forgive my soul

     For a moment, Jade’s words buzzed in the distance while most of Duncan’s attention was fired at the hand that had held her. Brief as it was, he felt it had broken a seal that seemed to have been put in place during their “time apart.” He flexed his hand as he tuned his focus back into what she was saying, only really hearing ‘Atlanta’ before he was able to catch the rest. He quickly puzzled it together with the rest of the context and shrugged.

“You know I never stay in one place for too long,” he told her, withholding the part of him that,  ever since her disappearance, had begun to hate walking around his hometown even more deeply than before.

For a little bit, he had stayed in Georgia. He told himself it wasn’t so bad to be back, especially since his sibling had moved into town as well. It was nice to spend more time with them, but there was a constant voice in the back of his head. One that howled instead of whispered, like a lone wolf trying to find his pack through whipping winds. It called out her name each time it was tricked with the illusion of her hiding just out of his periphery.

It exhausted him to the point that he could no longer turn away from the facts. He had been waiting for her to return. Bearing her absence with the false presumption that she would eventually come back and apologize. 

Of course, she never did and the only thing he could think to do was to make his way up to New York. Sure it was taking him a while since he was stopping and staying in a town here, another one there along the eastern coast as he made his way north. Salem was supposed to be a simple pit stop, but it’d enchanted him enough for him to want to stay for longer than a short visit. New York could wait a little longer, he had told himself.

Coincidence was all this could be. Just like the two of them meeting that night not too long ago. “I didn’t come here for a watch, I came here to forget about it. You just happened to fucking be here, so I’m taking it as a sign that maybe I shouldn’t believe that ‘I don’t have it’ bullshit,” he spat out. 

Duncan ran his fingers through his dark hair, tugging at the ends of his loose, short curls in frustration. Then he let out a long breath and took a single step closer to her. “Maybe it got lost in your stuff, maybe you gave it to someone, I don’t know, but if we’re both gonna’ be here in Salem for a while, then you’ve got time to find it and give it back to me.”  His voice was low, husky. He needed a drink.

.

Opal frowned, decidedly not interested in the reminder that she knew him. In fact, she was a big non-fan of all the things his presence alone was waking up inside her. This was never supposed to be part of the deal-- seeing the ruin she’d left behind. Jade was just a skin she’d shed in Georgia, not a ghost to haunt her waking hours.

She didn’t like the sharp reality that Jade might have been more than just a persona. And that Duncan might have been more than just a mark.

She stopped that thought dead in its tracks, content to simply glare at him instead. An icy glint chased away any lingering softness as she thought about what his words meant. He was planning on being here a while? The smart thing, then, would be to leave, but she didn’t want to. And the stubborn parts of her refused to give up any ground. Not when he just all but declared war. Whether or not he knew it.

Taking a step back, simply to gain some distance, she let her eyes bore into him before she finally spoke again. “Don’t hold your breath.” 

She didn’t give him a chance to ensnare her any longer as she turned on her heel and hurried away.

-

Kenzie already felt the sense of guilt settling into her stomach. She felt the words slip from her mouth before she could do much of anything to stop them. The sensation felt familiar, something so innate in her from a young age. She felt in awe of how she’d say anything, even if she didn’t believe it to be in control of how someone viewed her, or to hurt someone or to please someone. Lies came to her with ease. Did she even know what she really believed? Did she know what parts of her were real? She found herself hoping this woman never found out about what Kenzie did to pay her bills. “Well, that’s nice of you.” She remarked blandly, face still lacking emotion as she pressed her back further into the brick wall.

“Right.” She remarked after the word sad echoed in the air. “Your high horse is mighty convenient.” Sure, she started it, but the game the brunette played was equally as petty. Kenzie felt fine letting the other claim she wasn’t trying to scare the blonde, even though the woman’s vague threat to consider your next move carefully still swirled through her memory. Shame, in a different form, was all the woman intended to instill into Kenzie, for being drunk, for being jealous, or whatever the reason may be. She slipped her phone out of her bag, pulling up Wes’s texts, nearly sending a message to prove a point. “He likes being kissed behind the ear.” Kenzie put her phone away, thankful for the alcohol streaming through her blood ensuring she’d remember none of this.

.

Opal tilted her head as she took in the blonde. If she was a different person, a better person, she might have acknowledged the parts of the girl that just seemed... lost? It was something she knew all too well herself. But Opal was decidedly not that person. Or, at least, she couldn’t afford to be. Forming attachments, caring-- it was all walking too thin a line. 

Opal’s eyes drifted out towards the street, snorting mirthlessly at the other woman’s words. “Sure. It’s a lovely view from up here.” Ocean green eyes slowly traveled back to her as she spoke again and Opal wondered, for the first time since it’d begun, if this arrangement with Wes was worth it. She desperately needed the money, sure, but jealous girlfriends with enough gall to accost her outside of a bar? Part of her raged on inside, foaming at the mouth with the need to tell her how many lives she’d laid to ruin that littered the path behind her. But she’d lived with her anger long enough to know that it had nothing to do with the messy blonde. So she squelched it beneath the years of carefully crafted masks. Her face was devoid of emotion as she let her eyes wander the features of the other woman for a moment. “What exactly is it that you’re trying to accomplish here?”

-

Lord help Wes if his mother ever catches wind of this little ruse he has going on. She’s started talking more about social media presence and his excuses are starting to run thin. Still, he’s enjoying these moments with Opal because there’s no better way to let out frustrations of both overbearing and absent parents than by paying a woman to trick them. Besides, it doesn’t hurt to have a pretty girl by his side; it helps push away whatever cloud of feelings that seem to bubble him whenever Phoebe’s around – not that Opal’s a deterrent for those. They’re just easier to ignore. 

Maybe. Wes resists the urge of the pout from forming on his lips. A maybe seeing Opal naked is better than definitely not. “Good? I thought all the ladies wanted a bad boy.” He matches his words with a couple of finger guns. Nice. “Ah so you’re expecting a magic Mike night,” he purses his lips, as if deliberating on it. “But then you’d have to pay me, wouldn’t ya?”

.

A delicate snort sounded from somewhere in Opal’s throat, shaking her head in something akin to fondness at his finger guns. Was she actually having fun? With no fortified guard up and only a few lies to keep track of, the smile on her face felt genuine and she turned away from him a moment before she had time to wonder on that particular train of thought.

Or why Duncan seemed to suddenly cross her mind. 

She frowned, fingers mindlessly combing over a rack of clothes before emerald eyes alit with mischief slid back to Wes as she schooled her face once again. “The corruption is part of the fun.” She surveyed him, tilting her head in a way that was not entirely unlike a bird of prey, and took several steps nearer to him to whisper, “And for curiosity’s sake, what would be your price?” @wescastro​

.

Despite the boiling blood in his veins and the anger twisting his insides, Milo was smiling, and he wasn’t even entirely certain why. Maybe it was how much he was riling her up that was amusing to him. The fact that her blood was clearly boiling too. Maybe it was the artificially sweetened coo of her voice - the one she used to entrance men every day - and how annoyed she was that he seemed immune to it.

“So, now,” he clarified, considering he was currently standing in front of her, and she seemed extremely aware of his existence. “I’m bothering you now, then.” He somehow managed to smirk while still smiling, and it only faltered slightly when she came close, and touched his face. Despite himself, his breath hitched in his throat. But she stepped away as quickly as she’d come, and the smile returned to his scrutinized lips.

Her attempts to insult him didn’t stick - nobody’s ever did - and he let them roll off as he tried to read her expression now. Shaking his head, still smiling, he gazed at her a moment. 

“Yeah, sure. You want to come with?”

.

She imagined how she might delight in smacking that stupid smile off his stupid face and she let the image tug a smile across her own mouth. People didn’t normally get under her skin. She could usually hold on to the upper hand with her ability to read people, but Milo was a brick fucking wall. She couldn’t anticipate him, couldn’t work her wiles on him. 

And god, it irritated the hell out of her.

Instead of giving him the pleasure of her response, she only narrowed her eyes at him. It was kind of fun in a way, if she let herself think about it (and did some mental gymnastics to get there). She’d never had a rival before, if that’s what he even was. She’d had targets and people she’d considered more job than relationship, but never anything like this. 

She realized he was still smiling at her then and her lips pulled back from her teeth in something that was decidedly not a smile. Opal didn’t think for a moment it was a genuine offer nor did she entertain it as one. Instead, she closed the distance she’d put between them a moment ago, tilting her head as she looked him over before her smile turned soft and sweet. Meeting his eyes, she said, “You couldn’t afford me.”

–

In the eyes of passer-bys, they look to be a normal couple — maybe with a bit more PDA than usual but at least they’re both playing the part right. Sometimes Wes loses himself in the role and while there’s a niggling voice at the back of his mind that’s longing for a more familiar set of eyes, or the scent of someone who’s been ingrained in his life for more than half of it, he ignores it to just appreciate the beauty that is Opal.

He groans at the way she so casually teases in public and resists the urge to just bury his face in the crook of her neck. Maybe if he’s good enough, he can convince her that sneaking to the nearest changing room would really hit the nail on the head with this whole faking it thing, but he knows it’ll be more of a scandal than anything. “Maybe you should show me how good you look in nothing,” he says instead, feeling her absence as she walks away. Eyes take in the new shirt that’s offered and there’s an effort in pulling his mind back in track. “Which one says ‘Mum, trust me. My date and I are just angels.’?”

.

It was too bothersome for Opal to try and sort out when their game started and when they were just two people who had entered a mutually beneficial partnership, so she elected to simply never stop playing. Wes was cute and he spoiled her with his words and his money, and there was no fairer trade as far as she was concerned. There were no strings here, no feelings to worry about, no machinations to weave within her words or actions. It was freeing in the way that none of her other relationships had been or ever could be. 

“Maybe,” she cooed, making her way back towards him with the new shirt in hand. “If you’re good.” Her eyes sparkled in a way that promised the exact opposite and her lips turned down as she pondered his question. “Blue,” she decided with a nod. “But feel free to buy them both and put on a little show for me later.”

-

Kenzie watched the switch flip in the woman. The smile tightly bound across the brunette’s face felt patronizing. The reaction was justified, nor was she surprised by the fire sparked. She wanted the fight, didn’t she? Her jawline cut sharper up close. Her perfect high cheeks glistened in the dim light of the sidewalk. A detached low chuckle let her lips as she rested her head against the wall for support, turning her head away from the taller woman. “You’re arguing semantics. Whatever you want to call it, he pays you to suck his dick, right?” She slurred ever so slightly. Kenzie gave herself a mental pat on the back for using a big word while sloshed. “I don’t need to be jealous.” Whether or not she was jealous felt complicated. She didn’t want what this woman had with Wesley. She knew it barely scratched the surface as to what she had with the man. What she was jealous of was her past self. Perhaps jealous came into play knowing they spent time together, but if she called Wesley he’d come. Kenzie knew jealousy proved rather useless.

Her thumb brushed across her under eye. Blue eyes dropped the the black smudge on her finger. “You don’t really scare me. I’ve had the wrath of God hung over my head my entire life.” She rolled her eyes letting out a small giggle to herself. “You sure do talk a lot though..” 

.

Opal rolled her eyes, her patience wearing thin. “Jesus, do you hear yourself? It’s 2021, babe. We don’t slut shame anymore.” Reaching into her bag, she pulled out her lip gloss, eyes glittering with challenge as she swiped it over her lips. “But you’ve got it all wrong. He pays for my pretty dresses. The dick sucking is free.” As if to punctuate that point, she popped her newly-glossed lips together. 

She’d hoped that would be the end of that conversation, but the train wreck with hair was still going and fuck, she was going to make Wes make this up to her. She laughed, a mirthless sound. “Scare you,” she repeated. “I’m not trying to scare you. This--” she motioned down the length of the woman before her, “--is just... sad. And I don’t think it’s about me at all. So if you’re nearly done, I’ll make a little note in my calendar to go visit that hot priest and say a little prayer for you.” Her eyes flicked to the door to the bar and back. “I’d offer to buy you a drink, but it looks like you could probably use a water.”

     Truth be told, Duncan had little faith in how effective calling her out would have been. He knew Jade’s strength and stubbornness was abundant, so he was surprised when she stopped. Her next movements were swift, but for Duncan, the following couple of moments played out slowly.

Somehow both too indignant and too proud at the same time, Duncan stopped chasing after her once she turned and began walking towards him. He straightened out his posture and stood there, holding her sharp gaze with his own. When she did finally stop just a mere few inches away, Duncan’s heart flitted. Animosity, he had always expected to come if he were to ever see her again; what he hadn’t prepared for was the pinching nostalgia that was going for the center of his heart.

He had always found her to be so striking. So stunning that even now, with all his pent up anger and confusion rushing to the surface, he couldn’t help but be momentarily disarmed by her. Especially after months of having not seen her. He was vulnerable.

When her accusation came, though, Duncan’s tall walls of defense rose up to new heights. His eyes bounced to a nearby couple that was spectating; worried, waiting. When his dark hues landed back on Jade, Duncan thought he caught what might have been the same look he had given her right before she began charging him with ridiculous allegations. “Stalking you? Please, Jade, who do you think I am–or better yet, who do you think you are that I would stalk you?” He scoffed.

The smile he received from her put a crack in his façade. He realized he would have to walk on eggshells if he wanted to get answers. Duncan expected some sort of retribution after all. Mainly in the form of his grandparent’s things; not much else really appealed to him. The new chink on his wall, however, made him wonder if he would even fight for those if it meant possibly getting to see her again.. and again.

Having completely forgotten about groceries (when had he dropped his Pop-Tarts and bottle of Jack?), Duncan followed Jade. Almost as soon as they stepped out of the store, he grabbed at her wrist and twisted her around so they were facing each other again. “No funny business, Jade. I want to know where my watch is,” he started, but the cold stern tone melted slowly as he peered down at her. Then he noted the grasp he had on her and quickly let her go out of embarrassment, mumbling, “and why you left with it.” Why you left me?, would have been a more accurate expression, though.

.

Jade.

The name cleaved through the air between them just as it seemed to slither up her spine and settle over her like a second skin. It was both foreign and familiar-- once a name whispered with reverence and now it felt like the echo of a piece of herself she hadn’t realized she’d been missing. She’d never stuck around to see the fallout of her actions. She’d always told herself that they’d all deserved it, and for a long time, it’d been a very convincing argument. 

But things had been more tangled with Duncan. It hadn’t just been a job, it had been vengeance. And him showing up here now with his stupid, wide brown eyes, she didn’t want to face the possibility that it had been entirely misplaced. 

Instead of letting the guilt fester-- she did not feel guilty-- she squared her shoulders in indignation, glancing down at the hand clamped onto her wrist before sliding her burning gaze to his face. “Last time I checked, you lived in Atlanta.” Her eyes darted behind him, marking anyone who might be close enough to overhear before they cut back to him in a narrowed glare. “So this is just a coincidence then?” She motioned at the space between them with an air of doubt before folding her arms tightly across her chest. 

This was not happening. This couldn’t happen. Why had she never considered this a possibility?

Opal heard the real question he was asking and she had to fight the urge to look away. Instead, she leaned into the indignation, not willing to incriminate herself in anything in case he was only guessing. And ugh, Jade-- there it was again. That same itchy feeling that was neither a caress nor a vice grip on her insides, but some empty space in between. How many pieces of her lay scattered in the spaces she used to take up?

“You came here for a watch?” she deadpanned, raising a single eyebrow. “Allow me to save you some time: I don’t have it.” Except, she did have it. She’d pawned the rest, but the watch she’d held onto. The why of that eluded her now, though. He seemed to realize he was still holding onto her wrist and she yanked it back as he released her, flames still flickering beneath her skin where he’d been holding onto her. “You should probably check in Georgia again. Good luck on your search.”

"Opal, for obvious reasons, although jade is a such a pretty green, isn't it? But I find my tastes change pretty regularly. Maybe it'll be saffron next?"

.

Even if Ryan was aware that Opal was just trying to goad her into reacting sometimes, she generally couldn’t help it. She was the type to react on impulse and even just seeing the taunting smirk from the other woman had her itching to respond. Huffing out a deep breath to quell the bubbling aggression, Ryan turned her head cockily towards the other woman. “I’m happy to prove it any time you’d like,” Ryan asserted with a nod.

A sharp bark of laughter echoed out from Ryan’s throat at Opal’s words. “Opal, please. Don’t flatter yourself. I have standards,” Ryan scoffed, waving a hand in the air as if that were the most absurd thing she’d heard all day. Body deflating back against the couch, Ryan scrunched her face together as if thinking incredibly hard (which she was). “But, seriously it was the best idea ever. I know it was.” She’d run all the way out of the shower in just her towel because of how brilliant it had been, after all, so it must have been something great.

.

Opal’s taunting smile curled higher at Ryan’s words, openly trailing a path down the length of her towel-clad form before a pout danced over her lips. “Well, now you’re just sending mixed signals.” Taking another bite of her Twizzler, she watched in rapt entertainment as Ryan’s face scrunched up in thought. “Well, while you try to remember your stroke of brilliance, I had a thought of my own. What do you think of me getting a cat? Like a black one that hangs out at the shop? I feel like it would either add a little something or come across a little contrived. And then there’s the whole pesky having to take care of it thing.”

.

At the first syllable of the word ‘competition’, Milo snort-laughed, and shook his head. “For one thing… people go to you because they want to look at you, not because you have any discernable talent. Secondly, only one of us makes up stories, Fauxpal, the other one simply sees things. For example, I would have - at the very least - seen that banana peel coming. You really need to work on your second sight. Or your first. Baby steps.”

He didn’t know where this snark came from, honestly. He wasn’t like this around anyone else. He was normally cool, unshakable, unbothered, but this woman made his blood boil, and although he kept smiling, he knew she could tell. She stepped forward, and he smirked, knowing that he was at least getting under her skin, too.

“You have no idea what I want,” he said. “I think that’s what bothers you most.”

.

As Milo spoke, she imagined how it might feel to wrap her hands around his throat until no more sound could pass and found herself smirking despite the annoyance that was spider-walking up her spine and stinging her cheeks red. The longer he spoke, the harder it became to not roll her eyes to the sky and curse whatever powers-that-be called it home and found this entertaining. “Yes, Milo,” she cooed, eyes moving over his shoulder to the dumpster he’d just crawled out of. “It really looks like you know what what you’re doing.”

Green eyes slid back to his and this time they did roll. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself. The only time you bother me is when you’re standing right in front of me and I remember you even exist. But I do know what you need.” She closed the rest of the distance between them, mere inches and charged air separating their bodies as she reached out-- bet he didn’t see that coming-- and took his chin between her fingers as her eyes traced the fullness of his mouth before settling back on his eyes. An intimate gesture. “A shower.” She released him immediately, taking a step back and straightening. “You smell like shit. And I don’t just mean bullshit.”