Time-Lapse

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Time-Lapse Page 5

by Heller, JB


  I wish I’d brought my camera with me.

  As I walk into the clearing, she looks over at me, and the sadness in her eyes eats at what’s left of my heart.

  “I didn’t think you’d come,” she says softly.

  I kick off my shoes, roll up my jeans, and step in the cold water. I walk over to her, stopping a foot away from the boulder she’s perched on.

  “I’m sorry about this morning.”

  Her hazel eyes narrow. “Why are you wearing a hoodie?”

  Swallowing, I look down at my clothes then hers. She’s wearing a pair of light-blue denim shorts and a flowy white tank. “Uh, I told you, I’m not feeling well. I was cold when I left home.”

  She sits up slowly, her eyes conveying her doubt. “Well, you’re not cold now. You’re sweating.”

  I wipe the fine sheen from my forehead. Shit, this was a bad idea. I turn my face away from her and look into the water.

  “Hux.” Her voice is soft and gentle.

  I glance at her from the corner of my eye as she slides off the boulder. I take a quick step back as she approaches me. “What are you doing?”

  “Why are you wearing the hoodie, Hux?” she asks as she reaches for me. Her hands stretch up and carefully slide the hood off my head.

  I turn my face away, but she catches my jaw in her palm, guiding it back toward her. The contact makes me flinch. I take her wrist and lower her hand from my throbbing cheek. “It’s nothing,” I say as I register the horror in her eyes.

  “What happened?” she whispers.

  “Nothing. It doesn’t matter, princess.”

  Her expression becomes enraged. “Like hell! That is not nothing, Hux. Who did that to you?”

  I grit my teeth and regret the move immediately as pain radiates through my entire skull. “It doesn’t matter. Just drop it,” I grit.

  Her hands clasp her tiny hips. “Fuck that. Who hurt you?”

  I shouldn’t have come. I knew I shouldn’t have, but I wanted to see her. I wanted to look at her for just a moment. But now I want to get the hell out of here and away from her questions. “I gotta go,” I say and begin backing away.

  “No,” she says, lunging for me. She wraps herself around my body, resting her cheek against my heart. I automatically embrace her and release a deep breath. It feels so good having her in my arms.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll stop talking. I’m sorry,” she says as she squeezes me tighter.

  I can’t help myself. I drop a kiss on the top of her head and breathe in her scent. It instantly calms me. Even if it is just for a moment, I’ll take it.

  She lifts her face, glancing up at me, and I’m caught in her gorgeous eyes. Her hands slide up my arms to my shoulders as she pushes to her tiptoes and kisses me softly.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers against my lips, then her fingers move up behind my neck and into the hair at the base of my scalp. She grips it gently in her little fists. “Kiss me,” she breathes against my cheek.

  I’m helpless to her command. I can’t say no. With one hand on her waist, I move the other to the back of her head and glide my fingers through the strands of her hair. I clench my fist and tug her head back farther. Then, I close the distance between our mouths and seal mine over hers.

  She clings to me as we stand almost knee-deep in the middle of the stream. My tongue moves against hers the way my body wants to. But it can’t. This will have to do, so I make the most of this stolen moment together.

  Chapter Eight

  I skip school and work for the rest of the week. Dad and I don’t cross paths, and I know he is avoiding me as much as I am avoiding him.

  Strangely, I don’t feel any animosity toward him—well, no more than usual. I ruined his life. I deserve his hatred.

  Before I was born, my parents were happy. Like, crazy happy. Then, Mom decided she wanted a baby, and Dad loved her so much he’d have done anything she wanted. So even though he didn’t want kids, he agreed to start a family.

  Unfortunately, my mother developed severe postpartum depression. After a couple of years, she was hospitalized, and that was when my dad started drinking.

  According to Dad—when he felt like sharing one day—her time at the hospital helped a little. She was put on medication and met a therapist that she seemed to like. But things never got better. Dad kept drinking. And neither of them could stand to look at me—the thing that destroyed them.

  When I was two, she left us. Just disappeared. And I haven’t seen her since that day. I wouldn’t even remember what she looked like if it wasn’t for all the photos of her around the place. The house is practically a shrine to her.

  Dad made sure I knew I was the cause of all their problems.

  My mother couldn’t love me, even though I know she had to have tried. And my father never wanted me to begin with, and then I stole the only thing that ever mattered to him.

  That’s why I’m doing everything I can to get out of here. Maybe it will finally bring him some peace, not having to see my face anymore. I hope so. It’s all I can think to do for him—and for me.

  I’ve considered trying to track down my mother, but I don’t know if I could face her. What if she’s found happiness and I show up and ruin her life all over again? I couldn’t live with myself.

  I don’t hold any ill will toward her for taking off—most of the time. There are rare days when I get so angry that she left me with him that I want to scream. But in the end, I get it. My very existence broke her. What else could she do except leave?

  I’m lying on my bed, flicking through my most recent photos, when my phone pings. The only people who have my number are Eliza and Johnno. And since Johnno only texts to let me know where the job is for the day, I know it isn’t him.

  PRINCESS: How you feeling today? Can I see you?

  I think about it briefly. I haven’t seen her since she dropped me home four days ago after I met her at the stream. The bruise has faded to an off-yellowish color, and the swelling has completely gone, so I agree.

  HUX: Stream or rest stop?

  Her response is immediate.

  PRINCESS: Stream. I’ll meet you in 20. X

  I opt for a hoodie again, even though it is hot out. But this time, I grab a thinner one so I don’t die of heatstroke on my way there. I don’t bother with a shirt under it either. I throw on a pair of cargo shorts then slip on a pair of flip-flops before putting my camera in my pack. Swinging it over my shoulder, I head out the back door.

  This time, I arrive before Eliza. I ditch my shoes and sit in the clearing by the edge of the steam so I can put my feet in the cool water. Stretching my arms out behind me, I lean back and close my eyes, enjoying the melody of nature moving around me.

  Then, a foreign sound makes me sit up and look around. My eyes find Eliza standing at the edge of the clearing, a smile on her face and her phone pointed at me. I narrow my gaze. “Did you just take a picture of me?”

  She grins and nods. “Yep. Fair’s fair.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, playing dumb.

  She scoffs. “Don’t pretend like you haven’t taken pictures of me on that big camera of yours.”

  I’d never really stopped to think if she minded, but now that she’s taken a picture of me, it gives me pause. “Is that okay?”

  Slipping her sandals off, she comes to sit by my side before dipping her feet into the water too. “Yeah, but I get to take pictures of you too. Okay?”

  Nodding, I agree, repeating her words, “Fair’s fair.”

  She rests her head on my shoulder, holds her phone above us, then clicks a couple of times before bringing it back down and looking at the pictures.

  Shit, I still have a bruise on my face and neck. “The bruises,” I say.

  She shakes her head. “It’s okay. Your hoodie covers them.”

  Glancing over, a small smile tugs at my mouth. It’s not a bad shot. “Can you get one of those printed off for me?” I ask.

  Eliza grins. “Sure.” Then,
she puts her phone on the grass beside us and rests her head on my shoulder again. “The bruises are fading. You going to come to school next week?”

  “If they’re gone,” I tell her, hoping she’s not about to dive back into her line of questioning from the other day.

  “I hope they go away over the weekend.”

  Looking down at her, she’s watching the water flow over the moss-covered rocks. “Why’s that? Missing me?” I tease.

  Her eyes lift to meet mine, and I swallow as she replies with a soft, “Yes.”

  She turns her body more fully into me and pushes until I’m flat on my back in the grass. Then, she crawls on top of me. “I miss this face,” she says as her fingers gently trace my jaw. “I miss these lips,” she says with a swipe of her thumb over my bottom lip. Her hand trails up and slides my hoodie off my head. “I miss this messy hair.” She grins, and I’m so consumed by her I can’t speak.

  Her gorgeous body moving on top of me is making me hard, and I feel like an asshole for it. That isn’t what this is about. This thing with us is different, and my dick needs to settle down. Then, she shuffles back, and her ass is right over my crotch. Fuuuck.

  A satisfied smirk lifts her pink lips. “Looks like I’m getting better at this seduction thing.”

  “It would appear so.” I force the words through my clenched teeth, then she starts grinding down on my hard-on. “Fuck, princess, what are you doing?”

  Innocence blankets her features. “Nothing,” she says as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

  But I know better. I’ve had that mouth, and it’s hot and sweet. I reach up, wrapping my hand around her neck and pulling her down. “What are you doing to me?” I breathe against her lips right before I kiss her.

  She moans into my mouth as I buck my hips into her while she continues to grind down on me. I haven’t dry-humped a girl since I started having sex when I was fifteen. I forgot how fun it can be. Smiling against her mouth, I enjoy the feel of her body gyrating against mine.

  I’ll allow myself this, but no more. The simulation of sex will have to be enough for me. It has to be.

  “Hux,” she groans then pushes herself up, grabs the hem of my hoodie, and starts tugging it. “Off. I want it off,” she demands.

  I love how bossy she gets. It’s fucking cute. I oblige her and sit up until we’re chest to chest, making her lean back to pull the hoodie over my head. Then, she throws it behind me and grabs my face in her palms before kissing me harder than she ever has.

  She’s still grinding, and I know she’s getting close. I can feel it. She trembles slightly and pants between peppering my face with kisses. I take her hips in my hands and help her keep her rhythm until she gives over total control, allowing me to move her how I see fit.

  Running my tongue up the column of her throat, she moans and rolls her head to the side, giving me better access. I wish I was inside her right now, balls deep. The mental image that thought conjures makes my dick twitch, desperate to make it a reality.

  When she comes, she breathes my name, and I kiss her as she shudders in my arms. She lifts her eyes to meet mine, and they’re glazed. Her chest is heaving, and her lips are kiss swollen. I may have gotten carried away for a minute there.

  Sliding my hands into her hair, I tell her, “You’re going to break me, princess.”

  Eliza smiles and presses one last soft kiss to my lips. “You’ve already broken me in the best possible way.”

  Chapter Nine

  I spend the weekend with my girlfriends, shopping and attempting not to think about Hux while we watch the latest rom-com at the movies.

  I fail. Miserably.

  He’s quickly become my favorite person. I would rather spend time with him at the stream or the rest stop than with the people I’ve spent most of my childhood hanging around—even when he won’t let me kiss him.

  Being with him is fun and exhilarating, but I never know from one day to the next if he’s going to kiss me senseless or push me away. And the fact that he still won’t tell me who hit him is driving me insane.

  I want to ask him about it again, even though I know it won’t do any good. I have a feeling, deep down in my gut, that things aren’t good for him at home. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out since he won’t let me near his house.

  When he first asked me to drop him at the end of his block, I thought it was just because we didn’t know each other very well. It took his reaction to my threat of knocking on every door on the street for me to realize it was so much more than that.

  I wish he would open up, but that guard of his is built high around him. Regardless of his refusal to confide in me, he’s still my favorite person. Being with him is so easy.

  I’m beginning to get tired of the front I put on for everyone else, and lately, I’ve found myself questioning when and why I even started doing it.

  Waiting for Hux at the end of his street, I decide to torture him with some more of the J man, purely for the enjoyment I get from watching his facial expression when he recognizes who it is.

  But the sound of the passenger door opening as I’m selecting the song ruins my plan. I grin at him, and a knowing gleam fills his eyes.

  “You do it on purpose, don’t you,” he states.

  My grin widens to a full-blown smile. “Maybe.”

  Before I have a chance to press play, he’s sliding a CD into the player.

  “Hey, driver chooses the tunes!”

  “Then you best move your ass, princess, ’cause I am not listening to one more Bieber song if I can help it.”

  I roll my eyes. “Jeez, who’s acting like a princess now?”

  “Still you,” he retorts with a smirk.

  I’m trying to think of a decent comeback as unfamiliar music filters through the speakers. “What’s this?”

  The look he gives me can only be described as disgust. “It’s Blink,” he states but continues when he sees my deadpan expression. “Blink 182. You’re kidding me, right?”

  I give him a blank stare. “Nope.”

  He closes his eyes and rests his head back against the headrest. “I’m genuinely concerned about your lack of musical education,” he says. When he looks back at me, it’s with pity.

  “Hey, I have very eclectic taste. Just because it doesn’t include your little punk-rock boy band doesn’t mean I’ve been deprived of a musical education,” I say as I pull away from the curb and steer us toward the rest stop.

  Outrage covers his features. “Stop the car. I can’t be with a girl who not only doesn’t know who Blink 182 is but then has the nerve to refer to them as a boy band.”

  Laughter ripples up my chest. “Are we wearing our drama-queen panties today?” I tease.

  Hux levels me with a flat stare. “First of all, I don’t wear panties. And second of all, I’m not wearing any underwear.” Then, he winks.

  My pulse picks up its pace as I imagine his bare skin beneath his zipper. My eyes flick to his crotch before heat sears my cheeks, and I redirect my attention back to the road ahead of me.

  “Feelin’ a bit flushed this morning, El?” He smirks beside me.

  “Asshat,” I grumble under my breath. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me, and he’s clearly enjoying it.

  We make the short drive to the rest area in companionable silence, me thinking dirty thoughts and him sitting there with a smug-ass grin like he’s the cat who got the cream. I wonder if he knows the things running through my mind right now. Would he push me away again if he did?

  When we get out of the car, he rounds the hood and waits for me with his hand outstretched, and I take it before he has time to retract the offer.

  “What are you thinking?” he asks as we approach the picnic area we seem to have claimed.

  “You don’t want to know,” I mutter. I’m sure my ears are as red as my cheeks, and I’m glad my hair is covering them.

  Hux waits for me to sit on the bench before he settles in behind me then wraps his arms
around my body and pulls me back into him. I’m surprised by this new position. It’s not that I don’t like it, just that he instigated it. Normally, it’s me throwing myself at him, hoping he won’t shut me down. This is the first time he’s willingly initiated contact.

  I settle against his chest and enjoy the feel of his arms holding me.

  “So, what were you thinking?” he asks again.

  Shaking my head a little, I turn my face up to his slightly. “You really don’t want to know. It was in no way virtuous, so you wouldn’t be interested,” I say dryly. I’m no fool. I know he’s holding himself in check around me, especially whenever I try moving things in a physical direction.

  I feel his chest rumble at my words. “I’m getting the sense that you’re a needy little thing, El.”

  Settling myself more comfortably, I reply without looking up at him. “I am. But it’s not my fault.”

  His fingers begin to trace patterns over my exposed thighs. “Yeah, whose fault is it?”

  “Yours,” I tell him frankly.

  He chuckles. “How so?” he says as his fingertips continue their tortuously soft movements.

  “Where should I start?” I ponder aloud. “There’s that face … and those hypnotizing gray eyes that make me feel like I could fall into them like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole. And those lips. I know what those lips feel like, and it’s impossible not to think of them on my skin, even when we’re apart,” I continue, and I can feel the change in his breathing against my neck.

  “I’m a total sucker for that voice too. It’s deep with an edge of huskiness that makes me crazy. Every time you call me 'princess,’ it sends a shiver though my body. Then, there are these hands,” I say as I move my palms over his against my thighs. “Nothing feels better than these hands against my skin.”

  “Fuck me, princess,” he murmurs from behind me, and I grin.

  “I’d like to, but I have a feeling you won’t let me,” I say in response.

 

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