by Autumn Grey
“Right.” I bound down the stairs, his words filling my head. I wave to my parents, who are sitting in the living room, working on a crossword puzzle. Seconds later, my feet are carrying me across the lawn and to the fence that separates our houses. I leap over it and jog toward the white ladder on the side. I grab it with clammy fingers, my heart racing in my chest at the thought of being near her again.
Christ. I need to calm down.
Taking a few calming breaths, I grab the top rung of the ladder and climb the rest of the way to the roof. She doesn’t stir and I’m not sure if she heard my footsteps or sensed my presence. I shuffle ahead, stop and lie down next to her.
Then I let out the breath trapped in my chest.
The air around me shifts, like atoms rearranging themselves to accommodate a potent, powerful entity. My eyes snap open. I swing my head around to my right and there, lying next to me calmly as though it’s something completely normal, is Cole Holloway.
I bolt upright and turn to face him. “How did you get up here?” He doesn’t respond. Then I remember that he can’t hear me. I touch his arm, making sure he can see my lips. Thank goodness the moon is full tonight. He tilts his head to the side to look at me. “How did you get up here?”
He points to the side of the building. I follow his finger and see the white ladder poking at the roof. Ah, I’d completely forgotten about it.
He turns his head and faces the sky. Holding my breath, I study his profile; his sharp nose and angular jaw. A faint scent of musk cologne drifts toward me, making the hair on the nape of my neck stand on end.
Dragging my gaze from his face, I look up at the infinite dark sky and I smile. Every part of me is centered on him. His movements. Every rise and fall of his chest doubles my heart beat until the only sound that fills my senses is my pulse pounding in my ears.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Seconds, minutes, probably hours go by. Centuries could pass. Seasons could come and go, but I wouldn’t notice, because this is the most spellbinding moment I’ve ever experienced in my seventeen years on this earth.
Something fleetingly touches the back of my hand, startling me.
There it is again. A soft touch along the side of my pinkie. My skin is on fire now. My heart is in my throat and my lungs are nowhere near working right. The touch is firm now. Deliberate. He hooks his pinkie around mine and tugs gently. Then he exhales hard, and I swear the roof moves beneath our bodies. Suddenly, the finger uncoils from mine, leaving me cold. I blink several times before twisting, turning my head to the side to look at him.
Did I imagine that touch?
I glance down and see that his hand is curled into a fist at his side. He sits up, then turns slightly to the side to face me. His face is framed in shadows so I can’t see it clearly. A shiver skitters down my back as he leans forward without warning until I feel his quick breath fan my lips, his eyes on my mouth the entire time. He takes a tendril of the hair fanned around my head and rubs it between his fingers, his eyes not leaving mine. I’m captivated by his eyes, his overwhelming presence. I should scold him for being too forward and getting into my space, but I can’t. I’m mesmerized by the inhales and exhales passing through his parted lips.
He lets go of my hair and climbs to his feet with the agility and swiftness of a panther. Between one breath and the next, he’s gone, disappearing into the night as quietly as he came. Taking with him a tiny piece of my heart. As odd as it sounds, I feel a certain connection to this quiet boy.
I attempt to prop my upper body on my elbows so I can watch him as he walks back to his house, but they feel too jelly-like. I settle back on the roof, grinning and listening to the muffled crunch of his shoes on the grass until it fades.
IT HAS BEEN THREE DAYS since I first joined Nor on the roof. I’ve been going every night ever since.
I step from the bathroom, while ruffling my wet hair with one hand and head to my room. After grabbing a T-shirt from the dresser, I slip it on and stride to the window. I’d never given star-gazing a thought until after the night I lay next to Nor on the roof of her house. It was an eye-opening moment, especially when I took a chance to touch her. I wanted to see if that connection between us was still there. I wasn’t disappointed. Now, I can’t seem to stop invading her space every night.
It’s almost ten o’clock. My breath catches every few seconds, knowing I’ll see her soon. This reaction has become like a natural reflex. I still have to work up the nerve to talk to her, something I haven’t done since that day in St. Christopher’s. I need to feel her fingers shake again when mine brush against hers. It feels damn good, knowing I can do that to her with just a simple touch.
The lights flicker a few times, alerting me that someone is on the other side of the door. I glance around quickly to make sure everything is in its place, but realize my porn stash which is overdue for returning at the video library, peeks from under the sketch book. I lunge forward, grab it and shove it inside the drawer.
“Come in,” I say, combing my hair with my fingers.
Mom ducks her head around the door and smiles. Her eyebrows rise as she takes me in before signing, “Hot date tonight?”
I roll my eyes, fighting a smile.
Before I can answer her, she continues, “You like her don’t you? She’s pretty. Very pretty.”
“How can I like her when I don’t even know her?”
Mom folds her arms on her chest. “You know her.”
“Know who?” My father’s tall, bulky frame enters the room, his fingers signing the words. His gray eyes twinkle and I know he is ready to launch into some sort of advice-rant, like he usually does, when he corners Josh. “The girl next door?”
Mom nods. They exchange a look then turn to me and I know they’ve been talking about my sudden interest in Nor.
I pull my hands from my pockets. “You have got this all wrong. It is just--”
“Honey?” Mom cuts me off. “Go and have fun.”
I scratch my head and give up on convincing them. Dad slides his arm around my mom’s shoulder and swivels her around while kissing the top of her head before tugging her out of the room. I stare at the door for a few seconds after they’ve gone realizing I’ve never seen my parents act any other way. It’s always appeared as if they can’t get enough of each other.
I hope I’ll have that one day.
I sneak another look out the window just in time to see Nor duck her head out the window, look at the skies and then disappear back inside the room. The clouds hang low in the sky today. There’s no chance they will clear soon. I stride out of my room, down the stairs and step out into the humid air. A soft breeze sweeps across my face, bringing with it the scent of rain.
I jog across the lawn, do my usual hop over the fence routine, and jog up the porch steps. I take quick breaths to calm my racing heart, and then ring the bell. The door opens a few moments later and the air stalls in my lungs as I stare into brown eyes set in a scowling face. Eyes that belong to Nor’s father. His mouth tightens, forming a white line. His hand on the door frame flexes as if he’s fighting to rid himself of a wild emotion. I’m suddenly reminded of the look on his face when he saw me the day they moved in.
Shit. I don’t even know what I did to deserve his anger. Maybe he didn’t like the way I was staring at Nor the day they moved in. He must think I’m creepy.
“Good evening, Sir,” I say, hoping my voice and my face reflect confidence, because it sure as shit isn’t what I’m feeling right now.
“What do you want?” His mouth forms a sneer. Maybe this is his normal disposition.
“Can I talk to Eleanor for a minute? I realize it’s late but I need to talk to her for a few seconds.”
His hand drops from the door frame, and he steps forward. Nothing about his posture yells ‘friendly’. I should move, but my feet feel like lead.
His mouth twists into an ugly scowl and I have to try harder than normal to read his l
ips. “Stay away from my daughter. She doesn’t need the likes of you ruining her life.”
The likes of me? What does that even mean?
Before I can contemplate those words, he disappears back inside the house and slams the door in my face.
Seriously, what the hell?
Spinning around, I clench my hands into fists as I shuffle away from the porch, confused and angry about his assumptions about me.
AFTER FILLING MY BOWL WITH vanilla ice cream, I grab the pieces of peeled orange from the kitchen counter and stir them in. I was kind of bummed when I checked the skies and saw the dark clouds. I hope ice cream will help chase away the star-gazing blues.
Satisfied with the amount and consistency, I leave the kitchen, bypassing the living room where my dad is watching a crime TV show, and climb the stairs to my room. I went to check in on Mom in her room a few minutes ago. She and my dad don’t share the same room. I can’t even remember the last time they did.
I change directions and enter my sister’s room. She is sitting on a stool next to the window, her eyes closed in concentration and the bow in her hand moving effortlessly across the strings of the cello. Everything in here is color coded and neat. A medal, shaped like a G-clef, stands on the shelf above her desk, flanked by several books on music. She has a thing for orderliness.
The music stops and she huffs in frustration. She places the bow on the desk, grabs a pen and scribbles furiously on a notepad. She tucks her hair behind her ear and picks up the bow once again.
“E?” I call out. Her head snaps up. “Why don’t you get some sleep? You can practice tomorrow. It’s pretty late right now.”
She shakes her head. “I want to be ready for when schools open. The teacher back in Ohio said we should always be competitive and learn every chance we get.”
I shift on my feet, worried that my father will stomp upstairs and yell at her. It wouldn’t be the first time. “I have an idea. We could watch a movie on my laptop and eat ice cream. You can choose the DVD.”
She shakes her head and starts packing her stuff in the cello case.
“Did you know Elise has a cat in her room?” she announces without looking at me.
“What? Where did she find a cat?” I ask, hurrying out of the door in search of confirmation. Elise has a penchant for rescuing animals, something that irritates my dad to no end.
Before Elon can answer, my father’s raised voice reaches me. He sounds even angrier than usual. Changing directions, I hurry downstairs coming to an abrupt halt at the bottom and gape in shock when I see Cole standing at the door.
My dad moves forward in a threatening stance, but Cole doesn’t back away. I applaud him for his bravery and fear for him for his stupidity. He should run away.
“Stay away from my daughter. She doesn’t need the likes of you ruining her life.” These words are spoken in a shout, but Cole doesn’t cringe. I’m partly happy he can’t hear him. The chill in his voice is enough to make even the strongest of men scuttle away in fear.
Dad steps back and slams the door in his face. He spins around and stops me mid-turn with his words.
“Eleanor,” he snarls. I straighten and spin around to face him and my heart drops to my stomach at the look of anger and disapproval he is directing my way. I hold the bowl in my hand tighter. “Do you need to tell me something?”
I quickly shake my head.
Two steps and he’s glaring at me from the bottom of the stairs. “Stay away from that boy. Do you hear me?”
I grip the bowl tighter and do something stupid. One single word falls out of my lips in a quivering whisper. “Why?”
His face darkens, rage rolling across it like thunder in a cloudy sky. “Don’t question me, Eleanor. I’m your father. You will do as I say, do you understand me?”
I nod quickly, eager to get away from him. Seventeen years on this earth, and he still scares the living crap out of me.
With one last warning glare, he turns and storms back into the living room. I exhale and dash back upstairs and into my room. I shut the door behind me and lean on it, taking deep breaths.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
Lifting the spoon from the bowl, I scoop a large helping of ice cream and shove it in my mouth, the urge to feel something other than fear and loss of control immense. I shut my eyes tight as the coldness from the ice cream sweeps through me, numbing those desires, those demons that remind me how good the sharp whisper of a razor on my skin feels. The demons that send images of the sight of blood dripping from my skin, greedy for the rush.
My eyelids flip open at the sound of a knock on my window. Cole is kneeling on the roof, his eyes intense on my slumped form by the door.
I stand up and push away from the door, then hurry to the window. God, did he see me in my state of weakness?
“What are you doing here?” I ask, making sure he can see my lips.
He continues to study me closely. What is he thinking behind those gray eyes? We haven’t talked again since the day he brought me home from St. Christopher’s, yet, he is here, staring at me. Something flashes across his face. He blinks, breaking the connection.
“Would you like to go for a walk? I figured since the chances of gazing at the stars are null, we could do something else,” he finally says, and a shiver dances down my spine at the sound of his voice.
I glance nervously over my shoulder to the door, and then back to Cole. “My dad. . .aren’t you afraid of him? I heard what he said to you.”
He shakes his head. “His words make me angry, but he doesn’t scare me.”
Cole is officially my hero. Even after being yelled at and insulted, here he is here. At my window.
“A walk,” I repeat, tasting the words on my tongue. I look down at the bowl of ice cream, then back to Cole. “Sounds like a good idea. I need to change though.”
Holy crap! I’m not wearing a bra and my boobs are literally waving at Cole. I cough, choking on that discovery.
His gaze lowers to my chest as if he read my mind, staying there a few seconds too long. He glances up at me. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows violently. He lifts a hand and scratches his head, which I’m just noticing is beanie free.
My cheeks are on fire. “I need to change. Want to come in?” I ask, then turn around, tripping on my own feet in my haste to hide my flustered face.
“You don’t need to change on my account,” he says. I jerk my head around just in time to see amusement dancing in his eyes.
I laugh and roll my eyes. “No peeking.”
Oh wow. I’m feeling quite brave, letting Cole inside my room after the scene downstairs. Being a rebel is such a rush. Knowing my dad would burst a vein if he found out about what I’m up to, acts as the driving force to my debut into rebelliousness.
Besides, Cole fascinates me. Doesn’t hurt that he’s so hot and his lips look like something I’d like to taste.
Er. . .back to the point.
I place the bowl of ice cream on my desk, hurry to the door and flip the lock, before walking to the dresser. After picking out a black knee-length dress and bra, I turn around, wondering if Cole is still standing outside the window after blabbering my hasty invitation.
He’s not. God, is he ever not.
Cole is standing next to my desk, with his hip leaned on one corner, his focus on my doodle book. He turns a page, and continues to study my work. Drawings and words written in moments of pain and peace. My soul is in those pages.
Crap. What is he thinking? I’m just starting to know what normal feels like, and I don’t want anything taking that away from me. Even though I’m certain he knows my scars are from self-harming, the things in that book are my inner thoughts. My inner demons unleashed.
He turns another page and something flutters to the floor. He lifts his gaze from the book and straightens when he sees me watching him.
“That’s private,” I tell him, annoyed at myself for leaving that book on my desk, instead of under the pillow. Annoy
ed at him for poking around without asking me first.
He looks worriedly at me. “I’m sorry.” He bends down to scoop up the fallen paper then looks at me again. “This is beautiful.”
My gaze drops to the paper, a string of scribbled words surrounded by hearts drawn in Zentangle patterns. “The past does not define me.”
I swallow and close my eyes, trying to bring my conflicted feelings under control. A gentle touch on my shoulder forces me to open my eyes and meet Cole’s gentle ones, which seem to understand what I’m feeling.
“I didn’t mean to snoop around. The book was lying open on the desk and I couldn’t resist.” He hands me the book, but holds onto the Zentangle doodle and continues to study it.
I touch his arm. “You can keep that one.” I’m not even sure why I told him that. I just know that I want him to have something from me. Something that reminds him of me.
His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Really?”
“Yes. Really. I swear I don’t mind.”
He beams at me and I melt. That look on his face is magnificent and worth the little doodle sacrifice. “Thank you.” He folds it carefully and slips it into the front pocket of his shorts, walking back to the desk. “Ready?” he asks, turning around.
I shake my head and lift my finger and tell him to give me a minute. But his eyes are fixed on me. One of his hands is tucked inside a pocket while the other is holding the spoon—my spoon—shoving it into his mouth. Eating ice cream has never looked so sexy.
He licks the spoon and I die.
“Turn around,” I say, motioning with my index finger in a circular motion, then wave my clothes in the air.
He dips the spoon inside the bowl and shoves a large scoop of ice cream inside his mouth before he obediently obeys my request. My attention is split in two: listening for sounds outside my door and making sure Cole doesn’t sneak a peek.
I straighten my dress, take a deep breath and walk toward Cole.
I touch him on his arm and he turns around. “I’m ready.”
