WE ARE ONE: Volume Two

by Jewel, Bella

  Prying her arms loose, I pulled her in for a quick hug, unable to look her in the eyes nor let her go. “Do you want to know what I think?”

  “Of course.”

  “I think what you’re feeling within your bones is frostbite. I also think you read too many romance novels.”

  “Nonsense. You can never read too many romance novels.”

  My laughter bobbed her head against my chest. “If you say so.”

  “I do.” She stiffened and pulled back, her lighthouse beam near blinding me. “Oh my God! ‘I do!’ You’ll be saying that soon. When? Have you both set a date? When can I start making plans? Have you picked a location yet? What about—”

  “MUM! Settle down. Danielle and I haven’t spoken about any of that—”

  “What? Why?”

  Before I could summon my balls into my hands and confess, Danielle and Jeanette arrived.

  Mum waved at them like a kid at Disneyland.

  “What’s gotten you so excited this fine, cold morning?” Jeanette asked, as she and Danielle walked toward us, arms linked, bodies slightly huddled.

  I offered them a small smile. “Morning.”

  “What are you just standing there for?” Mum scolded, shoving me forward. “Go and warm your fiancé up. Look at her, she’s freezing.”

  She shoved me again, and I had no choice but to wrap my arms around Danielle at the very moment she began to protest. “It’s o … k …k …kay, I’m ffff fi—”

  “Shit. You’re an iceblock.” I rubbed my arms up and down hers, desperately trying to warm her up.

  Jeanette blew into her hands, steam from her breath rising in front of her face. “That’s because her stupid car doesn’t have a working heater.”

  “My c… c… car isn’t stuuuuupid, Mum,” Danielle replied, her teeth chattering. “It’s a c … c …. classic.”

  “It’s old. You need a new one. Elliot, dear, please convince her to get a new one. I worry all the time when she’s driving that thing.”

  “I have to agree,” Mum chimed in. “It’s definitely not suitable for when the baby arrives.”

  Oh, FOR FUCK’S SAKE!

  Danielle’s legs nearly gave way, her body slipping down mine just slightly. I caught her and held on for dear life, but mainly because if I held tight enough, she wouldn’t be able to kill me.

  “WHAT?” Jeanette shrieked, turning to face her daughter front on. “YOU’RE PREGNANT?”

  Both mum and I raised a hand to stop Jeanette continuing. “Wait! N—”

  She covered her mouth but kept talking. “Of course. This is making even more sense now—”

  “I’m NOT pregnant, Mum.” Danielle shrugged free of my grip like a ninja and glared so heatedly that she almost lifted the frost from the ground. “Elliot and I haven’t even had sex yet.”

  “Oh!” Jeanette’s hand dropped from her mouth. “But … OH!”

  I’d never known true silence until that moment. Not a sound. Not a breath. Not a blink of an eye. Hang on a second … did Danielle just say ‘yet’, as in sex is pending?

  Mum’s weary voice broke the silence. “Um … Jeanette, would you like to accompany me to the café down the road? I think we need some hot drinks before we get started.”

  “But I have a flask of tea in my ba—”

  “Oh never mind that. You can drink it later. Come on. Let’s leave these two to have a chat, yeah?”

  Mum laced her arm with Jeanette’s and led her up the path to her car, and when they were out of sight, I copped a punch-slap-shove sequence to my arm.

  “What the fuck, Lots? Yesterday we were getting married and today we are expecting a child?” She shoved me again. “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

  “Hey! Wait a minute!” I tried to secure her hands, mainly because they looked like icypoles, but also to stop any further abuse. “That wasn’t my fault.”

  “THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT,” she growled.

  “Okay. Well, technically, it—”

  “Don’t say that.”

  I paused. “Say what?”

  “Technically.”

  “Why?”

  “Because.”

  “Because why?”

  “Just don’t say it. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear any of this.” Danielle slapped her hands to her cheeks and pushed them together, and my heart all but spasmed. Every fibre in my being wanted to pull her to me and kiss those pouted lips again, to feel her in my arms again, to—

  “What did you say to Helen? This is getting way out of hand,” she snapped.

  I diverted my sight from her lips and cheeks. “Nothing. I promise. In fact, I was about to tell her the truth when she started talking about babies, and that’s when you and Jeanette turned up.”

  “This has all gone way too far.”

  “I agree.”

  “Pfft.”

  My eyebrow rose at her sarcastic reply. “What was that for?”

  “Because I don’t believe you.”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  She nodded. “That’s what I said.”

  “How about I don’t believe you.”

  “In what way? I haven’t done anything?”

  “Chris ring any bells?”

  Danielle shifted on the spot. “What about him?”

  “He’s not your boyfriend.”

  “Ha! You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  Remembering my new tactic for discovery, I, too, lied and deliberately held back information. “Whether he’s your boyfriend or not doesn’t matter to me. What matters is you lying. We’ve never lied to each other, so why now?”

  She took a step back, as if I’d slapped her across the face. “I’m … I’m not lying.”

  That lie stung. I’d just given her the perfect opportunity to come clean and she hadn’t, and I didn’t understand why. Yeah, I was a hypocrite for telling her I didn’t care if Chris was her boyfriend or not, because I fucking well did care. I cared a lot. She just wasn’t giving me any choice but to lie in return. Ironically, it was the best way to get to the truth.

  Turning my back on her, I continued to collect the smashed up pieces of shed from the ground. “Yeah, you’re lying, and I’m not sure why. You’ve already told me I’m not your type. Fair enough. You’re not my type either. I guess I’m just wondering why you’re continuing to lie to me, you know?”

  Tears welled in her eyes and she quickly turned away. Fuck!

  “Danielle, I—”

  “Let it go, Elliot. Let’s just do what we’re here to do.”

  I didn’t argue and let it go. For now.

  * * *

  Mum and Jeanette gave Danielle and I wide birth for the remainder of the day. My guess was that they could tell things were tense between us. The funny thing was it was the perfect opportunity to set the record straight yet neither of us did, which only strengthened my determination but also confused me further. I needed answers, a resolution. It was what I aspired to day in and day out.

  Leaning on my shovel, I surveyed the site, taking in the mess we’d made during the demolition phase. There was shit everywhere: piles of wood, dug up garden beds, weeds … mounds of dirt. We needed a mini excavator.

  Just as I was about to pull my phone out to look into hiring one for the following weekend, I heard Danielle curse.

  “Damn it! Stupid splinters!”

  Scouting the site, I found her flapping her hand, as if she was performing the chicken dance.

  “Owwwww,” she whined, and placed her finger in her mouth then pulled it out and flapped it again.

  I reduced the distance between us, walking over to where she was dancing about. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. It’s just a splinter.”

  I held out my hand. “Show me. Just a splinter or not, it needs to come out.”

  “It’s nothing. I’ll get it out later.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  “Yes, I will.”

  “Danielle, you hate the sight
of blood, let alone digging through your own skin and flesh.”

  Her skin paled and she wobbled a little. I steadied her by taking a seat on a nearby log and pulling her onto my lap.

  “What are you do—”

  “What does it look like? I’m getting this splinter out.”

  She tried to wrench her hand from mine. “Oh no you’re not!”

  “Yeah, I am. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

  “I’ve heard that before.”

  My eyes shot to hers. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing,” she murmured, glancing down at where my fingers were gently stroking hers.

  I, too, took in our caressing hands, such a simple action yet one that had the ability to say and mean so much, because … well … because touch. You didn’t need words when you communicated that way. And we sure as hell were communicating.

  “Lots, please stop, ” she whispered.

  “Why?”

  She didn’t answer. So while she was distracted, I pushed into her finger behind the splinter and popped it out enough for me to easily remove.

  “Fffffaaaaaark you,” she hissed, and went to retract her hand.

  Holding it even tighter than before, I heard her sharp inhalation as I raised it to my lips and sucked her finger into my mouth.

  She shuddered.

  Our eyes met, and she swallowed, her lips parting, my arm tightening around her hips, my tongue swirling against her skin.

  She didn’t move at first, so I leisurely slid her finger out of my mouth and gently kissed the tip, keeping my lips pressed to her. “Tell me why I should stop again?”

  “Because … because … ”

  Danielle stared at my mouth and rocked ever so slightly on my lap, and fuck me if it didn’t make my dick hard. I had to get up. My plan to outwit her into submission and give me the upper hand had worked, but if we stayed in the position we were in, my unplanned submission would soon push against her thigh and give my entire offense away.

  Fuck! I didn’t want to lose my advantage, but I sure as hell didn’t want to stop her pussy rubbing against my lap as well.

  Fuuuuuuuck!

  Tightening my grip around her waist, I stood up swiftly, lifting her with me and placing her on her feet.

  “Well?” I asked. “Tell me again why I should stop, and I will.”

  “Um … well … Er … Because…”

  “Just as I thought. You don’t know why, do you?”

  Chapter Seven

  I did know the reason why Elliot should stop. It was freakin’ flashing inside my head like a Vegas street sign.

  Flash, flash. Because friends should never fuck. Flash, flash.

  Apart from Chris, Elliot had been my only other true friend, and I didn’t want to screw that up now that he was back in my life after so long. The problem was all we seemed to have done so far was fight, and I hated that.

  Fighting my eyes from closing under his intoxicative effect, I quickly found my bearings and stood back, away from his grasp. “I do know why. I’m … I’m seeing Chris.”

  He turned away from me, dismissively, and immediately snatched up pieces of wood, tossing them aggressively into the wheelbarrow. His obvious hurt and disappointment stirred an ache in my chest that I wasn’t used to feeling, a type of pain that stung without actually stinging. I wanted it to stop. I wanted to tell him the truth.

  But I couldn’t.

  At least not yet.

  “Elliot, I—”

  “If all you’ve got to tell me are lies, don’t bother. I don’t want to hear them.”

  I wrung my hands together, hoping it would stop me from bursting into tears.

  “And you should put a Band-Aid on that finger,” he added, not turning back to look at me. “Soil contamination has one of the highest potentials for harbouring pathogens.”

  Nodding at him, but more at myself, I turned on my heel and headed for my car. I had a first aid kit under the driver’s seat. I also needed a moment to calm my racing heart.

  * * *

  Elliot didn’t so much as say a word to me for the rest of the day. Mum did, though, and she was on her third attempt of asking what was wrong.

  “Nothing, Mum,” I replied while biting into my sandwich.

  “You’re barely talking to each other. Did you have a fight?”

  “Mum, we’re fine.”

  “You don’t seem fine.” She poured herself a cup of tea from her flask. “Communication is the key to every relationship. You should go talk to him.”

  “REALLY? You’re gonna give me advice on relationships?”

  The moment those words left my mouth I wanted to pull them back in again, to tether them to a bottomless pit inside myself so they could never resurface. Mum’s non-existent love-life wasn’t through any fault of her own. Dad had up and left when I was a baby. No phone calls. No birthday cards. No nothing. So it had just been Mum and I for as long as I could recall. She’d remarried when I was just two, but Ken died of a brain aneurism less than a year later.

  I don’t remember him, but I do have photos. Sadly, she never really recovered from losing Ken. Sure, she’d dated a couple of times, but it never went anywhere. She was happy on her own, and with me, and with her poodle, Jackson, and three cats.

  Shuffling along the tattered park bench we were seated on, I rested my head on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  “I know, dear.” She patted my leg and stood up. “Lovers’ quarrels bring the worst out of us. They’re necessary. Inevitable. But don’t let them last for long.”

  She took a few steps then knelt on the ground beside a nearby garden bed to continue her weeding, and that’s when it hit me. Although she was happy, she was also lonely, and I knew what that felt like, to be grateful and content with all you had while knowing there was more you could have and not wanting it — not seeking it.

  To be content not to love was safe … and lonely.

  Swallowing the last of the Milo Chris had poured into a Thermos for me early that morning, I was about to return to my patch of weeding when Elliot unfolded a chair for Helen to sit on not even a metre away. They were laughing and smiling, as if one of them had just told a ridiculous joke. It was sweet and made me smile — they didn’t look lonely.

  “There you go, Mum. Now, don’t break this one as well, okay?” His eyes were gleaming at her, their brilliance even more brilliant due to him wearing all black. He looked delicious, and, annoyingly so, I desperately wanted another taste.

  “I didn’t break the last one, young man. It broke itself.”

  “Chairs can’t break themselves. That’s impossible.”

  I laughed and finished my last bite of sandwich, which was when Elliot’s eyes bounced off of mine like a pinball, their disappointment and anger stamping me all over. It hurt, the way they gleamed at Helen but disdainfully seared me. I didn’t like it. I wanted their glow. I liked their glow.

  My chest tightened and my throat constricted. Why am I feeling so horrible and guilty, and sorry for myself?

  It was pissing me off. Frustrating me to hell. I wasn’t weak and helpless, yet helplessness was what I always felt when I’d upset those closest to me, because I felt what they felt one hundred times over. And although Elliot and I hadn’t been close for quite some time, we’d been as close as two young people ever could be, and that tattooed your sole. His pain was my pain. His sadness was my sadness.

  It always had been.

  Searching his face, I noticed the moment it changed from joyous to acquiesced, from cheerful to accepting — the way his smile fell, the way his eyes dulled.

  “Mum, Jeanette,” he announced, standing behind Helen and placing his hands on her shoulders. “Danielle and I have something to tell you.”

  I squinted my eyes at him before opening them wide with recognition. Oh, yes, we do! The truth. My stomach dropped, and I wasn’t sure in that moment that I wanted them to know the truth. If we did confess, I would lose Ellio
t again, and I wasn’t ready for that.

  A feeling of pending loss crashed into me like a wave into the shore, and I did the first thing I could think that would draw it away. I shot up from my seat like a jack in the box, moved closer, and touched his arm. “Yes, we do.”

  He narrowed his gaze on my tightly pressed fingers, but I continued, staring at our mums. “We … we just want you to understand that we wish to take things slow.”

  From out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Elliot’s head jerk toward mine, kinda comical-like, and the fear of losing him started to lift, so I continued. “Nothing ever good comes from rushing, does it, Elliot?” I asked, batting my eyelids and snuggling into his side. “Unless you’re in a race, of course, and we’re not.”

  The ‘what the fuck?’ expression on his face and his statue-like posture was priceless. It near had me bursting into laughter and high-fiving myself over my very convincing performance. But, at the same time, I’d just inadvertently dug us a deeper hole, which was really fucking frustrating. Damn it! What am I doing?

  Pulling away just slightly to rethink the monumental fuck-up I’d just instigated, I was instantly reeled back in with a thud to his rock hard, toasty warm chest.

  “No, we’re not,” he announced, proudly. “A race must be won, and we’ve already won ours, haven’t we, honey?” Honey? No! I don’t want to be a ‘honey’. It’s sticky and sweet, and practically bee vomit.

  I faked laughed. “Oh, Schnookums, yes, we have. The best race of our life.”

  Elliot near choked so I figured ‘what the hell … I’ve already dived right in’, and grabbed his arse, wrenched him to me, and stuck my tongue right down his stupid, annoying, tasty throat.

  Chapter Eight

  Game on!

  Operation Crack the Case of Danielle Cunningham was in full effect, but what was also in full effect was her attack on my mouth.

  Danielle’s lips were forcefully pressed to mine, her hand on my arse, her other hand in my hair, and her tongue somewhere between my teeth and my tonsils. It took me a second or two to adjust to the new addition to my body, but once I did, I planned on making that new addition want to take up residence and never leave.