I stayed up way too late last night, still afraid to fall asleep in my room. No scary dreams, thank God, but my head hurts from lack of sleep.
His monster truck gets here a whole five minutes before he does by way of noise pollution. I wait at the bottom of the driveway, so I see him as soon as he drifts out of the fog.
“Hey you!” I say climbing into the cab.
“I would have come around and helped you.”
“No worries.” I clasp his hand from across the seat. I go to put my foot on the last wrung and slip straight to the bottom. Without realizing what’s happening I’m floating through the air, rising effortlessly into the truck by way of his hand wrapped around my wrist. “How’d you do that?” I marvel shutting the door and reaching for my seatbelt.
“Another one of my gifts.”
“You’re like really strong.” My heart’s still beating erratic, swallowing up the extra oxygen my brain would have normally needed for me to say something a little more articulate. “Can I do that?”
“I don’t know, can you?”
“I don’t think so.”
He pulls out onto the main road and we start in on our adventure. Trees whiz by in a blur. The fog rakes by in soft distended billows, faster and faster until it looks like we’re going back in time, or forward.
“Your gifts grow.” He says. “They manifest with time. Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t do something. It’s poison every single time.”
***
The Falls of Virtue are located in the dead center of the island. There’s a mountainous incline we climb seemingly forever until we crest up above the fog. The air is unusually clear—far more pristine than anything I was used to back in L.A.
“Oh gosh.” Their sheer beauty steals my breath. A rainbow shivers across the three sacred falls, and shimmers in the warm veil of sunlight as if to greet us. “It’s…” There are no words.
The mountain in the center disappears again to greater heights, banked in a layer of clouds. The fog lies just beneath our feet covering the water in the little lake, enough to create a mystical aura.
“You have unicorns here too?” I quip.
“Not at this location. They prefer the higher elevations where it snows.” He teases.
“So that’s where the water comes from?”
“Year round.”
I step out to the rim of the lake. The falls are so loud, but not deafening like other waterfalls I’ve visited. It’s a soft enchanting rush, a never-ending flow of constant beauty that fills the waiting pool beneath. The water is the same cobalt shade as Gage’s eyes, and for a minute he flashes through my mind. I’m still trying to digest those last words he spoke.
“This is where I want to get married someday.” Not to Gage. Maybe it’s not the thing to say to the guy who’s not quite officially your boyfriend, but it just feels right. This place practically warrants profound statements about ones future. Before Logan gets too bogged down with regret over bringing me here, I offer, “Gage said I was going to marry him.” I roll my eyes and laugh at the absurdity.
Logan’s smile drops from his face like a brick. His eyes widen and he looks right through me, dazed.
“So it must be true.” He says.
“What? I’m not marrying Gage.” I say flatly. “I thought it was funny. Brielle thinks maybe he has a crush on me.”
“He does.” He’s still gazing out into nowhere, right through my skull.
“So what? I’m not into him.” I pause trying to wake him from his stupor with a wave of my hand. “I’m into you.”
He snaps out of his trance, his lips pick up a slight curve.
“I’m into you.” He comes in soft with a string of silent kisses, then heads into something meatier we can both bite into.
I love kissing Logan. Kissing Logan at the Falls of Virtue is like stepping into a fairytale. Suddenly I’m transported to a land with dragons and villains. Of course I’m the princess, which in turn makes Logan the perfect prince.
He pulls back, bouncing one soft kiss off the tip of my nose.
“You in for a swim, princess?”
“I don’t have my bathing suit.” I give a wry smile. I hate when I forget he can hear me, and I have a feeling I know what’s coming.
“Swim in your underwear, or without. Your choice.”
“I don’t have a towel.” It races out of me. Besides, I’m not sure if I’m up for the big fleshy reveal.
“I have a few in the truck for emergencies.”
“Does this qualify as an emergency?”
“It’s the only one I know of.” His face fills with devilish intent. “I’ll swim in my boxers.” He holds up his hand like a boy scout.
The thought of Logan striping down to his boxers makes me weak—writhe inside with intense pleasure. This can’t be good. Nothing good is going to come of this I can feel it.
“Sure.” I go around the truck and take off my sweater. I happen to have on my bright pink bra with the rhinestone jewel inset between the cups, which practically demands to be seen it’s so perfect.
I go to peel off my jeans, and for the life of me I can’t remember what underwear I’m wearing.
Oh please God don’t let them be white mama’s. I have my fair share of granny panties no thanks to my mom’s never ending gifting of them, and once in a while I’ll put them on. If that’s today I’m going to have to seriously reconsider this whole idea. I tug past my hips only to reveal with great delight that I have on my yellow lace boy shorts, which is great because it covers a multitude of shaving issues.
A knock ripples across the hood of the truck.
I traipse back around towards Logan, and find him standing there in all his celestial glory, plus boxers.
Heat rushes to my face as I feel him take me in. Per square inch I’m wearing the exact amount of clothing I’ve worn a million times before to the beach—technically more if you count the G-string my mother has no clue about.
He takes my hand and pulls me into a careful, most delicate kiss. I can feel the warmth of his body—his bare skin against mine, and it feels wrong and right at the very same time.
“You think the water’s cold?” I say pushing him back gently before things go too far.
“I hope so.”
We dive in together off a small ledge near the center of the lake. We might as well be swimming in arctic springs. It’s so cold. My skin feels numb as a rubber wetsuit. We dive under each of the three falls, steal secret kisses that seem to last an eternity beneath each one.
There’s no way I would ever become Gage’s anything. Logan has me totally and completely. This is something that surpasses the length of years, the ladder of time. We’re building something eternal. I could feel it.
Something dark glints to my right, a shadow of something moving in the evergreen, then I see it.
The raven.
All afternoon I wonder what it means.
Chapter Sixteen
Mixed
It rains the entire next day. Brielle finishes up her shift at six, and invites Drake and I down to the bowling alley to play a few games.
After paying for shoes and two games, I’m drained of nearly every penny of my Christmas money from last year.
“I’ll give you a refund if you want.” Logan’s already offered to give back my money, twice.
“I’m not here to rob you.” Although, I’m not above taking advantage of him in other ways. A naughty smile glides across my face.
“No, but it’s my job to rob you, and I don’t feel good about it.” He presses an assortment of buttons and the register pops open.
“How about you take me to dinner and a movie? Then we’ll call it even.”
“Deal.” He slams the register shut, and I get out of line so he can help the people behind me. It’s busy tonight, like everyone on the island decided it was a good night to bowl.
I see Brielle waving us over like mad in the far corner of the room. Drake strides ahead, as if
she’s waving at him exclusively. And judging by the come hither look in her eyes, the cleavage down to her navel, she might be.
“Hey, you playing?” Gage flicks at the shoes in my hands.
His hair is slicked straight back, exposing the sheer perfection of his features. I’m shocked there aren’t a hundred girls mobbing him right now. Actually I think Logan looks a million times hotter, but I would never even want to imagine a single girl mobbing him let alone a hundred.
“You always this bright?” I can’t help responding to a natural inclination to be a little mean to Gage. I’m afraid if I give him the wrong signals he’ll think the wedding is on, and he might send his pet bird after me again.
“I’m off in ten. If you want to make it even, I can hang out.”
“Whatever.” I look back at Logan. The line just exploded out the door. He remains calm as ever, patiently giving back change to a customer. Wish he were off in ten.
Drake sets up the computer. Instead of Drake he actually writes count Drakeula and I want to crawl in a hole. For Brielle he writes sexy thang—again displaying his incredible lack of judgment. Thankfully for me, he just puts Skyla. Gage hops over before he’s done filling in the queue so his name goes underneath mine.
“You think it’ll look like that on our wedding invitations?” I tease leaning over to put on my shoes.
He folds his arms and slides deep in his seat. He doesn’t find any humor in the situation, just chews the inside of his cheek out of frustration.
I miss both Brielle and Drake’s turns because I’m too busy staring down Gage— trying to decode his mysterious aura by reading his face.
“You’re up.” He kicks playfully at my foot.
I’m sharing the hot pink eight-pound ball with Brielle. Before I head down the lane to shoot I note she scored a strike, so it’s got to be good luck. I take a running start then go to release, only it doesn’t release, it sticks to my fingers popping off in midair and lands hard as an anvil on the gleaming hardwood floors below. Sounds like a gunshot just went off.
My shoulders pinch up around my neck and I’m praying no one saw, only I know Gage did for sure because I can feel him burning a hole through my shirt this very second.
I turn to find not only Gage, but an equally stunned Brielle and Drake gawking at me as though I had just committed the most heinous crime. And to my delight and horror the bitch squad happens to be picking out balls with none other than Logan just past our table—all of them struck with awe at what a jackass I am with a bowling ball.
The return cycle spits out my ball and I pick it up again. Logan appears next to me holding a blue marbled ball that looks as though it’s made of glass.
“Try this one, it might be a better fit.” He takes the pink monster ball with a serious mind of its own away from me. I’m surprised he doesn’t come after me for damages.
“Thanks.”
“Here, I’ll show you how to shoot it.” He walks me down the beginning of the lane and bends my arm back. I can feel his leg press in hard against mine. His arm entwines with mine, and his warm neck cradles in the crook of my shoulder.
I never knew bowling could be such an erotic sport.
“Neither did I.” He whispers hot in my ear.
I laugh as we chuck the ball awkward down the lane. Only this time it’s not an automatic gutter ball. This time it rolls all the way down and knocks back half the pins.
He gives a high five.
I hop back to my seat filled with glee, even though Logan went back to answer some ludicrous question Michelle screeched over at him. I watch as he sits down at their table and starts filling in their computer board.
Gage bullets his ball down the lane with a vengeance, and gets a strike right off the bat. I’d accuse him of beginners luck, but he’s probably bowled in the dark and achieved the same feat.
I glance over my shoulder and catch Logan’s name popping up on the screen.
“I thought he was working tonight.” I muse to Gage, as he takes a seat.
“He’s the boss. Always doing what he likes.” He stretches his arm across the back of the curved bench, his fingers touching the top of my shoulder.
Brielle screams and shouts with great exuberance from her second strike in a row, which I missed again. Some friend I am.
“Congratulations.” I say without the required enthusiasm.
“Is that what’s bugging you?” She clicks her tongue over at the next table. “Logan has a way of getting around.” She pulls a face. “Sorry. He’s just friendly that way.”
“Is this true?” I ask Gage below a whisper.
“I try not to affiliate myself with rumors. Judge for yourself.”
I try to look back without being so obvious. Logan has his hand on Michelle’s arm as she leans in, and whispers something to him. I know what he’s doing. He’s reading her mind. I’m sure it’s loaded with equal portions lust and lunacy.
Logan looks up and sees me watching him. He gives a brief wink, a barely there expression of acknowledgement, before turning his full attention to whatever it is she’s saying.
They openly share a laugh. If I didn’t know any better I’d swear they were a couple.
Chapter Seventeen
Snake
The sky has split open. It yawns long stretches of rain—torrential downpours— until the roadways look like muddy rivers polluted with battery acid, mud the color of rust rising up on its sides.
Brielle called and asked if Drake and I wanted to come over, hang out and watch a movie, so we go.
The house looks different. More structured, less carefree than the last time I was over. It’s been dusted and swept and the dishes are not migrating all over the counter, most likely courtesy of Brielle herself.
She’s wearing a brand new black sweater with a peek-a-boo lace trim front. It’s embarrassingly apparent she’s not wearing a bra. Deductive logic reasons this, just by the way she’s bouncing around. Her face is done up kabuki style with too much makeup and not enough reality left for the discriminating eye. Something tells me I’ll be watching this movie on her larger than life plasma all by my lonesome.
“So Drake.” She over annunciates his name. “Would you like a tour of the house?”
“Really?” I ignore the opening credits and turn down the volume. “Is that where this is headed? Because I could leave, and you two can tour the world for all I care.”
“No, no! Don’t do that, please.” Brielle makes a baby face by pursing out her lower lip in a dramatic fashion.
“Fine I’ll stay.”
They head upstairs. I pluck out my phone and start texting Logan.
Where are you? I’m doing time at B’s. She’s getting busy with monkey boy. ~S
A fair amount of the movie goes by before my cell spins from the vibration over on the coffee table.
Work. Want to come? I can use the help. Must be a great day to bowl. What is B doing with a monkey?
I hear the distinct knock of a headboard whack against the wall a few times then nothing. I’m afraid to move, or breathe, and I want noting more than to run home in the pouring rain and pull the covers up over my head. I’m not sure that I’m fit to live in a world where monkey boy gets action with a beautiful girl like Bree, especially not if said action is taking place right above my head. It feels like an unholy violation listening to it in real time.
I would love to come. I’d much rather help u. It is the perfect day for bowling. And to answer your question, rutting. ~S
It takes less than a minute for him to respond.
Rutting?! You have a way with words. You should write poetry.
I laugh at the thought. If I wrote poetry it wouldn’t be about my rodent-like stepbrother and newfound best friend. I would pen rivers of sappy words, all strung together in an effort to capture the intensity of the feelings I have for Logan. I might just do that anyway.
I’ll save my poems for you. I promise they will not include the word rutting. Ever. ~S
I try and formulate a poem for him in my mind, but each time the word love pops up uninvited. Is this what it feels like to be in love? What I feel for Logan?
He buzzes right back.
Rutting is my new favorite word. BTW, Gage wants me to give you a message. He very much looks forward to rutting with you.
Ha. Ha.
Tell Gage anytime. I’m waiting, and coincidentally very lonely at this very moment. ~S
Less than ten seconds.
Never mind. I suddenly have a great disdain for the word rutting. You must never rut with Gage. Promise me this.
My heart warms at his sudden burst of jealousy.
Will you rut with others? Turnabout is fair play. ~S
No.
Promise. ~S
I place down the phone and settle in to watch the rest of the movie. It was a strange yet comforting conversation with Logan. I think I’m one inch away from being his girlfriend. I wonder how it gets to be official. Write on your Facebook wall? Change your profile to read in a relationship? Or maybe it just becomes so painfully obvious that after a while everybody and their mother, knows. I’ve never had a boyfriend before, but I’d sure love to know the answer to these questions.
Chapter Eighteen
Take down
It’s not fifteen minutes into cheer practice that I manage to tweak my ankle entirely on my own. I’d love to blame just about anybody for today’s literal misstep, but the bulk of the blame is on me. OK, all of it.
“How’d you do this?” Logan’s football coach hovers over me. He presses his forefinger down over the growing bulge until I squeal in pain.
“Nice method of evaluation.” I slap his hand away. “If this were the middle-ages.”
His eyes bug out with surprise. I don’t really care what he thinks, I’m not one of his jocks who needs to take whatever he dishes, especially if what he’s dishing involves pain.
“You need to ice it. Stay off it for a day or two. Nothing’s broken.” He rises to his feet then claps his hands extra loud in an effort to break up the crowd.