Vibe

by Liza James

  “They’re right though, I don’t know you. I’ve been with Hawk for two years now and I trust him with everything. I’m sorry, Ruby. But I can’t choose you over them.”

  Fuck. Why did that hurt so badly?

  She left. Turned around without another word and walked right out the door—alone.

  She didn’t have to say anything though. I saw the mix of anger and resentment shining through her dark eyes as they pierced through me.

  I can’t trust her, not over Hawk and Bethie. It would be wrong, and stupid of me to put my faith in someone who helped me cheat on my boyfriend last night and who I’ve known for one fucking day.

  I’m standing in mine and Hawk’s room while he sits on the edge of our bed. He’s reaching forward and gripping my wrists as he pulls me in between his legs. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, lean into his touch, but I’d be lying if I said things didn’t feel different.

  I’m staring into his usually bright eyes, but all of a sudden everything looks dimmer. His touch is just that—a touch. It isn’t electric. It isn’t profound or extraordinary. But fuck, I need it to be.

  I’m desperate for it to be.

  “Last night—” I start, my voice eager to spill all of my secrets, break this tether that’s pulling us apart until we’re back to how we were. Hawk and me. Me and Hawk. Comfortable. Typical. Conventional.

  “Shh, I know,” he interrupts me with quiet words as he pulls me even tighter against his chest. My heart races and sweat breaks out across my palms as I ready myself to confront this with him.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say as tears fill my eyes and spill over my lashes. Shame, regret. All of it, and to think that she was hitting on Hawk this entire time? I’m a fucking idiot.

  “It’s okay, baby. I forgive you,” he whispers against my hair as his hand lifts to gently hold me against him. He leans back, dragging me on top of him as I cry.

  “Is that why you were angry last night?” I ask, hoping to give myself a little bit of clarity on why he acted the way he did.

  He sighs, his shoulders tensing just briefly before he relaxes again. “Yes,” he admits, and my heart strangely feels both relief and tension at his admission. “I needed to restore you.” His last words are muffled and I can hardly make them out but immediately, I throw my head back and try to put a bit of distance between our bodies. Those words, if it’s what I think he said, that phrase. It’s too familiar. Too strange to be a coincidence. His arm anchors me to him though, and I’m caught against his frame.

  “What?” I ask, my voice moves into something cautious. He doesn’t answer right away and my nerves escalate in complete and total apprehension. “What did you just say, Hawk?”

  His eyes search mine for a split second before a smile breaks wide across his face and he laughs. But I don’t feel it, the joy, the humor. It’s empty and void of the emotions I assume it should carry. “I needed to be the last one inside of you, Aura. I’m a jealous fuck. I couldn’t imagine you sleeping next to me after hooking up with her. I’m shocked, honestly. I can’t believe you would do something like that and jeopardize what we have.” Time slows down immensely. His voice changes, from a humorous light-hearted explanation into something toxic and reprimanding. Guilt swamps my heart while red flags begin lighting in the back of my mind. What the fuck is happening to me? I’m noticing things I wouldn’t usually think twice about. My past is sinking its talons into my present, ripping everything I’ve worked for to shreds and I’m terrified of where I’m headed.

  “I said I was sorry,” I repeat the words, but my voice drops a notch and suddenly I’m not as confident in his forgiveness as I was a second ago. “So sorry, Hawk. It won’t happen again.”

  “You can make it better, wildflower.” Malin, my step-father, reminds me. “Show daddy how you can make it up to him.”

  The words flash through my mind before I can stop them. They feel like a serrated knife, digging through the flesh of my brain and yanking me back to countless moments I've worked so fucking hard to forget.

  But it's like a switch. I'm flipped into a different head space, aching to take the actions that I know will make all of this better for him. Remind him that I only want him.

  I let my hand slide between us, moving down until my fingers drift over the length of his cock. He isn't hard, not yet. But as soon as I touch him and spread my legs wide across his waist like I was taught to do, he immediately responds.

  "I can fix this," I whisper as I lift my head and bring my lips to his. Something relinquishes within me, something instrumental. But honestly, I can't tell what it is. All I can make sense of is the way my body is moving, the way my hands are shifting and stroking his cock of their own accord. My body grinds against his while his hands claim my waist, dragging me up and down while I dry fuck him against our bed.

  I don't feel it though, the arousal inside of me. It's like I'm numb to what's happening, my body having taken over control in place of my coherent mind.

  So, I continue kissing him, riding him until he slips his hands under my shorts and drags them down my legs. I travel through every motion, make the right sounds and moans and say the right words until he shifts and slips his cock inside of me.

  Because I need this. I need to fix this.

  And I need him to restore me.

  My days are feeling better—I think.

  They tend to be continuous spans of time, some moments darker while others are lighter. But I can't tell if that's due to the revolving sun and moon, or due to my emotions and vacant thoughts.

  Well, not entirely vacant. No, I'd be lying if I said my mind didn't wander to someone else. Someone who left a lasting impression in the span of twenty-four hours. A woman who sparked something inside of me that now feels extinguished by the loss of her.

  My energy is off. Or practically gone all together. Any vibe I felt towards Hawk has plateaued into something so mundane and average that this routine has become a second extension of my body.

  I wake up, make breakfast for us, go to work, come home, have sex, go to sleep.

  But he's so happy. Hawk is acting like nothing happened last week with the mysterious dancer. He touches me just like he used to, before that one night where something darker and dangerous peeked through. He's gentle, and kind, caressing and kissing me as if I'm reverent to him.

  So, why am I feeling so detached?

  I'm blaming it on the weather. It's been cold, rainy and overcast this past week. I'm missing the sunshine, that must be it. The light.

  Bethie has been here every night. It's comforting in a way, knowing she cares as much as she does. I was worried for a moment, confused at her direct and cruel behavior when we met Ruby. But now that she spends all of her time here, with Hawk and I, I know she has the best intentions.

  Ruby seemed to bring out strange sides in all of us.

  "Are you ready, baby?" Hawk's voice breaks me out of my thoughts, and I whip my head towards his, watching as he emerges from the kitchen with an outstretched hand. I'm resting on the couch, my body feels tired, exhausted and I haven't even started my day yet.

  He motions for the glass in my hand. Bethie has been making us a pot of tea every morning, something to ease us. I’m not sure what’s in it but I choose to ignore my own curiosity. Because it's one of the few things that keeps my head from spiraling through my memories lately.

  The wave of relaxation settles in my mind, a mildly thick distraction as I hand my empty glass to him. Bethie walks out from the hallway and joins us as well, taking my hand in hers as she pulls me to my feet and we walk towards the door.

  "Yes," I respond, a quiet smile pulls at my lips as we all step out of the apartment. Hawk and Bethie are driving me to my studio today before he drops her off at her place. He's been driving me to work every day since everything happened, being more involved, more considerate. I appreciate it.

  It's a quiet drive. Hawk's hand rests casually on my thigh while Bethie sits on her phone in the back seat. It ma
y be tense in here, but I wouldn't know because I'm so numb to everything as of late.

  "So, babe," Hawk starts and my head slowly turns to face his as I drop it back against the headrest of my seat.

  "Hmm?"

  "I was thinking, we should go out soon. Maybe to a party? A guy I work with invited us, we could take Bethie." He squeezes my thigh and I nod my head. A party sounds nice, maybe it would be good to get out of the house. "You should relax, Aura. You've been so stressed with work and that mistake from last week. It would be good to have some fun, and Bethie and I will be there with you."

  That mistake.

  He still mentions it. Still holds it over my head and a flash of resentment sparks in my chest but it's gone just as quickly. It's exhausting putting so much fucking thought into that shit.

  And it reminds me of her, of Ruby.

  Of her hands. And her lips. And her voice.

  God, I don’t even know her real name.

  "Sure, that sounds like fun. I'll bring Chad," Bethie chirps out from the back seat. Her voice takes a higher tenor, as if she's bragging about Chad to me. She should know I don't give a shit about him. She can take whoever she wants.

  Hawk coughs as his hand lifts from my thigh and he uses it to cover his mouth. "Bring whoever you want, but Chad is a fucking loser. All he wanted was to experience his first threesome with you and Ruby."

  For some reason, his words catch me off guard. They're nastier than usual, with a little more bite and venom lacing his tone. My head turns towards his as my eyes rake over his body. His fingers are tightly wrapped around the steering wheel, his knuckles white against the strained flesh. My eyes narrow as I try to focus on the action. I reach my hand forward and can't help but brush my thumb across his hands, feeling the tension and strength he's holding back in that act.

  He visibly relaxes, releasing the steering wheel enough to stretch his fingers before gripping it in another loose hold. Bethie laughs quietly behind us and all of this simply serves to confuse me further.

  But once again, it's almost as if I don't care enough to look into it any deeper than what I'm seeing now. However, that's the thought that ends up taking root inside of my mind. That's the one quick moment of reflection that pings at something deep in my gut.

  That maybe I shouldn't be here if I don't truly care. Maybe I need to start thinking about my future and what that actually looks like.

  "When it is?" Bethie asks, pulling my attention back to her again.

  "Next weekend. He's going to text me the location this week," he replies as we pull to the side, parking in front of the large brick building that stretches high into the sky. My studio is at the very top, surrounded by gorgeous floor to ceiling windows in order to let in the most amount of natural light.

  "Just let me know when to be ready, I'll come with." I quickly open the door and step out of the vehicle, suddenly wishing to breathe in fresh air and clear my mind of the racing thoughts that are beginning to resurface.

  I just want to fucking escape this. Escape all of it.

  "Love you, babe. I'll pick you up at what, seven?" Hawk rolls down the window and shouts through the open space.

  "Seven works, I'll be finishing up right around then. Love you too," I say the words back but for the first time in a long time, I'm not sure if I actually mean them.

  It's eleven in the morning, and I intend on spending all day here at the studio. I've got five sessions scheduled, with hour long blocks for most. Some of them I allotted a little extra time in case the kids or babies needed more attention.

  I walk through the large glass doors at the front of the building, not sparing Hawk or Bethie another glance back. Waving to the familiar desk clerk that's casually reading in her chair, I walk past quickly and punch my floor into the elevator.

  My heart is racing, my head cloudy with confusion and uncertainties. Everything fell from its axis last week and I'm working to keep it all together.

  I just want to breathe again. I want to feel alive again. God, she's like my fucking drug. One hit and I was already addicted. One breath and it was like my lungs felt full for the very first time.

  One touch and I now I'm imagining her every time I'm with someone else.

  Fuck.

  The elevator pings once we arrive on my floor and I step out, hurrying to my studio. Unlocking my frosted glass door, I step inside and shut it behind me. I can't help it, but the fact that I'm finally alone is so incredibly powerful that I want to drown in the sensation. I let my head fall back against the glass as I sink to the ground and focus on my breaths.

  Everything is stronger. All the emotions that have been vacant and void of my mind this morning are tumbling through me now that I'm able to be vulnerable. I didn't even realize I was doing this at first, placing these walls between myself and Hawk and Beth. I slip behind this mask of indifference so that I don't have to feel anything.

  Ever since I resorted to fixing my problem with Hawk by doing the only thing I knew would work. Ever since I accessed that part of my mind again—those horrific ideas and notions I was taught by The Nation—I've struggled to maintain my own identity.

  Sometimes I feel the pull to slip back into my wildflower.

  I press my palms into my eyes, massaging the heavy cloud that's snaked its way through my head. The throbbing migraine keeps pounding, smashing against my eyes until I finally pry them open and scan the wide-open space in front of me. I need to get it together so I can work through these sessions today. I need to be the best I can be for my clients.

  White. Everything is white. A bright, cool shade that reflects the natural lighting beautifully. I love how creamy and inspirational things are in here. I can let my mind expand and release these new ideas, focus on creating something beautiful in a world full of darkness.

  My gaze falls across my light oak, mid-century style desk, nestled in the far corner of the room. Something bright and colorful manages to catch my attention. It's a bouquet of vibrant flowers. All bright and whimsical in a way that makes me reminiscent of happier memories.

  Better memories.

  Flowers.

  Wildflowers.

  Every ounce of strength leaves my body as terror sets in. My skin freezes against my bones. My limbs paralyzed in place as my eyes stay glued to that simple glass vase filled with a massive arrangement of wildflowers.

  Pinks, whites, yellows, greenery. All of it speaks to the sporadic beauty of the outdoors. It's exactly what I used to pick myself when I was young, exactly what he would bring me when he came home in the evenings.

  I need to move, crawl to my desk and see who it's from. But I'm terrified, and my breaths are coming and going so rapidly that I'm struggling not to become dizzy.

  It could be from Hawk, and he wouldn't know about the wildflowers. It could be an easy misunderstanding, something sweet he was trying to do after the week we had.

  I shift forward on my knees, crawling while I force every bit of strength and fortitude into my steps in order to move me across the now incredibly long distance to my desk. It's an illusion though, the distance. It's not far at all but every single step seems to stretch on for miles.

  It's not him. It's not him. He hasn't found me.

  I continue moving, ordering the lead weights of my legs to drag across the floor with me. As soon as I reach the edge of my desk, I stretch upwards with trembling fingers and quickly pull the small white card from the center of the flowers. I fall back to the floor, scrambling as far away from the vase as I can get as I crash my back against the bare wall.

  I'm holding the card, my eyes boring into the meek white paper. I drag my thumb across the textured surface, my mind racing with ideas of what it could say on the inside. Fuck, I don't want to open it. But I have to. I have to know who sent these.

  Please be Hawk, please be fucking Hawk.

  I close my eyes for a moment, straining to gather every bit of bravery I can manage as I pry open the small card and view the text written on the inside.
It spans the top, all the way to bottom, that familiar handwriting cuts through me in a way that makes me feel as though I'm bleeding.

  My wildflower,

  We've missed you.

  It's time to come home, Aura. Complete the ceremony with your own hands and join us in in our ascension into the City of Eden. You have a role to play. An important one, you will be forgiven by the Omega as soon as you return.

  We know of your rungs, my sweet girl. I'll cleanse you, restore you, and all will be forgiven.

  Come back to us. We know of the vile girl, the one who's made you sick and tainted you with evil. Don't make me come to you, wildflower. Don't make this harder than it needs to be.

  See you soon, my Aura.

  Malin.

  Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck.

  I drop the card to the ground as if it’s on fire, watching as it drifts through the air and lands silently on the cement floor below me. As if it doesn’t carry the heavy weight of reality. He found me, he knows where I am. He knows what I've done and they’re trying to bring me back.

  My breaths fall from my lips erratically. I struggle to calm my thundering heartbeat while my mind unravels with thoughts of The Nation. I can’t believe after all of these years, they’ve finally found me. This can’t be happening to me again.

  He knows about Ruby.

  Fucking hell, Ruby. I have to warn her, have to get to her before Malin does. How the hell am I supposed to run now? I'd have to leave everything here. My life, my job, Hawk and Bethie.

  I can't.

  I won't leave all that. I've established a life here that I don't want to let go of. Not yet. If I leave it'll be on my terms and it sure as fuck won't be back to The Nation. I'm never going back.

  But I have to warn Ruby. I have to tell her. Whatever I feel towards her, whatever unexplainable connection and energy I share with her, it deserves this warning. I can't let him find or hurt her.

  I scramble to get to my feet, reaching forward and gripping the vase in one hand while I pick up the card with the other. I want this shit gone. I don’t want anything that he’s touched, or even thought about to be near me.