#para 03

Teddy wasn’t sure how the outfit had come together, but somehow—after half an hour of protests on her part and insistence on Valeria’s—the costume had come together. Small as she was, she couldn’t help but feel just a little bit mighty clad in the golden and red costume. She had, of course, editorialized the skirt, giving it a little more length and volume. For once in her life, she was grateful that her mother had insisted on indoor hobbies like sewing and drawing due to her crapped out heart. She had been building onto the flimsy fabric bit by bit since she had gotten it.

There were only a few final touches. She had texted her hair into a mass of thick braids, hoping if she positioned it just right, the plaits of the braid would cover the knots of scar tissue on her chest. Almost, but not quite. She lamented over the pinkish skin of the scars while trying to ignore Valeria prompting her to come out of the bathroom. “Just a minute!” she called to the closed door, slathering the pink scar tissue with green concealer, skin toned concealer, a layer of powder to set it—just like the woman at the store had said. By the time she finished, you’d have to look for it to find it. She swiped the makeup into her bag to bring along, just in case.

Teddy felt her nerves ripple through her chest as she settled her hand on the knob of her bathroom door, but there wasn’t exactly a plan b costume. She huffed out a breath, forced on a smile, and opened the bathroom door to let Valeria see her costume. Teddy knew she should expect nothing less than Valeria singing her praises, but it was different with other people. Teddy would sooner be mocked with cutting insults by Valeria’s friends, which she anticipated would happen by the closer of the evening. Even that, though, didn’t compare to how her stomach turned to lead thinking about seeing Noah at the party.

It was stupid. Absolutely, completely, totally stupid. They had spent hours together after school already, Teddy cajoling him into doing his work and Noah sometimes trying, often joking. She didn’t want to admit she liked him. He wasn’t supposed to be the boy she liked, but it was getting harder and harder to stuff down the sneaking suspicion that despite her good intentions, she did. She laughed when she was around him, felt like he could actually listen, and he knew her secret.

Plainly put, Dixie had been feeling miserable since her cooking lesson with Dallas. The heavy rain pelting against her windshield mimicked the internal storm churning in her head as she drove back into the small borough on the edge of the city. She squinted slightly to try and concentrate on the road before her while she tried to make sense of her own actions from the other night. Dallas had been nothing but kind to her, certainly more of a gentleman than any of the other men she’d known. So why was she insistent on pushing him away? He had never overstepped a boundary or expected more than what had been put on the table but she had pushed him away as if he’d demanded something she couldn’t offer. Maybe stability and friendship were more than she could offer.

The sound of her engine sputtering and then revving emptily pulled her from her thoughts. She glanced at her dashboard as light after light lit it up. Dixie shook her head slowly. “No, no, no, not here, we’re almost home,” she begged the waterlogged car. She glanced behind her when he car had rolled to a stop on the side of the block. No one else had been as unwise as she had to brave the storm. Dixie buried her head in her hands and tried to keep a level head while considering the options she had. Of course the car would have to be towed, that was obvious. But how would she get home? The idea of crawling into the unknown of the passenger seat in the tow truck made her skin crawl. Home was still a mile off, too far to realistically hoof it in the downpour.  That would only make her sick and the germs that came with illness would only send her world into a downward spiral.

Dixie peered out the window trying to collect a better picture of where she was in town. The small café on the left and McDonalds dotting the corner told me she was near her company from the other night’s home. Her stomach flipped as she considered going to him for help. He had been in her home and she considered him safer than any of the alternatives. It would also raise questions as to why she thought walking to his house in the rain was the best option before her.  The woman decided to cut her losses, beginning to feel trapped in the car. She peered up at the sky through the rain dotted window and cringed. The rain was pelting against her car so hard it sounded as if she were in a car wash rather than broken down on the side of the road.

Rolling along the southern highway in the dry warm passenger seat of Grayson’s blue Chevy truck Gretchen wouldn’t have been surprised if they weren’t ever trekking across the pavement of the highway anymore.  The rain came down in heavy sheets and flooded the wind shield faster than the wipers could slosh it away as if someone were on the roof of the car slinging buckets of water upon them.  Even the radio wasn’t playing its usual steady stream of  the modern music Grayson was giving her an education on, or maybe he had turned it off to concentrate on the road; Gretchen couldn’t remember. The map she had ripped not long before make a rustling noise as she folded it to isolate the creased bit of map that represented the route they were taking after she had delivered crude directions to the nearest hotel to Grayson.  She had struggled to decipher the map chalking it up to the distracting patter of heavy raindrops, her own lack in intelligence, and the fact that it was nearly impossible to see the map in the darkness. 

Despite the elements working against them that night and his stubborn silence she felt comfortable with him, seemingly stoic and even keel behind the wheel. She wondered how this compared to what he had seen in Vietnam, where he had recently disclosed to her he had served time in the military.  In silence she wondered if his cool nature in this rainstorm was some skill he had picked up from some task he had been put to during his service but she knew better than to even dare to ask.  It was doubtful he would answer even if she had mustered the courage to ask.  Before that was even possible she felt the truck roll to a stop at the run down looking motel she had directed him to. 

Gretchen followed Grayson into the lobby of the motel, her arms lifted over her head with her jacket tented overhead to try and keep dry.  It was hardly any use as the girl nearly had to run to keep up with him, her quick footballs stirring up puddles underfoot. The young girl took in the lobby.  The front desk was directly ahead. To the immediate left was a small bar in which a few men sat alone smoking, a few others with tired, used up looking women.  There was a television playing above the display of bottles which caught Gretchen’s attention.  Slowly she found herself standing in front of the bar, eyes glued to the newsreel flashing across the scene and trying to keep up with the black bar of captions.

“Listen here little miss,” the bartender rasped in a gravelly voice, stealing her attention from the television set.  “I ain’t lookin’ to serve no miners so y’might as well get. G’wan now, outta my bar.”

For a moment Gretchen considered arguing that she didn’t’ want him to serve her, she was just observing, but she caught sight of a gun on the man in the bar stool next to her’s side.  Her eyes lifted to his chest and her fears were confirmed when she saw the badge on his chest.  Suddenly there was a bad taste in her mouth, she went pale as the blood drained from her face and her hands became clammy. She didn’t know if anyone was looking for her or how many milk cartons her face might be printed on the back of by now.  The officer turned his head slightly and Gretchen turned away quickly and left the bar.  She regretting not keeping her eyes on him longer to try and tell if there was any trace of recognition in his eyes when he had looked at her.  She calmed herself down by reminding herself she was miles away from home and no one would recognize her. 

Gretchen nearly trotted back to Grayson’s side.  She shuffled her feet and fidgeted a bit behind him, impatient for the slow desk worker to issue the key to the room.  From outside it sounded like the rain wasn’t easing up at all.  Despite the fact that she’d soaked herself running through puddles behind Grayson on her way inside she was glad to be somewhere safe and warm—especially considering it had a shower.  She lifted her gaze from her feet when Grayson seemed to be finished up and finally had a key. In an instant she realized the shower wasn’t even the best part—she’d get to sleep in a bed.

Seven years had ticked by since Charlotte had last celebrated her birthday.  It wasn’t that she particularly missed any of the traditional activities that came with growing one year older but each new candle had reminded her another year had gone by since she had disengaged from her family and become attached to a demoness. It had always been particularly striking to her that each moment leading until the first of April nothing in her life had seemed to change but when she reflected on the year she was worlds away from the person she had been.  This year, she was grateful for it for a change.  It felt like a new age, or rather a new era for her when she woke up below the weight of Daniel’s arm hooked around her waist and the warmth of his body pressed to her back.  Charlotte was hardly the person she had been just one year prior and in Daniel’s bed she was happy to be in the world she found herself in now.

The morning hadn’t gone as planned in a number of ways—mostly due to the fact that the two had slept right through it.  But once the two were awake in mid afternoon they had promptly fought, though a screaming match between the two was hardly newsworthy at this point.  Charlotte had tried to behave afterword, hardly aware of what part of herself made her so difficult to get on with.  However, Daniel had been in good form after still agreeing to watch The Breakfast Club with her, albeit months later than originally promised, and as she had hinted it would probably be months before they did at this point.

Daniel stood before her stripping naked save the cowboy hat he had been such a good sport to indulge her with.  She felt her blood rush and a smile cross her lips watching him as each article of clothing came off.  He was hers, just as he had promised.  Though she had promised herself she wouldn’t do the deed with him until she had freed herself from Evangeline, in fairness to him and not herself, she grew selfish and hungry looking at him.  Her smile grew wider with every moment and she could feel herself shift.  It would be a complete lie to say she hadn’t been in the mood since the second she saw him naked the night before all sinew and strength under a layer of grime and blood that no one could have dawned on themselves more sexily in her opinion.  And he didn’t even have to try.  Asshole.  Daniel had been hurt but after he had rested up she felt justified to pursue.  She wanted to kiss him, bite at his bottom lip, touch every inch of him and feel every ounce of his weight bearing down against her body.  Charlotte hated to feel controlled, but to be dominated by a man sexually was something she wasn’t keen to pass up, but for some reason the past number of months she couldn’t imagine anyone touching her but the Kromer. With Daniel the appeal of being dominated was tenfold, mostly so by the sheer fact that by the first time in her life it actually, she actually, meant something more than company under covers.

“I’m just waiting on you to do the breaking,” Charlotte insinuated, tilting her head to the side slightly, her deep brown eyes playful as she bantered with him.  She raised her eyebrows to enhance the tone of the challenge.

“Is this the part where I rip off your clothes with my teeth?” Daniel asked in return.

Charlotte instantly bit her bottom lip, but the corners of her mouth failed to obey her will.  They turned upward as her nose wrinkled against her struggle and more quickly than ever the smile she tried to contain spread across her face.  Though there were only a few feet of space between their bodies she loped quickly to cross the space, grabbing the string of his cowboy hat and pulling down on it hard to bring his face closer to his.  She pressed her lips to his quickly, accidentally scraping her teeth against his in her urgency.  She ignored it, hooking on arm around his neck though she still had to stand on the tips of her toes to do so.  She pushed her other hand up along his cheek, fingers carelessly flipping the hat off his head as she ran her fingers through his hair to the back of his head and willed it closer to hers.  She bit at his bottom lip more aggressively than usual, pulling at it with her teeth before releasing it and kissing the edge of his jaw downward at an angle every so often sucking at the skin, using her teeth to play a little more roughly with him.  She lowered her feet flat on her ground again, running her hands down his thickly muscled back and back up his arms.  She dropped her head forward, skimming her lips and brushing her teeth lightly over his scars before pressing a kiss to the center of his chest.