by E. S. Maria
“Language!” Mum’s clipped response sends everyone laughing, me included.
I close my eyes and make a wish, but instead of a wish, I thanked the universe silently.
I had my wish already―Atticus loves me, and he’s staying!
I quickly blow all the candles, and just as the crowd erupts in hoots and cheers, the disco lighting goes back on, and the music blasts from the speakers again.
I scan the crowd for Atticus, wondering what he meant by ‘I’ll take care of it.’ Not finding him anywhere in the hall, I let my friends drag me onto the dance floor, and we dance while eating a slice of my chocolate fudge-flavoured birthday cake.
Yum.
A guy I see around school gives me a birthday greeting and asks if he can dance with me. I think he said his name is Paul. He’s super cute in a surfer kind of way, and I’m flattered that he’s even asking me for a dance. But everyone knows he’s a player. I’ve seen him with a different girl almost every week.
I wish I was more gracious with him while we’re dancing but I’m way too distracted by my rock god, tattooed boyfriend, who, by the way, is still nowhere to be found.
Where the hell is he?
When the song ends, I excuse myself from Paul, vaguely noticing the wounded look on his face. But I quickly push the guilt away. I have a boyfriend, and I love him so much. So damn much that I am willing to give him my precious v-card.
I’m sure Paul won’t have any trouble finding someone else to dance with.
It’s been a little over an hour since I blew out my birthday candles and guests are beginning to say their goodbyes. I’m starting to worry, checking my phone constantly. I left him a couple of messages asking where he is, but he hasn’t replied yet. The last thing I want is to freak him out by getting all clingy and sending him a hundred texts.
Patty and Brook are chatting with me about some shit that went down outside the hall between two girls from school. They found out they were dating the same guy and shit got real. I’d normally be all over this like seagulls to a piece of chip, but all I can think of is Atticus and why he hasn’t called me.
I’m close to asking Brodie to help me find him when I feel my phone vibrate. I breathe a sigh of relief when I read that it’s from Atticus: Ask your friends to cover for you overnight. Then meet me at the parking lot near the public showers.
By this time, my nerves are shot. But I turn to find my friends, and beg them to help cover for me so I can meet with Atticus and hang out with him for the night.
And because they’re my best friends, they went along with my plan.
After telling Mum that I’m tired and that we’re having a girls’ sleepover at Patty’s, all three of us head outside the hall. Patty calls her boyfriend to take her and Brook home. We go our separate ways so I can meet with Atticus. I’m scanning the surroundings looking for him, when I notice a tall figure approaching me. The light in this parking space is a joke, but the swagger in his walk confirms who it is.
“Hannah,” Atticus calls for me, raising an arm up for me. I run to meet him, skin prickling with an excitement I only ever feel when I’m in his presence.
As soon as I’m pressed against his body, he smashes his mouth against me, kissing me deeply, tongue pushing through my lips like it’s on a mission to obliterate me. I reach up to touch his cheek, but as soon as I do, Atticus lets out a pained wince.
I pull away, now concerned, and that’s when I see a bruise turning purple on his jaw.
“Oh my God, Atticus. What happened? Did you get into a fight?”
He shakes his head, pulling away completely. But he keeps silent as he takes me by the hand and leads me up towards the main road.
“Atticus? Talk to me!” I block his path, leaving him with no choice but to stop walking.
He exhales aloud and roughly rakes his hair back, but he walks around me, “Don’t worry. It’s just my dad. I forgot my wallet so I went home to get it. Unfortunately, I hid my wallet a little too well that I totally neglected to bring it,” he laughs bitterly, taking my hand so I can walk with him.
“So he did that to you? He hurt you? Why?” I’m practically tripping over myself, trying to match his stride in wedged heels. But he’s closing off again, and it hurts me to see him like this.
“Atticus … Atticus, please … tell me what hap—”
“He fucking wanted money, and when I said no, he did what he was good at …” Atticus closes his eyes, and I watch him try to breathe out the anger and the hurt.
How a father can hurt his own flesh and blood like this doesn’t deserve to be called a parent.
“I’m so sorry Atticus. I feel like this is my fault. You wouldn’t have to go back home and cop a beating from that … that man. We need to ice that. Do you want to go to my place instead so I can ice your bruise? We don’t have to do … you know … If you just wanna talk or something,” I reach up to touch the darkening bruise, but he catches my hand and presses his mouth against my fingertips, sending tiny shivers up and down my spine.
“It will always be up to you, Hannah. I don’t want you to feel obliged to do anything you don’t feel comfortable doing.”
“When you said you were taking care of it. What did you mean by that?”
He looks away, “I, uh, booked us a hotel room. Well, it’s more like a room at the motor inn. Unfortunately it’s nothing fancy, but it’s what I can afford. We don’t have to go. You might not like the place. I can still cancel it.”
I pause from walking, and I look up to his face, and see my man’s usual confidence on the decline.
Gosh, this boy ... this beautiful, vulnerable boy.
I love him so damn much.
“Take me there,” I tell him softly.
His eyes widen, “Are you sure?”
“I don’t care if it’s a hotel room, a motor inn, a cave, or a small patch of grass. If it means spending tonight with you, wherever it is will be perfect for me.”
His look of disbelief turns to awe. “I want to kiss you so badly,” he whispers.
“And I don’t want you to stop when you do, so take me there now … please?” I insist gently, giving him my sweetest smile.
He returns the smile and takes my hand so we can start walking again. Avoca is a tiny coastal town, so it doesn’t take long before we’re both standing at the entrance of the motor inn. I’ve passed by this place many times, and this is the first time I’ve actually taken it all in. It’s got a simple façade, but it fronts the beach, so its location is perfect. We can hear the waves crashing from here.
Nervous tingles awash my whole body, and it bursts when Atticus squeezes my hand, urging me to follow his lead. We walk past the front office, passing one door after the other, where a couple of cars are parked in front of them. He turns his head to me, giving me a smile that calms my nerves slightly. Several more doors down, and he stops in front of door number sixteen.
“Sixteen?” I ask him incredulously, laughter bubbling on the inside.
“It was available. I couldn’t help myself,” he shrugs, smiling sheepishly as he produces a key from his pocket with a keychain that matches the number on the door.
My heart beats faster and harder as Atticus opens the door and says, “I might have gone overboard on the whole taking care of it thing, so …”
And as he steps aside to let me in, I gasp, hands over my mouth, eyes wide open, taking it all in.
The room is lit using just the lamps, giving a softer ambience inside. On the table sits a bottle of what looks like champagne that’s been chilling in an ice bucket with two flutes beside it.
And the bed―there are rose petals scattered on the bed.
Rose petals!
Who the hell does rose petals on the bed?
They’re beautiful. More than anything I even asked for. I never asked for any of this. I just wanted him. But he goes out of his way to do all of these; even getting himself beaten up by his father just so he can give me something I’ll never forget.<
br />
What did I do in my sixteen years to deserve someone like Atticus Foster in my life?
I hear him closing the door and locking it. “Happy Birthday, Hannah Mackenzie,” he says.
I turn around to face him, a ready smile on my face. But when I see him standing there, holding three red roses with one hand, and wearing a smile that is a polar opposite to his usual smugness, I choke on my tears.
He offers me the roses, and I accept them, smelling their fragrant musk, “I made sure I bought extra for the bed. I don’t know, the smell kind of reminded me of you. Is it too cliché?”
“Never, baby,” I laughingly cry, bunching his T-shirt with my free hand, I pull him down to me, crushing my lips to him. He moans against my mouth, his hands sliding flat on my lower back, pulling me against his body. His tongue touches my own, and I open my lips wider, needing more of what he’s offering. He tastes so wonderful, so addictive.
But then I realise how much of a mess I must’ve looked like.
I don’t want to remember our first time together with him thinking that I looked like a hot mess.
And his bruise … my poor baby!
I untangle myself from him and immediately see the frown forming on his handsome face.
“Let me just freshen up a bit. And while I’m getting ready, we should ice that bruise of yours.”
Before he can say anything, I’m already in the bathroom retrieving one of the face washers. Back in the room, Atticus is still standing on the same spot, hands in his pockets, eyeing me curiously.
I head straight to the table, giving him a sidelong glance, smiling to myself as I place the flowers next to the wine bucket. I try to pick up a few ice cubes, but I can’t seem to hold onto most of them. That’s when I notice that my hands are a little shaky.
My focus is on trying to make this ice pack for Atticus that I gasp when I feel his hand on my stomach, and my hair being swept to one side. Then his lips press gently on that sensitive spot on the crook of my neck.
“Hmm,” he sounds off, and the vibrations of it, travel right down to my core.
I try not to notice how my legs are almost giving way as I face him with the makeshift ice pack.
“Here, place this on your cheek.” I lift it up and see him trying not to wince when the cold meets the purpling bruise.
“I just want you to know, before we do this,” I continue, “that what you did tonight: from that song you wrote, from hearing you say those three little words, and going the extra mile to make this night special, are something I’ll never forget for the rest of my life.”
He brushes his knuckle against my cheek, and I close my eyes to feel the way his skin feels against mine.
“I love you so much, Hannah. I don’t know what you’ve seen in me, and no matter how I made it so hard for you to love me, you still do. And God, you love so freely. I just want you to know that I’ll always put you first, okay? I’ll always put you first. No matter what happens. Always.”
Then he kisses me. He kisses me in a way that he never has before. It’s a kiss of love, of gratitude, of passion, of pain, of hunger … of everything.
This kiss is everything.
I love his everything.
All thoughts of freshening up are thrown out the window, as each piece of our clothing is thrown on the floor instead. He takes the lead, and I let him. He’s kissing me everywhere, in places he’s familiar with, and in places that he knows will make me cry out his name.
He’s made me come before, but tonight, it doesn’t take me long before my blood is pumping, and I’m writhing in complete abandon, out of breath and in utter bliss.
I’m still catching my breath when he crawls on top of me, using his knee to open me wider for him.
He takes a condom from the bedside table and readies himself, his eyes never leaving my own.
“I’ll be gentle. Trust me?”
I nod back, circling my arms around his shoulders, “I love you. Of course, I trust you.”
And then he’s inside of me, inch after inch. I hear him exhale an unsteady breath, but by now, I’m squeezing my eyes shut, wondering if I can actually adjust to his size, and trying to anticipate the pain I hear about so much.
“Open your eyes, Hannah. I’m right here.”
I blink my eyes open and focus them back to him, and I’m taken aback by how he’s regarding me so tenderly, reassuring me without words that he’s true to his word, and he won’t hurt me.
Then in one swift thrust, I feel the sting, making me arch my back as air seems to be pushed out of my lungs. He presses his mouth against my own, deepening his kiss with every thrust until all I can feel is pleasure.
Atticus lifts his head up and cups my face with his hands, watching my face as he rolls his hips, making me feel sensations like nothing I’ve ever felt in my life.
“You’re so beautiful,” Atticus tells me, his eyes roaming over my face like he’s seeing me for the first time.
I brush my thumb against his bruise, my heart aching for this wounded, broken love of my life.
But all of my thoughts dissipate when his thrusts increase in momentum, and I close my eyes, moaning as the pressure inside of me intensifies and overflows.
“You feel so good, Hannah … so worth the wait. Just like I thought you would be,” Atticus whispers against my neck, his breath tickling my skin. Then he nibbles the crook of my neck, squeezing my breast with one hand.
That’s all it takes.
And I explode into a million pieces.
“Oh my God!” I cry out, my fingernails digging into his back as my body trembles from unspeakable pleasure.
“Hannah,” he cries out. He follows me soon after and climaxes with me, head buried in my neck, whispering my name over and over again.
It takes me a few moments to collect my thoughts, and so does Atticus. And then he lifts his head and looks straight at me, brushing strands of hair that have stuck to my face. He regards me with an unreadable expression, and I begin to wonder what’s on his mind.
“Well, how was it?” I ask him quietly.
“I should be asking you, Han,” he answers, half-smiling.
“It was more than what I expected.”
“Did I hurt you?”
I shake my head, “No. It stung at first, but it felt great after.”
His half-smile turns to a self-assured grin, “I’m glad.”
“You haven’t answered me yet. How was it? I mean, you’re far more experienced than I am.” I look away, unable to avoid the stupid pain of knowing I wasn’t his first. It sucks just wondering what number I fall under on his list of conquests, but for some masochistic reason, I needed to know what he thought.
“Look at me, please, Han,” he uses his forefinger to turn my attention back to him. “You were incomparable.”
“What does that even mean?” I ask, my heart beating out of my chest.
“It means you pretty much ruined me for any other girl.”
“Shut up.” My eyes widen in shock, and I think my heart literally jumps out of my chest from happiness.
But it is short-lived. “Wait. Does that mean you’re planning on hooking up with other girls?”
He shakes his head, smiling kindly, “Baby, you misunderstood me. It means I wouldn’t want to hook up with anyone else because no one will ever compare to how good you make me feel. And I’m not just talking about what we did tonight. You make me feel like I actually do have a place in this world. You make me feel so fucking loved.”
“That’s because I do love you with everything I have, Atticus.”
“I love you so much back, Hannah.”
“Thank you for waiting for me … and for deciding to stay,” I add, as a tear falls from my eye.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he touches his lips with mine, and we kiss not with hunger or desperation, but with contentment and complete abandon.
Atticus is staying.
He’s. Staying.
And he loves me. He loves
me.
Best. Birthday. Ever.
I don’t remember the moment I actually fell asleep.
However, as I’m coming to, squinting from the light spilling from the crack on the curtain, I do remember the events that happened before I did.
Maybe that’s why I can’t wipe the smile off on my face.
I hope Atticus knows that he’s responsible for that.
Speaking of my hot as fuck boyfriend, I wonder if he’s up for round two?
Damn, I’m such a slut!
Hmm, I’m sure he’ll love it.
I reach over to his side of the bed, wondering when I actually untangled myself from his embrace.
I love his embrace, and I want more of it.
But as I slide my hand over, all I can feel is the rumpled blanket and the pillow with an indentation from where his head would’ve been on.
Puzzled, I open my eyes wider and sure enough, the bed is empty. I look around and notice that all of his clothes are gone as well.
Maybe he went out and got us breakfast.
I can’t help but smile again at the thought. It makes me feel all sorts of warm and fuzzy. Duh, of course my sweet boyfriend wants to surprise me!
That’s when I notice a small piece of folded paper on his bedside table.
Aww, a love note!
I’m smiling even wider now as I get up to reach for it.
But as soon as I read Atticus’s handwritten note, my blood turns cold. For what I thought was a gesture of love, turns out to be a sledgehammer to the heart, painfully breaking it into tiny shards.
Hannah,
You will always and forever be my beautiful Songbird. But even though I’ll love you until my last breath, I now know that you deserve someone so much better than me. I’m so sorry … Atticus
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Present Day
No … no! No, no, no, not again!
I wake up with a crazed sense of déjà vu as soon as I reach for Atticus’s side of the bed, now empty and feeling awfully cold.
This means he would’ve left quite a while ago.
What makes things worse is that there’s no way for me to confirm my suspicion.
