"Juliette. Juliette."
I woke up with a start, springing forward under a mountain of blankets. It took me a moment to register where I was--the glow of a candle on the bedside table, the smell of maple syrup and aftershave, the thick velvet curtains...
Henry's house.
I was in his bed. He was crouched over, looking at me while he held my phone in his hand. It was ringing. I frowned, raising a brow at him in silent question. His face was pale as he muttered, "It's your mother."
Immediately, I snatched the phone from him and answered it. Mom.
"Juliette? Juliette?"
Sometimes I get sick of people repeating my name. They think I'm deaf or something.
"Yes, Mom? Hi. Are you okay? Why--why are you even calling me? You never call me."
I heard my mother inhale deeply and prepared myself for one of her rants--she was gathering her breath, readying her words, buzzing with anger. I could picture her, hunched over our dining table with a cup of coffee in hand, her face red as she pulled at her bangs. A nervous habit.
"Juliette. I'm calling you because when I woke up this morning, you weren't here! No note, no text, no warning. You just disappeared! It was not only selfish, but also incredibly irresponsible, young lady. I nearly had a heart attack, thinking you had gotten hurt or kidnapped or God-knows-what! Your bedroom window was open...I thought somebody had snuck in here while I was sleeping and stolen you! You better have a very good excuse for this, young lady."
I actually did have an excuse, but it wasn't one I could tell her. Imagine: Oh, you know, I just snuck out in the middle of the night and ran three blocks to my secret boyfriend's house. Nothing bad.
If I said that, my mother would likely have a seizure right there on the spot. And if I told her who he was? The second she heard, she would be calling the cops.
Anxiously, I glanced over at Henry, who was now sitting at the edge of the bed as he studied me with a worried expression. I gave him a light shrug, then said into the phone, "I woke up early this morning to go jogging with my friends. And I had the window open because my room was really hot. I mean, it's the middle of August, y'know. But now I'm at Lacy's house. Her parents already left for work and she and I are just hanging out."
I was kind of a seasoned pro at lying to my mother. Ever since last year, I'd been doing it, like, four times a week. I'd also been doing him, like, four times a week.
Sorry. Anyways.
My mother let out a small sigh. "Put Lacy on the phone, I need to ask her if you're telling the truth."
"She's showering, Mom. We're all sweaty from jogging."
A slight pause--should she take the bait, or keep prodding? Eventually, she hung up with a small "Fine." She didn't have the energy to put up with me. Not this early.
I put my phone down beside me on the bed and cleared my throat. Henry wasn't wearing a shirt. I'd taken it from him. It was oversized, grey, and had holes along the hemline.
The truth was much worse than the lie I had told my mother. First of all, I hate exercise, and sure as hell wouldn't wake up at the crack of dawn to go jogging with anyone. And second of all, my friend Lacy lives five miles away from our house. Did Mom really think that I had run five whole miles without dropping dead?
In reality, I'd stayed up until midnight, when I knew my mother was asleep. Then I opened the window and scared the trellis that stood against the side of our house. I walked to Henry's house, which only took a few minutes, and knocked on his door. He opened it. I stepped inside. He closed the door behind us. We went into his room. I must've accidentally fallen asleep at some point, because now it was almost eight in the morning. I'd originally planned to walk back home right after meeting with Henry for a while.
At least my mother was gullible. But still, I hated this constant game of lies and deceits. It was exhausting.
Henry pulled me towards him. I gulped, then whispered, "I feel bad."
"I know, I know." His voice was scratchy. I leaned my head against his chest.
"I wish it wasn't like this."
He exhaled softly, his breath warm against the side of my face. "Me too, sweetie. Me too."
*
After getting dressed, Henry and I got into his Cadillac and drove thirty minutes to the town next to ours. Neither of us knew anyone there. We parked in a parking lot with cracked asphalt, in front of a strip mall. At the far end of the row of shops, there was a little diner called "Belly's." We went inside it. The place reeked of mildew and blueberry muffins. A waitress with a tongue piercing and bleached blonde hair directed us to a booth by the windows.
We ordered, waited for our food in silence. When our food was brought to us, I ate three bites of my pancake and then pushed it away. Henry ate a single forkful of scrambled eggs, then did the same. He sipped from a stained mug of black coffee.
"Juliette," he said. He spoke in a hushed voice. I did the same. We did this anytime we went out in public together. "School starts Wednesday. That's only three days away. I've...I've been thinking about you. About us. And I think that if we take the utmost precaution, we could really make this work."
By "make this work", he meant "keep this secret."
I nodded. "I agree."
"And," he continued, "I got my class roster last week. You're in my English class, first period. We'll be seeing each other a lot. Last year...last year we were clumsy about all this--" he waved his hand between the two of us-- "but I think we've both learned from that, learned that we need to work harder to conceal things."
The waitress with the tongue piercing stopped in front of our table, asked if we needed anything. I asked for a refill of coffee. Henry asked for the check.
"Y'all gonna eat anymore?" she asked, snapping gum between her greying teeth. I shook my head. She took both our plates, staring at our mostly-untouched food in astonishment.
When she was gone, Henry said, "I really love you, Juliette. I really believe that this relationship will work."
I looked at the table, focused on a small dot of ketchup a few inches from my glass of water. Henry placed his hand beneath my chin, pushed my face upwards. We locked eyes, and he smiled crookedly.
"But just because you're with the teacher doesn't mean that you're excused from doing any work in class," he chuckled.
Something about the tone in which he said that--his cockiness, his sense of power--enraged me. I hated cocky people. I wanted to punch him square in the jaw.
Instead, I faked a laugh.
*
We left the diner and walked around the strip mall, glancing into store windows. There was a record shop that we stopped in. The walls were painted navy blue and strung with fairy lights. A guy with red hair stood behind the cashier, wearing a name tag that read "Finneas" in all caps.
"You guys have any 70s albums?" asked Henry. The employee--Finneas--nodded.
"We have tons over here," he said, leading us over toward the far corner of the store, where tables held crates full of records. Henry began to survey the contents of one of the crates.
I watched as Finneas paused just a moment, his expression faltering, as Henry put his arm around my waist and kissed the top of my head. We must've been a strange sight. Henry, with his grey hair and stubble, his sharp jawline and height of 6'2. And me, dark brown hair and pale skin, doe eyes, small figure.
Finneas gave me a look that I interpreted as "Are you okay?" I smiled. He shook his head slightly, then walked away.
I'd wandered over to study a small bookshelf of dusty books on famous musicians and bands when the door of the shop was flung open. The small bell that tolled each time someone entered or exited began to ring maniacally. I turned to see who'd come in.
Oh.
A girl in oversized clothing, with black hair and red roots, stood in the doorway. Finneas laughed when he saw her. "Billie!" he exclaimed. The girl grinned.
And suddenly, before I was able to avert my eyes, she was looking at me. Curiously, in the way someone might study a painting in a museum. Scanning each inch of the canvas. Intent.
I felt my face heat up, and yet I couldn't look away from the girl. There was something strangely alluring about her--the way she carried herself, the way she held her chin high and appeared to be looking down on me even though we were the same height.
"Juliette!" Henry called from the opposite end of the shop. I turned at the sound of my name, breaking the moment between me and the girl. Henry smiled at me, holding up a record that I didn't know. He beamed. "I found the one I'd been looking for!"
"Oh." I walked over to him. "Great. Cool."
"I'll have to buy a copy for you, too." He grabbed a second record. "You'll love this stuff. Good ol' 70s rock. When I was a kid I found this album in my parent's room and started playing it on repeat, non-stop, all the time. Great stuff."
Henry went up to the register to make his purchase. I hung back a bit. The girl--the really pretty one--was standing next to Finneas behind the cashier. Watching me.
A chill ran down my spine. I gave her a half-smile, not sure what else to do. She smirked at me.
Henry thanked Finneas and we left the shop, walked back to his car in an uncomfortable silence. There was a strange friction between us--one that had been present ever since that phone call with my mom. Henry hated being reminded that I had a life outside of being his well-kept secret. He hated knowing that there were other people besides him that cared for me. When he was present for interactions between me and others, he was usually moody for the rest of the day. Later tonight, when I was sitting in my bedroom alone or watching TV or whatever, I knew that he would call me and apologize for acting "so odd." He always did.
Our age gap didn't usually occur as weird to me, as long as I tried not to think about it too much. But when we were in public and people mistook him as my father, or when he spoke to me using words that sounded like something someone on Downton Abbey would say, I'd realize how messed up this whole situation was. I was in high school and dating a teacher. My teacher. One who was fresh out of divorce and had a butler and was sort of stuck in his childhood. Maybe the latter was the reason he liked me. I was young and new and didn't know much about the world. He liked that. He liked it because it made him feel young, too, while feeling wise at the same time. Once, I had walked into the bathroom at his house and seen him standing in front of the mirror, prodding each wrinkle on his face, muttering, "You aren't too old yet. You aren't too old yet." It thoroughly freaked me out. He just kept repeating that phrase, not even acknowledging my presence.
I'm good at ignoring problems, though. So I ignore the fact that he's 42 and I'm 16. I ignore the fact that he is transfixed by the idea of youth and--more importantly--figuring out how to preserve his own youth. I ignore the fact that what we are doing is not only weird but also illegal; if we got caught he could be arrested and my reputation would forever be tarnished.
Yup. Just ignore it.
As we are getting into Henry's car, I heard a door open, a bell ring, and then the door close. I didn't think much of it, not in that moment. I buckled my seatbelt. Henry started the engine. And then he very suddenly, somewhat harshly, grabbed my face and pulled me into an intense and unexpected kiss.
When our lips parted he didn't say anything. He just began reversing out of our parking spot.
And it was then that I glanced in the direction of the record shop and saw the girl from earlier staring at us, her mouth hanging open, her brows knitted, her eyes wide with shock. She'd seen us.
I wasn't aware of it at the time, but that moment would be one I'd soon regret more than almost anything in the world.
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A/N:
this is the first chapter of "your power" my new fanfic! how do y'all like it so far???? pls remember to comment and vote !! tysm for reading I hope you enjoy<3