Life After Light

by E. S. Maria

  Shit!

  “You don’t need two of those, you kn—” I turn to the jerk who took my serviettes so I can give him a piece of my mind, but I end up almost choking on the chicken I’m chewing.

  “Well, if it isn’t Brodie’s charming little sister, Hannah.”

  Blood rushes up to my head, and I feel my cheeks burn.

  He’s the last person I want to see, let alone while in the middle of an embarrassing clothing situation.

  Was he even invited? He doesn’t even go to the same school as we do.

  He must be gate crashing the party.

  Ugh, figures.

  I roll my eyes at him, and I try to walk off, hoping to go around him. He blocks my way. I try his other side, but he sidesteps me.

  “What the hell? Let me through, Atticus!”

  “I can’t let you walk away without looking presentable.”

  “What?” I look up at him with that smug smile of his, anger building up inside of me.

  Then he produces the serviettes, “Here, have these.”

  I stare down at the two pieces of serviettes he’s holding, unsure if I even want to take them. I don’t want him to think he’s helping me out, or that I’ll owe him.

  “Are you going to take these or not? Or do you want me to wipe the sauce off myself?” He raises the serviettes closer to my chest, a smirk on his face.

  Is he serious?

  I swipe his hand away, and the serviettes fall on the floor. “Don’t even try,” I warn him, giving him the hardest look I can muster.

  Using his surprise at my response, I attempt to walk around him again. I need to get away from him … like, as far away from him as I can.

  “Wait,” he finally says.

  And then he’s touching my hand.

  His fingers are gripping my own fingers.

  It makes me gasp from the shock. Not just from Atticus holding my hand, but also from the way my body is reacting from the touch.

  This is like nothing I’ve ever felt. My skin is tingly, and my heart feels like it stops beating for a long minute.

  Is this even normal? This can’t be normal, right?

  My eyes drift down to our linked fingers. For some reason, I can’t seem to untangle myself from him. My eyes travel upwards, and I catch him staring at our hands too.

  And now those eyes are staring back at me.

  He’s not cute. Don’t think he’s cute, Hannah.

  Who am I kidding? Patty’s right. He’s freakin’ hot!

  Oh God, please don’t look at me like that, Atticus.

  “Ah, there you are!” Viv’s flirty singsong voice cuts through the tension, and whatever the hell you call what just happened between Atticus and I is thankfully broken.

  I pull my hand away first.

  He doesn’t protest.

  But he’s still staring at me, and just like when our hands were linked, my skin starts to feel prickly all over again.

  He opens his mouth to say something just as Viv steps in, between us. She’s not even facing me, she’s facing Atticus, effectively becoming a wall separating me from my nemesis.

  “There you are!” Viv wraps her arms around Atticus’s shoulders in greeting, and a sudden urge to throw up overcomes me. But I’m still standing still, my feet superglued on the floor.

  Viv turns to see me still there, and she doesn’t even attempt to mask her annoyance, like I’m disturbing her time with Atticus, “Hey, Hannah, I think Patty and Brook are looking for you.”

  “Okay, thanks for letting me know,” I answer back too cheerfully.

  I’m sure they aren’t looking for me. But I take that as a very blatant cue to leave.

  And as I turn to leave, I can feel eyes on me. And judging from the way the tiny hairs on my arms and the back of my neck are rising, I know exactly whose eyes they belong to.

  I breathe a sigh of relief as soon as I find the closest bathroom. I lock myself inside, and I lean against the door, only noticing that I’ve been breathing heavily like I just came from a triathlon.

  So, judging from Viv’s overzealous welcome, Atticus is definitely invited to the party.

  But why would he be invited to this party? He’s probably eighteen like Brodie, so this isn’t exactly his age group. Unless he’s with Viv …

  Just stop, Hannah!

  Stop thinking about Atticus, and his reasons for being here, and ... and the way he makes me feel giddy with his staring and touching …

  “Aargh! Get a fuckin’ grip, Hannah!” I growl under my breath, my hands fisted as I shake them in frustration.

  I push myself off the door and walk a few steps to where the sink is. I turn on the tap, and using my fingers, I try to wipe off the satay residue from my bodice, noticing a couple of drops fell on my chest.

  And to think, Atticus was about to wipe it off! He probably just wanted to cop a feel!

  Or what if he was just teasing me, trying to see how far I’d let him go?

  Shaking my head at how close I was to letting him win, I roughly wipe off the sauce drops on my skin, before checking myself in the mirror.

  I mean, hello, I don’t even have big boobs, why would he want to touch them? Now Viv’s boobs, on the other hand, developed early, and they are ginormous for her age. She knows they’ll serve her well, judging from the stares she gets from most of the guys at school. And if she weren’t so scary, other girls might actually try to call her out for flaunting them so much.

  I’m sure Atticus wouldn’t mind wiping sauce out of those boobs.

  Damn it! Stop thinking about him!

  The song from outside, though dulled down from being inside the bathroom, thankfully distracts me. They’re playing my favourite song, an oldie but a goodie, “Crazy in Love” by the Queen B herself. It’s probably the only song I’ve perfected playing on the guitar, mostly because the acoustic chords are easy. But I only really play at home and only sing when I know I’m alone. Compared with my brother, or even Atticus, my voice is kind of weak. I can’t afford the humiliation if people start laughing at my singing voice. So seeing as I’m all alone in the bathroom and with the volume of the song up, I begin to sing along with it, trying in vain to copy Beyonce’s moves in the music video. At least I can laugh at myself for looking ridiculous.

  Queen B can keep her crown. I’m definitely no threat here.

  After the song is finished, I check myself in the mirror one last time, not caring anymore if I have an oily spot on my blue vintage-looking skater dress.

  All I need to do when I leave this bathroom is be on the other side from where Atticus would be, and I’ll be able to enjoy the party.

  There seems to be a lull in-between songs, so without thinking, I start singing my cover version of the same song under my breath while washing my hands, continuing on as I dry them off, up until the time I open the bathroom door. But I stop mid-chorus, screeching in shock.

  Atticus is leaning by the wall right next to the bathroom door with his arms and legs crossed, a mild surprise on his face.

  “Fuck, Atticus! Why do you keep on doing that?”

  He regards me with amusement, “Okay, I’m just gonna ignore that reaction. Has anybody told you that you have an amazing singing voice? Sweet, but has grit. It’s actually beautiful, Hannah. Who’d ever think that a voice like that comes from this?” He waves a hand from my head to my toes, looking like he’s about to break into laughter.

  My eyes widen in shock, and my mouth is gaping open. But I can’t utter a single word.

  From what, Atticus?

  He seemed so sincere, that for a second there, I actually felt my heart skip a beat.

  But then again, this is Atticus.

  He’s always like this with me―ignoring me one day, insulting me the next.

  When it comes to me, he’s just mean.

  A damn bully.

  This is just like him to find a reason to make fun of me, to mock me.

  It bloody hurts.

  And just when I thought I c
an’t embarrass myself even further in front of him, the very last thing I want him to see happens.

  My eyes well up, my throat chokes up, and even when I shut my eyes to stem the tears from flowing down, one escapes, then two.

  I swiftly wipe them off, and I swallow hard, telling myself firmly to not give him the satisfaction of seeing my tears.

  When I finally have the guts to look him in the eye, he surprises me even more.

  He actually seems concerned … surprised, but concerned.

  “Uh, I’m sorry, Hannah. I didn’t mean to—”

  “What did I ever do to you, Atticus?”

  He seems puzzled.

  Is he serious?

  “What did I do to you to make you want to make fun of me like this? You don’t even know me. Not that you even bothered to,” I try to reign in the shakiness of my voice, but I’m still choked up, and I’m putting all my energy into not showing him another tear again.

  He opens his mouth, but I cut him off, “Is it because you think that since I’m Brodie’s little sister, then it must mean I should be treated like I’m some annoying runt? Well, you don’t know me. But I know you. You’re a bully, Atticus. A big bu—”

  All of a sudden he cups the side of my face and leans forward.

  What the?

  And now he’s kissing me.

  Oh dear God.

  His lips are pressing against mine. His lips. On mine. He pulls back, but only barely, and I’m too much in shock to move away. My widened eyes are staring right into his green, soulful ones. I never realised how long and thick his lashes are, and at the risk of sounding like a cliché, my insides are turning into liquid goo when I look into those eyes. His breathing seems laboured as he slightly pulls away, and I can’t help but stare down at his full, bowed lips, the same lips and the same dimple that probably gave the sexiest smiles to the girls he flirted with but never directed at me. Now those same lips are literally a breath away from me. I lick my lips in silent yearning, hoping that Atticus will give me another taste.

  “I’m not a bully,” he speaks in whispers. But I’m too mesmerised by his lips, his voice, his effect on my body, both inside and out, that I answer by tilting my head up and letting my lips touch his.

  “Fuck it,” Atticus groans as he meets my need with his own, crushing my mouth and devouring me, plunging his tongue and tasting me like a man deprived and hungered for days.

  That’s when whatever control I have left, leaves me, and I’m kissing him back, eyes closed, heightening my other senses―the way he smells like soap and ocean combined, the sound of his moaning when I pull his lower lip to suck it gently, how delicious he tastes when my tongue dances with his own, the way my skin feels like every single pore is emitting tiny little fireworks.

  This is like … I can’t even think of any conceivable way to describe this, except it’s primal, hungry, and I’m afraid to say it, possibly borderline addictive.

  How can someone who loathes me the way he does, kiss me the way he does?

  But that’s just it. This is Atticus. My big brother’s close friend. He’s older, and he’s a jerk towards me. And now I’m kissing him in a party where there’s a chance we’ll get caught.

  What if Brodie catches us? Is he even here?

  He’ll break off his friendship with Atticus, then Brodie will just hate me for it.

  Shit! My own brother will hate me!

  This is wrong on so many levels.

  Or maybe that just adds to the thrill. Maybe that’s the reason why this feels so damn amazing.

  But, no.

  Just, no.

  This isn’t like me at all.

  So I break off our kiss, ignoring the way my body seems to scream obscenities at me. And with whatever strength I have left, I push Atticus off and away from me.

  He’s breathing heavily, I’m breathing heavily.

  He looks surprised, I’m beyond shocked.

  He’s staring at my lips with his brows knitted together, and I can’t stop staring at him, staring at me.

  He leans forward without warning and tries to kiss me again, but I’m quicker now, and I push him back. I push him back so hard that he loses balance and holds on to the wall for support.

  “Don’t you do that ever again,” I tell him with gritted teeth, stepping back a few steps to increase our distance apart.

  “Are you sure about that?” Atticus asks, his eyes now boring against mine, like he’s trying to read my mind.

  And now I’m questioning my decision.

  Am I really sure? That kiss was …

  Then a slow, sly smile rises from his mouth.

  That self-satisfied, smug grin of his is back.

  He’s been playing me all along, and I fell for it.

  “Ugh, you really are an asshole!” I yell out at him before stomping away as fast as my feet can take me. I don’t even care if I feel his eyes on me. All I know is that I need to be as far away from that demon seed as I possibly can.

  I eventually find my friends, and they are waving at me to sit next to them. I notice the DJ onstage is gone, and now a drum kit, amplifiers, and microphones are being set up.

  Then I see familiar faces onstage: Brodie setting up front and centre, Mike on the drums, Shane and Derek on bass and guitar respectively.

  What? My brother’s band is playing here?

  “Did you know about this?” Brook asks.

  I shake my head, “No. This must be the surprise Viv was telling us about. Brodie didn’t even mention it.”

  I notice another microphone stand being set up beside my brother’s. That’s when my heart starts to thud a little faster.

  Oh no.

  And there he is, walking up the stage, acoustic guitar on hand.

  Atticus fucking Foster.

  And now I’m torn. Torn between wanting to be here to watch my brother’s first ever ‘live’ show, and wanting to leave because of the asshat newcomer in their band.

  “Girl, you look like you want to kill the new guy,” Brook whispers to me. “It’s either that or you want to make out with him.”

  How did she … am I that obvious?

  I feel my cheeks warm up, but I throw Brook an evil eye, and she shrugs innocently at me.

  Well, guess what, Tic? I’m staying. I’m holding my ground. I am invited to this party, and people in this party know who I am. He can play his guitar and sing like he’s supposed to, then he can leave, and while he does, I’m going to show him how much he sucks.

  We’re sitting very close to the stage, at one of those cocktail tables with bar stools. He will definitely see me.

  While tuning his guitar, Atticus raises his head and finds me at once. I make a show of crossing my arms, my chin up high ready for a challenge.

  It’s on Atticus, and you’re going to lose.

  He raises his brows, then turns to the rest of the guys and whispers something to them. They look at him quizzically, and after a few more words from Atticus, they eventually seem to agree with whatever he’s saying.

  Brodie then approaches the mic, “Good evening, everyone. Most of you may have seen us around. But if not, my name’s Brodie, and I’m lead vocals and guitar, Shane is on bass, Derek’s on guitar and piano, and that crazy bloke behind the drum set is Viv’s brother, Mike. She asked her brother if we could play some songs for her party. And because Viv apparently gets what she wants, plus she said she’ll pay us, we agreed.” That makes the guests laugh, even I let out a chuckle.

  “We also have a great addition to our band. This fella right here is Atticus Foster. He’ll be huge one day, mark my words. But so will we, so just remember, you saw us live here first!” More applause and nonsensical cheering ensues.

  “We’ll be playing a mix of covers and originals. Our first song is an original, and it’s called “Amplify.” Oh, and by the way … We. Are. Halcyon!” And they’re off, playing a song I’ve heard them practise so many times and bringing everyone to their feet. It’s a great song to start
with, and everyone is screaming and dancing like crazy―me, included.

  Halcyon. I like. I better make sure to tell the band.

  A guy I know from class, Charlie, approaches me, and gives me a quick hug, congratulating me on Brodie’s band kicking ass onstage. He hangs around, and we start chatting about random shit. Once in a while, he has to lean a little closer to hear me speak, since we’re quite close to the speakers.

  As I’m watching my big brother play onstage for the first time, I can’t help but feel a tinge of pride. Sure it’s a party gig, but it’s a start. I know I need to lock this moment in. So I grab my phone, and I take several photos of him and his band in action. The whole band is in their element, their attention either on the instrument they’re playing, or they’re feeding off the crowd’s reactions.

  I love the photos so much that I show the girls, even Charlie, who asks if I can put the photos up on Facebook so he can check them out again later.

  When I finally put the phone down, I’m startled to see that out of all the members of the band, one of them is solely focused on me.

  Atticus is staring right at me. Eyes intense … hard … angry? I don’t know what his problem is. Does he not want me to take his photos?

  The song ends, and I break the stare, sitting back on the stool and sipping my drink nonchalantly and ignoring Atticus.

  Patty sneaks in beside me, tapping me on the shoulder and whispering, “Was it just me, or was Atticus just eye-fucking you the whole freaking time?”

  I turn to her in shock, “What? Oh, don’t even … that asshole hates my guts as much as I hate his!”

  Thankfully, Halcyon continues to play on, and they deliver a good mix of covers and originals. I try to make sure that my focus is on my brother or my friends, and not on the boy playing beside him, no matter how hot he does look onstage, or the way he keeps looking in my direction.

  Because if I do look at him, I’ll just be taken back to that kiss he stole … the same kiss I wish I didn’t enjoy so much.

  “Hey folks,” they just finished another song, and now Atticus is speaking.

  What does he want to say now? And why do my guts feel this twisted?

  “I just want to say, first of all, happy birthday, Viv, and thank you everyone for being amazing. For our last song, how about we slow it down a notch?” I hear some girls screaming how much they love Atticus, and I can’t help but roll my eyes straight after.