by Kat Quinn
As I glance at Monty, a smile cracks the edges of my mouth. He was wiping off the counter when I said clean up. Already wrapped in a layer of cling film, Monty picks up the ball of dough and transfers it to the fridge.
“What can I do to make this better for you?” Monty asks, returning to his place across from me on the kitchen island, elbows resting on the counter, chin resting on both his hands. The look in his eyes is one of utter sincerity and rapt attention, a look that’s hard not to be tractor-beamed right into and caught tightly by its hold.
Another raspberry blows from my lips, a few loose wisps of hair fluttering from the force. “I dunno. For the first time ever, I’m found, and I can’t help but feel so very lost about it.”
Monty doesn’t move, just keeps staring quietly. Waiting. It gives me room to think.
“Maybe… just… Don’t tell me what to do or how or who to be?” Shaking my head, I continue, “No, that’s not it. Just. I want to be how I am. This whole fight practice thing was fun at first, but now it doesn’t feel optional or productive. It just seems degrading in a way and I hate it.” Clamping a piece of my lip between my teeth, I chew on it at the same time as chewing on my thoughts a bit more. “If we’re all in this together, I want to feel like it’s a together thing. Not a… do as I say thing. And I don’t ever want to be kept in the dark about shit because then we’re not all working together, it’s just some of us working and some of us flailing blindly.”
Monty nods, pausing for me to continue in case I want to but I kinda think I don’t. His turn.
“The best families are ones that work together. They compliment each other’s strengths, and fill in for each other’s weaknesses. But if communication breaks down, then the family breaks down. Everyone has to be open and honest with each other for it to work.” At that, he winces just slightly. “My parents always taught us to listen to each other, because if you’re too busy talking nobody else gets heard. I’m sorry we haven’t been giving you the space to talk, or listening when you do carve some out.” Monty reaches across the counter and cups my cheek with one of his hands. Eyes closed, I lean into it. “You’re right. We need to do better. Can’t keep trying to cram you into a mold that wasn’t built for you, can’t keep fighting against each other, and can’t keep expecting something that isn’t working to suddenly be right as rain without any adjustments. That’s just insanity.” Monty’s fingers curl lightly under my chin and I open my eyes to see his gaze flit quickly away from my mouth to my eyes. “Will you let us try to fix this? Will you stay and give me the chance to make it right? I promise, I’ll do whatever I can to keep you happy.”
Biting the inside of my cheek this time, I nod. “Yeah, I’d like that,” I reply.
He smiles warmly, but it doesn’t quite reach to his eyes. I don’t know why.
“Good,” Monty drops his hand from my face and stands up straight. “Now, can I count on you to help with filling these ravioli, or am I putting on this show alone?”
Hopping down from my barstool onto the balls of my feet, I join Monty on the pasta stage.
18. Dizzy
Toweling off my long, violet curls, I pause at the threshold of the bathroom door, errant droplets spattering onto my feet like their very own personal rainstorm. It’s been weeks, and figuring out the sleeping situation still hasn’t quite been settled. Essentially, I’m a long-term, unexpected guest in this place. A welcomed guest that makes out with most of the household on the regular, but still not really a piece that fits seamlessly into the space.
Closing my eyes, I let my gut lead me to whatever door has the prize behind it. Aaaaaaand, behind door number three you’ve won an all expenses-paid, round trip to Lin’s room, complete with minimalistic, tidy, black-and-white furniture and decorations! The crowd goes wild, they cheer for your success! But will you win the grand prize, or throw it all away on a risky double-or-nothing bet? Tune in next time on “Dizzy’s Door Decisions” to find out!
On the far wall, framed by windows on either side, Lin sits with his back against the black headboard, knees bent up to rest his arms on. We’re dressed in opposites in a way, since he’s only wearing a black pair of sleep pants and I’m only wearing a white t-shirt. Based on the pale glow bouncing back onto his elfin features, I deduce with 4,000% accuracy that Lin’s drawn into his phone again.
Deciding to make myself as at-home as I can, I take a slight running start and execute a sliding belly-flop into the space beside him, definitely, absolutely successfully, smoothly, and sexily turning to casually look at him. If anyone tells you that I tripped at the last step and perhaps got slightly tangled in the bedding for a few moments, they’re lying. Just in case.
“Whatcha lookin’ at?” I ask, trying to peer at his screen from my position, but he has the high ground and I obviously can’t win. Drat.
“Looking over some files a contact sent. If there’s any validity to their claims, then we may have a few more leads on this shadow business that David’s entangled in,” he replies, tilting the screen slightly in my direction, his own eyes never leaving it. I pretend to totally be able to see it clearly even though my hair has decided to muscle its way into the make-Dizzy-look-as-un-cool-as-possible conspiracy, a thick swath of it thwacking me in the face and covering up one eye completely.
“Mm hmm,” I say while nodding, “totally interesting.” One of my arms is inconveniently both completely trapped under me, and slightly restrained by this boa-constrictor of a blanket situation.
Lin finally glances at me, chuckling slightly. I totally could have done this myself, mind you, but I let him use that high ground advantage to run his fingers through my hair and tuck it out of the way. “Ah, Love, much as I approve of you bringing restraints into our relationship, perhaps we should save the shibari for when we’re both ready? Hm?” Lin skillfully yanks on a far corner of the blanket, sending me rolling directly, but completely freely, against his side. “There, much better. Now we both get what we wanted.” One of his hands traces a path against the skin on my back, barely covered by the large, plain t-shirt on permanent loan from Kieran. The other very helpfully tilts his phone to a better angle so we can both see it.
Making myself more comfortable, I wriggle and scoot until my head is resting propped up against him like a firm, fleshy pillow. Now available in stores nationwide, just check with your local retailers in the comfiness aisle.
“Part of me is skeptical as to the validity of the claims made within these documents, but… they’re suspiciously clinical in their data. Most fabricated accounts are often flowery in their explanations, ensuring gaps are filled with every tendril of their supposed tale. This? It doesn’t seek to explain itself, it just… is.” Lin points at the page currently displayed, “Look at this. As far as I can tell, it’s a log of birth dates. The only differences between the entries are the ‘number,’ ‘name,’ and ‘origin.’ Just pages upon pages of information identifying people going back years and years. Why does this exist? What is its purpose? Is it a significant piece of the whole, or just a bit of filler for the document overall?” Almost subconsciously, Lin bites on the nail of his thumb, pausing to think for a few moments. “It doesn’t feel disingenuous, but this could just as easily be the census results of a town as it is an employee record for some benign company.”
Reaching up, I scroll quickly through the pages, hundreds of names nearly crossing both the screen and my eyes at the same time. Swiping once more, my finger doesn’t quite glide as smoothly as I’d planned, dragging and sort of skipping to a stuttering halt in the middle of a page.
My breath catches on a small gasp, choking me with its unexpectedness and sending a wet cough to follow. Two names. Two names, very near to each other on the list. Number: 32685, Born: October 15th, 1991, Origin: SEI, Name: David Anthony Williams. Number: 32687, Born: October 17th, 1991, Origin: ENG, Name: Disaster Zone Jones.
“Why am I on this list?!” I shout, my fingertip rapidly tapping on the screen, “Why’s David on th
is list?!?” Frantically, I scroll back to the first page of the section to see if there’s any explanation, my efforts in no way rewarded. There’s no explanation written anywhere, just basically a massive spreadsheet of names and dates and numbers, and a couple of cute stars twinkling in the background for decoration. “Maybe it’s a celebration? Or, like, all the kids born in the same hospital? Why do you have a hospital record? Or was it part of a survey? Maybe our parents filled out a questionnaire? Did I fill out a questionnaire?” Stroking my chin, I ponder for a moment, panic receding in favor of contemplation. “That’s possible. Or it’s from when I was in school? Not like I’d be able to remember all that. But then why isn’t there a school name on it? And hold on, did David and I even go to the same school?! His mom worked at some private institution or whatever, wouldn’t she have sent him there instead? Maybe all of that’s wrong and we’ve been targeted by an unknown entity as potential candidates to save the world and they’ve psychically needed to track us to make sure we live up to our destiny?” Tapping my lips briefly before shaking my head dismissively, wet strands of hair sneakily attempting to creep back into my view, I continue. “Nah, that probably doesn’t make sense. Though stranger things have happened, and that’s not really even all that strange if you think about it. Not to rule out a theory the second it’s made, but it kind of feels like that one might hold less soup than a slotted spoon.” My thoughts trail off, not sure which idea to hitch a ride on next.
“Your guess is, quite literally, as good as mine. Though it’s more than a tiny bit worrying to see you both listed here.” Lin brings the phone closer to his face, squinting as he investigates the list with more care this time. “I refuse to believe this is merely convenient coincidence.”
My mind starts to swirl and whirl with the idea that this could be a watch list of some sort, and I’m on it because there’s someone, somewhere always watching me. Or that we were secretly kidnapped and swapped at birth and have twins out there in the world that are missing their other half and neither of us knows anything about it! Or that we’re test subjects of a new birthing technique held illegally by devious science doctors at an unknown hospital lab somewhere that had to keep its records vague to protect themselves from getting shut down before finding whatever advancement they were looking for. What if they did experiments on us as babies and separated us from our twins to see the differences in how we’d turn out?!? What if my twin has three eyes and is half unicorn?!? Which half?!?!
No, seriously, which half?
My eyes go from saucers, to dinner plates, to full-blown turkey platters; breaths jagged and erratic as it suddenly feels like cheesecloth and pea soup are clogging up my airways. What if seeing the list triggered an activation inside me to start a self-destruct sequence?! What if I’m actually a cyborg and revealing to me that I’m an A.I. corrupted my programming and I’m about to die right here? I’m too young to die from A.I. corruption!
Though if I’m just lines of code, how can I know I’m actually only 28 years old and not hundreds of years old? Or WORSE. What if I’ve only been alive for a few weeks but have implanted memories of an entire life that wasn’t real and it’s all been engineered for some white-coated nerds surrounded by beakers and test tubes and other science-y shit?!
Oh gosh, what if David’s a double reverse twin clone separated at birth from his conscience and needs help getting it back before he’s lost to the bad news bears forever?! What does he know? Did he try to tell me? OR HAS HE BEEN IN CAHOOTS THIS WHOLE TIME?!?
My mind isn’t the only thing spinning as the whole world around me starts to go spiraling wildly out of control. I’m trapped in a loop of what-ifs that are trying to bury me under their weight, drowning out anything I think I know about myself and what’s real. What’s real?
“Shhhhh, now now, Love, none of that. Come back to me.” A hand soothes up and down my back rhythmically as Lin whispers evenly. His forehead is pressed to mine, a movement I didn’t register while lost in the torrent of possibilities. Lin’s fiery orange eyes draw me in, my focus snapping back to reality and steadying on the anchor of his notice. “There we go, that’s right, know where you are. Where we are. Find the truth.” My breathing slows to an even pace, stuttering less often until it doesn’t at all. The tornado of chaos in my head dissipates and I’m brought back from the fantasy of a thousand ever-amplifying possibilities to the reality of a sultry, half-naked man whispering sweet nothings to me. Well, I assume they were nothings. And sweet.
Releasing a long, slow, measured exhale, I nod; our faces still smashed up against one another. Gently, Lin cups the back of my neck and places his lips to my forehead, leaving a tender kiss in their wake. “Welcome back,” he whispers, molten gaze burning into mine once more. This time, there’s more than just heat… There’s warmth. No tightness strains the corners of his eyes, nor is there deceit hidden in the slight upward curve of the edges of his mouth. Those brows are quivering lightly in concern, not surprise.
It’s one thing to be told that someone cares for you. It’s another thing entirely to truly know it. To feel the power behind the certainty of that fact, not the assumption. My whole face lights up, not literally this time-nobody’s almost dying as far as I know-but emotionally. Smile broad, cheeks swollen to jolly cherries, eyes open wide and shining… I found the truth, alright. He loves me. Lin, the scoundrel who emptily play-flirts with everyone and everything, loves me. Has he even realized it yet? Doesn’t matter.
I assault him with a kiss, tackling across the microscopic distance between us and pinning him down. This time, I have the high ground, and I don’t intend to lose it. “You can be really thoughtful and sweet sometimes, you know that, mister sassy pants?”
Lin’s grin is wicked, barely a warning before he snips forward and snags my lip between his teeth. “Me? Sweet? Now, Love, don’t go ruining my roguish reputation with such horrendous mistruths. I’d appreciate if you didn’t spread such falsehoods, thank you very much.” Emphasizing the point, he flicks his tongue upward, slobbering all over my nose with the moist appendage. Gross. But not a winning move this time, mister!
In response, I languidly tongue my way up from his collar, slowly adding pressure, tracing up his jawline, cresting the inside of his ear. “Nope. Tastes pretty sweet to me,” I whisper.
“Oh, feeling wicked tonight, are we?” Lin purrs, “Can’t say I disapprove, Love, though I would very much like to set the record straight.” Suddenly, he spreads his arms and legs forcefully, knocking mine away from their pinning position and sending me gracelessly belly-flopping directly on top of him. How is it fair that I ‘oof’ on impact and he doesn’t?
With barely a moment to process the movement, Lin’s momentum continues to the top corners of his bed, where he pulls two black loops of fabric, twisting one quickly around each of my wrists, securing my arms in place. “Can’t have you running off and spreading those rumors, now can we? Do me a favor and stay put, why don’t you?”
Lithe fingers drag themselves along the lengths of my bound arms, raking a patient trail down my sides. The sensation is light, and slightly tingling; somewhere between the threshold of erogenous and torturously imperceptible, always staying tauntingly just on this side of pleasure. He skirts that line skillfully, occasionally sending tremors down both our spines as we share the sensation.
Without warning, Lin snatches the back of my thighs, jerking my knees up so my bare ass is exposed to the otherwise empty room. He winks, that devilish grin on full display, then thrusts both his hands against the headboard and rockets out from beneath me, soundlessly landing on the balls of his feet with ease. I know this because, as I peer over my shoulder at him in awe of how easily he keeps managing to turn the tables on this whole high ground thing, he tuts at me. “Now now, Love, can’t have you spoiling my plans by peeking.”
As he rounds the bed to one of the nightstands next to it, he keeps constant contact with my skin, barely playing those fingers across my tingling nerves once more.
Lin reaches into one of the drawers on the nightstand, wrist flicking with a quick flourish as he whips something long and black with a snap. Less than a breath later, I’m blinded; his nimble fingers tying the silken cloth over my eyes with practiced ease.
Anybody sane would likely panic at the series of unexpected and unannounced moves that got them to the point where they’re trapped in a room with a man who’s tied them up and blinded them, but there’s probably a cog or two missin’ in my ol’ noggin. Mostly, I’m just impressed with how he pulled all that off in both a super short amount of time, and without smacking himself in the face in the process.
That feathery touch lightly traces the back of one of my thighs, swirling designs onto my bare skin.
Then it disappears.
It reappears at the nape of my neck, a shiver racing down my spine for the brief moment the caress lasts before once again retreating, leaving me untouched for longer than I was touched.
My hair, dangling loosely on either side of my face, is shifted out of the way as teeth graze the shell of my ear. The hair at the nape of my neck prickles and stands to attention. Once again, Lin’s quick affections recede and leave me bereft of his touch, unsure of when to expect its return.
An eternity passes, my heart rate starts to amp up at the anticipation of Lin’s next move, but it never comes. Cautiously, I raise my head and try to hear for his breathing, his footsteps, the rustle of his sleep pants; anything to tell me I’m not alone in this room with my ass raised high for anyone to come by and penetrate.
