The Essential Elements: Boxed Set

by Elle Middaugh

  “I love it out here,” he explained excitedly. “It’s the only place I feel…free. You know?”

  Yes and no. I did understand that he was, for whatever reason, forcing himself to avoid me at school, which I disdained. He avoided most other people, too, for that matter, which was…whatever. I supposed interacting only when necessary as to not draw too much attention to himself would feel restrictive.

  Much like my own self-imposed isolation had felt…still felt. I wasn’t really out of the woods yet where that was concerned. That day was only the first day of attempted sociability, and I wouldn’t necessarily have called it a success.

  I just nodded, immediately lost in a sea of emerald eyes. They stared at me intently, curiously. His lips curled into a humorous half-smile and he squeezed my hand softly.

  “So.”

  “So?” I asked. I knew his ‘so’ was uttered too matter-of-factly to be just stalling that time.

  “I want to talk to you.”

  I waited with an unknowing smile. “About what?”

  Cade blew out a deep breath and chuckled. “Anything?” He looked all around, then back into my light blue eyes. “I want to find out who the real Valerie Moore is.”

  I tried my hardest to suppress the wild grin that threatened to erupt across my face. Bobbing our hands off the striped blanket absentmindedly, I asked, “And how would you presume to find out who I am?”

  Cade twitched his eyebrows mischievously, released my hands, and withdrew a small stack of notecards from the back pocket of his jeans. He licked his lips then smiled. “I would probably do something like this,” he said in response to my question.

  Laughter crept up my throat despite myself. “Really?”

  “Absolutely.” He bit his lip excitedly and slid closer to me on the blanket. “Ready?”

  The smile he flashed me was soul-crushing, utterly breathtaking. I fumbled for a moment as I tried to assemble my fluttering thoughts. “I thought I was asking all the questions this time,” I managed to protest.

  He raised a cocky eyebrow. “Did you prepare a stack of questions?”

  The flat look I gave him said it all.

  “No?” he asked innocently. Then he laughed, the sound drifting easily across the semi-darkness. When he sobered up a bit, he brushed my chin with his pointer finger. “Answer quickly, all right? No taking extra time to think.”

  I nodded happily, peacocking it up at the sensation of his touch, and he began reading from the first notecard.

  “What is your favorite hotdog topping?”

  “What? Mustard.”

  He laughed. “I thought you’d say you didn’t eat hotdogs.”

  Curiosity hovered on my pursed lips. “I don’t. How’d you know?”

  He shrugged, then moved the card to the end of the stack. “What’s your favorite gemstone?”

  “Alexandrite. Or Tanzanite.”

  “No amethyst?” he mocked teasingly.

  I smiled wide. “You’re lucky I know a thing or two about my purple jewels, or that joke might have gone over my head.”

  “I am lucky,” he agreed. “How old are you?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “Tattoos?”

  I raised a defiant eyebrow. “Yes.”

  He looked like he was trying damn hard not to lick his lips; instead, he bit them. A flash to an image of me biting those soft lips overtook my mind, and I blushed. Cade was right. Being out there in the middle of nowhere was freeing. Even my mind felt like it had more room to wander.

  Growing up as a navy brat had incidentally exposed me to a lifestyle with a slightly harder edge. As I was still not yet eighteen, my father had obviously had to sign for my few tattoos, but it was just so common of a thing in the navy that he’d never batted an eye before scratching his illegible signature on the page.

  I half-smiled and waited for Cade’s eyes to refocus from their haze. The severity behind their foggy curtain indicated that he very much enjoyed the fact that I had some ink.

  “Do you?” I asked a little too huskily.

  “I do.”

  Now it was my turn to sink into the allure. My lips parted softly as I tried to imagine what his body looked like under that shirt—the tattoos, what the tattoos looked like, of course.

  One deep breath, and a long, slow exhale. Gathering his wits, he continued his ridiculous interrogation. “Favorite color?”

  “Purple.”

  He smiled. “Like lilacs and Alexandrite?”

  I nodded. “And everything else.”

  “Favorite musical genre?”

  “Indie pop.”

  “What do you do in your free time?”

  “Read. Write. Listen to music. Homework. Walk…” I shrugged. “Boring stuff.”

  A new card revealed itself as the last one was shooed to the back. “Favorite season?”

  “Winter.”

  “Why?” he demanded too passionately, throwing me off guard.

  “Um…” I twirled my ponytail around my fingers absently. “Let’s see. Summer is beautiful; it’s probably my second favorite. Spring is sweet, I guess, but it’s still not my favorite. Autumn is fantastic, but the decay is a little depressing. And that leaves winter.”

  I should’ve hated it—it was snow and ice that had ultimately killed my mother, after all—but there was just something about the season that spoke to me intimately. It felt… It made me feel…content.

  “Winter is…gorgeous,” I continued in awe. “The icicles that cling to the threadbare branches, glittering in the florescent sunlight. The snow-laden branches that sag across the road like a magical archway to another world. The oversized snowflakes that glide weightlessly to ground, creating an almost stellar frozen scene.” I smiled longingly. “That was a little too poetic, wasn’t it?”

  He ignored my tiny question. “If you could control one,” he whispered solemnly, “earth, wind, water, or fire?”

  “Okay, Captain Planet.” I thought for a moment, despite my instructions not to. “Water.”

  He glared playfully at me, and curiosity completely engulfed his features. “Why?”

  Darkness was truly setting in, and with it, a majestic view of the stars. I laid back, exhaling loudly, and lost myself in the vast and utter beauty of space. I almost didn’t notice the tension riding in Cade’s shoulders as he slowly lowered himself beside me.

  “I think,” I began timidly. “I think it’s because of…a lot of reasons. Process of elimination: fire has always captivated me, but I’m afraid it’s too destructive; earth is nice, but it’s not really my thing; wind is wishy-washy and too unpredictable. So then there’s water. It’s so versatile: rain, lakes, oceans, and waves; snow, sleet, hail, and ice. You know?”

  Lips pursed, he chewed on that information for a little longer than necessary. Then he tucked the cards away, apparently satisfied with his mini-marathon of questions. He reached for my hand in between our bodies, squeezing it lightly.

  I propped myself up on an elbow and stared at him shyly, despite the darkness that was swirling all around us. “I might not have prepared notecards, but can I ask you a few questions now?”

  He might’ve winced; it was too dark to really tell. “Yeah, sure.”

  I flung my flaxen hair over my shoulder and took a deep breath. Crickets were chirping in the background, and the sweetness of the moonflowers curled in the air surrounding us. “Good, because here they come. What’s your favorite color?”

  “Green.”

  “Age?”

  “Eighteen.”

  “Favorite food?”

  He rubbed his chin theatrically. “Hmm… Asparagus.”

  “First of all, gross? Maybe? Secondly, of all the foods in all the world, that’s what you’d choose?”

  His thumb caressed my fingers, and he looked down at them as he spoke. “My family is very much into clean eating. As in, if it doesn’t come from the garden or the woods around the house, we don’t eat it.”

  “Wow.” />
  “It’s actually really amazing,” he defended. “People have no idea what real food tastes like any more. How good it is for your body and mind.”

  I paused, then continued. “Favorite holiday?”

  “Arbor Day, tied with Earth Day.”

  A small smile spread curiously across my features. “Seriously?” He nodded, but never made eye contact. I frowned, but the smile remained. “You’re really eco, aren’t you?”

  “You have no idea,” he mumbled.

  “I’m learning,” I assured him.

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  What the hell? Was he worried that no one would like or accept him if they knew how passionate he was about the environment? I knew the eco kids usually got labeled as tree-hugging hippie weirdos, but Cade was too good-looking to catch such flack. He shouldn’t have been worried, not about them, and certainly not about me.

  “I won’t judge you, Cade. I just want to know you.”

  He sat up and his hands found my cheeks, spreading heat like wildfire through my body. My heart began racing, fast as a hummingbird, hard as a jackhammer. I was certain he could feel it thrumming under the paper-thin layer of my skin. Breathing was a difficult endeavor, all shallow and restless.

  Kiss me.

  His breath was jagged, and his gaze intense. The warmth of his fingers slid from my cheeks to my scalp as they curled in my hair. “I want you to know me, too,” he whispered. “Nobody knows me…” Our lips were one breath away from touching. My whole body buzzed with anticipation.

  Kiss me.

  Chapter Eight

  I felt my body mirroring his as he closed his eyes and parted his lips. The heat of his breath danced across my skin. My own breathing paused in anticipation.

  Then the thunder rumbled through the air.

  Cade blinked, and the moment was lost. He pulled away slowly and swore. “Shit, I’m…I’m sorry. You should get home. It’s late.” He glared at the sky. “And it’s about to rain.”

  I opened my eyes, confusion roiling in their depths, and slowly pulled away. “What?”

  “We have to go,” he repeated, regret and unease riding his tone.

  I hadn’t thought that far ahead. “It’s dark, and I don’t know my way back! I didn’t even bring a flashlight! Oh my gosh, what was I thinking?” I stood as panic began multiplying through my system. My hands found my elbows as my feet began a steady back and forth repetition.

  Thunder cracked, harder this time. Cade brought his eyes from the sky down to me. He gripped my shoulders to keep me from pacing and stared deep into my eyes. “Listen, Valerie, I really have to go. I’m so sorry.” Lightning flashed beyond the trees and moments later the thunder rolled across the sky like a wave. Cade’s eyes darted to the woods, then back to mine. Intensity burned deep in those emerald gems. “But I can keep you from getting lost, okay? Just follow the moonflowers. Do you know what they look like?”

  I nodded, focusing intently on controlling my racing breaths.

  “Good.” He reassured me with a smile. “They’ll lead you the whole way home, but you have to go now, okay?”

  “No they won’t! I saw them on the way in. They stop at the edge of the field!”

  He shook his head quickly. “No, Valerie, listen. They will lead you the whole way home. I promise.” He backed away, forcing another quick smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  And just like that, he darted into the woods and disappeared into the night.

  He left me. Shock momentarily overrode the panic. He had left me alone. In the woods. In the dark. In the rain. And he had left me in a hurry.

  Rain began to fall.

  The stinging droplets shook the stupor right out of my head. I looked around and saw them immediately: small white flowers that practically glowed in the patchy light of the semi-clouded moon. Running, I followed them as far as they went. They trailed to the edge of the field, down the steep embankment, along the entirety of the deer path, and straight to the edge of Aunt Marge’s backyard.

  I bent over to catch my breath, because I hadn’t once slowed or stopped, then glanced behind me. Nothing but a shadowed forest. I blinked. No luminescent moonflowers. None whatsoever.

  Impossible.

  I rushed the rest of the way through the yard and threw myself inside the house. My back and palms pressed harshly into the door, and my eyes squeezed tightly shut. I knew I wasn’t crazy. I knew those flowers had been there. They had led me home, just like Cade had promised they would. But how could he have possibly promised something like that? Where the hell had they come from? And where the hell had they gone?

  Water leached into my feet through my sneakers and I stole a fretful peek downward. Ugh. Ruined. Mud caked to the soles like brownie batter. There was no evidence remaining that they had ever been white. And the worst part? I wasn’t even sure it had been worth it.

  “How was your evening?” Aunt Marge called from her bedroom. She stepped out in a long cotton nightgown, and I immediately straightened up and pushed away from the door.

  “Fine,” I answered a little too quickly, a little too breathlessly. I busied myself with carefully removing my filthy shoes.

  Marge frowned. “Will you be meeting up with him again?”

  It was my turn to frown. “How’d you know it was a guy?”

  Her features softened and she crossed her arms. “I was young once, too, you know.”

  “Sorry.” I winced, then pulled my damp hair from the ponytail. The cover of the trees had kept me from getting soaked by the rain, but it hadn’t kept me entirely dry. “I don’t know. Everything was going great, until…it wasn’t.” I ruffled my loose hair and took a deep breath as disappointment rotisseried my heart.

  She moved around me and poured hot water from a teapot into a cup. “Anything you want to talk about?” The smell of tea floated softly through the tiny space.

  “I don’t know.” I wasn’t used to having boy troubles. It was an awkward sensation. “He just left, out of the blue. I mean…” I watched as she added milk, sugar, and a teaspoon of something else. “It started thundering and he got all panicky and he told me I had to go, and—”

  “He was afraid of the rain?” She held the cup toward me cautiously. “Tea?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Tea soothes the soul, my dear,” she insisted as she placed the cup in my hands. Then she busied herself with preparing another cup.

  The curved tug of my lips came involuntarily as I lifted the cup to my lips. She was right, after all. The tea usually helped.

  “I don’t think he was afraid of it, exactly,” I continued after taking a hot sip. “It was more like…the oncoming storm sort of reminded him that he shouldn’t be there. With me. I don’t understand why, though. I mean, he already avoids me at school, and that’s confusing enough, but—”

  “He avoids you at school?” Her astonishment was as sharp as a slap in the face. “Oh, Valerie… You are too beautiful for his secrecy! Your mother would be telling you the exact same thing if she were here right now, only much more adamantly, I’m sure.” She grabbed my free hand and squeezed persistently. “Neither Amelia nor I ever doubted our beauty, or our self-worth, and we never accepted anything less from anyone else. You certainly shouldn’t, either.”

  It wasn’t like that, though. Cade liked me; he wanted to know me, and he wanted me to know him, even when no one else did. That wasn’t all smoke and mirrors and bullshit. Right? He wanted to hold my hand and lay with me under the stars. He had invited me to his willow and nearly kissed me. That all had to mean something. Right?

  Now I wasn’t so sure.

  Hearing words my mother would have spoken cracked my resolve. The seed had been planted. You are too beautiful for his secrecy. It was now like a root, curling into that tiny crack, splitting it wide and snaking straight to my heart.

  I couldn’t have helped the thoughts that came next even if I’d wanted to.

  Holden wasn’t afraid to talk
to me at school. Holden wasn’t afraid to admit that he liked me and wanted to date me. He had gone out of his way to make us lab partners. He had gone out of his way to make us friends. He had even offered to help me make friends other than himself.

  It was treacherous. I could feel the blackness of it poisoning my veins, but no matter how cutting it was to compare the two, the truth was still there. One was now steadily stepping out ahead of the other.

  I wanted Cade. There was something there that lured me, relentlessly reeling me in; I refused to give up on him so quickly, but there was now something coaxing me toward Holden as well. I thought maybe I shouldn’t give up on him so quickly either.

  Marge half-chuckled. “There was one time Amelia and I—” But she cut herself off abruptly, as if she was no longer sure she should be revealing the tale, or like her wording needed more careful consideration before being uttered.

  “There were a few…guards,” she began timidly, “watching over our father’s…business building. They were crude, as men in their line of work sometimes are, and they made the mistake of jeering at Amelia and me as if we were just other…average…girls, which, obviously, we weren’t. I mean!” Marge was stumbling over herself a bit. “That is to say! We just…weren’t average. You’ve seen pictures. You’ve seen a mirror. You understand.”

  Marge smiled and touched a hand to her chin. “Amelia marched right up to that man and…grabbed him, if you can imagine!” Marge blushed as if it was scandalous. Then again, maybe it was. “She put her angelic face right up to his rough, dirty one and said, ‘Call me that again.’”

  Marge giggled and covered half her face with her fingers. “His eyes went wide! But he didn’t say a word. ‘Call my sister that again,’ Amelia demanded. But he wouldn’t do that either, so she backed up and eyed all four of the guards lining the stone wall and said, ‘If none of you are man enough to say these things to our faces, then you sure as hell aren’t man enough to say them behind our backs or under your breath! Do any of you have anything to add while you still have the chance?’

  “None of the guards uttered a single word. Just then this strong, handsome man stepped forward from out of the woods. Out of nowhere, really. And he said, ‘I have something to add.’ He grabbed her hand and kissed her fingers, saying, ‘I think you’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on. May I…date…you?’” Marge laughed and shook her head. “He was such a sweetheart. Amelia ended up mar—” Her eyes widened and her breath caught somewhere in her throat. She coughed and continued quickly, “She ended up merrily walking him straight to the local…diner…for a drink.