× Horan
The smell of bacon woke me up. I rubbed my eyes to remove the sleep the best I could, still feeling utterly groggy and a little dazed from the slumber. I couldn't remember the last time I slept that good.
From beside me, Lynn shifted in her sleep so she was lying on her side. The smell of peppermint filled the air around me. I reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face cautiously.
Last night was rough for Lynn. Actually, scratch that. Pretty much all of yesterday was rough for her. It was frightening to see her breakdown the way she did since I always see her in a state of calm and collected. She was put through a lot in those twelve or so hours, first having that fright with the firetruck driving down her street, and then visiting her old neighborhood only to receive something from that fretful night.
It had been hard to watch her crumble and not be able to help. I was never good at comforting, but I liked to think it did some good just by being there with her.
Looking at her now made me believe that everything that had happened didn't even happen at all. She looked so peaceful sleeping beside me, like nothing was wrong. Like her mother didn't leave her a message with her dying breath.
I reached out and put my arm around her gently so not to disturb her. The smell of peppermint grew stronger as I nuzzled my head into the back of her neck. It was a smell I could get used to.
It was nice to just hold someone without wanting sex out of it. Okay, that was a lie. Sex was great. Well, it was great when you do it with the right person, even if that person is yourself, but Lynn was the first girl besides Alina that I just simply wanted against my chest and held in my embrace.
I couldn't do anything else but watch her in awe. It was fucking terrifying, but wrapping myself up with Lynn felt nothing short of home. A tornado could rip the roof right off any moment, but I didn't think there was anything that could stop me from being with her until she said otherwise.
Lynn turned her head and looked at me with sleepy eyes. "Hey."
"Did I wake you?"
She blinked a couple of times before shaking her head. She wasn't wearing any makeup and I personally preferred her that way, but I was never going to tell her that. It took her away from the other girls I slept with who always had concealer and blush and glittery eyeshadow, and that was all fine and good for them, but it was just another reminder that Lynn wasn't one of them.
She would never be just a girl I would fuck, and I think I was finally understanding that.
"I never intended to fall asleep here," I admitted.
Lynn closed her eyes and hummed a response that could have either been a "whatever" or "I didn't mind" and I was willing to take either of those answers.
Running my hand up her side, I pulled her hair away from her face and kissed the skin on her neck. From the touch, she turned so she was on her back, looking at me with heavy eyes. One of her arms lay across her stomach and I watched it move up and down with her breathing. The soft freckles along her cheeks reminded me of stars and her caramel hair lay amid the pillow like a classical painting.
I felt her fingers trace delicately along the stubble on my jaw, her toes creep between my calves to find warmth, tickling the hair on my legs in the process. I was tangled with her so intricately that it was hard to tell where I ended and where she began.
"How are you feeling?"
She thought for a moment. "Kind of hungry."
"I meant about yesterday," I laughed.
Lynn turned away from me; obviously still a little weary about the whole thing. "I'd rather not talk about it," she said softly.
"You should. A lot happened and you haven't said a word about it."
I felt her fingers start to run up and down my arm that was around her waist, slight chills following its wake. Lynn had been the only person to get that kind of reaction from me, just from a simple touch against my skin.
"I just don't want to talk about it right now," Lynn repeated.
Sighing, I dipped my head into the back of her neck and smelled the peppermint in her hair. I didn't really have the right to make her talk when I did the same to her when she asked me about Alina.
I press a kiss to her bare shoulder before snuggling into her, pressing my face into the crook of her neck. She curled to be closer, scooting into my embrace. I wasn't sure if it was because of the cold draft running through me or the smell of Lynn's shampoo swirling around in the air, or for the fact that Lynn's ass was pressed up against me, but I had to admit that I was kind of turned on. But only a little.
It was fruitless, but I figured it was worth a shot. Slowly, in hopes she wouldn't catch on, I moved my hand over the shirt Lynn was wearing and up to her chest, cupping a feel. I was quick to realize that she wasn't wearing a bra.
Lynn opened an eye to look at me. "What are you doing?"
"Helping you."
She laughed, and the sound made me smile. "I think I'm helping you more than anything," she teased. "I can feel the beginning of your hard-on through my underwear."
"Scientists have found that compressing the cells in breasts will decrease the chance of malignant cells growing in the tissue," I enlightened, squeezing her boob for emphases. "So I'm actually helping you from getting breast cancer. You're welcome."
Lynn didn't seem to buy it because she removed my hand.
I didn't know what made me do it, but I grasped Lynn's hand in mine before she was able to let go. Her fingers were long and thin and I just couldn't fathom how well mine fit in the spaces between hers. The lines on her hand swirled like an unfinished drawing, and I thought maybe I could get into palm reading, too, as long as it was Lynn's.
Lynn didn't question it.
I brushed the hair away from the back of her neck and planted a kiss on the skin there. That must have done it for her, because the next thing I knew, Lynn had rolled over on top of me, her mouth brushing against mine.
Lips are the body's most exposed erogenous zone, an area of the human body that has heightened sensitivity that may generate a sexual response. They're packed with sensitive nerve endings so even the slightest brush sends a cascade of information to my brain, or more accurately, to my dick.
It was maddening having her on top of me and not do anything. The need in my boxers had intensified in a matter of seconds and it was almost painful to have her so close just for her to look at me like that. I was horny. And when I was horny and nothing was done about it, I got cranky. It was the same when I was hungry, actually, but at that moment, I was pretty sure that horniness was much worse than hunger despite the smell of bacon wafting through the room.
"You okay?" she asked like she had no idea what she was doing to me.
"Peachy," I responded through clenched teeth.
I was actually going to lose my mind from her close proximity, so I really didn't have a choice in the matter when my hips involuntarily shot off the mattress against hers to release some of the friction between us.
Lynn's mouth opened slightly and the smallest of moans left her lips.
Sex was still so easily a matter of calculated actions and responses, but that tiny, particular little sound could collapse the whole system, sending my own short circuiting.
I didn't give her a chance to say anything before my hands tangled in her hair and I was pulling her mouth down against mine. The kiss was deep and powerful, the both of us grappling for something that had been crackling in and out like static on a TV between us for the past few days.
Before anything could go further than a heated kiss, there was a voice on the other side of the door.
"Oh, Lynnette!" Nona said in a sing-song voice. "Breakfast is on the table. Get it while it's hot!"
× × ×
It didn't matter where the two of us were in the world, Jace and I seem to find ourselves inside some kind of bar.
This time we were in Hollywood inside a neat little place called Hemingway's Lounge, and just outside the tall, black windows was Hollywood Boulevard, where all the names of fame were etched into the footpath.
If Lynn and Jamie knew we were here, they probably would be scolding us, saying how there was so much to do in this city and that we shouldn't coop ourselves up inside doing what we could be doing in London. But they weren't with us at the moment so Jace and I didn't care. We wanted beers so we went out and got beers. They were too busy visiting their pregnant friend, anyways.
"So how'd your date go the other day?" I asked Jace.
A smile grew on his face. "Really good, actually."
"You sound surprised. What did you two end up doing?"
Jace leaned back on the sofa and ran his hand over the red velvet material beside him. "I took her to this fancy restaurant and then we ended up going to the Pier like Lynn suggested. It was definitely something I needed after everything that was going on with Hazel."
"Right, and after the Pier you two went back to your hotel and shagged," I provoked.
"Jesus, Niall, what's wrong with you?" Jace asked, looking absolutely horrified. "I know you're a little rusty when it comes to dating, but you don't shag on the first date."
"Did you at least kiss her? I know you're not that much of a prude."
"It's called being a gentleman," he argued. "And if you must know, yes I did."
I lifted my glass in the air for a toast "Attaboy!"
Jace only rolled his eyes and ignored me, taking a drink of his cocktail.
I swirled the crystal stirring pick in my glass. I wasn't sure what I was drinking exactly since everything they had at the bar had obscured names with very little detail of what was inside, but it wasn't half bad. "Does Jamie know about Hazel?"
"Yes," he said. "I didn't have a choice if I was going to explain to her why I was such a dick for those past few weeks. I would have still told her, anyways. She has the right to know."
"How'd she react to that?"
"Really well. She was supportive and was asking all kinds of questions, but it wasn't in a way that she was feeling jealous or anything." He paused and stared down at the clear liquid in his glass. "I really fancy her, Niall."
"Yeah? Then why don't you tell her that?"
He didn't say anything.
Jace had a way of knowing things about people before they even knew it about themselves, but he was never good at it for his own sake. On the outside he's so sure of himself, but I knew him enough to know that it was only a facade. He needs a good push in the right direction, but only if he wants it. And what he's feeling for Jamie may be obvious to him, but how she might feel about him is like looking at a wall. He's terrified of rejection.
"How's that whole theory thing going for you?" he asks, changing the subject.
I looked at him from over the rim of my glass. "I thought you didn't want anything to do with that?"
He signed and ran a hand down his face. "I don't, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to know what's going on. Is the theory even working?"
"It is. It's how I ended up here with Lynn, actually."
Hemingway's Lounge reminded me of a library. Which was the point. Everywhere you looked, there were books - on top of the walls, inside the pillars that held the structure up, on shelves throughout the large wooden room. The place was dimmed with yellow lighting and the bar on the opposite side was lined with every hue of amber liquid in their inverted bottles. The place wasn't too crowded, but there were enough people to make it hard to hear over the chatter between them. There was a stage on the other side of the room from us, a live band was supposed to start up in a few hours and I hoped I was out of there before they began.
"So have you figured out that you're in love with Lynn yet?" Jace blurted out.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Are you serious?"
"Let me show you how I'm not in love with Lynn Mercury," I said as I flagged down a waitress. "Do you by chance have a pen I could borrow?" I asked her.
She put the one she had in her hand on the table in front of me. "You can have this one; I have plenty to go around." And then she was gone.
I grabbed a napkin from the holder and uncapped the pen before I cleared my throat.
"There are about 6.76 billion people on the planet," I started, glancing up at Jace to see if he was paying attention. "About 27% of this population is under the age of fifteen. For simplicity's sake, let's assume you can only fall in love above the age of fifteen. So the possible population is 4.96 billion. Now the probability of two unique specific people falling in love is going to be" - I wrote P (love) = (1/4.96 x 10^9) x (1/4.96 x 10^9-1) = 4.065 x 10^ -20 on the napkin - "which is roughly 0.000000000000000004065% chance of this even happening."
Jace was glaring at the napkin. He was obviously confused, and that was kind of the point. He didn't have to understand how I got the numbers; he just had to know that I would never ever fall in love. Not again.
"I just can't believe you're still denying it to yourself," Jace said in awe, shaking his head in disbelief. "It must take an incredible amount of concentration to keep a mindset like that."
"I'm not denying anything, Jace. It's all in the math."
Jace reached over and grabbed the napkin. I watched as he stared at me and ripped the paper in half, and then in fourths, until there was a pile of paper fiber on the table between us.
"No one cares about your math, or your science, or even the statistics and theories-"
"That's not-"
"No, just fucking shut up, Niall." Jace hardly ever swore, so I knew he was getting pissed and it would be in my best interest to listen to him without interruption. "I'm getting real fucking tired of explaining this to you but for some goddamn reason your cynical mind can't seem to comprehend what's going on."
His breathing was heavy and the air around us was thick. He yet had to draw attention from the people around us, but it was only a matter of time.
"What do you think love is?" he asked.
I could have told him that love was made up of all kinds of hormones that rush through the brain such as pheromones, dopamine, oxytocin, and vasopressin. However, I knew Jace wasn't looking for the systematic side of this discussion. But I had to give him something, so I told him everything I knew.
"I think that lust has a good factor in-" I started, but was cut off by the wave of his hand.
"Okay, I'm stopping you there," Jace said, clearly dissatisfied. "Lust can be fun, but where does it lead you? Everyone I know who prefers lust to love was damaged by someone, and I'm talking about you, Niall. You won't trust anymore and without trust you can't have love, it just isn't possible. You'll still be lonely inside. So leave lust and sexual tension out of the equation. What do you have left?"
Thinking back on the past two days with Lynn, I tried to remember everything that was going on inside my head. And that was when I realized my mistake. None of this was supposed to be in my head. Feelings may be chemistry, but that doesn't mean it always had to come to that.
I thought about waking up next to Lynn that morning and I thought about how it would be nice to wake up to that every morning. It wasn't all about "lust" - it was more of the intimate relationship we had together. It was when she was in my head at three in the afternoon or three in the morning. It wasn't the "heart pounding, hands sweating" feeling, but more of the "I feel home" feeling. It was when I subconsciously started to change for the better. It was when I started to open up after a long time.
It was when I was denying it because I was afraid of how strong I really felt about Lynn.
Knowing it was real meant I had to make a decision. One, I could keep denying it. Or two, I do something about it. But I also had a third option, and that was getting angry.
"Why are you giving me all this advice when you can't even tell Jamie you fancy her?" I spat at Jace.
His blue eyes were hard from across the table, and I knew I struck a nerve. "You're right," he said calmly. He stood up from the sofa. "I don't have any motives for helping you, so why should I care so much? I just thought you deserved some happiness, but apparently you don't want that."
He gave me one last, long look before he left the lounge.
I ran a hand down my face with a sigh. Why did I always fuck things up?
At the corner of the coffee table in front of me, I noticed a book. It seemed relatively old, though from the looks of it, it was never opened. I scanned the shelves around me to see if there was an empty spot, but I didn't find anything nearby.
I looked back at the book and noticed the title, my heart nearly skipping a beat.
Slowly, like the whole building might come crashing down if I made any fast movements, I reached over and slid the book over so it lay in front of me. I noticed the thin, silk bookmark stuck inside the book. Carefully, so not to crack the spine, I opened the novel.
There, in the center of the pages, was a single highlight passage.
I don't know if life is greater than death. But love was more than either.