November 15, 2010

• nanowrimo, day fifteen.

  it's many hundred miles and it won't be long.

  

  Laughing and covered in sweat, the nine of us pile back into Lydia’s beautiful vehicle, chatting excitedly about the night we have just had.

  “What did I tell you? Good music, good memories.” Jonathan hails, drumming on the steering wheel as we head back to our collective home.

  “You were definitely right about this, Jonathan,” Charlotte pipes up. “I think I just had the time of my life back there.”

  “I have to agree, that was pretty much amazing,” I exclaim, lifting my shoulders to stretch.

  “It was completely amazing,” Lucas concurs from his seat beside me.

  “I am really glad you had this idea, Jonathan,” Zahari tells him from the passenger’s seat. (I see a tradition forming.)

  Louise is asleep in Wyatt’s lap, Lenny is sitting quietly beside them, and Charlotte and Nadia are beside Lucas and I again.

  Charlotte is wide awake. “I still can’t believe you held in that shot of whiskey, Lenny,” she beams at him from her seat behind his.

  “And that you had such incredible moves,” Zahari points out drowsily. “That robot you did was spot on.”

  “Well, thank you, Zahari. Thank you, Charlotte. I appreciate your accolades. However, I never would have climbed up on that table if I had realized I was just going to fall off of it. It is a good thing that crowd of dancers cheering me on caught me – alcohol truly messes with my ability to make proper calculations,” Lenny sighs.

  “It makes you much more entertaining, if that’s any consolation,” Charlotte grins.

  “I suppose it is,” Lenny’s brow puckers. “Is anyone else ready for a good night’s rest?”

  “I am,” Zahari, Nadia, Jonathan and I all agree out loud.

  “Jon, you aren’t allowed to be tired. You need to get us all home safely,” Charlotte bosses him.

  “I will, Charlotte. Don’t you worry,” Jonathan assures her. “I’m tired, not inebriated.”

  “In a lot of cases, you may as well be,” Charlotte informs. “I heard on the news that driving drowsy is just as dangerous as driving drunk.”

  “I promise you that if I feel more than just a little sleepy, I will pull this SUV over and take a nap,” Jonathan says patiently. I can tell he is legitimately trying to alleviate her nerves.

  “Thank you,” Charlotte says quietly.

  I squeeze her hand, knowing very well why she would fret about anyone’s driving.

  Charlotte seems to relax with his promise, squishing her face against Nadia’s shoulder and falling asleep quickly. Nadia is out, too, as well as Lenny – who is already snoring with his head back on the seat. Jonathan turns up a good song on the radio, as Zahari keeps him awake with conversation.

  I take this peaceful opportunity to look over and up at Lucas Browning. When I do, I catch him already looking at me, and we both smile.

  “I had a lot of fun tonight,” he tells me, his deep voice low and hushed.

  “So did I,” I tell him, stifling a yawn with my stamped right hand. “You are an incredible dancer.”

  “You think so?” he asks, his eyes glittering with amusement.

  “Definitely,” I nod. “You put Adam Let’s-Go-Back-To-My-Place to shame, for sure.”

  He leans his head back and shakes with quiet laughter, holding his stomach. His hand wrinkles the black and white plaid shirt he’s wearing; the one I like very much.

  “And you have more rhythm than you give yourself credit for,” he encourages. “I get the impression you don’t let go like that very often.”

  “Guilty,” I look down at my hands resting in my lap. “Z doesn’t call me her straight-laced sister for nothing.”

  “Well, I liked seeing you like this. You looked very… free,” Lucas smiles warmly.

  “Thank you?” I snicker. “Do I normally look contained?”

  “You’re wound a little tight, yeah,” Lucas says, then cringes.

  I hold a hand up. “Um, I thought I was the honest one around these parts?”

  Lucas shrugs. “I’m sorry; I just assumed you’d appreciate honesty in return for honesty. I mean, it’s not exactly fair that you can’t hide anything from me. So, I figure, it’s wisest for me to give you the truth right back – since you can’t read my mind.”

  “It is kind of disconcerting, really. It makes me feel kind of—“

  Lucas covers my mouth with his hand.

  “Don’t say naked.”

  I pull his hand away from my mouth.

  “Exposed?”

  “That’s better, I guess.” He laughs.

  He still has not let go of my hand.

  “Boys.” I shake my head, trying not to be completely distracted by the casual touch.

  Lucas’ lips twitch into a mischievous grin. “What? You have to be fair to us, Georgia. Can you imagine how hard it is to be a man in the world today? Everywhere we go, it’s just like, being blinded by sex.”

  “This is not a conversation I want to have with you in the backseat of Lydia’s car, when I’m exhausted from freak dancing with you and my friends all night,” I deadpan.

  “I’m not included in your friends?” his smile morphs into a mixture of disappointment and hope. I don’t know how he pulls it off.

  “I was sort of hoping you’d become something more, actually,” I say, and then cringe, closing my eyes. Dammit, dammit, dammit. Lucas…whatever-your-middle-name-is Browning! That was not supposed to come out. You aren’t supposed to ask me direct questions like that, unless you want the real answer!

  “I do want the real answer,” he says, his voice low.

  I open one eye, and a soft version of the crooked, face-creasing grin is in place, replacing my fear of rejection with a whole new stomach knot.

  “And, my middle name is Samson.” Lucas links our fingers, not bothering to ask my permission. The roller coaster in my gut hits another violent drop, and my mouth goes dry. I can’t see his face in the dark, as the full moon is being hidden by a patch of thick woods, but I hope he is at least a little bit as affected by my skin as I am by his warm, scratchy calluses brushing my hand. I am reminded in that moment of the time I touched a tiny, live wire, against my father’s careful warnings – my hand feels electric, and numb, at the same time.

  The off-white orb hanging in the vast darkness breaks free from its tree-screen, and I can see the faintest flush along his cheekbones, and the pearly, straight white of his very-near-perfect teeth. The cars on the track take a sharp curve, and I feel as though I might fall off the side and into oblivion.

  This boy sitting next to me…? He’s beyond beautiful, and I can’t comprehend why he wants to fill the spaces between my fingers, but now that he has, it feels as if he belonged there from the very beginning. I know it’s stupid and cliché to think things like that, but I cannot help it, though I try. My heartbeat is reckless and uneven, and my cheeks are pink, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. It is a natural high I cannot compare anything to, and have not felt in a very long time. Butterflies skate across my abdomen like little birds skimming the top of a body of restless water. I can’t imagine how gross I look, having sweated off most of my makeup while dancing, and my hair was probably a mess. I also don’t want to know what I smell like, or if I’m even partially attractive. But if Lucas Samson Browning wants to sit next to me and hold my hand, I must be doing something right.

  “You are incredibly attractive,” Lucas murmurs. “And you hold me in way too high esteem. It’s ridiculous. I’m not a mythological creature, Georgia. My heart beats just like yours.”

  He picks up the hand of mine he has captive, and presses it to the left side of his chest. My throat tightens up as the palm of my hand measures his speedy pulse.

  “See?” his tone is low and conspiratorial. “Just like yours.”

  I can’t speak; his voice is like the needle and thread for all the wounds my huge heart has sustained from the first time I could feel. I want to tell him, I want to express to him how deeply I am already in this, but as I try to make the feeling into something eloquent, Zahari whips her head around.

  “What are you two doing back there?” Z asks accusingly.

  “Talking,” Lucas says, just loudly enough for her to hear, his voice steady.

  Steadier than mine would’ve been right then.

  He winks at me.

  I feel every emotion that has been too-often expressed by those who have come before me; right then it is especially cliché, but so appropriate – as if I have been drowning and he has pulled me up, forcing air back into my waterlogged lungs and removing that which was choking me to death.

  I can hear his breath, slowly entering and leaving his body as his chest rises and falls, and the sound is a symphony.

  “Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Zahari snickers.

  “Yes, Mama,” I tease, though she and I both know, sadly, that isn’t putting much of a limit on it.

  As much as I don’t want to remove my palm from his heart, having it back against his big, warm hand is just as good, if not better.

  Is it normal to feel this safe with someone you just met a week ago?

  “Probably not,” he murmurs, leaning down close to my ear. “But what about our life is normal, anyway?”

  The lovely beckoning tug on my eyelids is irresistible, especially with Lucas Samson Browning’s warm blood rushing in his veins just beneath my ear, and his honey-sweet voice humming the notes to the song on the radio. I wrap my other hand around his arm, much like I would clutch my pillow in my bed, and darkness dotted with stars wraps around my consciousness like a fleece blanket. I rest my head on his shoulder as my eyes close, and give a barely noticeable shrug before succumbing to the sleep that’s a siren song, calling my name.

   

  • 9:53 pm
  • 1 Comment