Oh, shit I’m in trouble.
I was trying hard to fight the feelings that I had for Nick. In the beginning, it was easy enough to brush off the smiles and teasing innuendos, but now it seemed my feelings were growing exponentially, so out of control I couldn’t keep myself from giving in to his playfulness. I was on the edge of the cliff, ready to take that death-defying leap, but the damn sections of my brain that controlled fear and memory, kept me tethered to the rock bed. Because while the rest of my brain was overwhelmed with love and attraction, these particular areas supplied me with a continuous loop of haunting images, trying desperately to remind me of the horrors I was running from. And what could possibly be my fate again, should I start doing stupid things that knock me off my planned course of action.
Head down. Stay off the radar.
But there was always that tiny little voice roaming free through my thoughts. What if I’m running from something that’s not even chasing? Was I really going to squander my opportunity with Nick for nothing? What if the only remaining threat from my past was the fear that ate away at me from the inside out?
I was so confused. I’d been running and hiding for so long it was all I knew how to do.
I could only hide for so long. Eventually, I had to jump into Nick’s car and head to work. He didn’t play with me for the two minutes it took to get to work, but once we were the only worker’s left, I was fair game. Deciding to let things play out however they were going to happen, I let him tease me, enjoying every minute of it.
Any time I had to go to the back, he found a reason to brush his body against mine. I tried not to close my eyes; tried not to think about how well my body molded into his when he leaned into me from behind to reach for a pot hanging in front of me. And though he found it necessary to pull it down from its rack the moment I stepped up, I never actually saw him use it. That went on for hours, and shamefully, I made way more trips to the back than was necessary.
My mood remained jubilant and playful until seven-forty-five, when Joe began to test the cap on my annoyance meter. Unfortunately, the shop he worked for closed up early and he’d been hanging out at the diner for almost an hour already.
“Megan! Another one!” he spat, holding his bottle up in the air before slamming it down on the table with a crack.
I sighed and ripped his ticket from my tablet, heading to his booth without fulfilling his request. “This is not a bar, Joe. The festival’s already started and it’s kid-friendly. So, no. I won’t get you another beer so you can go stumbling down the street all drunk and scaring the kids. We’re closing in a few minutes anyway.”
“So you’re going to the festival then after all, aren’t ‘cha?” he said in an accusatory tone.
Oh, yeah. I’d have to thank Nick for creating this special conversation with Joe. When we came into work tonight, he had smooth-talked Paul into letting us close early tonight, explaining that no one was going to come pay to eat here when they could go eat for free at the festival. So not only did we have the night off, I was now going to the festival with Nick, Paul and Darla. And Tish, of course, who caught wind of our plans before her shift ended and made sure she got invited to join as well.
“Yes, Joe. The people I work with convinced me to go with them.”
Rolling his eyes, he slurred, “Please. You mean him.”
“Yes, Nick is going too, but I’m not going with him. There’s no us between me and Nick,” I lied, because even the most self-absorbed teenager could notice the flirtatious tension between us. “Just like there’ll never be an us between you and me. Everyone needs to stop it with these damn rumors already.”
I turned to leave, but Joe snatched my right arm, just above the wrist. “Joe, let go,” I said calmly but firmly, hoping his drunk-ass would comply once my words penetrated the drunken haze around his brain. My eyes were fixed hard on the edge of my sleeve, my heart jumping when I saw a flash of red squeeze out.
“I promise I could make you real happy, Megan. If you’d just give me the chance. I swear I’m better than I’ve been coming off.”
The stench of his breath nauseated me, triggering a memory I tried my damndest to push back down. I tugged my arm, his grip tightening more as his other hand reached over to aid the fight. I could feel him squeeze all the way to the bone, and I yelped and yelled, “Let go of me!” I pulled using my full body weight, and his hand slid up my arm as he yanked me closer, my sleeve exposing the worst of my burns.
His eyes immediately caught the color clash, his face souring into a look of revulsion. “Gross! What the f**k is that?” He released me, his hands in the air, fingers spread wide like he contaminated himself just by touching me.
He didn’t get to verbalize the rest of his disgust, as Nick burst in from the kitchen, yelling for him to get the hell out before he beat the shit out of him. Even drunk, Joe knew to hightail his ass out as fast as possible, and once he stumbled out the door, he was gone from sight in less than five seconds.
My hand was already cupped over my mouth, my eyes widened in a desperate attempt to fight the sting infused into my eyes. I had already pulled my sleeve back down but I still felt exposed, so I bolted for the safety of the hallway that led to the bathrooms.
“Megan!” Nick called behind me, rushing to catch me in case I aimed to lock myself away in the bathroom. He gave me a tight squeeze just as the tears rushed out. “Don’t,” he soothed. “Don’t let what that jerk said get to you.” His hands moved to rub my arms up and down. I cringed, feeling every bump in my skin against his palms, fearing he’d feel it too. And when my sleeve pulled up on one of his passings, I reached down to fight the rise, which only seemed to set him off. Out of nowhere, he shoved both sleeves up to my elbows and snagged my biceps in such a way I couldn’t break free, forcing me to leave that disgusting skin visible for him. “Why do you hide this from me?” he asked harshly, just shy of yelling at me.
Why? Wasn’t it obvious? The tears broke free of their corner ducts, despite my best effort to contain them. “Because it’s disgusting! Just like Joe said!” I hated that he held me that way, hated that he wouldn’t let me lower my sleeves to cover the patchwork of abstract bumps and unnatural color patterns. With a cracking, shaking voice, I cried, “I’m ugly.”
“Ugly?” His grip on me lightened, but he still held me firmly in place. “Megan, you can tie your hair back, cover yourself head to toe with clothes that are too big and avoid wearing any type of makeup. But people are still going to notice you. Men are still going to want you. You’re the f**king opposite of ugly. Everything about you is beautiful.”
“Not everything,” I whispered. I’m ugly inside, too. No kind, decent person is capable of doing the things I’ve done.
I swung the metal within my shaking grasp and his head whipped to the side, blood splattering against the beige linens, his body falling unnaturally to the floor.
Fire billowed on the ceiling, reaching down, down, down…
Nick’s eyes darkened when they narrowed at me, seemingly pissed as I began to weaken in his arms. I tried to pull away, craving nothing more than to cover the nasty burns before my eyes and the horrible memories they always triggered.
Leading with my rear, I went limp, hoping he’d just drop me and let me be. In one swift motion, he released me, only to thrust his biceps beneath my arms, lifting until our shoulders met and slamming me against the wall, mashing his body into mine. I barely had time to gasp before his lips shoved against mine. His kisses were hungry and rough, almost desperate, and tasted of salt as my tears came between us.
That annoying part of my brain that knew it was wrong, kept screaming that I should push away, but my lips just wouldn’t obey – they had ached for this so much they’d never give it up now.
Fear of falling got me to wrap my legs around his waist, but it clearly didn’t worry Nick any, because his hands were more interested in ripping my hair free of its bind and roughly tangling his fingers through my roots.
Nick. Just the touch of his hands on my body was enough to make me moan.
Nick. Whose caress I’d slowly been craving more and more. Who was kind and protective and loving. Whose arms I felt safe in, even when they were rough. Whose kisses were sending my heart into overdrive and wetting me down below.
I fully gave in to the kiss, slinking my arms around him, leaving one hand at the base of his neck while the other explored his head. Mashing my lips against his, I couldn’t believe how much I wanted this, how much I wanted him. I tugged at a clump of hair, and a sexy guttural sound rumbled from his chest. His mouth tasted of wintergreen and his hands smelled of the fresh basil he used on the pasta special he made all night.
Hot and heavy and out of breath, our kisses ended all too soon. My eyes opened, and for once I got to look down on him, his piercing green orbs still hungry. After a few deep breaths, he leaned his forehead into the niche between my neck and shoulder, moaning, “God, Megan…I’ve needed to do that for so long.” Continuing to press my body into the wall with his weight, he sighed as I scratched his scalp lightly with my fingernails.
We began again with lighter, more sumptuous kisses to the mouth and neck, both of us releasing all that pent up sexual frustration in a series of long, drawn out moans. But soon after, we could hear the back door open, followed by Paul and Darla’s voices in quiet conversation. They’d be on us any second if we didn’t break the embrace.
“Later,” he whispered, kissing me one last time. I didn’t want to go, but he slowly slid me down the wall. Feet planted firmly on the ground, he squeezed my hand with a smile before heading back into the diner.
Now out of sight, I sated the pestering urge within and pulled my sleeves down to my wrists, then stepped into the bathroom to clean myself up.
7
I would have been happy to keep the advancement of our relationship a secret, but once Tish dropped in and made a beeline for Nick, he was quick to stand behind me and wrap his arms securely around my waist. That brought her to an abrupt halt, but it wasn’t anger or jealousy that resided behind her bright blue eyes, it was more a knowing smile, more an I told you so kind of glare, the kind that wanted to take responsibility for two people being together, when in fact, that person had done nothing.
Nick and I were the last to walk out the front door, so I locked it behind us and clipped the key to my belt loop, pulling my shirt over it like I always did. He took my hand as we followed our three co-workers down Main Street and down a secondary street that would lead us to a huge field by the middle school. We could already hear the live band and the occasional announcement via loud speaker.
I couldn’t help but notice that with all the additional cars, there were a lot of places someone could hide and I didn’t like the feeling of uneasiness stirring inside my stomach, regardless of the warm hand securing mine.
I’d never been to one of Myrtle Creek’s gatherings before, but it seemed like a typical carnival or fair, only done on a much smaller scale. There were homemade booths scattered around that offered all sorts of food like corndogs, BBQ, sausages and burgers, and sickly sweets like chocolate dipped cherries, cotton candy and fried dough. A few of those smaller, kid-sized amusement rides were mixed in between it all, including the spinning tea pot and a train that followed a circle around the entire festival. The live band and dance floor seemed to be smack dab in the middle, where most of the adults without kids seemed to gather.
Upon entering, our hands were stamped to mark that we were given free tickets that would cover a meal, but for anything more, we’d have to ante up our own money. Paul and Darla went straight to the BBQ booth while Tish bolted towards a group of people she called out to. I could feel Nick pulling back, slowing our speed to quietly lose our company, then turned us in another direction. We wandered through the thick of things, surprised at how many of the residents actually showed up for this event.
When we made our way to the table for firefly catching, I picked up one of the mason jars to study it. Holes in the lid, leaves on the bottom. “You know, I’ve never caught a lighting bug before.”
“Oh, sure you have.”
“No, seriously. L.A. isn’t actually known for its lightning bug population.”
Nick grabbed the jar I had just returned to the table, saying, “Well then, let’s go get you one.”
I tried digging in my feet, but he playfully jerked me along. “This is a kid’s game. We shouldn’t take one of their jars.”
“Oh, please. We’ll bring it right back. Strictly catch and release.”
Thinking what the hell, he led me to the edge of the tree line and let me go. Tons of kids were running around in circles and playfully yelling and giggling. It seemed there were far more kids out than lightning bugs, and very few had even one bug in their jar.
Crouching down beside a tree, he sifted through the ground debris, and shortly after several round glows took flight. Passing me the jar, he sweetly said, “Catch away. They’re not that fast, it’s just a matter of being able to follow them once their butts turn off. And keep moving the jar in a wavelike motion. It’ll help keep them from escaping.”
Laughing lightly and feeling a little silly doing it, I unscrewed the mason jar and swept the air around me. After a few passes, I saw something blinking within the glass. My level of excitement rivaling the kids’, I bounced in my shoes and merrily chased after the others flying around me. Within a few minutes, I had six fluttering around in my jar.
“This one’s not blinking,” I noted out loud.
“Then you’ve got a female too. Only the males blink.”