to with you, have sex I mean.”
“I want that too.” His voice had grown thick.
“I think we should wait, though, until after my birthday.”
“Why?”
“I don't really know. Maybe because of your parents and their need to meddle or maybe because it's so close anyway.”
Something dark swept across his face and I suspected my concern over his parents' meddling wasn't crazy after all. He didn't speak of it though and instead asked, “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
He leaned over and kissed me—quick, but full of meaning. “I'll be counting the days.”
“Me too.”
His grin in reply was wicked.
“There's something else I've been wanting to tell you. Ms. Whitney applied for a scholarship for me and I won it.�
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“That's awesome, congratulations.” As I watched though his smile at the news suddenly faded. “Are you not going to Columbia?”
“I'm still going to Columbia.”
“Thank God.”
“But, there is a but. It's a full academic scholarship and I also have to mentor with the man who's sponsoring it. Due to some personal reasons for him, I have to move to Harrington, Maine at the end of April.”
He caught on immediately. “No senior prom.”
“I'm afraid not.”
“I won't lie, I really would have liked having the most beautiful girl in the state of New York on my arm for prom, but there's no question you should go to Maine.”
“You're not upset?”
“Upset? No. Disappointed, sure, but I'm so damn proud of you.”
I climbed into his lap and wrapped him in my arms. “Thank you.”
“In fact, since you're going to be gone all summer, I think I'm going to accept an apprenticeship I was offered in Massachusetts working on restoring old homes.”
“That's wonderful.”
“Yeah, it's a great opportunity. I wanted to be with you so I wasn't going to do it, but since you aren't going to be here, there's no reason for me not to accept.” He played with a lock of my hair. “Besides, since we're both going to Columbia, we will see each other every day, especially if you agree to move in with me.”
“I do agree.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“I'm going to hold you to that, Lark.”
I grinned as I held him even closer. “I was so hoping you would.”
***
The week that followed went by so quickly. The closer we got to my birthday, the more nervous and excited I grew. I knew Bastian felt it too, since he started to look at me in a way that made my whole body respond: my stomach felt all fluttery, my palms were perpetually sweaty and I had aches in places that were really distracting.
He was planning a surprise for my birthday and all he was willing to share was that I needed to dress up and that Poppy, Shawn, Sophia and Tyler, who was still Sophia's main squeeze after almost three months, were invited.