Authors: Nora Flite
It
wasn't long before we were both gasping, our cries drowned out only
by the raw blizzard that clawed to get into the barn.
“
Deacon,”
she gasped, her lips pressing into the hollow of my throat. “Deacon,
god, I just... I...”
“
I
know,” I said, and I wondered if I did.
With
our bodies writhing together, the world consisting of nothing but
each other and the beat of our hearts, I thought I might just know
what she felt.
I
truly hoped it was the same thing as me.
“
Aah!”
I growled, pushing my head into the hard floor as my muscles
strained. On top of me, I felt Leah convulse, her body hitting the
point of no return.
With
the sounds she made in my ear, her wet pants, I was quick to follow.
For
a long moment, yet still not long enough, we lay there in the barn
and simply held each other. Every cell felt alive, my body aching in
exhausted relaxation.
The
heat faded as we lay still, cool air running over our damp flesh.
Leah's teeth chattered, so I wrapped the blankets back around us.
“
I
needed that,” I murmured into her ear, nuzzling the mussed
swirls of her silky hair.
She
breathed in sharply, hugging me like I might vanish at any moment.
“God, me too. You have no idea.”
“
I
have some idea,” I said, chuckling.
Tracing
the indents of her back, her muscles flexing under my seeking hands,
I sighed. Everything felt right again, my world returning to
stillness like a snow globe that had been shook violently.
As
long as I had Leah, as long as she was with me...
Everything
simply made sense.
-Part
2-
Leah
Rook
The
stairs conspired to creak louder with each step I was taking. I
didn't know Deacon's Grandparents' house well enough to predict which
steps were firmer and which would give me away.
My
goal was to slip into the room I'd been assigned, get my pajamas on,
and get to sleep without anyone hearing me.
Slamming
my toe into the top step, just before I crossed the threshold into
the bedroom, ruined my chances.
“Shit!” I hissed, covering my mouth. Ugh, awesome. I'm
the best ninja ever. Gripping the knob, finding the door cracked
open, I gave it a gentle push.
Bethany
was sitting up on the other bed, the small lamp on the table
illuminating a book she was reading. Her amazingly blue eyes flicked
up, spotting me. “Hey,” she said. “You okay?
Nicholas told me you and Deacon were fine, I mean, but still... You
know?”
“
Uh,”
I said, feeling suddenly very stupid. “Yes. Fine, just banged
my toe.”
And
spent the last hour out in the barn with Deacon. Which, I guess,
Bethany kind of knew thanks to that humiliating phone call with
Nicholas. Checking up on us, I know the intent was good, but...
Touching
my temple, something sharp pricked me. I pulled out a piece of straw,
crushing it in my palm; it was still damp from the heavy snow fall.
Blushing,
praying she wouldn't notice, I smoothed my hair. “Mind if I hop
in the shower quick? Will it keep you awake?”
“
Not
at all,” she shrugged, offering me a mild smile.
I
still can't decide if she likes me, or if she's faking.
The
bathroom was attached to the bedroom we were sharing. Grabbing some
clothes to sleep in, I quickly hurried to shut the door and get the
shower going.
I
wasn't satisfied until everything was covered in a blinding cloud of
steam. That was when I knew the water would be perfect.
Scrubbing
myself down, I hung my chin low, long dark hair rolling over my
shoulders. Everything felt... good. Great, even, if I let myself
believe it.
Everything
that had happened with Deacon, from the moment we'd met his family,
had left me confused. Learning how he had been struggling with
keeping the peace with them while juggling how I might be feeling
allowed me to find comfort.
He
was just worried about everything. I can understand that.
It
was especially easy when I considered the fact that I was about to
embark with him on a similar trip.
With
the roles reversed, now, that is. I'll have to call my parents in the
morning... this means we'll get to spend Christmas together! I
wonder... I hope, anyway, that they'll like Deacon.
More
so, I hope he likes them.
My
stomach trembled, knotting at the impending event. I wondered how
they had been, if they were doing better.
What
if they were doing worse?
Deacon
had amazed me with his ability to narrow in on how I was thinking.
Even when I, myself, wasn't exactly sure.
He
was wrong, though, in assuming I'd only been thinking about my
parents because of the holidays. They'd been on my mind since Owen
had attacked me.
I'd
gone back and forth with the idea of borrowing Deacon's phone, just
calling them up and breaking the silence.
It
had gone on too long, though.
I
saw the parallel in myself, abandoning them the way I had thought
they'd done to me when I was a teen.
The
guilt was too heavy, strangling me into inaction when I seriously
debated talking to them. I hadn't had any contact in almost two
months, what would they even think?
If
I told them about Owen, would they be angry I hadn't informed them
about the assault immediately?
Thinking
about this again is just going to put me in circles. I won't know
anything until I talk to them, brooding on it any more is useless.
Especially
since I'll be finding out soon enough.
Turning
off the water, I stepped out onto the cool tile. The towel felt good
on my pink skin. Wiping the mirror, I studied my neck closely.
Deacon
said he hardly noticed these bruises.
Hiding
them with makeup had helped my confidence. However, there was
something cathartic in seeing the marks, being reminded of what they
meant.
The
nightmares from that attack were awful. Now, though, it's almost a
badge of honor.
To
me, those bruises meant I'd faced the monster I'd been running from.
I'd gone up against it, and though I'd been hurt badly, I'd survived.
That
was all that mattered.
Tugging
on my old Killer Sons band shirt, as well as a thick pair of flannel
sweat pants, I wrapped my hair in the towel. The air outside of the
bathroom was chilly in comparison.
Bethany
was still awake, in the middle of turning a page when she looked up
at me.
Nervous
under her gaze, I spoke fast. “It's really hot in there, just a
warning.”
Her
golden hair slipped over her neck, following the motion of her
curious head tilt. “Is that a Killer Sons shirt?”
“
Um,”
I said, looking down at it. “Yeah. You know them?”
“
Sort
of,” she mused, a little embarrassed. “Nicholas likes
them a lot.”
“
Huh,
weird, so does Deacon.” Laughing, I sat on my mattress, folding
my legs under me. “Maybe it runs in the family?”
“
Possibly.
If I'm honest, I don't really like them, myself.” Shutting the
book, she folded her hands over the cover lightly. “Too rough
for me. I like smoother music.”
Nodding,
I hung my head down, scrubbing it with the towel as I talked. “It's
kind of funny, I really like how intense they are. But, one time, I
heard a version that was much more... calm, serenading, even.”
When
I flipped my hair back, frizzy strands flying, I found Bethany
staring at me, face drained of blood. “You saw the video of
that performance?”
“
I—what?”
Baffled, I sat there as damp strands tickled my cheeks.
“
The...
you are talking about... about
Deacon
singing, right?” She said his name in a whisper, like he might
somehow appear when summoned. Bethany suddenly began turning crimson,
it washed up to her forehead.
The
chilly prickles in my chest made me feel dizzy. “I am,
actually. How do you know about that?”
“
How
do
you
know about that?” She didn't sound accusing, she truly looked
mortified. “I'd think he'd know better than to show that to...
to...”
To
me. What would he know better than to show to me?
Shaking
my head, I pushed my hair back from my eyes. “Why wouldn't he
sing in front of me?”
Her
jaw clacked shut, audibly, at my question.
The
slow burn of intuition crawled up my spine. “You're talking
about something else, aren't you? This isn't about Deacon singing at
karaoke, is it.”
Covering
her eyes, Bethany offered a weak, shaking laugh. “You're saying
you heard him sing a version of a Killer Sons song at karaoke?”
“
Yes,
he sang...”
He
sang my favorite song, and it was amazing. It felt like he'd done it
just for me, but how could he have known I loved that one so much?
“He
sang one, and he did it very differently than the original went.”
“
Oh,
God. I feel awful. Sorry, please forget I said anything.”
What
the hell is she not telling me?
Sitting
up, I gripped my knees, hunching low as if bracing myself. “Bethany,
I'm not going to lie. I'm freaking out a little right now, and I
don't think putting this conversation in a box is going to help me
there. Just tell me what you're talking about, please.”
Her
pink lips spread, silence whispering forth. Clearing her throat,
searching for her voice, Bethany tried again. “I don't know if
you want to hear about the time... you know... I mean, it was years
ago.”
My
paranoia was already jabbing at my brain, squeezing my lungs so my
breathing came quicker. “The time that
what?
”
Ruffling
her blonde hair, she sighed loudly. “The time Deacon asked me
to date him.”