Five Years Ago
“All set?” Sara Dahlberg asked as she walked into the ticket booth.
I pooled all the nickels into my hand, dumped them back into the tray, and recorded the sum on a notepad, fingering the indentations of my pen marks to find where I needed to write the total. “Yep.”
“I’ll count your bills.” She pulled the tray over to her side, and I heard the shuffle of money as she counted the rest of my bank.
“Thanks.”
I shut down my computer and switched off the marquee outside, the constant buzz of the lighting above finally dying. I’d only been working here about eight weeks, but already that sound was killing me. I would’ve rather worked concessions inside, but the theater manager was concerned about how I would manage behind the counter with the chaos of other employees moving about. I had ideas, but she had a system that worked, so…
I didn’t really expect much more from her, though. She didn’t think I should do a lot of things. She only gave me this job right before my junior year started several weeks ago to shut me up about dancing with the company, since the theater not only showed movies but held plays, symphonies, and ballets.
I’d started looking for a job when the last school year ended to stay busy and enjoy some independence, but I’d had rotten luck, so it was either this or stay home to revel in Arion’s constant self-importance and listen to my parents fight.
“’Okay,” Sara said. “Here you go.”
I held out my arms, and she placed the tray with the count on a piece of paper in my hold, and held the door open for me as I left the little room. I tucked the tray under my arm, propped up on my hip, and held out my free hand to walk the path to the manager’s office. I’d gotten used to navigating it over the past two months, counting my steps and feeling my way.
Two months.
Two months since I’d started working an actual job.
Two months until Christmas and the only time Arion and I got along.
Two months plus one until I was seventeen.
And less than two years until I graduated, and two years since I’d spoken to him.
Two whole years.
The night of the car ride and motorcycle ride was the last time he paid me a visit. Why hadn’t he come back?
Scenarios and fears raced through my mind over time.
He’d been arrested.
He’d moved.
He’d died.
All of those were agonizing possibilities, but not nearly as painful as facing the most likely one.
He’d lost interest.
He’d had his fun, moved on, and was happy and laughing with someone else, while I sat around and missed him.
I thought that was why it was a good idea to get a job. If you can’t keep your head on straight, then at least keep busy.
I was still constantly aware of him, though. Living my life as if he were watching me. Curling my hair, asking Ari for makeup advice—which she loved and was actually really nice about helping with—and dancing. Dancing late at night after everyone had gone to bed in hopes that he was there and would know it was safe to come out.
Two strange but fascinating visits two years ago, and I still walked around like he was watching me.
Because, I swore, sometimes I thought he was. After that Devil’s Night and he disappeared, I could be at a party or a basketball game or sitting on the terrace under the awning in a summer rain and listening to my audiobook, and then…I’d feel it. The heat of his eyes.
I guessed he could’ve still been watching, but why cut off contact?
Probably just my mind playing tricks on me, but it made it hard to forget him. He’d definitely succeeded at making an impression, hadn’t he?
And in all the time since I’d last spoken to him, I hadn’t told anyone about him. I’d joined the dance club at school, made some new friends, and even though I felt a lot more comfortable there now, it was the one place that was drama free for me. I could only imagine how the story of my mysterious interlude with a dark stranger would suddenly turn into a story of how I was forced to dance for a psycho serial killer who wanted to dress me up in pigtails and keep my feet as souvenirs. No, thank you. I wouldn’t let anyone ruin it.
Not to mention, telling others risked my parents finding out, and that would be bad.
Carrying the tray up the stairwell, I walked into the manager’s office and set it down on her desk.
“Thank you, Winter,” she said. “How are you? You seem to be doing well down there.”
Yeah. “A nine-year-old could do that job.”
“Winter…” she scolded.
I wasn’t really joking, though. It was the truth. A typical teenage job. While I didn’t need the money, it was nice to earn my own cash and have something low-stress, so it didn’t distract from school, but it was also a job she thought I could do. She’d picked it for me.
And I wanted to do more.
I stood there, hovering, and she must’ve seen the look on my face, because she stopped counting the money.
“You nearly broke an arm,” she reminded me, sighing.
I fell practicing over a year ago. Dancers fell and broke bones all the time.
“You can’t dance with the corps,” she went on. “You learn slower than we can work with. The wrong fall could kill you. I mean…do you know what you’re asking of us, honey?”
My jaw locked, because she was tired of this conversation, and I had no new arguments. I danced on that stage downstairs many times when I was little. I danced at home with no accidents. Yes, it took me longer to learn my stage, and I would make everyone’s job just a little bit harder and that sucked, but it wasn’t impossible. I’d gone over it in my head a thousand times, mapping the choreography—mine and the other dancers’. I just wanted a shot.
She rose from her chair, the wheels squeaking underneath, and she pinched my chin lightly between her fingers.
“Challenges find us so we can become who we’re meant to be,” she told me. “God has taken you on an exciting new path. Trust his judgment and see where it leads.”
What the hell?
“I bought a first-class ticket,” I told her. “I’m not taking the bus.”
And I spun around, heading back down the stairwell.
People were priceless. The things we told ourselves to justify giving up and falling in line like we had to accept anything less than what we wanted. Like fighting for your dream was a bad thing.
I would tour, and people would pay to watch me.
Heading into the ticket booth, I gathered up my school bag and phone, and switched off the light, heading back into the lobby and out the front doors. I called my driver to check if she was almost here, but there was no answer, so I left a voicemail. Since Arion was away studying abroad this semester for college, and my parents had schedules to keep, my mother arranged a car service in town to pick me up and drop me off to and from work. It probably cost more than I was making, but since our town didn’t have a public transportation system, I couldn’t manage any other way. I tried to give them my paychecks to cover the cost, but my mom wouldn’t take it.
I stood out on the town sidewalk, hearing the cars drive by and music coming from Sticks across the square, but I stayed close to the theater doors, just to be on the safe side, until my ride showed. The concession staff was still in there cleaning, so I had help if I needed it.
“Hey, Winter,” someone said across the street. “Want a ride?”
Sara. She’d worked the booth with me tonight, and trained me when I started the job. She must just be leaving, too.
“Oh, no, I’m okay,” I told her. “My driver should be here soon.”
“My driver…” someone repeated, chuckling.
I didn’t recognize the voice. Did I just sound pretentious?
“I can’t leave you standing there,” Sara joked. “Come on. Cancel your car. We’ll take you.”
We?
I pondered for a moment, not really having a good reason to say no. The driver wouldn’t care. She’d still get paid and get in bed earlier tonight.
“Okay,” I said. “Thanks.”
Car doors slammed, an engine started, and tires skidded, the car coming around to my side of the street.
Sara got out and took my hand, leading me to the car. I gently pulled my hand out and placed it on her arm.
“Do you know Astrid Colby?” she asked, holding the back door open for me. “And her boyfriend, Miles Anderson? They’re both seniors. This is his car.” And then, “You guys, this is Winter Ashby.”
I stopped. “Oh, I don’t want to cause any inconvenience.” I thought she was driving. “I have a ride coming. It’s fine.”
I didn’t know Astrid and Miles, but I knew of them. I definitely got the impression they were trouble.
“Relax.” Sara nudged me. “We’ll have you home in no time.”
Fine. As long as she was here, it should be okay, I guess.
I pulled my bag off and climbed into the car, smelling cigarette smoke and sucking in a breath as the cold leather seats hit the backs of my thighs. I still wore my theater uniform—pleated skirt, button down, and bow tie—but as soon as I was settled, I sent a message to the driver.
After Sara got in and shut the door, we sped off. I felt the car turning, so I assumed we were rounding the square, and next probably cutting through the neighborhood toward the highway.
Judging from the deep rumble of the engine, the leather bench seat I sat on, and the heavy sound of the door closing a moment ago, it was an old car. Classic American muscle, maybe? I didn’t want to be a traitor or anything, because the spaciousness was nice, but I preferred the sound and feel of another car. His car. The only car I’d ever driven and probably would ever drive. Agile, fast, quick to respond…. It drove like slicing butter.
And him underneath me. That might’ve had something to do with my loyalty to that car, too.
I thought it was a BMW. My sister got one for graduation, and I sat in it, damn near falling into a trance when I felt the exact same circular emblem in the middle of the steering wheel as he had in his car.
“Turn off your brights, asshole,” the guy driving said.
“He’s like right on our ass, too,” Astrid commented.
“Yeah, you’re being followed, Miles,” Sara added, teasing. “It’s almost Devil’s Night. Let the pranks begin.”
I heard him scoff and another whiff of smoke hit me.
That’s right. Devil’s Night was tomorrow.
“You guys getting up to anything?” Sara asked them. “It’s so boring without the horsemen around.”
“Fuck them,” Miles said. “We can stir up our own shit.”
I ran my fingers through my hair, flipping it to one side as I turned toward the window. Miles was the only person I’d heard of who didn’t worship at the horsemen altar. Wonder why?
The energy at school since they left, though, was in the dumps. The basketball team was suffering, and there was no excitement anymore. Everyone was caught in suspended animation.
Miles swerved the car to the right and slammed on the brakes, pulling the car to a sudden stop. I shot out my hand to the back of his seat to stop myself from lunging forward.
“Get out, bitch,” Astrid said.
Huh?
The door on Sara’s side opened, and she shifted next to me. “Thanks for the ride, guys,” she chirped.
I froze, every muscle tense. What?
“You know where Winter lives, right?” Sara questioned them.
Wait, they were dropping her off first? I held in my groan. Shit. Thanks a lot. Why would she leave me with people I didn’t know?
“Don’t worry,” Astrid told her. “We’ll get her home.”
“It’s fine,” I rushed out, gathering my bag and phone. “I’ll get out here and call my driver.”
“Don’t be a bitch, bitch,” Astrid shot back but with a teasing tone.
“Have a good night, Winter,” Sara said, and then she slammed the door.
I exhaled. It’s fine. It would be fine.
Miles shifted into gear and took off, and I hit the back of my seat, gripping my phone.
I needed to learn how to be rude. I should’ve just said ‘no’ to the ride.
We drove in silence for a few minutes, and I gauged from the straight line he was going that we were hopefully on the highway, heading to my house.
“Is that car still behind us?” I heard Astrid ask.
“Yep,” he said in a clipped tone.
My heart picked up pace. Someone was following them? If something was going to happen, I wanted to be out of here before it did.
“So,” Astrid spoke again, “what do you see exactly?”
There was silence, and I straightened, coming to attention. “You’re talking to me?”
“Yes.” She laughed.
I shook my head. “I don’t see anything.”
“Well, I know, but is it like black or white or what?” she pressed. “Like when I close my eyes, sometimes I see a kaleidoscope of colors and sometimes it’s just dark.”
“Nothing,” I said again. “I don’t see. The sense doesn’t exist.”
“Psychedelic,” she cooed her approval.
I chuckled. It was hard for people to wrap their heads around it. When seeing people couldn’t see, it was because their eyes were covered. That’s what they assumed it was like for me. My eyes were just closed to them.
Whereas in reality, I didn’t have eyes at all. But my body did still perform the same involuntary actions: blinking, crying…
“That’s a mighty cute uniform you got on,” Miles said as he drove.
Astrid didn’t respond, so I guessed he was talking to me.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
His tone was loaded, and instinctively, I pulled down my skirt as far as it would reach, suddenly feeling like it was too short.
“You know where I live, right?”
She didn’t say anything, and he just laughed quietly.
I clutched my phone in my hand, thumbing the power button.
Cool metal touched my hand, and I jerked.
“Try some,” Astrid said, handing me something.
I took it, turning the palm-sized object in my hand and hearing the liquid inside swish.
“No, thanks.” I handed it back at her.
I could still hear my mother’s words when I was like twelve. She educated me really early. Don’t ever drink an alcoholic drink you didn’t make or open yourself.
She told Ari the same thing, but she knew I was at a bigger risk of being victimized. Someone could slip anything in my drink, and do it right in front of me, without my knowing.
But Astrid just took the flask back, whining, “Party pooper.”
I was about to say ‘thank you anyway’, but we turned and gravel crunched underneath the tires. I immediately narrowed my eyes, on alert. There were no gravel roads on the way to my house.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
But neither of them answered.
Suspicion twisted in my gut. I couldn’t be thrown into a locker room out here, but they could find lots of ways to prank me.
“Is that car still following?” Astrid asked.
“They turned off just as we did. Some road behind us,” he answered.
“Cool.”
“What’s going on?” I demanded.
“We want to show you something,” Astrid replied.
“I just want to go home.”
The car jostled on the pot holes, and I bounced, hitting my head on the roof.
“Ouch,” I hissed.
Goddammit, this wasn’t funny. It was already after ten, and I didn’t know these people. Why would they think they could just drag me wherever they wanted?
“I want to go home,” I said again.
“Hold your horses,” Miles chided me. “We need you for something.”
“What?”
“Climb up here, and sit in the middle,” he instructed.
“Why?”
“Come on!” Astrid yanked at my arm. “I need you to hold my legs.”
“Hold your legs?”
Air rushed into the car suddenly, blowing my hair, and a scream sounded from outside the car. My breathing turned shallow. Was she sticking her head out the window?
“Come on, please?” she begged, tugging at my arm again. “We’ll take you home in a few.”
I twisted my lips to the side. Fine.
Taking off my jacket, I left my phone and satchel in the back and scooted up, swinging a leg over the front seat. Wind blew under my skirt and my hair into my face, so I moved quickly, sitting down between Miles and Astrid, the hair on the back of my neck rising with fear and a little excitement. Déjà vu hit me, and for a second, it was like he was here, taking me on another adventure.
“Okay, I’m popping up,” Astrid said. “Grab my legs and hold on.”
“Wait…”
But she was already moving. The car charged down the backroad, barreling and bouncing over the uneven terrain, and I reached out, wrapping my arms around her jean-clad legs as she sat up on the door through the open window.
Howling filled the chilly, night air, and the weight of her body pulled at me as it hung over the side of the car. I fumbled with my hands, unsure if I had a good enough hold of her.
She was going to fall. I couldn’t keep hold. What the hell was she doing?
Whatever it was, she seemed to be loving it, though. She laughed and screamed, and Miles just went faster.
He jerked the steering wheel, and I felt Astrid’s body get thrown a little with it. I tightened my hold so hard, my muscles ached.
“Damn, baby,” Miles said, and I hoped he was talking to her.
It lasted for about another minute, and then Astrid slid back in through the window, cackling and filled with excitement as she rolled her window back up.
“That was hot, babe,” she told him.
The car slowed down, and I slid back over to the middle, wiping at the sweat on the back of my neck.
“You should do it,” she said, knocking me in the arm.
“I’m fine.” I laughed a little.
Not that I wouldn’t try it ever, but I’d want to be with people I trusted. I didn’t know these two well enough.
The engine started to grow quiet as the car slowed down more, and I rubbed my hands down my thighs, drying my sweaty palms.
Can we please get out of here now?
But instead of driving farther or turning the car around to head to my house, Miles veered to the side, taking the car into some grass, and crawled to a stop.
Why were we stopping?
He left the car idling, put it in Park, and everyone sat there for a moment, the music droning on a low volume. I swallowed through the dryness in my throat.
He wasn’t explaining why he’d stopped, and she didn’t ask. As if they already had a plan and knew what was about to happen.
Astrid turned toward me on my right, her voice low. “You’re really pretty,” she said.
Something about her tone was…intimate. My mouth was so dry.
“Thank you,” I replied, but it came out as a whisper.
I could feel his eyes on me, too.
“We see you around school,” she said. “You seem scared to live it up sometimes. As if you don’t belong.”
I fisted the hem of my skirt. “It’s complicated,” I told her.
I just wanted to go home.
“We like to have fun,” Miles chimed in. “We live it up.”
And then Astrid’s whisper brushed my ear, “And we want to take you with us.”
I lost my breath and jerked away.
But she didn’t stop. “We’ll show you so much fun,” she taunted. And then she flicked my ear with her tongue and trailed her fingers up the inside of my thigh.
Oh, God.
I slapped her away, gritting out, “Get away from me!”
“You’ll like us,” Miles told me in a hard voice as he gripped the back of my neck and forced me to face him. “Once you try us.”
“No!” And I slapped at him, hitting him right in the face.
Asshole.
He jostled me, angry. “You little b—”
But he stopped, something seeming to catch his attention.
“Did you hear that?” he asked.
“What?” Astrid inquired.
I tried to push away from him, thankful he was distracted by something. I hoped it was a cop or people or anyone I could get out of this car and run to.
And then I heard it, too. Howls.
Yelps and barks. Hoots and yells.
“What is that?” Miles said more to himself.
Did we have wolves in our area? I didn’t think so, but I would rather take my chances with wild animals than these two.
The sounds disappeared, and Miles and Astrid barely breathed as they remained completely still and listened for a few more moments.
The branches of the trees whined in the wind above us, and I thought I heard leaves shuffling around the car, but I couldn’t be certain with the music still on.
“There’s something out there,” Astrid muttered.
And I remembered how they thought they were being followed earlier.
I felt Miles move next to me. “I don’t—”
But something heavy hit the windshield, and he cut off, Astrid gasping next to me.
“What the…?” he barked.
The same force hit Astrid’s side, too, suddenly, then the rear window and Miles’ side, as well.
“Is that…paint?” Astrid asked. “Someone’s splattering paint on the windows.”
“Son of a bitch!” he growled.
Releasing me, he opened the door, but there was a pounding sound coming from the outside, and he howled with pain, falling over on me.
Did someone just try to shut the door on him?
I didn’t know what was happening, but I felt the car shake under me and vibrations come from the rear area, like someone was back there doing something.
“The windows are covered in black paint!” Astrid exclaimed. “Someone’s out there. Just drive!”
My mind raced, debating on whether to try to get out or if the danger was greater out there. Before I had a chance to make a decision, though, Miles shifted into gear and put his foot on the gas.
But we didn’t move. He gave it more gas, revving the engine, but the car simply turned its wheels, squeaking underneath us as they spun, but didn’t take us anywhere.
“Do you smell gas?” Astrid asked.
I inhaled, feeling a burn hit the back of my throat.
“Oh, shit,” Miles suddenly said.
What? Dammit, what was going on?
“Look,” he told Astrid.
“They wouldn’t,” she replied, breathless.
What were they seeing?
And the next thing I knew, the doors opened, and they scurried out of the car, leaving me in the front seat alone.
What the hell?
I didn’t know why they ran, but they saw something that scared them, so was the car not safe then? I didn’t know what to do, if I should run, who I should be scared of, but they were gone, and I debated for about half a second before I lunged over to the driver’s side door and pulled it close, hitting the lock, and doing the same thing to Astrid’s door. I might not be out of the woods, but at least I was safe from them.
The key was still in the ignition, and it was probably a bad idea, but I’d get out of here if I had to. I’d just follow the gravel road.
If I could get the car moving, which Miles hadn’t been able to do for some reason.
I sat there for a moment, not hearing any sounds outside anymore, just the rumble of the engine and some White Stripes remix on the radio.
My phone. I’d call my mom and have her track my phone to find me. I had no idea where I was.
But just then, I heard his breathing.
Right behind me, in the back seat.
I stilled, not moving a muscle as dread wracked through my body, and my imagination went wild, trying to figure out who or what was behind me.
It was faint but constant, and pain sliced its way through my jaw and neck as a scream filled my throat.
Tears welled, and I couldn’t believe I’d been so stupid.
I’d forgotten to lock the back doors.
I opened my mouth, getting ready to cry out and lunge for the door, but then his voice was in my ear.
“Hey, Little Devil,” he whispered.
I gasped, the nickname and his hushed tone registering in one powerful, overwhelming blow, and I almost sobbed with happiness.
Are you kidding me?
All of a sudden, he reached forward and took me in his arms, hauling me into the back seat. I shot my hands behind me, touching his face—the sharp nose and angular jaw—grazing the scars on his scalp, and burying my nose in his neck. Freshly showered. As always.
“Oh, my God.” I pressed my forehead into his cheek, holding him close. “Where have you been?”
He didn’t answer, just held me in his lap, in his arms.
I closed my eyes and exhaled, feeling like I was letting out two years of breath. He was here. He was alive and hadn’t forgotten about me.
But…
I sat up and turned around, straddling him in the backseat and grabbing him by the collar of his hoodie.
“You scared the shit out me,” I told him.
“Yeah, I do that.”
Yeah, lots of people liked to do that in this town.
I wanted to be mad, but a laugh escaped, and I couldn’t be angry. He was here, and he got rid of Miles and Astrid.
Keeping hold of him, I dipped my forehead to his, reveling in the feel of him.
He took my upper arms in his hands and held me. “What were you doing with them?” he asked sternly.
I stayed right where I was, our lips an inch away. “You were the one following them?”
He nodded. “I show up to see you again, and when I do, I see you getting in a car with another man.”
“Yeah, that’s a good stretch,” I said, smarting off. “There were two other girls in the car, too. I thought I was safe.”
Releasing his collar, I glided my hands around his neck, feeling the same warm, smooth skin. He remained still, almost rigid, as I stayed there, holding him and breathing him in.
Slowly, his hands left my arms, his touch drifting down, to my waist, digging his fingers in just slightly. Heat settled between my legs, and I bit my lip to keep my breathing under control.
“Did you do something I’m going to make you regret?” he whispered.
Make me regret?
“Jealous?” I teased.
But Miles and Astrid were far away now. Barely a concern. Tomorrow, I’d tell my mom what happened, but right now, I had all I wanted in this car.
I touched his neck, trailing my fingers to his collarbone, and hovered over his mouth, playing with the tiny space of breath between us.
“Winter…” He was almost growling.
I moved around his face, caressing him with my nose, forehead, and hands, my tongue dying to reach beyond my lips and taste him.
“You’ve been gone two years,” I said. “That’s a long time.”
“Did they touch you?”
“And if they did?” I taunted. “I’m grown up now.”
“You’re not,” he said, sounding like a warning but breathing harder himself.
I pressed my chest into his, squeezing him between my thighs. “I’m old enough for things.”
He gripped my waist harder, pressing my body into his. “You’re old enough when I say.”
I smiled, tipping my head back and feeling his lips trail a line up my throat. His mouth said one thing and was doing another.
My body started to move, taunting him. Teasing him. Rubbing on him.
I wanted to whisper his name, but I couldn’t.
I took his hands and pulled them away from my body, sliding them up my thighs, just under my skirt. I wasn’t shy around him. I knew he wanted me, but he kept doing things—being bossy and overprotective—that reminded me of an older brother. It needed to stop. I wasn’t a child. I was ready.
“So what do you say?” I asked, inviting him to touch me.
He curled his fingers against my skin.
“Stop it,” he ordered me.
“I’m sixteen, and I’ve never been kissed.” I put my hands on his chest, feeling my breasts grazing his body. “I waited for you.”
“Winter…”
“I waited for you,” I repeated, panting and brushing his lips with mine. “But I won’t wait forever.”
I layered my lips with his and dipped my tongue out, flicking his lip as I rolled my hips on him. The unmistakably hard ridge of his cock rubbed against my panties through his jeans, and I moaned.
He grabbed me under my arms, holding me up to his face. “That better not be a threat,” he bit out.
And then he took my face in one hand and snatched up my lips, biting my bottom one, almost chewing it like he was starving.
He groaned, I whimpered, and we both gave in, holding each other in our arms, our mouths melting together.
I was fast and clumsy, and I couldn’t keep up with his kisses and tongue in my mouth, but I loved every second.
He nibbled and bit and took with force, gripping the back of my hair to tip my head back and eat at my neck. He moved from my throat to my chin to my jaw and then back to my mouth, and I clutched at his shoulders, tugging on his sweatshirt as I dry-humped him. God, I couldn’t stop myself. He felt so good. It was like an itch that I needed to scratch more and harder.
I tugged at my bow tie, unable to breathe.
Pulling it loose, I unbuttoned my top button, finally feeling freer and diving in, hugging him to where he was sucking on my neck.
My hips moved back and forth, grinding into him
“Winter…” he groaned, pulling back. “I don’t want to…”
I picked up pace, and he grabbed my ass, helping me move.
“Don’t want to what?” I gasped out.
“Make you dirty.”
I slowed, touching his mouth with mine and kissing him softly.
Why would he think that?
“You won’t.” I shook my head, touching his face. “We won’t go all the way. We’ll just play.”
He breathed out a laugh.
I kissed him, and he dug his fingers in again, making my body explode and every inch of skin come alive. God, I loved it when he did that.
“Hey, man, what are we doing?” someone shouted outside. “You want us to wait or what?”
I startled, taking a moment to register he had friends with him. I threaded my fingers into his hair, going for his mouth again.
Don’t leave.
“Dude!” the guy barked again. “Girls your own age, right out here! What the fuck?”
A breathy laugh rumbled from his chest. “I don’t think I can wait for her to be legal, man,” he whispered to his friend but only loud enough for me to hear.
I nibbled his mouth, playing. “Sixteen is the legal age of consent in thirty-three states,” I teased. “Just not ours. It’s a technicality.”
“Researched it, have you?”
I started to grin, but the guy outside grew impatient. “Man, come on!”
But the boy in my arms shot out his fist, slamming it into the window to shut his friend up, and I heard the glass crack and splinter under his fist.
“Ah, Jesus,” the guy whined, and I heard more laughter from others. “Let’s give them some room, guys.”
Their voices drifted off, and he slowed down, touching me, devouring my neck, and getting to know my body. His hands drifted up my skirt, teasing the line but never crossing it, and I slid my hands under his sweatshirt and T-shirt, feeling his hot skin, taut body, and narrow waist.
I brushed across raised pieces of skin under his arms, and paused, noticing they reminded me of what I’d felt under his hair two years ago. I rubbed over them with my thumb several times.
“Why were you upset earlier?” he asked. “When you left work?”
That’s right. He saw me leave the theater. I looked upset?
I guess I kind of whipped the door closed rather vehemently.
“Did someone else do something to you?” He pulled back to look at me as he buttoned my top button and retied my bow tie.
Normally, I hated when people handled me like a kid and assumed they should do things for me, but I got the impression it was more for him. About putting me ‘right’ again.
“Just a bad night all around,” I told him.
“What happened?”
“Nothing important.”
He finished and settled his hands on my waist, waiting.
I laughed quietly, giving in. “I think I quit my job tonight,” I told him. “I’ve been working the ticket booth at Bridge Bay Theater. They’d asked me not to dance on the premises anymore, and I…” I paused, searching for a way to explain so I didn’t sound pathetic, “did whatever I could to stay involved there, maybe change their minds. But she won’t budge.”
I drew in a deep breath and exhaled, reiterating my boss’s words. “‘It’s unsafe, and I could hurt myself,’ I told him, getting angry all over again and starting to tear up. “My boss said something like “God has a path, and I need to go where life leads me.”
“What the fuck?”
“Right?” I said, my voice thick with tears. “I just wanted to, like…burn the whole place down.”
He snorted, shaking with laughter, and after a moment, I started laughing, too. He kissed me, reminding me that no matter how the night started, it was ending very well. I wanted to stay with him, but he had friends with him, and I wasn’t sure if he already had plans.
“So…” I said, changing the subject. “You have friends.”
It was kind of weird, confirming that he was a regular guy with an everyday life. And here I thought he was a vampire, rising only when the sun set.
“Can I meet them?” I asked.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re mine, not yours,” he warned, moving his mouth under my ear. “And you’re mine, not theirs.”
“Well that narrows down your identity,” I replied. “An only child, because you never learned to share.”
I’d figure it out eventually. Or find a way to make him tell me. After all, I was keeping him a secret from others, too.
But, it occurred to me, I wasn’t a secret to him. While he was one to me.
Why?
I didn’t feel guilty about hiding him from others, but he was hiding himself from me. There was a reason for that.
Was he old? Attached? Psychotic?
Or maybe…embarrassed by me?
But he suddenly spoke up, breaking me out of my thoughts. “Where does your boss live?” he asked.
My boss?
I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”
