Evan found Larielle up in Abrielle's room around ten, hoping she'd be awake. And she was, sitting up, watching TV, still in her jeans and sweater.
"Hey, I uh... This is weird. I shouldn't have-" he started, fumbling over his words.
That was something that had never happened to him before. Evan knew that he was good-looking; and he already knew that Larielle was interested in him. He didn't know why he was choked up. He just hadn't really pursued a girl in earnest since his last failed attempt at a relationship a year ago. And now here he was.
"No, no. It's fine," she told him, getting out of the bed. "I mean, if I had been dying for privacy, I probably should have closed the door, right?"
He could tell she was just as nervous as he was, and that somehow made him feel better about the situation.
"Ummm... I know it's late, but I was wondering if you would wanna take a walk with me."
"A walk?"
"You don't have to feel obligated to say ye- You know what. This was a real bad i-"
"Just let me put on shoes and a coat," she told him before he could talk himself down and leave.
"Oh. Great!" he said, relieved.
Larielle put on her black suede boots and her pale blue peacoat with her matching gloves and headband.
"Okay, I'm ready. What are you gonna wear outside?"
"I'm good," he told her, reaching for her hand. She took it willingly and let him lead her from the house.
There was silence awhile, and Evan looked up at the stars. "I don't know why I did this," Evan told her, stopping his trek, making her stop and look at him. "I don't have anything to talk about. This is weird."
Larielle just looked at him for a little while. And then she spoke, "You asked for a walk. Not a talk. I'm perfectly content to let the air fill with silence. If you don't make it awkward."
He just nodded and they resumed walking. He took her walking down a snowy trail with his footprints in the snow.
"Can I show you something?" he asked.
"You don't think it's weird?" she teased, smiling, displaying dimples he hadn't noticed before.
He smiled back. "No, it's cool," he told her, thinking her prettier and prettier as the time passed and the cold turned her cheeks rosy.
"You can show me."
He led her to a tree house, completely different from his uncle's with a ladder up into the house.
"After you," he told her.
"Are you being a gentleman or a polite pervert?" she wondered, climbing up. He smiled.
"Probably a bit of both," he admitted, watching her climb up. He waited until she was two rungs from the top before he started to climb in.
When he got inside, he sat with her, and there was silence awhile. He offered to take her coat and he hung it up on a hook.
"I like to come here sometimes at night. Clear my mind," he told her, laying back, looking through the skylight. "I could stay here for days at a time."
"Does that mean you have a lot to think about?" she asked softly.
Evan didn't immediately answer the question. He weighed it out before he gave a short, "Yes."
Larielle looked around the cozy treehouse. She'd heard of people living in treehouses that had all the accommodations of a house. But this was the first time she'd been in one.
She caught sight of the simple bathroom with just a toilet and a shower. There wasn't a full kitchen; but he did have a little snack pantry and a hot plate. The furniture consisted of bean bag chairs and the little mat they were lying on. There was a little fireplace that was unlit.
"This is a cool treehouse," she told him.
"Thanks. Hey, you want a pop or something? I usually keep it pretty stocked out here," he told her, moving to open the pantry and revealing four shelves of food and a mini fridge.
"I have Coke."
"I'm more of a Pepsi fan."
"Oh. Hey, I got MoonMist. Everyone likes MoonMist, right?"
"I like MoonMist." She smiled reassuringly.
"Cool. Like Hostess Cupcakes?"
"Do I ever," she agreed nodding.
He got two drinks out and brought the whole cupcake box over. She smiled, thanking him.
"So when do you turn eighteen?" Larielle wondered, opening her cupcake.
"In June."
"That's cool. Gonna have a party?"
"Probably not. I don't tend to celebrate my birthday."
She frowned, watching him eat his cupcake. But he didn't pay that any mind.
"So what are you in school for?" he asked her.
"Business and graphic design. I wanna open a boutique someday. I made my outfit."
He looked over at her, and she looked great. "You should do it," he encouraged.
"What about you?-Oh, never mind, you're probably still in high school."
He chuckled and put his hand behind his head. "I dual enroll. I'm in fourth year mechanical drafting in high school. I like architecture."
"Really? My dad was an architect."
"I'm sorry for your loss," he told her sympathetically, reaching out to take her hand.
She looked down at him in confusion. "How did you know?" she asked quietly. She hadn't counted on him picking up on that. She kept her voice the same.
"You said was. If he was only retired, you more than likely would have said used to be. Our word choices are usually unconscious."
She was silent in thought. Evan looked up at her. "You can talk about it. I'm real good at listening."
"I shouldn't burden-"
"Really. It's okay."
Larielle sighed and took in a deep breath. "I was in ninth grade. Mi papi... Well, he died a hero, they say. Shielded a pregnant woman from a bullet in a hold up."
She smiled weakly.
"The lady named her baby after him. She stops by the house a lot and came to the funeral. And I hated her so much for a long time. I was fifteen, and I wished that the bullet had taken her. I didn't think it was fair for me and my mom to have to feel that pain everyday. But... Now, I babysit her son on occasion."
Evan didn't say anything and just rubbed circles in her hand. The treehouse was completely still, and they could hear the squirrels outside.
Larielle looked out the window as it started to snow. "It's coming down pretty thick tonight. Do you like snow?"
"It's alright."
She grinned. "Wanna have a snowball fight?" she wondered, a playful gleam in her eyes. He smiled.
"Don't cry," he told her, giving her her coat and taking her to the stairs out of another door. She gave him a look.
"You were being a polite pervert."
He shrugged, helping her down the stairs, smirking. As soon as they reached the bottom, she started her assualt, not even bothering to make a snowball as she threw loose snow at him and ran to hide behind a tree.
He picked up some snow, compacting it into a ball and throwing it at her.
Larielle's giggles echoed in the night as she dodged snow. She had a ball in her hand, looking around for Evan.
He snuck up behind her and put his arms around her, playfully tackling her to the snow. She smiled as he landed on her, smiling.
She was breathing hard from laughing. "You're sneaky," she told him.
"You should be more observant," he told her.
His face was so close that she could taste his breath on her lips. And she welcomed his kiss as he lowered his head, closing the space between them.
The sensation of his warm lips against hers made her forget she was lying in snow as the warmth from her head melted the snow in it.
When the kiss broke, Evan seemed embarrassed, practically flying up as he helped Larielle up.
"I'm sor-"
She put her arms around him, standing on her tippytoes and kissing him again, smiling up at him. "I'm not. But it is cold out here."
He smiled a little at her. He didn't understand. He felt comfortable with her. Like he could be himself. But himself felt clumsy and awkward.
"I have hot chocolate and stuff up in the treehouse. We can take the stairs this time."
He took her back and took her coat, telling her to take her boots off as he took his own off, removing his hoodie before lighting the fireplace and going to make them mugs of hot chocolate.
Larielle got comfortable in front of the fireplace, noticing the framed sketches on the mantel and getting up.
"Did you make these?" she wondered, looking at them.
"Yeah, a few years ago."
"They're good."
"Thanks."
He came up behind her and gave her the mug. "It's probably not a good idea to stand so close to the fire."
"You're right."
The two sat down, and she looked over at him. "Would you think it was weird if I said that I feel a sort of connection?" she wondered, and immediately wished she could swallow her words back, wondering why she would ask some shit like that. "Never mind. That was just-"
"No, I feel it too," he told her.
"Oh," she said breathlessly.
Now she was being the clumsy, awkward one. And he watched her as she sipped her cocoa, cheeks red. She figured if she didn't speak she couldn't say anything stupid.
"So... What's your story?" she wondered.
Evan rubbed his waves forward. He felt like he could trust Larielle.
"Well, I don't know my dad. I honestly hope he's dead. My mom had me when she was fourteen. My uncle, he more like a older friend. We real tight. We roll up together, talk about girls and shit like that... He taught me how to drive. He bought my car for my sixteenth birthday. But the only thing that really make my story is my mom. She... When I was younger, something real fucked up happened to her, and she been in and out of this mental rehabilitation center. I hate seeing her like that. Right now, she's alright. And I'm glad. No matter what, my mama is always my first love. Like how a girl should feel about her daddy."
Larielle nodded. "I don't really have a story aside from losing my dad. I'm the only child. I grew up in an upper middle class home with everything I needed and even more of what I wanted. I'm a second generation American. My parents put me in martial arts classes. Mostly to keep me busy. I like art and ice skating. I'm just a boring girl from the suburbs," she told him.
"Nothing wrong with that," he told her.
There was more silence and then Evan kissed her again, setting their mugs aside. He could taste the chocolate on her breath as he held her face.
She returned the kiss, a soft moan in her throat. Larielle had only had sex one time before when she was fifteen, and she had regretted it enough not to do it again.
Whether or not it was a mistake, she wanted to with Evan right now. So as he lay her back, she didn't protest.
His lips covered hers in a sort of frenzy, parting her lips, their tongues dancing as he ground his erect member against her.
"Evan, wait," she mumbled. "Condom," she managed.
Mistake or not, she didn't have time for a baby. Especially if this would go nowhere after tonight or the couple weeks that she was staying.
Evan usually kept condoms just because and just in case. He hadn't been fucking anyone lately, so he usually just passed them out. But he had recently bought a box and they were in a drawer.
He went and took the lubricated rubber with him as he resumed kissing Larielle, rubbing her pulsing muscle. She wanted him.
He lifted her shirt up over her head, revealing smooth caramel skin with perky C's concealed by black lace. Pulling down her jeans, he found her panties matched.
He kissed her stomach, removing her bra, his tongue dancing around each of her nipples before he kissed her lips again, taking off his own clothes.
Her long hair flowed across the floor as he lay her back, slipping on his condom. He used his knee to part her thighs and gently began entering her tightness.
He stopped a moment, believing her to be a virgin, and she looked up at him.
"Why did you stop?" she wondered.
"Is this your first time?"
"No. It's fine. I want it."
He slid deeper into her wetness, not feeling any barrier. But she was so tight that he felt like she had lied.
She moaned softly, pushing herself closer, holding onto him like he might disappear.
Evan parted her thighs further, kissing her neck, lowering his head to her breasts.
***
Shayla was in Evan's room and she found his journals, picking up the last one she'd had. She knew he would be outside all night. So she got comfortable on his bed and started reading from the beginning.
Everything starts out fine. My mom is sitting in her chair, knitting. She hasn't knitted anything in about six years now. But she's enjoying it. I can tell.
The TV is watching her as she listens to old reruns of What's Happenin'.
It's still and peaceful. A nurse comes in to bring her lunch, but my mother looks at it before she throws the food away.
My uncle comes into the room later and sits with her, holding her hand. She doesn't say much, but then he tells her he heard she isn't eating. She believes the staff are trying to kill her.
Shawn leaves and the room shifts. Suddenly, I'm in a dark room with dim, fluorescent lighting. But the light feels bright to my eyes, and I shield them.
I see a man, and his face is unclear... But there's something about him... But I can't place it.
"She's not eating the food. What are we supposed to do? Her brother is on to something!"
"Simply have patience. It's never killed a man to wait. We'll get to him some other way. He has a nephew."
The image fades. Everything is dark. Pitch black. Except that I can hear voices. Voices of white collar professionals working the underground. And they want Lokie by any means. Well... My mother is a means.
It's not immediately clear what they're saying. It sounds muffled. But then, the voices are closer, and I hear a plan to kidnap her.
"He comes here every day to check on that bitch. What would he do if she wasn't here one day? Look for her. And when he goes looking, we'll catch him right in our trap."
A voice is laughing on the other end, but I can't make out what the voice is saying. Everything fades out.
Suddenly, there is a light so bright, I shield my eyes. I don't know what I'm looking at for a moment, but then I realize it's my mother, chained to a wall. She's naked and weak. I try to help her, but some force is holding me back. All I can do is scream for her, trying to get to her. I feel so weak.
She can't seem to even hear me as she looks up with fear in her eyes, trying to back into the wall, scraping her back.
"Ma!"
A man with a needle comes and kneels in front of her, injecting her with a thick milky colored liquid.
"When your brother gets here, it'll be alright. We'll give you a quick death. Euthenization. And we'll leave the big stuff for your baby brother."
"You stay away from him, you monster!" She tries to free herself, tries to claw at him. But she can't and lands against the wall with a cough, her head lulling to the side, blood coming up through her esophagus, beginning to choke her.
The entry ended and Shayla imagined her son had awakened then. Probably in a cold sweat. She sat there a moment, thinking. Evan definitely knew she was in there for her brother's sake. She hadn't had to tell him.
She found the dream she'd first looked at.
"My mom sits down to have her breakfast sitting in her window to look out at the creek. She begins to feel lethargic from the tranquilizer they put in her food.
The dosage is not deadly, but it's enough to weaken her. When the doctors hear her fork fall, they troop into the room, taking her by her hands and feet, tossing her roughly into her bed and wrapping her in the sheets like a corpse before they sneak her out of the hospital and toss her into the back of a pedo-van.
It's dark and she's doing her best to fight the lethargic feeling, but it's getting the best of her, and she's knocked out.
When she awakens, it's shackled to a chair. A man circles her before he sits down.
"Where is your brother?"
"You think I'll tell you?" she asks weakly.
He throws water on her and sends a shocking voltage of electricity.
"Ready to talk?"
"Fuck you."
They send a higher voltage through the chair. "Spit it out, bitch."
"You'll have to kill me," she tells him.
The room smells of burnt flesh and the skin is burnt off her to the point that she's bleeding. They're literally frying her alive, and I can't do anything to save her.
The dream stopped again, and again, Shayla assumed it was when her son had awakened; and Shayla sat and pondered it a moment. Her son was really afraid for her life. But she wasn't. She never had been.
She looked at some of the illustrations of the hospital. They were dark, depressing images. Most of them involved her being attacked in some way. Others were perfect illustrations of rooms and places she was sure her son hadn't been before.
She heard footsteps, and she knew it was Shawn. When he stepped into the room, he looked at her with a brow up.
"You not Evan."
"No. Usually not Evan. He took my future daughter-in-law for a walk."
Shawn smirked. "Your future daughter-in-law? You mean Bri's little friend?"
"That's who I mean," she said boredly in a sort of sing-song tone, flipping through pages.
"Do you know something I don't?"
"Oh, darling. I know a lot of somethings you don't. Including that my son took that girl for a walk," she replied, looking through the journal.
"Why are you going through his stuff?"
"The fourth amendment does not extend to minors. What do you want, little boy? Because I'm pretty sure it was your nephew."
Shawn looked at his sister as she sat cross-legged on that bed, reading through her son's shit. He looked at her like she was batty.
"Shayla, you'll give him a stroke if he find out-"
She got up and stood on her tippytoes to look in his eyes. "Who's going to tell him, Shawn?"
He said nothing, and she left the room. "I didn't think so."
***
Larielle had begun to freak out as she came down from her high.
"Oh my God. I-" she choked on her words. "I'm not usually that easy. I only-"
Evan just kissed her, putting an end to her rambling. She felt herself relax as he stroked her hair, pulling her closer.
"I don't think you're easy," he assured her. "You don't seem like the type to just go randomly fucking every man you meet."
"I'm not," she whispered.
"It's okay," he assured her, running his fingers through her hair, taking her hand in his.
He reached over and took a blanket from a beanbag chair and wrapped them in it, pulling her even closer to him.
She lay her head on his chest giving in to sleep as he played in her hair.
Evan usually didn't sleep with a girl that soon either. But something about Larielle was different. Like she had more than pussy to offer, and he wanted to know what it was.
He fell asleep with her in his arms.
When Larielle woke up, her eyes widened and she began freaking out in spite of Evan's reassurance the previous night.
"Ay, no bueno, no bueno," she whispered to herself, easing out of his embrace and putting on her clothes in a rush.
Larielle slipped on the ice on the stairs, successfully waking Evan up. He looked around for Larielle, confused, feeling like a woman when she was ditched the next morning: hurt. He'd opened up to her emotionally, mentally, and physically, and she'd left him.
Larielle ran through the snow before Evan could get up, and she got herself lost. She saw a small house and went to knock on the door.
Dr. Carson came to the door, stretching. "I'm sorry," she told him. "I'm looking for the main house."
"Did you hurt yourself?" he asked, pulling her into the house.
"Huh? Oh, I slipped down some stairs. But I'm fine."
"You have a knot on your head. And you're bleeding through your coat, honey," he told her. "Let me look at you. Have a seat."
He sat her in a wooden kitchen chair, and she sat there confused as he went and got a medical bag. He put a little flashlight in her eyes.
"You don't have a concussion," he told her. "Let me get a look at your arm."
She took her coat off and her elbow was busted and bleeding pretty heavily. He cleaned and dressed her wound.
He gave her his coat before he showed her to the main house. "Thank you," she said gratefully, giving the coat back.
"Get some ice on that forehead. You lumped yourself up pretty good."
"Okay."
She ran into the house, and Abrielle was making breakfast.
"Good morning, Larielle," she called from the kitchen.
Larielle, already pink from the cold, turned even more pink knowing she'd been discovered.
"Ummm... Morning, Abrielle."
She went into the kitchen, thankful Abrielle was alone. "I slept with Evan last night," she whispered in a rush.
Abrielle looked in the dining room, and Larielle just knew someone was in there. She was mortified before she turned and saw Shayla sitting at the table, piecing together a puzzle.
"You could've told me his mom was in there, Bri!" She punched her arm.
"First, ow! Second, I didn't know what you were going to say."
"Do you think she heard me?"
"Probably."
Larielle glanced over and Shayla didn't seem to be paying her any mind.
"Where is Evan?" Abrielle wondered.
"He's upstairs," Shayla said, not even looking up.
Larielle paled. "Shit," she mumbled.
"Lari, go shower. And don't make anything more complicated than it needs to be."
Larielle went up to Abrielle's room and jumped when she saw Evan sitting on her bed in fresh clothes, the scent of soap coming off him.
"The way you ditched me this morning was cool," he told her, getting up and brushing past her.