by L. A. Fiore
“Kiss me, Lark.”
“No way.”
He tilted the head, an eerily human gesture coming from such a freakish figure, “You sure?”
“I'll kiss the man under the costume.”
That was all the encouragement he needed—he pulled the head off. The face I loved was drenched in sweat. I wiped it away from his eyes.
“You're a good sport. Was it totally terrible?”
“I won't be doing this again, but getting to steal you from the crowd made it all tolerable.”
“Why don't you change and we can go have some fun.” I suggested.
“Why don't you help me?”
A smile touched my lips and my blood started to burn. “I suppose it's the least I could do.”
“You can say that again.”
I glanced at the door leading into the hall wondering if it was locked. Bastian clearly knew where my thoughts were. “It's locked. No one's coming in.” He moved into me, his expression turning naughty. “Didn't you say you wanted to be able to make love whenever the mood struck?”
Yes, I did. Tingles lit down my arms and my fingers trembled as I helped him from his costume and he was just as eager to help me from my clothes.
“I need a shower,” he said against my lips as he steered us through the locker room to the showers. He managed to turn on the water while his lips nibbled on the corner of my mouth. It was crazy, what we were doing, and yet I couldn't stop even if I wanted to. He stepped me backward into the spray of the shower, the sensation of the water on my overheated skin, coupled with what we were doing and where, made me nearly mad with desire. And when he pushed me up against the tile wall before his mouth closed over mine, my head went dizzy as lust curled in my belly. He was slightly out of control, his tongue tasting me with such intensity, before he lowered himself down my body until he was kneeling in front of me. Our eyes locked as he leaned forward and touched me with his tongue. My knees went weak but Bastian's strong arms kept me standing as his mouth fully tasted me, bringing me to the brink, before he stood. He lifted me up and as soon as I wrapped my legs around his waist, he pushed into me. I came hard.
“Look at me.” He demanded.
And when I did, he pulled out of me just as his face froze seconds before he came on my stomach.
***
The art show was a week after Bastian's debut as the bunny from hell. On the day of the event, Mr. and Dr. Wright both had to work, but they asked that we take lots of pictures. When we were deciding on who was driving in what car, a look definitely passed between Caden and Poppy. There was that undercurrent again, but I couldn't decide if it was fed by dislike or if was something quite the opposite. Poppy would talk when she was ready.
Bastian drove since I wasn't comfortable driving in Manhattan. While Dominic and Caden chatted in the back seat, I sat thinking about the piece I had selected. I hadn't told anyone what piece I was showing and though I was excited about all of my friends seeing it, Bastian's reaction was the one I was most interested in.
Once we parked, we made our way into the library and followed the signs for the show. It was huge, far grander than previous years. A central bulletin board in the exhibit listed the artist, the title of their piece and what kiosk it was located on. Poppy found my name first and went into the exhibit room as the rest of us followed after her. Bastian and I were the last to reach my piece. Our friends were already studying it, but when Bastian approached, they parted for him so he could see it unobstructed.
I’d sketched him in charcoal leaning over the hood of the Impala that first night I visited the garage. His arms were extended as he worked and his face was in profile: its lines taut in concentration. Every detail was included, right down to the tattoos on his arms and, as Ms. Whitney pointed out when she saw it, my love for Bastian simply oozed from the piece. What did I call this rendering of the man I loved? Home.
Bastian said nothing, only stood motionless for a good ten minutes. Eventually he looked in my direction and I noticed that his eyes seemed a bit bright.
“Marry me, Lark.”
My heart stopped beating. Turning to face me, he lowered himself to one knee and took my hands into his.
“Marry me, Lark O'Bannion.”
We were too young, we hadn't lived out in the real world yet, we'd only known each other and there were a lot of fish in the sea, it was first love and rarely was first love your forever love. I knew all the arguments, agreed with them, but yet staring into his beautiful face, I knew with absolute certainty that Bastian was it for me. He was my home and no one would ever mean to me what he did, even if I lived countless lifetimes. I dropped to my knees and brushed my lips over his. “Yes.”
Our friends could tell my answer when Bastian lifted me into his arms and kissed me senseless.
***
That night Mr. and Dr. Wright asked if Bastian and I would sit with them for a talk. Earlier, Poppy had had her phone to her ear as soon as I had said yes, calling her parents to share the news. Once we were settled in Mr. Wright’s office, Dr. Wright appeared with a bottle of champagne and four glasses. She silently poured everyone a glass before she lifted hers.
“Congratulations, Bastian and Lark. We can honestly say we think you are perfect for each other.”
We sipped the champagne in a toast before Mr. Wright cleared his throat, his expression turning very serious.
“With that being said, we would like to ask you to consider waiting a few years before getting married. At this time in your life, the next few years are critical with college and the start of your careers. To lose focus now could change the course of your lives forever. There's no reason you can't put your ring on her finger, Bastian, but when you make it official in front of God and family, you start to think about white picket fences and children. There's time for that, but not when you're just getting started. You're both adults and can obviously do as you will, but we thought we'd be failing you if we didn't at least mention it.”
Bastian looked over at me, his expression tender and determined. “I can wait, I'd wait forever for you.”
All of my life I'd only ever wanted somewhere to belong. Who could have known that what I was searching for wasn't a place but a person. “I've been waiting a long time for you, so waiting a little longer is okay with me, but I would really like to wear your ring.”
He looked fierce in that moment, or maybe it was possessive, before he asked, “Are you sure?”
“I have never been more sure of anything in my life.”
Later that night after I called my uncle to share the news, I was getting ready for bed. A knock sounded at my door. I pulled it open to see Bastian.
“Can I come in for a minute?”
“Like you need to ask.”
He smiled as he stepped into the room, and I noticed he seemed nervous. I was about to ask him what was wrong when he turned to me with a small black box in his hands.
“I bought this right after you moved in with me and I've been carrying it around ever since. I knew, from the very beginning, that you were the one.”
He lifted the lid to reveal the most beautiful emerald ring: an Asscher-cut emerald, my guess three carats, flanked by diamond baguettes in a platinum band.
“I thought about getting you a diamond, but with eyes like yours I couldn't look at anything but emeralds.”
My eyes found his. “It's too much.”
His patience reflected back at me and again he uttered the sentiment he had when he gave me my car, “It's not nearly enough.”
I couldn't imagine how much it had cost him, but I loved it. I lifted my hand and he didn't hesitate to take the ring from its satin nest to slip onto my finger.
Chapter Fourteen
News spread quickly about our engagement and at school girls weren't shy about wanting to see my ring. I found myself looking at it almost as much as they all did. I couldn't believe I was engaged. Yes, we were young and, yes, we agreed with the Wrights about waiting, but to have ta
ken that step with him felt perfectly right.
On an unpleasant note, Brad had been released on his own recognizance. He wasn't allowed to come to school, but he was home and not behind bars. As Mica had predicted, other girls did step forward. I didn't believe it at first. I couldn't believe the same boy who had joked with Bastian and me during my time as Victory was actually a serial rapist. There were six others, and two of them had not been lucky enough to escape Brad’s unwanted full attention. They, like all of us, had been at a party and there had been drinking. When he raped them, they were too afraid and ashamed to say anything. They expressed the same self-doubt I had felt: the worry that they somehow had encouraged him. But with the added element of the alcohol, they feared people would say it hadn't been rape, just guilt after the fact.
There was a positive to the ordeal and that was the knowledge that each of us had people in our lives who were standing behind us and helping us through it. I couldn't imagine going through such a horrific experience and having to deal with it on my own. Or even worse having someone like my aunt, filling my head with bullshit and doubt. How badly would someone spiral out of control if they had no one to turn to, no one to tell them that it wasn't their fault? I couldn't help but think about my mom and what could have likely caused her downward spiral.
The upside of Brad being released was that his trial approached. I overheard the Wrights talking one night and Mr. Wright believed there was someone with a lot of influence pushing for the trial since it was unusual for Brad's case to already be on the docket. Mr. Wright didn't volunteer who he thought this person was, but I knew what it was he wasn't saying, he thought it was my father again. I didn't understand why the man was making himself visible in my life now when he had stayed safe in the shadows for the past eighteen years. His name wasn't even on my birth certificate, which I always assumed was because my mom hadn't known which one of her many gentlemen callers was my father. The whole situation pissed me off.
***
Winter was quickly giving way to spring, which meant I was going to be leaving soon for Maine, but first I needed to take my exams. Studying filled up most of my afternoons and evenings and after one particularly difficult study session, I needed a break. Bastian was outside cutting up a tree that had fallen during one of the ice storms. I never thought watching someone using a chainsaw would be sexy, but with the way Bastian's muscles bunch and corded from his efforts, I was wrong.
He must have sensed me because he shut off the saw and turned in my direction. “Hey. How's the studying going?”
“My brain's fried. I need a break.” I couldn't help running my fingers over his arms and when I felt how tight his muscles were from the work he'd been doing, that pleasant feeling stirred in my gut. “How'd you do it?”
Clearly he was distracted because his focus was on my hand. I liked that my touch did to him what his did to me. His teal eyes shifted to mine. “Don't start something you can't finish.”
You guessed it, my knees went weak. He looked smug, probably because he turned the scales and knocked me off-balance. “How did I do what?” Yep, definitely smug.
“Take your exams so early with minimal studying and ace them?”
Cockiness replaced smugness. “Cause I'm the man.”
“Oh my God, you're such a dork.”
My feet were no longer touching the ground as I found myself up and over his shoulder. “I'll show you dork.”
Despite the fact that it was a threat, my body started to burn. He walked us into the woods that surrounded the Wrights property before he dropped me to my feet and pressed me back against a tree. I was so ready to taste him, to have his mouth covering mine, so I was bit surprised when his expression turned serious.
“I would really like to go with you to Maine.”
My first reaction was yes, but would I focus as well as I should if he was there?
“I'm not sure that's a great idea. Besides, what about your apprenticeship?”
“I'll come to help you get settled, and then I'll leave for Concord. We don't know these people, and I'm sure it's all good, but this requirement of you having to move up there is a bit left of center. I spoke to the Wrights about it, and they agree with me. If for no one else, do it for us and our peace of mind so we aren't wondering what you're walking into when you get there.”
“Okay. I'll send an email to Logan Dupree and let him know you'll be with me in the beginning.”
He exhaled in relief and I realized if I had said no, despite his words, he would have honored that. The pleasant feeling in my gut spread through my entire body. “What will you do during those weeks?” I asked.
“Grabbing a chair and spending every day looking at you isn't an option?”
“You'd grow bored.”
“Never, but I suppose I could look into work, something temporary.” And then his expression turned playful. “Now, about calling me a dork.” By the time he stopped kissing me, I made a mental note to call him a dork at least six times a day.
***
As predicted by Mr. Wright, Brad's case was brought to trial mere weeks after he was released. All eight of us were scheduled to testify. I followed the proceedings and seeing Brad looking so normal and harmless, knowing that the heart of a predator beat in his chest, terrified me. I had always believed I was a good judge of character, but I had to reconsider that now. What was even scarier was that his father seemed angrier at the fact that his son had been caught than the actual crime he was being tried for. My conversation with my uncle flashed into my head. Brad's father had been abusive and it was more than likely that whatever molded his father's views had been trained into the son. I felt sorry for Brad. It seemed to me if anyone deserved to be standing trial, it should be Bradley Senior since Junior never stood a chance.
The day I was scheduled to testify, I was a nervous wreck. I had never been in a courtroom, so I didn't know what to expect even though the lawyers had been really great with preparing me for the experience.
It looked like the countless courtrooms I'd seen on television: a rather large room with wood paneling along the Judge's bench and the witness stand, the small wooden swing-door that separated the judge and counselors from those who had come to watch the proceedings and behind the judge a brass emblem hung depicting the scales of justice.
Brad sat right in the front. I felt like I was doing the walk of shame as I made my way to the witness stand and got sworn in.
The prosecutor started—the questions were all ones we had rehearsed. My voice wasn't exactly steady but it seemed clear and loud. When the state rested, Brad's attorney started his cross. I had been dreading the cross-examination, since so often in television the victim was put on trial. There were a few shady questions, ones aimed at trying to discredit me, but all in all, it went as expected. I wasn't in the court room for more than twenty minutes before the judge dismissed me.
Walking out of the courtroom, I glanced at Brad, but he didn't look at me. He had his head lowered. Maybe if he had a different father or a mother who had been able to seek help for him, could all of this have been avoided? Mica was right, Brad needed to be held accountable, but there was a part of me that wondered how much of his attitude had been fostered by his father's own attitude and his mother's neglect.
About a week after I testified, Brad was found guilty and sentenced to three to five years. He'd probably be out in a year, but his actions were going to follow him for the rest of his life.
Chapter Fifteen
Dear Mr. Dupree,
My name is Larkspur O'Bannion and I wanted to thank you, first, for the scholarship and the wonderful opportunity to study with you.
I am in awe of your use of color, but your depth perception is even more phenomenal. Some of your works look more like snapshots than something created with paint and brush. That is an area I need to work on. I also read you work in clay and glass and I would love to watch you, since I have very little experience in sculpting work.
Ms. Whit
ney forwarded my itinerary to me and I will be on your doorstep early evening April 25th. My fiancé, Sebastian, will be accompanying me and staying for a few weeks to help me get settled before he leaves for an apprenticeship in Concord, MA.
He's looking for work while in Harrington, either restoration work or construction. If you know of anything or could point me in the right direction, that would be most appreciated.
I look forward to meeting you and your family, Mr. Dupree, and getting the chance to learn from you.
Sincerely,
Lark
I didn't expect a return email so quickly, but while I worked on my homework my laptop buzzed with an incoming message.
Lark,
I disagree with your opinion on your perception. Your work is inspired.
My wife, Saffron, owns a house right on Harrington Bay and we’ll put you up there. We live two miles away. She will be contacting you shortly. ; )
I'm not thrilled with you living there alone, though Harrington is very safe, so if there are no objections with you we'd like for Reaper, our German shepherd, to stay with you. He's a great companion and an excellent guard dog.
Regarding your fiancé, my brother Broderick is restoring a house right here in Harrington and he is always looking for more hands. If you forward me Sebastian's email address, I will send it along to Broderick.
My family and I are very much looking forward to meeting you, Lark. Please drive safely and we will see you early evening, April 25.
Logan
I sat there for a few minutes re-reading Logan's message. A knock came at my door. “Come see this,” I said to Bastian as he entered.
He stopped just behind me to read from over my shoulder. “He sounds like a good guy.”
“So, I'll forward your email onto him?”
“Yeah, please.”
I did so before logging off. I had final exams tomorrow and Friday and after, I had a week's break before Bastian and I took off for Maine.