Knowing You_The Cursed Series Part 2

by Rebecca Donovan

  “Omigod, that was so gross!” I shake my hand that’s now sprayed with saliva.

  “Sorry,” she says, crinkling her nose. Ashton, of course, thinks it’s hilarious. It’s disgusting.

  “There’s hand sanitizer outside the porta-potties,” Lily informs me sympathetically. We walk over together so I can kill all of Kaely’s germs covering my skin.

  “Where are the guys?” Ashton asks.

  “They were supposed to be at the cage, spinny ride thing,” Kaely says. And as odd as her description is, I know exactly which one she’s talking about. We start in that direction and I can see Grant standing next to Stefan, waiting for the other guys to unload. He’s kind of hard to miss. The giggling trio of girls standing about five feet away from him think so too.

  I nudge Ashton and she leans down to listen. “Please don’t tell me I act like that around Grant.”

  She inspects the girls and makes a pained expression. “Oh no. You’re awkward but not PG-awkward.”

  “Uh, thanks … I think.”

  “PG, as in parental guidance. We call them that because they have parents who give them curfews, and chores, and check-in to make sure they’re alive after ten o’clock at night. They’re sheltered. They have no idea how to act around hot guys. They wouldn’t even know what to do with themselves at a club.”

  “I’ve never been to a club,” I admit.

  “But you have a fake ID and get into bars,” Ashton argues.

  “True.”

  “They’re so easy to spot too. Usually found giggling and whispering with their hands over their mouths.”

  “Are you talking about the PG girls?” Lily asks.

  “Then what are you?” I ask Ashton.

  “We,” Ashton corrects. “You’re not like them. You’re one of us. And we’re … unrated.”

  Lily laughs.

  “We don’t have restrictions. Or rules. Or curfews. Or parents who actually know where we go on a random Tuesday night, forget about a Friday.”

  As much as I love my mother, Ashton is describing my life pretty accurately. Although I’m not bitter about the lax parenting like Ashton appears to be.

  “What am I?” Kaely asks, concern flashing in her big hazel eyes.

  “You’re PG, sweetie,” Lily says, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’s a good thing. It means someone cares about you. I used to be PG.”

  “What happened?” I ask before I can stop myself. “You don’t have to—”

  “It’s okay,” she says with a nonchalant shrug. “My dad moved out. My mother started drinking. And then didn’t stop. So they both kind of forgot they had a daughter. Now … I’m unrated. Before this summer, they never would have let me spend it alone at the lake house for a weekend, forget about two months. It’s sad really. Not for me. For them. I hate watching them completely fall apart and knowing there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

  “I know that feeling,” I say quietly. She gives me an understanding smile.

  “Who knew self-destructive parents could be so bonding!” Ashton cries out, encircling us with her arms and crushing us against her.

  Kaely looks on sadly. “Get in here, PG,” Ashton calls to her. Kaely smiles and bounces into our crazy hugfest. I’ve never been around such touchy-feely girls before. Nina, Tori and I would hug, but these girls bring the mush up a level.

  “I can’t breathe,” I choke out from the middle. They laugh and separate to free me.

  “What the hell are you looking at?”

  The hostile voice sets off alarms, having heard the precursor to a fight one too many times in Stella’s. My head swivels in search of the guy about to punch someone. The girls don’t seem to notice.

  He’s not hard to locate wearing his baseball hat on backward and a loose fitting tank top, with exaggerated armholes to show off muscles that he needed a shot in the ass to get. He’s standing with two other morons who are nodding to whatever he says, because they don’t have minds of their own. I notice the previously giggling girls standing off to the side, eyes darting around nervously.

  And then … I see who Roid-Rage is talking to.

  Except Grant doesn’t know he’s being challenged, not yet anyway. He’s standing alone, focused on the guys, who are standing in line for more tickets. He turns his head, sees us, and smiles. He’s takes a step our way when the guy hollers at him again.

  “Hey, man! I’m talking to you! What the hell’s your problem?”

  Grant hears him this time and swivels to face him. “Uh, excuse me? I don’t have a problem. Sorry, there must be a misunderstanding or something. Have a good night.”

  I groan. He’s such a fricken nice guy. It’s about to get him killed.

  “Oh, no,” Ashton says, having picked up the douche-baggery unfolding across from us.

  I slowly walk in Grant’s direction, my attention solely on Roider. His hands keep clenching into fists.

  Grant spots me and continues in my direction. I don’t make eye contact because I know what’s coming, and I need to be ready for it.

  “Oh shit,” I say under my breath.

  “Hey, piece of shit! Don’t walk away from me!”

  I start running.

  “Lana!” Ashton shouts in alarm.

  Just as the guy comes up behind Grant, ready to blindside him with a crushing blow, I bend forward and plow into him with my shoulder, throwing him off balance. His elbow comes around and collides with my jaw just as we topple to the ground, my knee strategically landing between his legs.

  “What the fuck?!” he chokes out when he realizes I’m on top of him, my left hand holding him down, digging into the soft flesh under his jaw.

  And because he has a tiny dick and couldn’t feel the impact of my knee (that should have incapacitated him) he grabs one of my braided pigtails and tugs. He’s about to slug me, but I swing first, my fist coming down hard across the jaw.

  “Stay down,” I seethe in his ear. I pull back to land another punch, but before I can, arms wrap around my waist and pull me off of him. I kick and elbow the solid body that has me hoisted in the air.

  “Lana, stop. It’s me,” Grant says, continuing to back away from the guys.

  “Fucking pussy!” One of the morons yells. “Have to have a girl fight for you.”

  Grant calls out over his shoulder, “She hits better than I do.”

  As soon as he sets me down, I prepare for their retaliation. But none of them do. Instead, Limp-Dick’s walking away with his friends, the girls trailing a good five feet behind them, like they’re embarrassed they came together. I can hear him bitching about being sucker punched and that he wasn’t about to hit a girl. Whatever.

  When I turn around, our entire group is staring at me. Kaely looks traumatized. Brendan appears impressed, as does Stefan. Squirrel … he may have missed it, too focused on the bag of flavored popcorn he’s digging around in. Lily is covering her mouth with her hands like she’s trying not to scream. And Ashton has an eyebrow raised in a what the fuck was that kind of way.

  “What the hell, Lana?” Lance pushes his way from within the middle of everyone. His face is red, like he’s about to have a heart attack. “Are trying to get arrested again?” He clutches the top of his head, his bright blue eyes huge. “Because you know if you do, you’re so screwed. And there’s nothing my dad will be able to do to help you.”

  I gape at him in shock, surprised by his anger. Even more surprised that he cares and that is why he’s angry. Lance realizes what he said a little too late and looks around at the eyes that are even more shocked then they were a second ago—because there were only two other people in our group who knew about my arrest record. And Lance just broke a pretty sacred vow by exposing me like he did.

  I glance up at Grant for the first time. And he doesn’t seem shocked exactly. His expression is more contemplative, like he’s putting pieces of me together that he didn’t know were missing. I’m waiting for him to decide that he doesn’t like wh
o I am.

  Ashton is the first to break from the group and hugs me. “Are you okay?”

  “You’re bleeding,” Lily notices, standing on the other side of me. “Let me go get some ice.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I try to assure her, swiping at the small trickle of blood on the corner of my lip. I must’ve bitten my cheek when he elbowed me. But Lily’s already gone.

  “That was the craziest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” Kaely babbles, still in shock.

  “Welcome to my life,” I tell her with a small smirk. Brendan lets out a laugh but cuts it short when Lance glares at him.

  “Would you mind if I drive Lana back to the school?” I’m not really sure who Grant’s asking, but Lance shrugs in approval. Then Grant asks me, “Is that okay?” I nod.

  I shoot Ashton a worried glance, afraid this car ride will be the end of whatever Grant and I are.

  “I’ll see you at school,” she tells me, sharing my concern. “Come find me when you get back.”

  I give them a weak wave and walk off with Grant. After a few steps, he slides his hand in mine and squeezes. I relax … just a little. Hoping there’s still a chance he won’t give up on me just yet. We continue the rest of the way to his car in silence.

  Grant’s car is straight out of a black and white, classic Hollywood movie. It’s some sort of navy blue vintage convertible coupe with a white racing stripe. I don’t think I could’ve designed a better car for Grant if I tried. He opens the passenger door for me to get in.

  Before he starts the car, he faces me. I hold my breath, waiting for him to tell me how reckless and stupid I was. Instead, he runs a hand along my jaw. I wince.

  He leans over and brushes a feather-light kiss against it. I close my eyes and hold my breath, wishing he’ll follow it up with one on my lips. But he shifts away and starts the car.

  Even when I start breathing again, it still doesn’t feel like I’m getting enough air.

  “What time’s your curfew?” he asks as we wind through country roads, the sun shooting rays of orange and gold through the trees as it nestles into the horizon.

  “Midnight,” I tell him, trying not to smile. Because that’s hours from now, and I doubt he’s preparing to spend the next three hours telling me why he never wants to see me again. I was so scared that after he witnessed the worst of my truths, he wouldn’t be interested anymore. And the fact that it scared me, scares me even more.

  I glance over at him, his golden hair ruffling in the wind. He shoots me a crooked grin before taking my hand and kissing the back of it. “I’ll have you back in time. I promise.”

  “I’m not worried,” I tell him. Not anymore—I don’t say out loud.

  The sun is completely gone and the darkness has settled in around us when he turns down a narrow paved road, which is surprising because I was convinced every side road in this town was dirt. The road is lined by a dense forest without a property in sight. Grant pulls the car onto a dirt patch at a break in the trees. The headlights illuminate a clearing of some kind.

  He gets out of the car and pops the trunk. I open the passenger door and get out, looking around to try to understand why we’re here. Grant appears beside me with a blanket and a cooler. “C’mon.” He offers me his hand and I let him guide me into the field, the overgrown grass tickling my bare legs. I have to wonder if this was meant to be our date.

  Grant sets down the cooler and spreads out the blanket. He sits and I settle down next to him. He reaches into the cooler and pulls out an ice pack, handing it to me.

  “I’m really okay,” I assure him, because I know I’m fine.

  “I’m not, so please ice it for me. It’ll make me feel better.”

  Stunned by his genuine concern, I take the ice pack from him and rest it gently on my jaw, that only seems to hurt when touched.

  “You came prepared,” I note with a small smile.

  “I came hopeful,” he clarifies. “So you’ve been arrested … for fighting.” It isn’t a question, more of a summation of the facts.

  “Yeah,” I answer barely audible.

  “When you get into these fights, do you start them, or is it like tonight?”

  “Well … I technically started the fight tonight considering I hit him first.”

  The side of his mouth tilts up in amusement. “You were defending me. That guy was about to take me out, for whatever reason, and I never saw it coming. Essentially, you saved me.”

  “I guess I kinda did, huh?” I reply, unable to hide my cocky grin. He laughs. “So to answer your question, yes, it’s usually like tonight. I don’t go looking for fights, but if someone threatens me or someone I care about, then I have to protect them.”

  Grant cocks an eyebrow. “But does it always have to resort to violence?”

  “I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “It’s my first reaction.” I cringe at the admission. “That’s bad, isn’t it?”

  Grant reveals a small smile. “I wish I could say it isn’t.”

  “I’m working on it,” I say, my lips twisted in a guilty furl. “Have you ever been in a fight?”

  “No,” he answers without hesitation. “I’ve never felt compelled to punch anyone. It can get physical in some of the rivalry lacrosse games, but it’s mostly shoving. And even when friends of mine get into fights, I’m usually breaking them up and talking everyone down. So, I was being honest earlier—you really do punch better than me.”

  I let out a breathy laugh.

  “Are you serious about working on it? Your anger, or whatever it is that compels you to punch first?”

  “Yeah, I am. And I guess it is anger, even though I may claim it’s in defense, there’s anger underneath it. But I’ve never really thought about it, I just … react.”

  “Do you know what triggers it? I mean, beyond being protective of you and your friends?”

  My heart is pounding and my palms are sweaty. I’ve never been this honest before, not even with myself, and it’s making me anxious, like I’m on the verge of having a panic attack. I experience those when I’m in enclosed spaces for too long. So I’m familiar enough with the cues to sense one is about to take over. If I don’t get control over it now, soon, I won’t have control at all.

  I close my eyes and focus on breathing, deep and slow.

  “Lana? Hey, it’s okay.” His hand caresses my back in an attempt to soothe me. I nearly jump at his touch. “You don’t have to tell me. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “It’s how I make sure I’m heard,” I tell him in a whisper, my eyes still closed. “As a girl, especially my size, guys think they have a right to me. To touch. To degrade. To dismiss me. So I fight because that’s my voice. That’s how I say no. That’s how I tell them to fuck off. That’s how I make it clear that I’m not theirs. It’s how I know they hear me.” I open my eyes and stare directly into his.

  “Is that why you don’t date?”

  I consider it a second. “Maybe.” He intertwines his fingers with mine. “I don’t want to belong to anyone. I’m not a possession. I’m not his. I’ve seen it so many times, becoming lost to another person. No longer identified as an individual, only as an us. Until one of them decides us isn’t enough and leaves, because they always do. I won’t lose myself to anyone. That way, they can’t take me with them when they leave me.”

  Grant is silent. And I want to disappear. I just admitted something so honest and vulnerable, something I didn’t know was true until I said it out loud. His presence in my life is dangerous to my curse. I have no way of protecting my honesty; my deepest hidden truths slip out so easily when I’m with him.

  I’m fumbling for something to say to lighten the seriousness that’s enveloped us when he leans forward. I barely have time to react before his mouth touches mine.

  Soft, full lips find me. I lean into him, into the kiss as my mouth slides over his. And everything is quiet inside me, so very still. Even my heart stops beating. In its place, a burst of light radiates from
the center of my chest. The warmth of it expands until it is all of me. And within the calm that has settled over me, I can feel everything all at once. The small gasp of air he breathes into me, the fine stubble along his chin, the give of his lips and tickle of his fingers dancing along my neck. It is sensual and intense. Gentle and passionate. His kiss awakens something inside of me, and when I open my eyes, nothing looks the same.

  Grant is looking at me like he’s never seen me before, yet he’s been searching for me for forever. Or maybe that’s how I’m looking at him. And behind him, tiny stars are dancing across the field.

  Wait. Maybe I got hit in the head harder than I thought.

  I swivel to admire what’s surrounding us. Small, flashing lights dance and swirl around the tall blades of grass.

  “Fireflies,” I acknowledge in awe. “I’ve never seen them in real life before.”

  “This is why I brought you here.”

  “Not to kiss me?” I tease.

  His smile is so wide, it causes me to smile too.

  “That was what I wished would happen, but the fireflies are why we’re here.”

  I lean my head against his shoulder. Grant shuffles closer to wrap his arm around me and rest his chin on my head. It is … magical, watching what seems like hundreds, maybe a thousand, tiny orbs flicker and flutter around us in a haphazard rhythm.

  “Can you promise me something?”

  I don’t respond.

  “When you feel that anger building again, if it’s possible, will you call me instead of letting it take over? Maybe I can talk you down, or at least try. I didn’t like seeing you get hurt, or watching you hurt someone else, even if you have an impressive swing.”

  I remain quiet for another second. “I can’t.”

  “Oh, right,” he recalls. “Blackwood’s strict technology policies. I’m officially your tutor, so I’m on your approved call list. You can add me directly into your contacts. I may already be there actually.”

  I pull back to face him. “Really?”

  He nods. “So, will you … call me?”

  I frown. “I can’t make that promise. I’m sorry.” I don’t want to have to depend on someone else to help me gain control over my emotions, even my anger. I should be able to do it on my own. They’re my emotions after all.