by Abigail Cole
The resulting ‘thump, thump, thump’ as the ball Dax has dropped bounces away is music to my ears, having the exact affect I intended. Feigning innocence, I roll my shoulders and twist my torso while Dax’s jaw trails the floor as he advances on me.
Dax
Holy shit. Nearing Avery, who is holding her leg behind her pretending to stretch, I can’t take my eyes off her curves. She is rounded in all the right places with a tight cinch to her waist. Decorative black ink draws a path up her inner arms and intricately patterned teardrops on each of her ribs poke out from the sports bra. Her hair is floating around her like a sheet of liquid gold as I get close enough for her to look up at me. Fluttering those naturally thick eyelashes as me, my fingers itch to touch her.
Avery is her own brand of sex on legs, but to me the most appealing part is how she doesn’t give a shit what anyone else thinks. The world is full of too many fakes, smothered in make-up or hiding behind fashionable clothing. Avery wears whatever is comfortable and carries herself with confidence. A refreshing rarity in my eyes. The tattoos lining her body speak of her resilience to anyone who might attempt to bring her down. She will always survive and adapt, not that I’ll ever let harm come to her as long as I’m around.
Unable to hold back any longer, I bend to grip the back of her thighs and lift to trap her between the fence and my body. I’ve forced myself to hold back from my desires thus far, especially since Garrett has been hounding her like a dog in heat almost every day, but from the persuasive look in her eyes, I’m not sure why I did. Pinning her in place with my hips, my dick rapidly hardening between us, I let my hands roam her creamy thighs and exposed mid-section. Smoothing my thumbs along the edge of the fabric, I explore the line beneath her heavy breasts and she pushes her chest out ever so slightly. Sliding a hand around the back of her neck, I pull her into the kiss I’ve been dying to give her each time she walks into a room.
Soft touches of our lips soon turn heated, forcefully crashing against each other in a bid to get closer. Avery’s nails scrape gently across the top of my back while her other hand grips my hair. Holding my head firmly in place, she eagerly pushes her tongue into my mouth. A low moan escapes me as our tongues duel and fight for control. Arching her back, she presses her chest against my bare one in a way that has me growling. Pushing my hands between us, I fondle her luscious tits through the thin material separating me from them. Avery squirms and groans as I massage her breasts in time with grinding my now painfully hard cock against her core. The heat radiating from her centre makes my mouth water with anticipation, thirsty for a taste of her knowing it’ll be the sweetest nectar in the world.
Returning my hand to her thigh, I drag my thumb along the incredible softness lining the inside until I reach the edge of her denim shorts. Sensing Avery’s impatience by the iron grip her legs tighten to around my waist, I slip my thumb under the thick material to feel a lacy fabric underneath. Avery gasps into my mouth as I push the pad of my thumb roughly onto where her small bud should be, her groan telling me I’ve found the right spot. Rubbing the material against her in small circles, Avery bites down on my bottom lip and grinds against me. Pushing both hands through my overly long hair, her nails draw lines across my scalp in a way that makes my toes curl.
“Avery,” I rasp against her mouth, beginning to spiral too far into lust to remember I’m not this kind of guy. I don’t sleep around like the others; I believe in having a meaningful connection before I take a girl to bed. And for someone like Avery, that has never needed to be truer. She deserves to be cherished and adored, although I’m not sure she has realised that yet. Retracting my thumb, her protesting whine almost has me ripping the shorts from her body and doing exactly what I’ve been daydreaming about for weeks. Using my hands to support her while I reluctantly step back and settle her down onto the ground, I fiddle with a strand of my hair.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have crossed that line.” I breathe, starting to wonder if I made the right choice. But how can I take what she’s so willingly offering when she won’t be receiving the real me in return? “I think, now more than ever, what you need is a friend.” A flash of confusion passes through her features, which I hate myself for, but is quickly replaced with an understanding smile. After heading to collect my discarded basketball, I offer Avery my arm like the gentleman I was raised to be. Linking her arm with mine, we start to walk to the edge of the court. “Come on, let’s find some lunch.”
∞∞∞
The soothing sounds of piano filter through the kitchen as I finish preparing our sandwiches. A hauntingly, beautiful harmony grows louder as Avery loses herself to the piece, the robust notes beginning to grow into a crescendo. Placing the two plates across the island for when she’s finished, I pad across the kitchen and lean against the open archway. Finding Huxley slumped on the sofa with his back to the piano, I now understand why Avery began to play. She has used the power of her music to reach Huxley many times in the past couple of weeks, reaching him when words cannot.
The piece continues to build, the melody stirring feelings in my own chest. Her fingers, which are poking out of my burgundy hoodie that she seems to have found and helped herself to, fly over the keys rapidly as she stares out into the gardens, seeming to know the composition off by heart. Each note seeps further within me, coiling around my soul and starting to rip it from my very core. As soon as the harmony’s first point of intensity has been reached, the music rolls into the next dramatic peak, dragging my heart from my chest and slamming across the marbled floor.
Garrett and Axel appear over the upstairs railing, also pulled from their room by the most intense piece we’ve ever heard Avery play. Her hair shifts in time with the violent jolts to her upper body, every part of her being travelling through her fingers and projecting into the melancholic vibrations. Catching Garrett’s eye, I gesture with my chin to Huxley. Nodding, he slips his hand in Axel’s and guides him down the stairs on silent feet. Rounding the living room as they reach the lower level, the three of us close in from different ends of the sofa and set ourselves down either end of Huxley.
On instinct, he makes a move to leave but both I and Axel plant a hand on each of his thighs to keep him firmly in place. His posture is stiff but he remains, staring straight at the unlit fire place in front. Dark semi-circles hang beneath his eyes which illuminate the hollowing in his cheekbones beneath the mess of his blonde waves. Even his arms look skinnier than I remember, the short sleeves on his blue t-shirt appearing baggy around his biceps.
Eventually, the soul-crushingly divine piece softens to its final stage, a flowing string of notes to ease the raw ache I now feel inside. The music comes to a stop, but no one moves. Like mine, Huxley’s chest is heaving slightly from that mid-afternoon emotional rollercoaster. Avery appears on the other end of the U-shaped cream sofa, slipping herself into the tiny gap Axel makes for her by Huxley’s side. Leaning her head on his chest, the TV mounted on the stone wall opposite flickers to life as Garrett channel surfs from his position next to Axel.
Settling on the movie ‘Man of the house’, we all remain together for longer than we have since that day at the pool house, letting Tommy Lee Jones whisk away our worries for a short while. Although, I can’t fully enjoy the peace in the room without Wyatt being here. At least when he popped back in the dead of night to change, I knew he was still alive but lately there hasn’t been any sign of his stubborn ass. I’ve left so many voicemails, but he hasn’t responded to a single one. If he doesn’t let me know he’s safe soon, I’ll consider calling the police.
Garrett is the first to rise from the sofa, going in hunt for food no doubt. I’ve been scared to move in case it jars Huxley into leaving, and it seems I was right. The second Garrett is out of view, Huxley launches himself from the sofa and disappears upstairs. His door slams shut a few seconds later and Avery sags into his vacated spot with a sigh. I know she blames herself for Huxley’s personality shift, little does she know he lacks resilience
. He may not have a healthy relationship with his parents, but he’s never wanted for anything or suffered a type of trauma like the rest of us. Until now, I suppose. Shifting over and widening my legs, Avery lies her head upon my thigh. Her hair spills over my lap, combing my fingers through its silky length. Axel takes her feet and pulls them onto his lap, stroking his thumbs across her ankles.
“M’Lady,” Garrett returns, handing her the plated sandwich I left in the kitchen earlier. Avery sits upright to accept the plate with a huge smile.
“Aw wow, thanks Garrett. I’m starving.” She gushes, moaning in delight as she takes her first bite. Tossing himself down in his previous place and tucking into my sandwich, I glower over at his stupid dimpled grin. Throwing me a wink, his arm slips around Axel’s shoulders and focuses on the movie’s credits like it’s the most fascinating documentary in the world. Shaking my head, Avery giggles as my long curls tickle her cheek which has Garrett’s smile slipping.
If I weren’t against violence, I would have launched him across the room for that little trick. But there’s one thing I took from my upbringing and that’s aggression is never the answer. No matter how many countless beatings my father delivered to me for flunking school, getting a B on a test, showing him up in front of his high society pals, I refused to change. I laugh when I’m happy, cry when I’m sad, place myself in other’s shoes and show empathy more than not. To the emotionless robot who raised me, I’m the worst type of son. But this is who I am, who my mother wanted me to be and I won’t apologise for it – no matter how ‘weak’ it makes me seem. He thought sending me to boarding school was a punishment, but instead it was a godsend. I refuse to use my fists to gain respect, because to me that seems like the true nature of a coward.
The day drags into evening, the sky beyond the French doors darkening. Axel has offered to cook tonight so he is in the kitchen with Garrett leaning across the island, watching his every move and probably drooling. Shifting to see if Axel needs any help, Avery’s hand quickly clasps my forearm so I turn back to look at her with a quirked brow.
“I completely forgot to ask you for a favor. You know when you tracked me down at the tattoo studio with the help of some hacker friends, are you still in contact with them?” She nibbles her bottom lip nervously while I stare at her curiously and lean back again.
“I’ll call my cousin and find out what he can do. What do you need?” Avery plays with the hem of my hoodie she’s still snuggled up in as she fills me in on her conversation with Meg. Panic rooms, stocked cupboards and no internet? Alarm bells sound inside my mind and I instantly wonder if she did forget to ask me this or if she was stalling because she knows how strange it all sounds.
“Elena must be really worried to keep Meg hidden away for so long. Do you think she knows something we don’t?” I ask, glancing past Avery’s face to the guards pacing around the garden. Following my eyeline, a shudder passes through her and she turns back with a haunted look in her clear blue eyes. Shrugging, Avery tucks her knees up to her chest beneath the hoodie and slowly leans into my body. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around her and place a kiss on the top of her head. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” I promise, silently praying I can live up to that statement.
Meg
Breaching the salty surface, the burn in my lungs starts to fade as I gasp in mouthfuls of clean air. Seagulls fly overhead in the sky, heading towards the heavy grey clouds rolling this way. A deep rumble in the distance tells me I need to get out of the sea before the storm hits. Diving back into the icy water, I kick as fast as my nearly frozen legs will move, coming up for air every few powerful strokes of my arms. The beach is in sight when the rain hits, pelting mini bullets of water down onto me. Finding the seabed beneath my feet, I push myself up and wade the rest of the way to shore.
Not slowing once back on land, I grab the towel I’d left on the sand and force my legs to carry me towards the beach house. Leaving the violent crash of waves behind, the calm sea I had entered turning turbulent, my feet hit the wooden porch steps. Taking a second to collect myself before bursting into the house, I lean against the blue exterior and watch the dramatic weather shift from the safety of the porch’s timber cover. The dense sheet of rain is now hiding the sea from my vision, a bright flash lighting the landscape briefly. The back door beside me flies open and my mom’s hand flies around the corner to latch onto my arm, dragging me inside.
“What were you thinking swimming in that?!” She shouts, pointing her finger towards the doors glass panes after slamming it shut. A puddle starts to form at my feet, my hair dripping onto the lino floor. Thunder rumbles around the building, rivalling the rain’s noise.
“Well obviously it wasn’t raining when I initially went into the water. It’s not like I can rely on my weather app to tell me these things anymore, is it?” I glare at her accusingly. Mom’s brown eyes narrow in the way they do when she’s about to shout at me, so I turn to leave. Careful not to slip on the wet patch I’ve created, I rub the ends of my hair with the towel.
“I’m doing this for your own good, you know!” Mom’s voice finally finds me halfway up the stairs. Leaning over the banister, I see her retrieving a mop from the skinny cupboard beside the fridge.
“What about the good of Avery? You abandoned her therapy sessions when she probably needs them the most!” I shout back, stomping up the two flights of stairs to the top level which holds my bedroom. The converted attic is huge, the king size bed seeming small in the centre of the room. The ceiling slants into the middle, reminding me of the tent we spent many summers in whilst camping. My shoulders sag with a long sigh, knowing I need to fix things with my mom soon. I understand a shooting and near kidnap at my best friend’s house has panicked her, but her actions are rather extreme in my eyes. I’ve tried relentlessly to explain my connection with Avery over these past few weeks, but she refuses to listen.
Not being with my best friend is physically hurting me, an ache in my chest that grows each day. Our connection isn’t one I can put into words because it hardly makes sense to me. It’s as if Avery was hand crafted and placed in my life to show me what true love is. Not the kind my mom can give me, love in the sense that my soul has bound itself to hers, I need her in my life for it to be complete. And never before has it been so apparent, I rely on her as much as she does me.
Stepping into my personal bathroom, I switch the shower onto scolding hot and peel off my black swimsuit. Steam thickens the air, fogging the large oval mirror above the basin. Dumping my costume into the bathtub to deal with later, I release my hair from its ponytail and step into the spray. Warmth immediately soaks into my skin, drawing the chill from every cell in my body and swirling it down the drain. Taking my time, since I don’t have anything else to, I wash the shampoo from my hair and smooth a handful of conditioner through the long lengths. Leaving it to soak in, I shave my legs and wash my body twice before rinsing it out.
Not able to stall any longer, I flick the shower off irritably and emerge thoroughly scrubbed. Combing through my hair in the mirror, an edge of sadness lines my pale blue eyes. If we don’t leave soon, I’ll run back to Atlanta – Forrest Gump style. A rounded window in the slanted roof shows the rain has stopped, the sun poking through the clouds to brighten the bathroom. After drying my hair with the travel hairdryer I brought, I hunt down some tracksuit bottoms that are fluffy on the inside and a black tank top.
Everything is quiet in the house as I pop my head out of my door. Padding across the hallway on bare feet, I go search for my mom, hoping I can finally make her see sense. She must need to get back to work soon, which I will try to use to my advantage. Failing to find her in her bedroom, I head for the kitchen instead. Halfway down the second staircase, I see her feet poking out from a checked woollen blanket on the sofa. Her dark hair is strewn across the arm, huddled beneath the blanket and fast asleep.
Realising I have a limited amount of time without her breathing down my neck, something the lack of sunshi
ne has prevented these past few days, I tiptoe back up the stairs and slip into the study. Quickly locating the decoy book upon the shelf, a soft click sounds which has me darting across the room to pry open the secret wall. After my phone call with Avery, mom had shouted my name and forced me to abandon my mission, anticipation eating away at me ever since.
Pushing the wall closed behind me this time, a trio of silver bolts shoot back into place and lock me inside. My heart quickens as I fear I’m stuck until I notice a large red button on the inner wall to my left, hopefully able to release the locks. Not wasting another moment, I power up the laptop and take a seat in the office chair. My fingers shake over the keys slightly as a password protected screen appears, although I knew this would appear from locking myself out last time. Thankfully, red text below the empty box tells me I am allowed another three attempts. Despite the lodge’s name, hand painted onto a slab of rock and propped by the front door, not working the last time, I type ‘Avalon’ again in hopes it was correct but case sensitive. The text box shakes slightly as a red X appears and takes my attempts down to two.
Glancing around the small room, I look for a clue the owner may have planted but, like the rest of the house, everything in here is completely impersonal. Thinking of the house and its surroundings, I vaguely remember a sign hung to a tree that signalled for us to leave the main road and venture onto a rocky, dirt path. Dense woodland on either side barely left enough room for the rented Range Rover to pass through, leaves scraping the window as my mom eased the vehicle along at 5mph. But that was miles away and the forest’s name has slipped my mind.
