by L A Cotton
After our second visit to Blacks, Jackson had once again driven me to the edge of campus, dropped me off in the darkness of the shadows, and left me to walk back to McGinley. Alone. But not before getting my cell number. Two days later, I received an inconspicuous message—Meet me at our place. 7pm. Curiosity…excitement… twisted inquisitiveness… I, of course, met him at the small parking lot behind Pauling Hall. It was the start of our regular thing. Out of the blue or via discreet notes in Shakespeare, he would ask me to meet him behind Pauling. I would wait for him to pull up in his car, get in, and he would drive us to Blacks. I was even on a first name basis with Otis.
We spent our time talking about our love of Shakespeare, classes, and our childhoods. Safe topics. I never mentioned Danny or home, and Jackson never asked. He never asked about my family, and I took that as a sign to avoid asking about his. He told me all about his dream to one day have his own business. He didn’t know what yet, but he just liked the idea of working for himself, and I shared my childhood dream of being an investigative journalist. Conversation was easy. Being around Jackson was easy. Sticking to his rule… not so easy.
One day. One measly day was all I managed before the million and one questions I was withholding started to crowd my head and it became impossible. Jackson—a master of distract-and-evade techniques—humored me, but I still didn't know any more than when I stepped into his car after he admitted that he was unable to stay away from me.
It was the same with the town. Almost two whole months in Chastity Falls and I still hardly knew anything about the place, except for the stories and myths. Elena dragged me to Dante’s a couple more times, and I did find one of the two convenience stores, but other than that, it seemed like a fairly quiet town. It didn’t stop the whispers, the rumors, or the constant chatter about Braiden and his family. I managed to avoid crossing paths with him again. The Fallen kept to themselves, except for the parties, which I generally avoided. But it didn't stop Braiden Donohue from being the hot topic on everyone's lips.
"So F, do you concede?" Jackson handed me a soda, pulling me from my thoughts. After our fourth visit to Blacks, we had walked the short walk to the shale beach. It became part of the routine; Blacks then the beach.
I drew a small stick into the sand, creating random patterns. “Fine, I concede. Takes the score to two, one, to you. Anyway, I wanted to ask you-"
Jackson grunted. "Ana, we've been over this. It will be easier for us both if you don't ask any questions."
I held up my hands in defeat. "No, no, this doesn’t have to do with you. But I do have a couple of questions."
Jackson sighed next me, tilting his face to the slither of sun cutting through the thick, fluffy clouds.
“The redhead in Gardner’s class, who is she?”
His lips curled up in a knowing smile and he shrugged. “Briony? She’s no one.”
She was someone all right. I heard it in his voice.
“Do you two have hi..history?”
“Jealous?” He cocked an eyebrow at me, and I playfully punched his arm. “No, I am not jealous. Just curious. She wants you.”
He grunted something inaudible and said, “Never gonna happen. You have nothing to worry about with Briony.”
His serious expression told me that was all he was giving me, so I nodded and asked the next question. "And what about Braiden Donohue? He's local; you're local. I figured you must know him pretty well, or at least know of him. Did you go to school together?"
Jackson's face hardened; his jaw tense and eyes cold. "Yeah. I know of him."
I hesitated, unsure of whether I should push, but it wasn't in my nature to sit on my questions. "And? Are the rumors true? Did his dad buy his place here? Has he already had one kid suspended, at just the click of his fingers?"
Jackson's face paled, and I knew that I was on to something.
"Jackson?"
As if awaking from a trance, Jackson blinked at me. "What? Yeah- I mean yeah. No, I mean no, the rumors aren't all true. He's just a guy."
There was something about Jackson's voice; it seemed different. His whole body language did. He had closed down. Gone were his infectious smile and sparkling green eyes. He looked right through me and it made my whole body shudder.
“He doesn’t seem like just a guy. People equate him with God at CFA.” I snorted.
In a blink of an eye, Jackson shifted. One minute he was sitting beside me, the next, hovering over me, his knees pressed beside my outstretched legs. My heart beat furiously as his eyes deepened in color.
“Ana, don’t. Don’t. Do. This. Please,” he pleaded, a vulnerable edge to his voice. He sounded so torn. A guy fighting his own inner demons.
I raised my chin to him, to meet his eyes. “Do what? What am I doing, Jackson?”
He leaned forward slightly, resting his hands on the trunk on either side of my body, caging me in. His breath tickled my face. “I know you’re hiding something, Ana Parry, carrying around some dark secret with you. I see it in your eyes when you zone out. You think that I’m not looking. I am always looking, Ana. I can’t stop looking. You have your secrets, and I have mine. Can’t we just leave it at that? For now?”
My heart was hammering in my chest so hard, I felt sure Jackson would be able to see the vibrations. Jackson knew. Like Elena knew. What was I? A freaking walking, talking emotional wreck? I thought I had gotten a better hold on things, thought I was doing a better job at hiding the cracks. Apparently not. Jackson waited, but his eyes never left mine. I wanted to look away. I wanted to run—to get the hell out of there—but I was frozen. Suspended in his eyes.
He knows.
And just when I thought the tension, the sheer terror, couldn’t get any worse, Jackson’s eyes dropped to my mouth and I swallowed hard. He wanted to kiss me. I saw it flash in his eyes. My back pressed further into the trunk, the rough bark biting into my skin through my jacket. I was just trying to give myself some space to think, to work through the overwhelming jumble of emotions surging through me. But with him looking at me like that, it was impossible.
He leaned in slowly until his chest touched mine. I closed my eyes…waiting. For what, I wasn’t sure. The kiss? My inevitable meltdown? I felt him all around me, his arms brushing my shoulders, his knees confining my legs, the material of his jacket brushing mine. He was close, so close that I could feel his breath against my skin. His lips touched my forehead and I sagged, releasing the breath I had been holding. Relief—and maybe the slightest twinge of disappointment—washed through me. Did you want him to kiss you?
“You’re not ready. Not yet,” Jackson whispered against my skin.
His voice was like a bucket of cold water, and the tension and all of the emotions vanished. He pulled away, grabbing my hand and yanking me up with him. As I moved to step around him, he caught my wrist and pulled me into his arms. “I need to get back, but same time Thursday, right?”
I nodded, unable to find any words. It was too much. The almost kiss. Him seeing right through my lies and defenses. The secrets. The overwhelming torrent of emotion and confusion that I felt being around Jackson. The painful memories.
“Come on, Ana Parry. Let’s get you home.”
Home.
Was Chastity Falls really my home now?
~
“Elena. Get out here. I look ridiculous.” I pulled at the black, shiny, tight material clinging to my skin, staring at myself wide-eyed in the mirror.
“Chica,” Elena whistled through her teeth. “You look hot. I didn’t know you had legs under all those baggy sweaters you wear. And your butt? Cuuuute.”
I let out a squeal as Elena’s hand collided with my PVC covered butt. PVC. Elena was mighty persuasive when she wanted to be. She only had to bat her lashes and pout like a child before I found myself agreeing to the Halloween Party at Chastity Fallen House. Even Jackson had tried to dissuade me. I didn’t see what all the fuss was about. It was a fancy dress. Come as you aren’t. I could hide behind my outfit
, no one needed to know it was me. I would be safe. Jackson said he probably wouldn’t make it, something about going out of town. Of course, it was a no-questions-asked trip, and I literally had to bite my tongue to stop the questions from rushing out of me.
“Tyson and the guys are meeting us there. Talia and the girls are waiting downstairs. You ready?”
Smoothing down the PVC jumpsuit, I pulled down the eye mask and nodded. You’ve got this. “Let’s go.”
If it weren’t for entering through the front door, I would have second-guessed whether we were really in Chastity Fallen House. The place had been transformed into a haunted house, complete with a full-size skeleton rigged by a rope pulley that triggered every time the front door opened. Talia had shrieked so loud, the whole party stopped to witness our arrival. I just kept breathing, reminding myself that I was incognito. No one can see you. Perfect for snooping— and the suppressed journalist in me intended on using it to my advantage.
“Wow, look at this place.” Cassie, better known as Red Riding Slut for the evening, grinned, her blue eyes sparkling in the direction of a group of bulked-up zombie football players engaged in some kind of drinking game over near the staircase.
“Told you, girls; CFA is all about the parties.” Talia stepped forward, the sexy Snow White costume leaving little to the imagination as it moved with her figure perfectly. “Kyler hinted at us hooking up tonight. He’s supposed to be my Prince Charming for the evening.” Her eyes scanned the room. It was something else. Fairies danced in the middle of the room to the hidden sound system, Beetlejuice handed out Jell-O shots to each of us, and I swore I saw Frankenstein making out with Cruella de Vil.
“Ladiiiies, looking fine. Welcome to our House of Horrors.” A guy wearing old fashioned slacks approached us, his eyes raking up and down Talia’s body. I assumed it was Prince Charming.
“Kyler.” She shrieked, practically launching herself at him.
His two werewolf friends—Dennis and Shawn, I think—watched the display with disapproving frowns as Kyler held Talia at arm’s length. The girl screamed groupie, and I rolled my eyes at the irony. She had been the one warning us, and yet here she was, readily throwing herself at a Fallen. Crap, you’re even referring to them by that ridiculous name now.
As if sensing my agitation, Elena clasped her hand around mine and pulled me toward her. “Tyson should be around here somewhere. Come find him with me?”
We left Talia, Cassie, and Lydia with the guys and moved further into the house. The place was crowded; the hallway, a huge game room, and even the kitchen. There were people everywhere. Hidden behind my mask, I felt brave enough to look. Really look.
I noticed the guys in the corner of the game room cutting a line of white powder on a small round table. And the crowd dancing erratically with their eyes closed and arms waving above their heads, drinking from water bottles. People weren’t just drunk; they were high. And they weren’t all that discreet. College football was strict, even I knew that. I couldn’t believe people were freely taking drugs and at the team’s house. I tried to motion to Elena, darting my eyes to the group of guys, but she just shrugged and led me back into the hallway and in the direction of the backyard.
The hallway darkened, and some kind of black material covered in fake spiderwebs hung off the ceiling. Although the rational part of me knew that it wasn’t real, my hair caught a couple of times on the plastic spiders entwined in the webbing, and I jumped, startling myself. Funny how the brain played tricks, even when it knew something wasn’t real.
Eventually, we reached the open door and stepped through the black fly screen, out into what could only be described as chaos. Ghosts, ghouls, devils, and evil clowns moved and bounced to the fast beat reverberating around the walled area. A couple was making out in the hot tub, the girl practically grinding on the guy. My cheeks started to flush as I dropped my eyes.
“Dios mìo. This place is crazy. I’m sure I saw a couple doing it back there.” I nodded at Elena, agreeing with her. “Did you see the guys in the game room?” I added.
She never responded, her eyes growing wide at the sight of something across the yard. I followed her line of sight, my lips forming an O when I saw the cause of Elena’s sudden change of character. A half-naked Alice in Wonderland was putting on more than just a dance performance for Tyson, Paul, and an open-mouthed Nate. She was practically doing a strip tease for them. Tyson didn’t seem as interested as Paul or Nate, both of them almost drooling over the fairytale vixen in front of them.
Elena stomped off in their direction and I watched, wondering how she would handle it. She and Tyson were practically at the I-love-you declaring stage. Tyson’s eyes bugged out as he noticed his wicked Latina fairy storming straight for him. She brushed past Alice, knocked her hand straight into Tyson’s solid chest, sending him back into the wall, and slammed her lips to his. Elena Marks was more than a little publicly marking her territory and staking her claim.
I pulled out my cellphone, concealed in the only place I could think to hide it, the black leather bustier threatening to cut off my air supply at any moment, and text Elena telling her to enjoy the party. I didn’t want to spend the next two hours finding ways to politely reject Paul’s advances, and besides, I wanted to see what I could find out about the team… about Braiden. It was their house, so there had to be some clues around the place. And I knew exactly where to start.
As I retraced my steps back to the kitchen, I replayed the scene over in my head. The first and only other time I had been in the house, I was so panicked by the guy on the door asking about our boyfriends that I almost missed the door in the kitchen. The very door that was being guarded by two serious looking players. It wasn't until I got home and calmed down that I even remembered it. If anywhere housed the secrets of the team, of Braiden, I was betting it had something to do with that door.
Just like last time, two huge Fallen players stood on guard outside the single door. To the untrained eye, they looked normal; just two students enjoying the party like everyone else. But I wasn’t everyone and I was stone-cold sober. I noticed the subtle things. The way they straightened a little whenever anyone approached the door, or how they cast each other a knowing glance now and again. Of course, my suspicions were confirmed when they moved aside to let through a zombie, who happened to have a blond faux hawk and eyes as cold as ice, as well as a girl who seemed completely under his thrall.
I moved from my inconspicuous position just on the other side of the double doorway and leaned up against the counter where Jell-O shots lined the trays. Pretending to help myself, I kept one eye on the door. People came in and out, helping themselves to drinks and shots; no one seemed to notice or care about the guarded door. Deciding on my best course of action, I nudged my chest further up into the low-cut corset and started toward the two guys. One of them glanced in my direction as he noticed my approach, and his lips parted slightly as if he was about to say something, but from somewhere behind me, a hand found mine and yanked me backward.
Shock stole my words, but it wasn’t until I found myself back in the hallway, face-to-face with Batman, that my body tingled with nervous energy. If it wasn’t for the green glow of his eyes, I would have screamed, but I would recognize those eyes anywhere.
“Jack-”
Jackson lifted a single finger to his lip and nodded toward the spooky hallway. I followed, my heart slamming against the fake leather corset. What was he doing here? And why the hell was he dressed as Batman, the counterpart to my Batgirl?
The dark passageway soon swallowed us, the throb of the music echoing off the walls. A huge cheer erupted from behind us in the kitchen and Jackson stilled, his whole body tensing, before he disappeared into the darkness, pulling me with him.
A door clicked behind us and my eyes strained to define our new surrounds. It was only a small room—that much I could tell—a closet or small bathroom.
Jackson’s body was close. I could feel him, even though I couldn’t
see through the pitch black. More cheers came from deep in the house and Jackson tensed against me, again. Confused by how on edge he seemed, I opened my mouth to speak, but was silenced as his body pressed against mine, crushing me to the door.
I closed my eyes, willing my heart to calm down. I knew that I was safe. Knew that it was Jackson’s breath that I could feel brushing my skin, his labored breathing that I could hear. But my senses were playing tricks again and a feeling of absolute terror spread up through my stomach and into my nervous system, causing me to push back further into the door. To escape. My breathing came harder and faster as my mind worked overtime.
“Ana… calm the fuck down. It’s me.”
I gasped at Jackson’s harsh tone. He was pissed? With me? I wasn’t the one who had blindsided him into a dark room, acting totally weird. Scaring the shit out of me.
In a move that both shocked and excited me, his hand brushed my hair away from my cheek and lingered, just for a second. How he could see was beyond me. All I could see was black…and more black. It was the kind of black that my eyes wouldn’t adjust to, like an eternal abyss.
“It’s me” His breath lingered against my skin. “Just breathe.”
Somehow, he knew. Knew that I was two seconds away from falling into the pull of an anxiety attack. My hands trembled as I tried to reach out for him, counting down in my head, five, four, three, two, one. Clutching at the PVC material molding to his defined body, I tried to take a deep breath.
“Ana, look at me.”
Look at you? I CAN’T SEE YOU.
Jackson shifted slightly, his legs nudging mine wider. He pressed his body flush to mine, the weight of his athletic body distracting me slightly from my meltdown. “Ana, I’m right here.” His breath tickled my face again, and I caught the lingering smell of beer. Is he drunk?
My eyes narrowed, trying to make out his shadow. I could sense him, feel him, smell him, but I couldn't see him. Something brushed my fingers, and I stilled again, until I realized it was Jackson’s fingers entwining with mine. His touch sent tingles rippling through me.
