Chapter Eight: Lucky & Lustful
"you know you can call
me if you need someone,"
~ justin bieber
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The basement smelt heavy with vanilla and lavender. But I embraced and welcomed it with open arms.
I was sitting in front of the folded table with most jars filled with wax. The table itself was pressed against the far right corner on the left side of the insulated basement, with two small windows above me.
We'd lived in this house for years, but my parents never got around to finishing the square-shaped room. Instead, we had an old, ratty brown couch across the stairs, and workout mats on the left side of my work station.
There were weights, a bench press and a yoga ball, with a box TV across from it. It barely worked at this point, but mom watched old workout DVDs.
Turning back to my two dozen jars, I quickly lifted the pot off of the portable stove and poured it into the last five jars before putting tape on either side of the candle wick, so it stayed upright.
I'd finished the vanilla batch an hour ago, but was already eager to start a new scent, which was why I chose lavender. I figured I could bring one back to Tilly, since I knew it was her favourite.
Vanilla was mine, Clove. You remember that?
I stiffened against the black foldable chair and stared at the pink insulation in front of me. Just shut up. Making candles helped tune her out, but the second I stopped... it was free for her to return.
I loved it, but now I can never smell it again. Because of yo—
"Okay," I cleared my throat and shot up, beginning to clean up. I realized that the sun started setting and wasn't providing much light, so I took that opportunity to walk to the other side of the basement before flicking the light on.
Just then, the door above me, opened. In seconds, I met mom's dark, monolid eyes. They were narrowed in a glare, and my thoughts sped into anything I'd done in the last twenty four hours.
"Clover," she began, taking a step down, but still holding the handle of the door behind her. "Do you know what the time is?"
I peered over my shoulder, toward the window before turning back to mom. "No..." I'd left my phone in my room to avoid the outside world.
If possible, her glare hardened. "Almost seven! You need to shower and get dressed. Make sure you look good for pictures."
I could have rolled my eyes. Mom liked to suggest I'm not pretty unless I dressed up. Every time we had a holiday or event, she'd take pictures and wanted us to look our best.
"I'll come up in a few minutes, I just have to clean up," I explained, smiling to ease her.
Her brows rose in challenge. "O, sige pa." Oh, okay. Her tone was enough for me to cringe. "Ano?"
"Nothing. I'll be up in a minute," I smiled again before stepping back, releasing the railing to the stairs.
She nodded once, and I finally noticed her wearing a red, boat neck sheath dress, with a silver opera necklace. Her black hair was down and curled, ending by her collarbone and had a flawless layer of makeup on, which made her look ten years younger.
When she stepped out and closed the door behind her, I went back to my station and cleaned up, and within a few minutes, I was upstairs. Since the door opened next to the living room, I turned to my right and saw dad was sitting on the couch, a leg over the other while dressed in slacks and a white button up. Dax sat next to him, showing dad how he played on his switch.
On my left, mom was in the kitchen, glaring at the opposite end of the island, where Cyrus was. He wasn't dressed yet, and she was yelling at him.
I snorted and walked past the archway, where the spiral stair was, on the left side of the dark wooden, double doors. On the opposite side of the entrance, across from the stairs, was a dining room, which was already had a designed table cover on top.
Turning, I walked upstairs and made my way to my rectangular, pastel green painted room. It had shades of green with white furniture, along with some wooden decor here and there.
The door was on the left, with a window on the opposite end. The double bed filled the space, with a wooden bench at the end of it. The bed itself pressed against the wall on my left, and on the opposite side of that, was a six-squared storage space, right next to the door leading to my closet.
A white dresser was on my right when I stepped in, with the smell of caramel filling the space. I was extremely lucky that mom enjoyed the smell, because she was sensitive to lots of scents—according to her, at least.
I ended up grabbing my robe from my closet and slipping into it before exiting my room. The bathroom was in between mine and Cyrus' room, so I stepped in and showered, washing and then blow drying my hair.
When I was entering my room again, my phone, which was in my right hand, began ringing. I read the contact and smiled before answering the call. "Hey, Tilly."
"Sup, Coco?" She yawned. "I'm bored as shit. How's everythin' in the Fields residence?"
"Vitaly not being good company?" I teased, closing my door and putting the phone on speaker before laying it on my dresser.
She snorted. "Hell no. The shithead can't shut up."
"Hey!" I heard in the background. "You're not any better, sestra."
"No one asked, Vit," her voice was muffled as she drawled out a reply. There was some shuffling on her end as I looked at my reflection in the mirror above my dresser.
I used my wide tooth comb to brush through my hair before speaking again. "How are you celebrating Thanksgiving love?"
There was a pause. "Did you just call me love?" Tilly teased.
"Yeah, sorry," I cringed. "It's kind of a reflex." One I hadn't had since Adrianna died.
"I want to be called love!" Vitaly screamed in the background, which was followed by Tilly bellowing back in Russian.
After a few seconds, a door closed and there was only silence. "Anyways," she cleared her throat. "It's chill, Coco. It's cute."
"Okay," I chuckled awkwardly. "You didn't answer my question, though."
There was a moment of silence before she cleared her throat. "I'm just taking a smoke outside right now. Imma go pick up food soon."
"You're at Vitaly's?" I waited until she answered with a yes. "Your family... it'll just be you guys?"
"Vitaly is my family," she admitted, almost harshly, but not toward me. "Everyone else is fuckin' irrelevant."
It was moments like these when I regretted agreeing that we didn't have to talk about our pasts. As much as I hated mine, I couldn't help but be curious about Tilly's.
Knowing that the conversation was getting somewhere Tilly didn't appreciate, I coughed and grabbed my phone before walking to my closet. "I need to pick a dress. Can you help?"
"You with dresses," she groaned, but a laugh followed. "I wouldn't be caught dead in one."
I grinned, putting the phone on the top shelf above my clothing rack. "That sounds like a challenge."
"More like a promise," she advertised, and a chuckle left me.
For the next ten minutes, we switched to a FaceTime call, where she then helped me pick an outfit. She called most of them adorable and cute, but it wasn't long until I shuffled into one she approved.
I was back in my room, standing in front of my mirror while inspecting my body. My hand grazed the vertical scar on my upper left, outer thigh before I closed my eyes.
"You look good?" Tilly questioned, and I forced my eyes to rotate to the phone, which was sitting upright on my dresser. The screen was showing Tilly in a worms eye view, since her phone was held low.
My eyes turned to the mirror in front of me, and I used the palms of my hands to straighten the fabric. It was a ruffled white floral, short sleeve, mini wrap dress that showed some curves and cleavage, but not enough for mom to have a heart attack.
Just then, the door on my right opened, revealing mom—who didn't knock.
Her eyes scanned my body slowly as she gripped the door frame. After a few seconds, she met my eyes and nodded once in approval. "Good. Don't forget to put mascara."
I lifted my right hand, where I was currently holding my eyeliner and mascara. "About to do it."
Again, she nodded before stepping back. "The Harvey's will be coming soon. Be downstairs quick." She walked down the hall and toward the stairs without another word, while I stared at my still open doorway, frozen in shock.
"Harvey?" Tilly repeated, and my eyes landed back to the screen. I saw her phone lifted, so it was in front of her face as she smirked, her hazel eyes twinkling with mischief. "Jared Harvey, to be exact?"
"Shut it," I deadpanned with a glare before moving closer to the dresser. I began to apply eyeliner, but she only laughed loudly. I had a feeling people were watching her weirdly as she strolled through town.
"I can't. What is that mal'chik doing, going to your house?"
For a moment, my hand faltered. Jared and his parents were probably coming over, because it would be the first Thanksgiving without... Adrianna.
Don't pretend you miss me, Clove. I know you'll hog the drumstick without me being there to get it first.
I took a deep breath before focusing on the mirror, watching my expression crack. "Our parents are friends," I managed to explain, and it wasn't a lie.
They'd always been friendly, but after Adrianna died in February, mom made an effort to talk and invite Gloria—Jared's mom—over. For the first three months, mom brought food over.
"How sweet," Tilly said, but her expression looked anything but sweet as her smirk widened. "I would bet big fuckin' bucks that the parentals want you guys together."
"They don't," I admitted assuredly, leaning closer to the mirror to fix up my wing. It would be wrong, so wrong.
My eyes swung back to my phone and saw her nodding, but wearing a coy smile. "Sure. Just like how I don't have killing tendencies."
"Um. Should I be worried, roommate?"
This time, she smirked. "Those tendencies aren't for you, but I'm glad you noticed that I do have them. Just like how both your parents—"
"They wouldn't," I whispered, studying the bottom of my coffee stained dresser. "Trust me."
For a few moments, we both were silent. During this, I finished up my makeup and stepped back from the dresser before straightening. I ran my fingers through my hair, just as Tilly whistled.
"Lookin' hot, Coco. Now go show off."
I smiled at the screen, just as the sound of the door opening from downstairs caught my attention. I tensed, my back almost as stiff as a board while hearing voices join in conversation.
"Looks like your guests have arrived," Tilly laughed, sounding too amused.
My eyes snapped back to her and glared. "I hate you."
"Uh-huh. Tell the mal'chik I said he—" My fingers quickly hung up the call before I pressed the phone down, breathing heavily for absolutely no reason.
Unintentionally, my eyes zeroed in on the framed picture of Adrianna and I. It sat on the six-squared storage space, along with our necklaces, and I couldn't help but linger my gaze on our smiles.
That was, until mom screamed. "Clover Fields!"
I grimaced and shuffled to the foot of my bed, where my white, open toe slippers were. I wasn't about to get lectured on being barefoot.
After checking my appearance once more, I stepped out of my room and fidgeted with my hands, hoping that maybe, Jared wouldn't be here.
But when I reached the top of the spiral stairs, I knew that wasn't the case. Because I saw him.
Jared was just a few feet from the bottom of the stairs, smiling and exchanging words with Cyrus, who was leaning against the wall. I was only given Jared's side profile, but that was enough to suck a breath.
He was standing, wearing jeans and a cream, cable knit sweater that was rolled up to his elbows. I couldn't help but admire his arms as I took another step down.
Just then, his head twisted seconds before his crystal blue eyes landed on mine. Like always, he had a faint stubble and straight hair, which was always pushed back with some strands falling.
I found myself gasping for some air before reaching the last step, smiling nervously. "Hey."
Jared still didn't answer, his eyes lingering on my face before dropping to my dress. I felt goosebumps trailing my body before a body suddenly wrapped me in a hug.
My wide eyes lowered and noticed that it was Gloria. She was short, probably five feet, with light brown hair and clear blue eyes that Jared and Adrianna inherited, and when she pulled back, I met them.
"Clover. It's so nice to see you again," she smiled sadly and tapped my cheek. "You should come by before going back to campus, alright?"
"Of course," I rushed out and she stepped back, giving Rupert, her tall, dark brown haired husband a chance to step forward.
His dark blue eyes met mine before he smiled sadly. I did the same before we briefly hugged. "You look healthy," he muttered when there was distance between us again.
I hugged myself and rocked back on my heels, smiling tensely. "Thanks."
Just then, mom called from the kitchen and asked for help. I excused myself before leaving, grabbing several salad plates with my hands before walking to the dining room. Everyone else were still chatting by the front of the house, but I couldn't help but pay no attention.
It was the first Thanksgiving without Adrianna. I couldn't stop thinking that, because we would always see each other today.
Behind me, I heard movement, and I straightened, not looking away from the wall in front of me. Another few seconds passed until I shuddered, feeling someone's body heat radiate to mine.
"Lucky," Jared mumbled, and I dropped my head low. "What's wrong?"
I managed to find my voice a breath later. "Nothing."
Behind me, he snorted softly. "You're a horrible liar."
Feeling defensive, I spun on my heel, only to come face-to-jaw with Jared. My glare met his eyes seconds later, watching his lip quirk up. "I am not a horrible liar." I've been doing pretty damn well for almost a year.
He almost unrecognizably shook his head once. "Not with me." I squinted and cocked my head, causing him to smirk before his fingers briefly touched my hand—which laid flat on my upper thigh.
"When you lie, you rub your hand on your thigh," he shared softly as he lowered his head. "It's kind of a telling sign, Lucky. You should probably fix that."
I pulled my hand away and glared. "You annoy me."
He only smiled lazily. "And you're frustrating. Are we done stating facts and get back to the point?" His eyes darkened as he looked over my face. "What's wrong?"
"Jay..." I breathed out and closed my eyes. I reached up and rubbed my forehead with tightened lips. "Adrianna. It's the first..."
I didn't need to finish my sentence. Before I even opened my eyes, I could feel him tensing. "I know," he muttered.
Taking another breath, I peered up and met his waiting gaze. The apprehension he wore seemed to slowly leave him the longer we stared at one another, and in the corner of my eye, I saw his hand inch closer to me.
That was, until mom stepped in, holding a plate of lechon. Dad followed behind her with a turkey, and from there, everyone stepped into the dining room.
Jared and I dispersed to opposite sides of the table, only to be pushed toward the end by mom, who made us sit across from each other. While Dax sat on Jared's left, Cyrus sat on my right.
The middle of the table was filled with different types of wine and whisky, along with a bowl of sweat potatoes, cranberry sauce, mashed cauliflower and potatoes, grilled salmon and most importantly: rice.
We were all seated, and dad quickly gave thanks before we dove in. I filled my plate mostly with lechon and turkey, followed by some rice, sweat and regular potatoes. I had no way of denying carbs.
Within a few minutes of eating, Cyrus was already rambling about politics in the US—despite us living in Canada—which made dad hesitantly refuse to join. Rupert was all up in that alley, though.
I was nearly finished with my potatoes when I suddenly felt a foot press against mine. My head snapped up and glared at the back of Cyrus' head as he stared at the opposite end of the table.
But before I could yell, I straightened against the chair when I took into consideration what the foot's angle was.
Slowly, I twisted my head forward, only to meet Jared's eyes and amused smirk.
Inside, I smiled to myself. But to him, I rose a brow and quickly dropped my foot on top of his. His only response was a snort before using his other foot to knock me back to the ground.
This kept on going, neither of us mature enough to stop first. That was, until he did.
Only for his foot to pause on the middle of my calves.
My eyes snapped up and locked onto his, where he was fashioning a serious expression, despite his brow quirking. Slowly, his foot lifted up my leg, until it reached my knee, making my legs clench together.
I hated how my body reacted—especially my cheeks, which seemed to be burning as intensely as his eyes. But Jared seemed to enjoy every second of it.
I tried to muster up the strength to push his leg away, but I failed to do so.
"Who's foot is that?" Cyrus jumped next to me.
Jared quickly lowered his foot and tucked it under the table, at the same time as his other foot. I had to stifle a laugh before glancing to my brother, who was already glaring at me.
"Are you trying to side kick me or something, Clover?"
I gaped, hating that he automatically thought it was me. But I knew I needed to take the blame. "Actually, I was aiming for—"
"It was me, actually," Jared called out, both of our eyes shot to him, mine being wider than them all. "Thought you knew I liked you, Cy."
My brother's cheeks seemed to flush, but all other physical tells showed him to be annoyed. "I know, bro. But you gotta keep it in check around family."
I couldn't help but chuckle at the both of them. But just as quick as I was enjoying the moment, the air changed when Rupert spoke up.
"Declan would like to know how serious you are with football," he declared, turning his head to Jared with steel eyes.
Across from me, Jared clenched his jaw with his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "It's serious," he deadpanned, making me nearly quiver by his cool tone.
His dad seemed to notice, because his eyes narrowed instantly. "What's that attitude of yours?"
Everyone at the table was silent, watching them both exchange glares. I watched nervously as Jared suddenly smiled, no emotion laced on his expression as he did so. "Nothing, dad. Absolutely nothing."
For the next few minutes, we all finished eating with tension in the air. By the time most of our plates were empty, Jared cleared his throat, catching mom's attention.
He smiled tightly. "The food was great, Mrs. Fields. Excuse me." With that, he removed the napkin off his lap before placing it on the right side of the plate. I watched as he pushed his chair back before whirling around, walking to the left side of the staircase, where the small hall to the bathroom was.
My foot tapped on the ground, feeling the urge to stand and follow him.
When my eyes moved to the right, watching as everyone began to develop conversation again, I cleared my throat and placed my napkin on my now empty plate.
As if mom had a sensor, her eyes snapped to mine, but since she was sitting on Cyrus' right, she had to move her head forward. "I'll be right back," I mumbled.
Her eyes glanced to where Jared was last seen before nodding. Having that green light, I gently pushed my chair back before rounding the table.
The second I stepped into the small hall, I noticed Jared leaning against the closed bathroom door on my right, his chest heaving massively.
"Jared?" I mumbled, stepping forward. He didn't lift his head, though.
I waited until I was standing across from him before touching his upper arm. "You wanna talk about it? I'm a great listener," I offered with a small smile.
His eyes rose, meeting mine. Under my hand, I felt him softening before giving me a forced smile. "You wanna share some luck, Lucky?"
My hand slowly moved off him as I laughed softly. "It's been gone for a while," I admitted, but he shook his head before dropping his eyes to my lips.
"I don't believe that," he mumbled before slowly, bringing his eyes back up to mine. I was already holding my breath, but when he flashed a sad smile, my heart clenched. "You have more than me."
My lips parted as I tried to figure out what I could possibly give him. After a few seconds, my unfocused gaze returned to him as I smiled widely. "Wait here."
I didn't give him a chance to reply before I took four steps to my right, where the beginning of the staircase was. In seconds, I climbed up and walked to the end of the hall, where Cyrus' room was.
My feet directed me to the left side of his room, where he shared a wall with me. His closet door was left open, wide enough for me to spot what I knew would get Jared in a better mood.
Quickly grabbing it, I whirled on my heel and jogged out and down the stairs before returning to the small hall. Jared was still leaning against the bathroom door, right where I left him.
His eyes met mine, and he gave me a confused smile before dropping his focus to what was in my hand. A football, to be exact.
I said nothing until I stood opposite of him. "Here's some luck," I smiled teasingly before handing him Cyrus' football. His fingers slowly wrapped around it, but his eyes were still focused on me, expectedly. "I'll throw the damn ball for you."
Hearing that, Jared instantly grinned, clasping the ball more fiercely. "Finally. Can I record you? That'll definitely make me feel l—"
"Don't push it," I laughed, taking a step back. "Just give me a few minutes to help my mom clean up the table."
He nodded before setting the ball down. "I'll help." Without waiting for my reply, he stepped next to me and held the middle of my back before guiding us back to the table, where people were starting to get up.
Rupert and dad had gone to the living room along with Cyrus, so our mom's and Dax all joined in cleaning. In minutes, we already began to set tea on the table.
I told mom I'd step outside along with Jared, which she had no arguments for, for some reason.
The second we stepped into the backyard from the sliding doors, Jared tossed the ball toward me. "Let me see what I'm working with," he smirked and pushed his shoulders back. "Don't fail too much."
I rolled my eyes and walked to the left side of the backyard. The space was average but empty, with only a rocking bench, BBQ and table on the right side of the door. Everywhere else was covered in grass.
"You're annoying," I drawled.
His smirk only widened as he walked backward, to the opposite end of the space. "And you're frustrating."
Once we were in position, I placed my fingers over the laces before lifting my right hand above my head. I threw it in his direction, but instead of shooting straight, it shook before landing a few feet from him.
I bared my teeth in a grimace. "Oops."
His response was a laugh as he jogged to pick up the ball. "Did you ever throw one before?" He questioned, tossing the ball in the air before catching it as he sauntered toward me.
"When would I even have the chance?" I snapped, reaching out to grab the ball from his hands, only for him to step back and tsk.
"Patience," he taunted, stepping beside me.
"So annoying," I muttered under my breath before he cupped the back of my right hand. Only then did I feel every bone in my body harden before he slipped behind me.
His chest pressed against my back as he placed the football in my right hand, still holding the back of it with the other. "You put your fingers in this order," he mumbled, rearranging them.
His touch seemed to slow as he moved my index finger above the first white line, with my ring and middle finger over the laces and my pinky underneath it. I felt his breath next to my ear as he spoke, and I tingled in response.
Suddenly, he gyrated, so he was standing in front of me. He was still holding my right hand, staring deep into my eyes as he slowly lifted it. "There needs to be some space between the palm of your hand and the ball when you lift it."
I nodded, staring straight ahead to avoid his gaze. I felt his hand touching mine again—more specifically, my index finger. "And make sure the last thing off the football is your index finger."
"Yes, boss," I mumbled jokingly.
With a low chuckle, he tsked again. "The amount of things I could say..."
"Shut up," I laughed, nudging him slightly. "Now are you gonna go to the opposite side or am I just gonna hit my fence?
"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Lucky," he teased, but jogged to the other end of the backyard, nonetheless.
I glared when our eyes met. "I'll purposely make this hit you in a place you don't want to be hit."
There was a gleam in his eyes, followed by a face-wide smile. "I dare you to try."
"I wanna knock that damn smile off your face," I muttered, too low for him to hear. But not wasting anymore time, I flung my arm forward.
Despite it slightly shaking in the air, it was better than the last one, and it was good enough for him to actually catch. "Damn," I didn't stop myself from sighing with misery.
Instead of appearing condescending that I failed in my task, he gripped the ball with two hands in front of his chest, flashing me a broad grin. Almost like he was proud of me.
"Shit, already getting better." He shook his head before dropping the ball next to him. He crossed the distance between us and lifted his hand for a fist pump.
I smiled and pushed my fist against his, only for me to try to make him stumble back by putting more pressure against his.
His eyes only narrowed before he did the same, causing me to stumble back.
With a laugh, he reacted quick, moving his arms around me. In seconds, my chest was pressed against his, catching a whiff of his musky scent—it was too hard to miss, being a combination of sweet and strong.
"You're predicable, Lucky," he mumbled, humour laced in his tone as I looked up, locking eyes with him.
For a few moments, we just stared each other, neither of us knowing what to say. When I parted my lips, he followed the movement, his expression sobering.
Just then, the sound of the sliding door being pulled open harshly caused me to jump back, putting distance between us. My eyes scanned the backyard, only to see Cyrus stomping toward us, with a confused Dax trailing behind him.
The second he reached us, he pushed Jared back, pressing his index finger into his shoulder. "I like you, man. But whatever you're thinking," he pushed his finger deeper into Jared's shoulder, who looked indifferent, "don't think it."
"What do you think I'm thinking?" His brow rose, which seemed to fuel Cyrus further.
This time, he pushed him back, only for Jared to step away instead. "Shit that I don't appreciate."
"And what don't you appreciate?"
"You looking at my fucking sister like another one of your bitches," he hissed, reaching out to push him again. "I thought we were cool."
Jared's fists were clenched tight enough that made them appear nearly white. Knowing that would only lead to someone on the ground, bleeding, I stepped between them.
"Can you calm down? He was teaching me how to throw a football," I told him, pinching my lips together with annoyance. "And if you don't mind..."
"I do fucking mind, Clover. You know how he treats girls."
Next to me, Jared took a step forward, and my body reacted quick. I lowered my hand, so it was on top of his, using my thumb to draw soothing circles around his thumb bone.
I felt him loosening his grip slightly before finally meeting my eyes. He seemed to relax further before looking back to Cyrus. "You don't know how the hell I treat them, Cyrus. And I sure as hell respect them better than you."
"You'd like to think that. But if Adrianna was still here, she'd say the same thing as me," he clenched out, making me stiffen immensely, my eyes burning as a reaction from hearing her name.
I took a step back unconsciously, which led to Jared clenching out, "shut the fuck up. And don't mention my sister again."
There was a moment of silence as I focused on my feet. "Sorry," Cyrus mumbled, and with that, the sliding door opened and closed.
My gaze finally lifted, only to see Jared rubbing his knuckles together, in clear anger but with no way to release it.
Without thinking about the effects of my actions, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his neck, going on my toes to do so.
For the first few beats, he didn't move. But it wasn't long until his hands relaxed between our bodies before he moved them around me.
He dipped his chin to my shoulder and took a breath. "Thank you," he mumbled after what felt like a few seconds.
I nodded, not knowing what else to say. "You should probably put cream on your knuckles."
A few seconds passed before he released a breathless chuckle against the nape of my neck. "Yes, ma'am."
"Oh, I like the sound of—"
He tightened his hold around my waist, stopping me from continuing. "You're frustrating."
━━━━༻❁༺━━━━
I. Am. So. Excited. For.
Red. Taylor's. Version.
tomorrow = no sleep
anywho: so I searched up my
username on google yesterday
for fun, and I found a website
that had all of my stories up. all.
of. them.
and I have no idea what
to do, so that's fun.
but anyways, I hope you
lovelies have a great weekend!
now ... gotta get back to working
on my assignments
love you! x