Of Teeth & Claws

7: So Mouthy

A voice that has grown to annoy me in just two days snaps me out of my reprieve. "May I join you?" Nox questions.

Eyes snapping open, I spot him already waist deep in the tub making it unnecessary, but polite to ask. Polite isn't going to make me like him. Stunned, I watch him take a seat across from me. Seconds later my mouth finally starts working, "if I say no will you leave?"

"No." At least he's honest.

"Then, I will," I retort as I come to a stand, but I instantly regret it. Standing from the water showcases my barely there swimsuit and Nox immediately notices. He doesn't hide his smile as his eyes rake over every inch of exposed skin. I become frozen under his gaze and it gives him enough time to jump to feet and block the steps. "You know I can climb out from anywhere, right."

"I'd love to watch you do just that." What did I say? Snide, egotistical, chauvinistic asshole wants to watch me climb out of the pool.

Sorry Lyra, but there's no more being nice, "you're an asshole."

"So mouthy." He steps closer, blocking me in. "I'm sure there's a much better use for your mouth than back talking." He takes another step forward and I'm forced to take my own steps back. I stumble against the rim of the seats. His hands grab onto my shoulders as I teeter backwards.

Trapped in his grasp, I watch him lean down, unable to pull away. The moment his lips touch mine, images play out in my head. Memories.

The call of my name echoes through the trees. "Nova, it's just me." The voice gets closer. "Come on."

I can see him, a teenage boy, aimlessly circle the trees looking for me. My spot isn't new. We climbed this tree just a few days ago. And he always finds me. No matter where I am. He always comes when he knows I need him most.

His bright blue eyes narrow at the tree, at me, as he slowly walks up to it. "If I didn't come looking for you, you'd be stuck up there all night." He stands at the bottom of the tree, arms crossed, skeptical but an amused twitch to his lips.

He's very aware that I'm capable of climbing a tree, but not getting down. But I have no intention of getting down though. My father is having another tiff and I would rather not be present. My back still aches from the shove he gave me that slammed me into a wall.

"Of course he sent you." He might be charming and make me feel safe, but he's praised by my father. I'm not stupid. I know hierarchy. My father is our glorified leader among the small community and this infuriating boy's father is my father's right hand man.

"Nova. Please." But for some reason, when I should hate him, I can't. I can't help but believe in anything and everything he says, even though this whole friendship has probably been plotted out by our parents, ending in our arranged marriage for when I turn eighteen.

He stretches out his arms in anticipation of my jump, because he too can't help but to obey the pull that drags us together.

I groan in what feels like forced compliance, "fine, but don't drop me." He hasn't yet. Pushing the fear down and accepting the possibility of getting a scolding if I hurt myself, I suck in a deep breath and slip off the branch I'm perched on. My free fall only lasts seconds as I only climbed to the first branch that could hold my weight.

The impact of our colliding bodies rips the air from my lungs. His shoulder slams into my chest, "that hurt," I moan in a rough, pitchy tone.

"I didn't drop you though," he jokes, which is true. He didn't drop me as my feet still dangle in the air, several inches from the ground. It takes a couple of seconds before he places me on my own two feet.