“That was your first time with a guy?” she asks me innocently and then pauses, going still like she thinks she's said something wrong.
I smile. It's a sad smile, but it's genuine.
“It's okay. I don't consider the torture I suffered as a child as anything more than that. Molestation isn't foreplay; rape isn't sex. So, yes, that was my first time with a guy.” I swirl the bubbling drink around in my glass. “Although the stuff we usually do with you gets pretty damn close. We're all basically having sex with each other.”
“True,” Lilith says as she sets her glass aside and gestures at my feet. “Prop 'em up. You played a sick ass show tonight; you deserve a reward.”
I laugh, spilling champagne all over my lap.
“Trust me: you do not want to see these feet until I've taken a shower.”
“Oh stop and just give them to me.” She reaches down and grabs one of my boots, tearing the laces out while I chuckle.
“Well, shit, I'm not going to protest that hard against a foot massage.”
Lilith takes my right foot in her lap and puts her thumbs to my arch. I swear, it's like instant fucking erection. It feels so damn good, I can barely breathe.
“If you like that house after we do the live video tour thing and get a better look at it, I say we make an offer while we're on the road. I have a good feeling about that bungalow. And you saw the neighborhood when we looked it up on Google Maps? It's even prettier than person. I bet you could make some killer art there.”
“I hate that I want it so much,” Lilith says as she continues to work the knots from my foot. I didn't even know a person could have knots in their feet and yet, I do. I think I might be carrying stress in every muscles in my body. “A place of my own. I feel like I should just move in with one of you guys and stop being ridiculous.”
“There's nothing ridiculous about it. I get it. You need to carve your own little nook out in the world. Why on earth would there be anything wrong with that? I think it's healthy. You promised me you wouldn't do with us what you did with Kevin, lose yourself in the relationship. I don't see that happening, and that makes me excited.” I shrug my shoulders and lean back in the chair, closing my eyes.
“Knowing Ransom, he'll be over every night anyway because of the nightmares …” Lilith trails off for a moment, maybe thinking about how few of those nightmares he's been having lately. Because of her, I think, and because of Pax. “And then Michael will want to be there because he gets jealous. Then Paxton will come because he can't stand to see Michael get something he's not getting.” She chuckles and pressing her thumb even harder into my foot, making me groan. “And then I'll miss you and Cope so much that I'll invite you over … You guys'll probably end up mostly living with me anyway, won't you?”
“Probably, but at least it'll be your space. If you need a moment, you can tell us to get the fuck out for a night or two.”
Lilith laughs again, the sound dying away to a contented sort of sigh.
“I can't imagine not seeing six toothbrushes laid out next to the sink.”
And God … that's so fucking cute I can't stand it.
I take my foot from her lap and lean over to kiss her mouth. She tastes like champagne and smiles. Yep. Definitely the woman of my dreams.
“Do you want to eat first or …?” I'm stalling for time; we both know it.
“Derek,” Lilith says, our lips still touching.
I sigh and nod, but I know that even if I could, I don't want to get out of this. It's time. I said I was going to let Lilith be my salvation, and I meant it. All I have to do is … talk. Tell her the truth. That's it. It's like there's this … I don't know, snake or thorn or bee stinger or something that's embedded in my skin, pumping venom, pumping poison. If I pull it out, I'll still have to recover from the effects, but the constant pain will slow and then maybe one day … stop.
“Lilith …” I begin, memories flicking behind my eyes.
Crude male laughter, my mother's dead gaze, that awful sound of my doorknob turning, the cold sweat collecting on my skin.
I take a deep breath and push it back before I start to tell her my story. I begin with the hummingbirds, the ones I used to admire, the ones that helped me get through it all. I tell her about my Uncle Micah, how I have his last name and thankfully not my father's. I explain my father's incarceration, my uncle's death, my mother's dangerous apathy …
I don't even have to say the actual words before understanding registers in her gaze.
“Lilith, I was raped by my own father,” I whisper, realizing then that there are tears streaming down my face. “I was nine years old. Nine.”
There are tears streaming down her face, too, and I can't stand that.
I reach out and she takes my hands, pulling me close, curling her fingers around my wrists, putting our foreheads together. We sit there for long moments without saying a single word, letting the tears just fall, watching them hit my cargo shorts, her bare knees, the patio beneath our feet.
“I have so much shame and anger and frustration inside of me,” I tell her and somehow, she knows not to say anything, not yet. I've heard it all before: it's not your fault, it doesn't reflect on you, it wasn't your fault. But it makes me so sick inside that I can't stand it. I lock it away, block it out. But that's not working anymore. If that fucker wasn't dead … I'd probably hunt him down and kill him. Since he is, there's nothing more I can do expect let it go. “I want to be done with it,” I confess to her, “but I'm scared. Scared of men. Of my own sexuality. Of Paxton and Ransom.”
We both glance up at the same time and lock eyes.
“But mostly, I'm scared of what you're thinking. Are you disgusted by me?”
“Muse,” Lilith whispers, capturing my face and kissing me, her lips salty with tears. “No, no, definitely not.” She laughs, but it's a sad little sound, especially with all that wetness gathering at the edges of her emerald eyes. The lights of the tower twinkle to mark the passing of another hour, reflecting back in Lilith's gaze. I realize then that I've been talking for a decently long time. “I could never be disgusted by you.”
“Are you sure? Because sometimes I get disgusted with myself,” I say, loving the feel of her thumbs tracing across my palms, soothing me small, little circles etched into my skin. The movement reminds me of the tattoo on my hip, the same one that Lilith has on her wrist, that Pax has on his chest, Ransom on his elbow, Cope on his neck, Michael on his back … They all knew about my past when they got that matching ink. I should've given Lilith the same courtesy. “I block it out, all of that shit, pretend like it never happened. But I don't want to do that anymore. To do that, I have to block everything, all of my own emotions and feelings.”
My fingers curl tightly around Lilith's.
“With you here, I actually want to feel them. I want to know what's in my own heart for once. But it's a double-edged sword for sure. To acknowledge the things I'm going through now, I have to at least understand what I went through then.” I smile a little, let out a small laugh. “It fucking sucks.”
“It does,” she says softly, standing up and pulling me into the hotel room. She guides me to the bed and makes me sit down, moving back to the rolling cart to pour a cup of tea from the still warm pot sitting amongst the silver trays. Lilith hands it to me and I take it gratefully, giving it a quick sniff before I take a sip. Chamomile, definitely.
She sits down on the edge of the bed next to me and brushes a few loose strands of silver from my forehead, skimming her fingers against the short dark on either side of my mohawk. Her touch is gentle, loving, definitely not judgmental. Cope told me once that that was one of the things he liked best about her. Think I'm inclined to agree on that one.
“You're such a cutie,” I say and she smiles. Her eyes are still wet, but the tears have stopped falling. Mine, too. “Sorry for dumping all this shit on you.”
“Dumping it?” she asks, like I'm a crazy person. “Muse, you're more practical than that. You
know you're not dumping anything on me. Unless, of course, you consider all the crying I've done over my dad to be dumping, too?” She raises a red brow.
“Nicely played,” I say and she hazards a small smile. I make myself return it, feeling the calming effects of the tea wash over me. I kind of can't wait to get home all of a sudden so I can get another care package from Roger, my crazy magic shop mentor. There's no feasible way for me to get them while we're out of the country, so I just have to wait. My fingers suddenly itch to open one of those boxes and see what kind of weird shit he's sent this time.
Lilith reaches up and loosens the knot of the halter dress she's wearing, letting it fall in black folds around her waist. Then she stands up and loses it completely, kicking it away before joining me on the bed, crawling over me and then curling up against my side. One of her hands rubs a slow, lazy circle on my chest. I wonder if she can feel my heartbeat? It's actually starting to slow which is a good thing. When I first started to tell the story, it was thumping so hard and fast I thought I might throw it up in a puddle of blood.
“Does …” I start and then try to rephrase the awful question that's lodged itself in my mind. “Is there any part of you that feels differently about me now that you know the full scope of my horror?”
What I'm really asking is if she regrets telling me she loves me, if she regrets our shared tattoo, if she regrets agreeing to starting a relationship … If she regrets me.
“Of course,” Lilith says as I set my empty tea cup aside and try not to let it clink too hard against the saucer. I turn toward her so that we're both lying on our sides, staring at one another. A few tears hit the pillow between our faces, but we're too close for me to decide if they're mine or hers. She snuggles closer, even as I'm lying there in abject terror wondering what she's going to say. “I realize now exactly how resilient you are, that kid that got emancipated at fifteen, that had a gun, three bullets, and a guitar. You didn't just have to fight your way to the top; you had to climb all the way up from the bottom before you were on a level playing field with everyone else.”
Lil rubs a thumb over my face and brings the finger to her lips. Even though it's dark and the room is drenched in shadow, I can see that there's a faint sheen of wetness on it. So it is me that's crying again. Holy fuck.
“Muse, I love you more now that I know everything, not less. I thought you were the logical one in the group? You should be able to see that.”
I chuckle, but the sound is muted, trapped in the dark space of our Parisian hotel room with the Eiffel Tower on one side of me and Lilith Goode on the other.
“Love,” I say and then close my eyes, taking a deep breath and pulling her closer, twining our legs together and listening closely to see if I can hear the sound of her heart. “I was afraid if I said it to you before telling you my whole story, that it'd be tainted somehow. I guess that was a little stupid, wasn't it?”
“Not stupid, but totally untrue,” Lilith replies and then there's this perfect, quiet moment there that I know I need to fill with the words. And yes, they might just be words, but sometimes … it feels good to hear the thing you want to say. And sometimes it feels goddamn good to say the thing you need to tell. Lilith knowing what that man did to me doesn't change anything, doesn't make it all better, but at least I feel like there's one more person to shoulder that burden with me. Also doesn't hurt that that one person is the first girl I've ever fallen in love with.
And hopefully the last, too.
“Lil, you know I'm totally into you, right?”
“Totally into me …” she whispers, and then I feel her laugh. “I guess so. Remember when you first said that to me? And I told you it sounded like you were proposing? Then you replied you might by the end of all this? Did you think Pax would beat you to it?”
“Eh, I can't say I'm surprised,” I tell her, tracing my fingertips down the length of her side. “But I guess since we're lovers now, I can't really be jealous, can I?”
Lilith laughs again, but I cut the sound off by closing that last few inches between us and melding our lips. I kiss her like she's the last source of oxygen on this earth, like I'll die if I can't steal a few breaths from her mouth.
My arm—the one with all the bat tattoos—slides under her body and wraps around her waist, effectively eliminating every spare inch of space between us. I pull Lil so tightly against me that I hope our very molecules our meeting, melding, bumping into one another.
I kiss her with all the passion and all the pain I'm feeling, listening to the brush of her lips, the whisper of her own grief. Our two melancholy souls pass each other in the night, take note, pause, invite the other up. But as soon as they're joined, all the bad things that seemed to matter so much pale in comparison to all the good ones that really do.
Our tongues dance, tangling together along with our bodies. When we come together that night, when she opens my pants, and I pull her underwear aside, when I slide inside of her and grind our hips together into the mattress, I know we're doing more than just having sex.
We're communicating; we're making love.
I wait until long after we're done, after she falls asleep in my arms, for the door to open and the others to walk in, trying to be quiet and unobtrusive as they file into the room.
Lilith stirs briefly and smiles, pushing red hair back from her face as she glances over to look at them all.
“Welcome back,” she murmurs as I take a deep breath. Lilith pillows her head on my chest as my four bandmates start to undress and get ready to climb into bed.
“Hey, Cutie,” I say then, loud enough that I know they can all hear me.
“Hmm?”
“I'm not just into you,” I correct finally, “I'm also in love with you. I just wanted you to know that.”
“I already did,” she tells me, and I'm pretty sure she's smiling when she lays her head on my chest and promptly falls right back to sleep.
The next few cities on the tour—Amsterdam and Berlin—seem to rush by in a blur. Maybe that's because one day per major city just isn't enough to see and do even a fraction of what each place has to offer. I do my best to cram in as much sightseeing as possible, and the boys go along with it, even though I can tell that most of them would probably prefer to hang out at the hotel and sleep.
In truth though, I think things start to blur together because we're getting into a sort of routine. I'm not just talking about the actual tour itself either, but rather all those natural rhythms and flows that develop in a relationship, the ones that come so naturally it seems easy to take them for granted.
Obviously, ours are a little different considering the nature of our relationship, but they're there.
For example, it's just assumed by everyone (including me, unfortunately) that Muse will pick up the room if it gets dirty. Or how everyone just naturally makes sure that Ransom has a person on either side of him before he falls asleep, just in case he has one of his nightmares. These sorts of little habits develop between the six of us as easily as breathing, making me curious to see if they're any different in a real life scenario than they are in a posh hotel room in Tokyo, Japan.
As soon as we get there, I know I want to go out and conquer as much of this place as I can. Tokyo … doesn't exactly share many similarities with Dublin or London or Amsterdam. It's about as different as different can get.
“I was kind of hoping we'd be staying somewhere with anime wallpaper,” Derek muses as he studies the soft gold cherry blossom print on the wall and then glances in my direction. When he first started telling me his story, I almost begged him to stop. I was afraid that every time I looked at him, I'd feel sorry for him, think of poor baby Muse and all the awful things that happened to him. But I don't. Actually, knowing the whole truth has made it easier for me to see through and into the soul of the man beneath. He might be empathetic, but he's actually more emotional than he gives himself credit for.
“Anime wallpaper, huh?” Michael asks, but with a much less j
udgmental tone than usual. He's sitting at the laptop he gave me, getting it ready for the virtual house tour that's about to be going on back in Seattle. It might be one thirty in the morning over here, but it's actually nine thirty in the morning yesterday over there. Seattle's sixteen full hours behind Tokyo. Weird, huh? When we fly home, we'll actually be going back in time.
I try not to think too hard about that. Too trippy for me.
“Thank God there isn't any,” Michael continues, getting this triumphant look on his face just before he leans back in his chair. Behind him, out the glass windows of the hotel room, I can see the Tokyo Skytree glowing blue against the dark sky, twinkling lights spread out like a blanket at its feet. “I'd probably move hotels just because of that.”
“Yeah, sure, and this coming from the guy who once binge watched Death Note with me,” Muse says with a small smirk, getting a serious stink eye from Michael. It's actually not so bad to be the recipient of one of those glares, considering what a beautiful purple-blue his eyes are. He'd probably be pissed to learn that it's really just sort of a privilege to be able to hold his gaze.
“I warned you that if you told anyone about that, I'd kick your ass. I can still make good on that threat, you know.”
Muse just smiles at Michael, coming over to join me when I pull out a chair from the table and sit down to wait, heart thumping nervously. I don't really know why. I mean, it's just a house, right? And there are lots of choices, plenty of time to make a decision.
Then again, I've never toured a house before with my guys at my side. It makes it seem more exciting somehow, like this is actually a momentous occasion just waiting to be treasured.
“How long until the appointment, honey?” Ransom asks, coming up behind Michael to stare at the open browser windows currently filling the screen of the desktop. There's the listing for the house with its terrifying asking price and its adorable photos. As Ran leans down to take the mouse, he scrolls through some of the details, perfuming the air all around us with the scent of violets.
Moxie (Rock-Hard Beautiful Book 3) Page 16
