A Crack in Everything (Cracks Book 1)

by L.H. Cosway

  “It’s not easy, but I know you can do it. You’re a strong girl, so much like my Yvonne.”

  “Why do you think I’m not like Mam?” I asked quietly.

  “Oh, Ev. Who’s to tell? We are who we are for a variety of reasons. It isn’t down to any one thing.”

  “I think I’m in love with Dylan,” I blurted then and her expression softened.

  “And why do you sound so sad about it?”

  “Because he’s leaving when he finishes school. He’s like Yvonne, too. He thinks there’s a better life somewhere far from here.”

  “Well, they have to find out for themselves whether it’s true. You can travel to the ends of the earth, but you’ll still be you.” She tapped the side of my head. “You have to face the challenges in here before you’ll find happiness out there,” she went on, gesturing around herself.

  “How are you so wise?”

  “Pain has a way of making you see things clearly.”

  My brow furrowed. I hated the idea of her being in pain, but I knew it was a daily reality for her.

  “Let’s open that packet of toffees, eh?” I said, not wanting to think about it anymore.

  A month passed and Dylan and I fell into a blissful routine. Sex was our new obsession. Even at school he could hardly keep his hands off me. After the third or fourth time, it stopped hurting and started to feel good. Too good, almost. Each day I fell deeper and deeper in love with him. I didn’t think there was a single part of my heart he hadn’t yet claimed.

  Sam and Shane’s affair was still ongoing, and still a secret. I often caught him smiling to himself, and I knew he was thinking about it. Sometimes we talked about it, and I tried not to judge. I had to accept that Sam was old enough to make his own decisions.

  Anyway, in a year’s time he’d likely go to college. He’d meet some pretty, caring, sensitive boy, they’d fall hopelessly in love and he’d forget all about Shane. That was my vision for him.

  I was on my way to lunch one day when someone grabbed me by the hand and pulled me into the chemistry lab. I turned and saw Dylan, and my heart skipped a beat. He stared at me lovingly.

  “I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said and guided me to a lab table. No teachers were around, and it felt weird for it to be just the two of us.

  “Oh.” I couldn’t imagine what sort of surprise had to be given in a chemistry lab. There was a whole mess of items on the table, and I recognised some flowers from my allotment.

  “I wondered where those had gone. Thought I had a flower thief on my hands.”

  He gave an apologetic smile. “You did. It was me, but I promise it was for a good cause.”

  “What is all this?”

  “I’m creating my own perfume,” he replied, and my gaze widened. That wasn’t what I expected at all.

  “Really? Wow. That’s . . . wow.”

  “Don’t sound so apprehensive. I promise it’s not awful.”

  I shook my head at him. “Well, of course it isn’t, but I mean, isn’t making perfume really complicated?”

  I got that he sold them for his job, and he had a good nose for it, but it just surprised me that he would make his own. When we were little, Sam and I sometimes stole rose petals from Gran and put them in jars to make perfume, but it never really worked.

  “It is, but I got to thinking about what you said, about me inventing my own product. I know everything there is to know about perfume, and chemistry is my best subject, so I thought, why don’t I just make my own? I also needed a topic for my end-of-term project, so this was perfect.”

  I never thought about perfume in terms of chemistry, but that was where it all started. In a lab. Maybe Dylan’s project wasn’t so unusual after all. Maybe he could make something of this, use his innate skills for something amazing.

  “Can I smell it?” I was completely charmed by his excited energy. His hair was askew, his uniform rumpled. He looked like he’d been up all night working.

  Dylan presented me with a small glass jar. It had a pale liquid inside, but the cap was screwed tight. I glanced at the concoction of jasmine, echinacea, and wildflowers on the table, and smiled at the thought of him sneaking up to the roof to steal them from my allotment. I picked up a bottle and read the label aloud. “Angelica root essential oil. What do you use this for?”

  “That’s for the musk base note. The perfume is an oriental, like the one I bought for you.”

  “Oh,” I said and smiled. I’d never heard of oriental perfume until I met Dylan, but I now knew it was my favourite. I studied the flowers again. “Is that my anise hyssop?”

  Dylan nodded. “Yeah, sorry, I just needed a small piece.”

  “What for? It smells like liquorice.” Not very perfume-y, I thought.

  He scratched his head, his eyes alight as he answered, “I’m finding that a tiny bit of something that doesn’t fit, something odd, or maybe even slightly disgusting, can actually bring out the scent more. I mean, sure, all the ingredients smell fine, but if you can find that one drop of something unusual that raises them from ordinary to extraordinary, that’s when the magic happens.”

  “So, something savoury to bring out the sweet?” I asked. “Like a pinch of salt in a recipe for cake?”

  “Exactly,” Dylan enthused. “And it works the opposite way, too. For instance, you might put a spoonful of sugar in a bread recipe, but it doesn’t come out sweet, it simply helps you taste more of the savoury.”

  A warmth spread through my chest from his enthusiasm. I picked up the perfume.

  “Okay, let’s give this thing a whirl.”

  Dylan seemed uncharacteristically nervous as I screwed open the jar. In the last month, I had learned a lot about him. He was loyal, altruistic, plus confident with a dose of humility at the same time. He was a man I never wanted to lose. But watching him now, his delight in creating something that would no doubt be wonderful, was a little daunting. He was destined for significant things. Extraordinary things. He would outgrow St Mary’s, and I feared mostly he’d outgrow me, too. But in this moment, sensing his nerves, I knew for now, my opinion mattered, and I felt special because of it.

  Lifting the jar to my nose, I inhaled deeply and was instantly swept away on a cloud of a beautiful scent. It was subtle but powerful, each ingredient having its moment to shine. At first you were met with jasmine, then delicate, sweet echinacea, and underneath there was a faint but generous hint of musk.

  “Wow,” I breathed, eyes rising to meet Dylan’s.

  He bit his lip, his expression unsure. “What do you think?”

  “It’s beautiful. Exquisite. I love it.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I’m not. You’ve seriously outdone yourself. I love it more than the one I have at home that cost ninety euros to buy. I genuinely think you’ve got something special here, Dylan.”

  He came and cupped my face in his hands. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I keep wondering if Mam would like it if she was still alive. Then I remember she couldn’t smell and smack myself for forgetting.”

  My face turned sympathetic. “Even so, I’m sure she would’ve enjoyed you describing it to her.”

  His face softened. “She did love that.”

  “You miss her a lot, don’t you?” His pain was so clearly etched into his frown. Most of the time he did a good job of hiding it, but right now he was vulnerable. I could see every ounce of his torment.

  “All the time. I wish she was still here, but at least she’s not in pain anymore. Seeing her suffer was the worst part. Towards the end . . . it was awful. I wouldn’t wish watching a loved one pass away on my worst enemy.”

  I swallowed; emotion clutched me as I spoke. “Sometimes, when Gran’s having a bad day, I just think, why can’t I take half the pain so we could share it? Then it wouldn’t be so bad. You feel helpless when there’s nothing you can do to make it stop.”

  Dylan nodded. “If I could’ve swapped places with her, I would have. I’d take all her tumours
so she could live.”

  “She wouldn’t have wanted that. No mother should have to lose a child.”

  “No child should have to lose a mother,” he countered sadly and dropped his forehead to mine. I could smell his minty breath, and I loved his skin against my skin.

  “That’s not how the world works.”

  “Sometimes I hate the world.”

  “The world is easy to hate, especially when you think about all the pain in it. But there’s a lot to be thankful for, so I choose to think about that instead. You should, too.”

  His hand drifted into my hair, his expression fierce as he whispered, “I’m thankful for you, Ev. I love you so much.”

  My breath caught, and then he kissed me. He backed me up against the wall beside his lab table and laid siege to my mouth. I pressed my palms to the cold, magnolia wall and wondered how I got here. Dylan was sensitive and creative and intelligent, and he loved me. Not any of the other girls at school. Me.

  I wasn’t sure what I did to deserve him, but I wasn’t going to protest. Not when his hands groped my body, grasping at my dips and lines, feeling for places to stay awhile.

  He broke the kiss, breathless, and took my hand in his. “Come with me.”

  I followed as he led me to the back of the classroom, through a door and into the storage closet. There was a table on one side, and on the other a wall lined with shelves containing all manner of chemical substances. I wasn’t so sure it was safe to be in here.

  “Shouldn’t this room be locked?”

  “Mr Tully trusts me.”

  “Well, he shouldn’t.”

  Dylan smirked. “You think I’d burn the school down or something?”

  “No, but everyone makes mistakes.”

  “Just shut up and kiss me, Evelyn,” he said and without preamble lifted me up onto the table. He pressed his mouth to mine. I felt his hunger as he fumbled open my waistband and slipped his hand inside. Gasping into his kiss, I slid my tongue along his and opened my legs wider. I wanted him to touch me.

  “More,” I whispered, and his fingers moved past the seam of my underwear. He rubbed my clit and I heaved a moan. “Yes, like that.”

  I closed my eyes and got lost in him. He pushed his fingers inside me and I gasped. We should both be at lunch but here we were here, on the verge of having sex in a chemical-filled storage closet.

  “Ev,” he rasped.

  “Hmm?”

  “Undo my pants.”

  My stomach flipped and I nervously reached out. My fingers fiddled with his fly until I got it free, then I ran them over the trail of hair at his stomach. He shuddered at my touch and I hesitated.

  “Don’t stop,” he whispered and I pressed my palm flat to his belly. That alone caused his breath to come out in a rush. I kept my eyes closed and reached for him. He swore when I wrapped my fingers around his cock.

  “You don’t need to be gentle, Ev,” he murmured huskily and dropped his mouth to my neck. Tingles skittered down my spine and I slowly moved my hand up and down. Dylan groaned and pulled a condom from his pocket, but I paused to stop him. Biting my lip, I met his eyes.

  “We don’t need that,” I whispered.

  Over the last month, we’d gone through our fair share of condoms. I hadn’t told him yet, but I went back to the GP clinic and got on the pill. I knew it didn’t mean we could go around having unprotected sex all the time, but I wanted to know what it felt like now that the pain of losing my virginity was long gone.

  Dylan’s brows furrowed. “Ev, of course we—”

  “I’m on the pill.”

  His brows furrowed even more. “You are? Since when?”

  “Just over a week. I went to see the doctor. I thought it would be a good idea since we’re . . . you know, doing this so much.”

  I couldn’t believe I got embarrassed saying it, especially considering our current position. Dylan was still studying me when I asked, “Are you angry?”

  “Of course not. I just wish you’d told me. I could’ve gone with you and . . .”

  I placed a finger to his lips to shush him. “Stop fretting. It’s done now. Also, lunch is almost over.” I gave him a cheeky grin. He shook his head and grinned, too, then started kissing me again. He palmed my thighs, his movements even more eager than they’d been before.

  I gasped when he mouthed my neck and slid inside of me with a guttural groan.

  I loved being with him. My only concern was getting caught, but that wasn’t likely to happen during lunch. Once the clock struck twelve thirty, most teachers fled like bats out of hell, eager for an hour’s respite from dealing with teenagers all day.

  I buried my face in his shoulder, biting down a little when he moved his hips. His pace quickened, and I moaned at how good it felt. He reached down to rub my clit, and I lost my mind. My body tensed and Dylan swore.

  “Jesus.”

  “I think I’m gonna come,” I whispered.

  “Yes,” he groaned. “Come on me.”

  That did it. The way he spoke was an aphrodisiac. I shook as I orgasmed on his fingers. He bent his mouth to my neck and gave a gentle bite. I whimpered and clutched him tighter.

  Moments later he came, too. He wrapped his arms around me as he filled me up, then fell against me with a quiet shudder.

  With his arms surrounding me, and his entire body against mine, I felt overwhelmed. “I love you,” I blurted. He made a happy hum in the back of his throat. His face was pressed against the side of mine, and I felt his muscles move as he smiled.

  “I love you, too, Ev. Always will.”

  A few minutes of quiet passed as we just held each other, and then Dylan helped me right my clothes. When we were both presentable, we walked back into the classroom hand in hand. It was thankfully empty.

  Like usual, I was swept up in daydreams of Dylan for the rest of my evening. If my grades went down, I knew who to blame. All the lessons blended into meaningless babble when I had Dylan in my head, telling me to touch him, urging me to come.

  It was a miracle I managed to get through my classes at all. And then, when it came time for my final class of the day, Biology, I sat at my usual table and noticed the teacher hadn’t arrived yet. A few minutes passed, and the other students became rowdy, excited that we’d all somehow been forgotten about.

  The door opened and the rowdiness faded. However, it was wasn’t the teacher who walked in, but Dylan. A flush instantly claimed my cheeks when our eyes briefly met, memories of what we did during lunch flooding my head. Dylan turned and addressed the room.

  “Mr. Gleeson had to go home sick, so I’ve been asked to supervise until the end of class. You can take out your books and do homework.”

  “Piss off. I’m not listening to you. You’re not even a teacher,” said Jackson Keegan, one of the boys Dylan had been suspended for fighting with over a month ago. They hadn’t gotten into any more scrapes, but he was constantly eyeballing Dylan when he passed us by in the corridors. Dylan always ignored him, which was probably why they hadn’t fought again. I knew Jackson was just biding his time, waiting for his chance to start something.

  “Yeah, piss off,” another boy added.

  Dylan looked at him in a disinterested way that somehow commanded respect. “I could give a shit. I’m just telling you what I was told to tell you. Do what you want.”

  Jackson scowled, irritated that Dylan wasn’t giving him a reason to fight. I squirmed in my seat, feeling edgy. We had another thirty minutes left of class, and I knew Jackson was going to use every opportunity to rile Dylan.

  Dylan sat down at the teacher’s desk, opened one of his own books and proceeded to ignore everyone. He didn’t make eye contact with me again, but I couldn’t help noticing how sexy he looked from this angle. Maybe it was because he was at the teacher’s desk. It sort of made my mind wander to interesting places.

  And I wondered why he’d been asked to supervise. Then again, he’d probably just been walking by the principal’s office at the e
xact time someone was needed and the receptionist simply grabbed him.

  Everyone was still making a lot of noise, which prompted the teacher from the room across the hall, Mrs Green, to stride in. “Okay, quiet down you lot. I’m leaving my door open, so I don’t want to hear anything above a whisper.” She eyed a few of the troublesome students to hammer home her point then turned to Dylan. “If anyone acts out, just come and get me.”

  Everyone was mostly quiet after that. Mrs Green was known for giving not just one evening, but an entire week’s worth of detention as punishment for bad behaviour. Dylan’s attention returned to his text book, and I watched him a minute.

  Man, he was handsome.

  His gaze flicked up, and he caught me looking. I saw him smirk before I rolled my eyes in an effort to cover up the fact I was flushing like an idiot. How could I have been with him an entire month and still feel bashful for checking him out?

  My thoughts stopped short when Dylan’s expression hardened, and there was a sneering laugh from Jackson. “I forgot your little girlfriend was in this class. She’s so quiet, you never notice her. What’s your name again, babe?”

  I made eye contact with Dylan and ignored Jackson, but my posture was stiff. I hated this, hated the tension. And I could see Dylan’s temper rising just from the fact that Jackson mentioned me.

  “She’s got a great arse, doesn’t she?” Jackson went on, addressing Dylan. “Like a ripe peach.”

  A few of the boys in class chuckled, while Dylan’s face hardened further. I eyed him intently, trying to communicate with him to ignore whatever Jackson said.

  I knew it was useless when he sneered, “Let me know when you’re done with her, yeah? I wouldn’t mind a go.”

  Dylan carefully closed over his textbook and rose from his seat. His measured movements were in contrast with how quickly he advanced on Jackson. I barely had a chance to blink before he gripped him by the shirt collar, lifted him from his seat and slammed him back against the classroom wall.

  “You ever talk about her again and I’ll fucking end you,” he fumed. “Do you hear me?”

  My heart beat frantically in my chest. I prayed for Mrs. Green to hear the commotion and come in as I rose from my seat and pleaded with Dylan, “He’s not worth it. Just ignore him.”