Deeper into Darkness

by Maria Ann Green

  But I pull away before he’s ready, and he knits his brow, his jaw flexing beneath the skin, as his eyes flutter open. “What?” he asks, searching my eyes, unsure of why I’ve broken our warming connection. He’s unsure, and he’s almost never unsure.

  The relief that rushed through him wasn’t total, and I can see that. The bet wasn’t the only thing bothering him, and I want to make it all better, make all of the worry go away if I can. I have to be able to do that.

  “Let’s move,” I add.

  “Are you serious?”

  “No, I’m lying for fun, playing with your emotions,” I deadpan. “Of course I’m serious, dummy.” He laughs; it’s loud and hearty, an answer to my proposition. “I should have said yes. I should have agreed right away. I knew it’s what you wanted, and I shouldn’t have hesitated. I don’t even know what I was holding on to. If we go together then I’ll have everything I need.”

  I say it and I can feel the truth, the finality, in every word. I was stupid to hesitate, to wait for nothing that was coming. He’s the only thing I need, and he needed to get away, so now I need to get away, too.

  Obviously, my judgment was clouded by the life we’d set up here together. But we can set up again, somewhere else, set up something better.

  Aidan starts bobbing his head, a plan already forming.

  “We can move this week, tomorrow even,” I say.

  “Going together is the only thing that matters,” he echoes my thoughts, always inside of me. It’s clear what we have to do. I know he can see what I’m thinking, and I know he’s thinking the same. We’re on the exact same page; it’s perfect. “This week,” he says. His eyes are wide, his whole body open to me.

  It’s not tomorrow, but it’ll have to do.

  “It’s a deal.”

  “We need to plan it right, our leaving. But, okay. Let’s do it,” he says, love radiating in pulses off his skin, smelling of moonlight and support.

  “Can I ask for something?” I don’t want to. I have to. I’m scared. But now is the time. Now that we’ve carved it all away and are bare, it’s time.

  “Anything,” he says.

  Be careful what you wish for, or you’ll get more than you expected, promising something you don’t mean.

  “When we move, I was hoping, I mean it’s okay if you’re not on board, or if you need to think about it—”

  “Spit it out, Bumble Bee.”

  Taking a deep breath, restorative, I start again. “When we move, can we start killing together, as a team, as a couple, instead of separately?”

  The words fall from my mouth, hitting the ground before bouncing back up to his ears. I can see several emotions pass over his face, through his eyes, and I can’t read a single one of them. I worry, I brace myself.

  “It’s okay if you say no,” I spit out quickly, as an afterthought. “I just thought we could go all in together.” Still he thinks. “When we’re able to kill again, that is. I know we have to be careful; that hasn’t changed. Obviously, I mean when the time is right, and you’re ready.”

  Aidan takes a breath, ready, and I hold mine, waiting for his answer.

  “Are you packed?” Aidan’s voice floats through the house, around turns in the hallways and through the paint on walls.

  “Ummm,” I say. “Kinda. Mostly.”

  He laughs, and the sound is louder than his question. In a moment he’s in the room, his sweatpants low on his hips, and his hands shoved into the pockets. He leans against the doorframe, and I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted him so much. My mouth waters just a little.

  “Did you email Brandon to let him know you won’t be writing anything or responding at all?”

  My agent, crap.

  “Well…”

  “Where’s your computer? I can do it if you want, do it for you.”

  His eyes are warm, filling the room with a heat I can’t ignore. I nod and start throwing random outfits into my bag faster than I was before, trying to finish up and make some extra time for other things.

  I point to my carry-on, realizing I hadn’t even thought about it.

  “Tell him I’ll reach out when I’m done, so he doesn’t bother us too soon.”

  Aidan pulls my computer out of the bag, first looking at the unorganized mess inside as he does, and opens it. Typing once he’s opened everything necessary, he looks to me. “It feels good to know I don’t have to go into work today. I don’t think I’ve ever taken this much time off at once.”

  My little workaholic.

  “Because you’re nuts,” I say.

  “I’d have to be, to put up with you.” He types quickly, sending the note off faster than I would.

  I finish with shoving everything I think I’ll need into some pocket of the bags, looking around just to make sure. “Done,” I say.

  Aidan lies back on the bed, not putting my computer back yet. His hands go behind his head, a true lounging position, and he looks so comfortable it’s impossible not to join him on the pillows.

  “You know, Jason was bummed when I told him we were leaving tomorrow for vacation.” I try not to laugh at the annoyance in Aidan’s voice. “He tried to get me to invite him.”

  “What?” I get up on my elbow, taking my cheek of his shoulder, to look at his face. “No way.”

  “I swear. He was throwing hints around like glitter at a strip club. He honestly wanted to crash our couples’ trip. No shit,” he says.

  “Did you punch him?”

  “I mean, I thought about it.” I lie back down, listening to both his voice and the beats of his heart. “No,” he says, even though he doesn’t have to add it. “I told him we needed some time to be together, just us, and he pretended to understand. I added that we needed a break from everyone and everything. I think I hurt his feelings, so he stopped.”

  “When was this?” I ask, a little surprised.

  “Just tonight, at dinner, when you were in the bathroom.”

  Jason took us out, knowing we were heading to the airport tomorrow night. I knew Aidan had looked annoyed the whole night, but especially so after I’d come back from the bathroom. Now it makes sense. He’d rolled his eyes the whole evening.

  Jason had talked about working out with me, and Aidan’s face had gotten redder. He’d talked about putting himself out there and trying to start dating again after officially turning Mel down for a reconciliation. Aidan was especially annoyed about this one, telling Jason he was making a mistake. It had gotten really awkward then, which is why I’d excused myself for a little bit.

  But I hadn’t imagined the rest.

  “You aren’t going to miss him as much as you would have if we’d left last year, huh?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

  “I think we’ve just grown apart.” His answer isn’t an answer, but that’s okay. “I don’t like how cocky he is all the time now, how much he’s changed.”

  I nod. “He has. You have, too,” I point out.

  “True.” Aidan concedes.

  ***

  “Hey, can I use your computer quick?”

  I don’t even know why we packed tonight, but Aidan insisted despite the fact that we would need to pull out things to use in the next twenty-four hours. I don’t say this, like I want to, I just tell him to go ahead, of course, and go back to my movie.

  He gets up, and when he comes back to join me on the couch, I put my feet in his lap so he has to figure out how to hold both me and the computer. I smile, and he pinches my toe, but doesn’t move them.

  With my laptop balanced on the arm of the couch, Aidan keeps one hand on top of my feet, rubbing them lazily. But it’s nice. He never leaves me devoid of his touch, and I sink into the couch, into the movie, into the relaxation we’ve had for the last few days, into the contentment.

  But when his hand stops moving, engrossed in whatever is on the computer screen, I look to Aidan and his eyes sparkle. It’s not a good sign. “What are you up to?” I know I sound suspicious, but I can’t stop the tone fr
om seeping into my words. Automatically defensive, I want to yank the computer away and yell what what what what what, but I don’t. I pause the movie, then I sit still and I wait for an answer.

  Aidan smiles; he breathes annoyingly slow before starting.

  “The knife had gone through her throat smoother than Adam had guessed. And the blood rushed to the air so fast. But it's didn't spurt. It gurgled, erupted to a rhythm. It did spray, but not like he had anticipated, only a little. It was messier.

  “Realer.

  “The movies never got it right.

  “But then again, neither did he. Because it wasn’t really happening. His hands were clean. There was no crimson splatter. He blinked, and everything returned to normal. Adam didn’t act. He imagined, he watched everything happen on the backs of his eyelids, without crossing over the bridge of action from fantasy to reality.”

  Aidan read my words. His mouth was wide and smiling the entire time.

  I didn’t move.

  He was really good at reading aloud. His voice pitched and hushed, carried throughout he room and changed in ways that kept me listening instead of reacting, mesmerizing me.

  He continued then. I wasn’t sure I wanted him to, but I was stuck somewhere without words, and I didn’t stop him.

  “He’d watched the changes in his face the last few weeks in the mirror. Adam willed himself to move, to start what he’d been born for—that is, if he hadn’t been born as a collection of mistakes and lost opportunities. And he had to believe he hadn’t. He would get it right this time. He’d really do it, and then the rest of his life would start.”

  I blink.

  “Bee,” Aidan starts, and finally I can move. I cover my eyes, my face getting as hot as my chest, as the mortification creeps up toward my scalp, setting everything on fire along the way there. “This is so fucking good.”

  I peek through my fingers, just to see for a moment. And I think he’s serious. His face is full of genuine adoration, mixed with a bit of surprise.

  “Shut up; it’s not ready.” I say, when I should be saying thank you or anything else.

  His voice changes, lowers, when he speaks again, after a long pause. I’m still not looking at him, my fingers back to protecting me from whatever is coming. “Why didn’t you tell me you were writing a book?” he asks, sounding hurt.

  Then the air rushes out of me, exiting my lungs, too ashamed to be with me. I lower my hands to my lap, starting to twist my fingers around each other. “I’m sorry,” I say, looking down.

  But it’s not enough. “Why?” he asks again, not willing to back down.

  “I just…I don’t know.”

  “Not good enough.”

  I look up, and he doesn’t look mad. He’s curious, a little hurt, but mostly interested. His eyes hold mine, and he moves his chin outward, closer to me, in a gesture to continue.

  “I didn’t know if you’d want me to. I didn’t know what you’d think, or if you’d want me to stop. Plus, I’ve already decided against sending it to Brandon. I can’t. It doesn’t make sense, obviously. So I figured, there was no sense in sharing it.”

  “But…” he starts.

  I don’t let him continue.

  “But nothing,” I say. “I can’t send it to him. And even if I could, it’s too risky. I worry it’ll get us caught, somehow. It is what it is.” He looks sad, but at least I’m telling the truth now. “I shouldn’t have kept it from you, you’re right. It was stupid. I think I just felt dumb.”

  “I will always back you up, you know that.” His voice is pleading. He begs me to realize, to understand. And I do. But that doesn’t change anything.

  “I know.” I will the same assurance into my words, my voice.

  His eyes are darker now, unhappy. “I still think you should go for it….I don’t know how, but somehow. Because, babe, this is so fucking good.”

  “No.”

  He doesn’t look perturbed, not even annoyed, at my obstinance; in fact, it seems to spark a little lightness in him. Aidan’s smile is contagious, even though I’m not moved to change my mind.

  “No,” I reiterate, still smiling. The syllable rings throughout the living room, and it sets a final nail into the subject. What we both heard was, “Drop it.”

  And he does, thankfully.

  He closes the document with all my wasted words—all the time I spent in the project seems so useless now—and I hit play on my movie again. We don’t look at each other, but we’re still comfortably together in the silence. It’s not too awkward or forced, it’s just a little different now.

  Not really paying attention to the characters talking in front of me, I think about Aidan. He’s so different from anyone else I’ve known, know, will know. The guilt that’s always hiding in my gut about my past, about the secrets, moves and makes its presence known for a moment. I hate it. But telling him would only lead to…to I don’t even know, and I don’t like not knowing.

  But the guilt, the shame, they say otherwise. They say that maybe I should take the leap and tell him. I should lay everything out bare, naked and vulnerable, for him to accept as I’ve accepted him. Maybe he wouldn’t leave. Maybe he would still trust me, despite it all. Maybe now is the perfect time since I fessed up about the book.

  Maybe.

  And maybe the fear of it will cut me like a bottle into my belly, killing me before I can tell him. Maybe he’d leave and I’d die.

  The credits of my movie start rolling, and I haven’t paid attention at all, but it doesn’t matter. Tomorrow we leave, tomorrow we relax together and start fresh. We’ll be together through vacation, through moving, through it all. Aidan closes my computer, grabs the remote, and turns the tv off, then he turns to me.

  “You know, I mean it when I say I’m all in.”

  “I know,” I say. “You proposed to me. You better be all in.” I make a joke, but his lips stay in a hard line. He’s not kidding around. “I am too,” I add.

  I am too.

  “Let’s kill together.” My mouth drops open. “Tonight.” My eyes go wide. “Here and now, lets start tonight. I don’t care that vacation starts tomorrow. I don’t care that we were going to wait till after moving. I’m all in. I want what you want. Let’s go out, right now. Lets do it. Together.”

  I sit perfectly still.

  My head tips to one side, then to the other.

  Blinking a few times, I gather my thoughts and all the answers I could give him.

  Then, I finally open my mouth to speak.

  It’s dark, it’s warm, it’s loud, and I can feel the anticipation racing through me.

  The lights overhead flicker, different colors shining onto the sequins and beads sewn into short dresses. The beat moves onward, pounding into my chest, vibrating all around and into the bodies packed onto the dance floor.

  We all sweat.

  We all drink.

  We all hope for something to take home with us from this bar; those things may be different, but no one comes in here wishing to leave emptier than they walked in.

  Aidan looks to me, his pupils wide and his eyebrow arched. I wish I could lean over and run my fingers over his zipper, feel his excitement. But I know it’s there, and if fuels mine anyway.

  “So,” the man next to me leans over to yell closer to my ear, trying to be heard over the music. “What’s your name?” he asks, slurring.

  “Does it matter?” I smile.

  I touch his thigh.

  Of course it doesn’t matter.

  He shakes his head. I know it doesn’t. I don’t roll my eyes, despite the forceful urge to. And I look over his shoulder, at Aidan again, a few stools down the bar—always within sight of each other.

  He leans away from the woman next to him, making her come to him. It works, and I smile, biting my lip.

  The anticipation is one of the best parts.

  Our bags are still packed at home, we’re still leaving tomorrow for vacation, but tonight is about something new, something exiting.
We’re in it together, all in, and this feels so right. I can’t believe we waited so long, because in this moment I know it’s what I’ve been waiting for, what we’ve been building up to. And I really thought having such high expectations, having too long to think about what could be, would end up leaving me disappointed. But I’m not. This is beyond my anticipation.

  Rubbing my thighs together, I send fireworks into my bloodstream.

  The woman who sits with Aidan, she doesn’t know the man next to me, and neither stranger knows us. But, I chose her for Aidan, and he chose Mr. Licks His Lips A Lot next to me here. Speaking of…

  He licks them again and leans in toward me again. I catch the bartender’s eye before anything is said, lifting only one finger and pointing toward my companion. One for him, and only that one.

  “Listen,” he starts, and that’s when I stop listening.

  I look between the man and Aidan, and the similarities are striking. Same build, same height, give or take an inch. Similar eyes, close enough anyway. This idiot wears glasses, but who’s to say it isn’t contacts sometimes.

  It’s loud, but I nod along, pretending to hear more than the “and then” or “now he” of the story. The place is packed, but even still, we got lucky. And that’s good enough. Actually, it’s better than I could have hoped for, since this was never the plan to begin with, and now everything is working out brilliantly.

  “Wanna fuck?” I ask the guy, and he spits some of his drink onto the bar, gaining a glare from the people around us and an eye roll from the bartender. I fix the latter with a big bill under my glass, which wipes the annoyance away immediately.

  “Y—yeah!” the guy stammers, and honestly it’s hard not to gag. He’s fine looking, I mean he has to be since he looks a bit like Aidan, but he’s sloppy drunk and he’s a necessity, not a want.

  But I resist, smiling instead, and the guy looks like he’s going to come in his pants before he even stands up.

  “My place,” I say. I don’t ask—I never ask—and he follows without question.

  I walk toward Aidan, toward the doors, and as I pass I hear him ask the woman, “How about you come home with me, right now?” She literally squeals, and this time I do roll my eyes, shaking my head too, because my horny little shadow is behind me and can’t see my face.