Chapter Twenty-Two
PitterPat
Part Two
"Hey, trouble," Jules purred in Skye's ears, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Want to pick up where we left off earlier?" His voice was quiet enough so that no one could hear but them, but even so, she couldn't help but worry someone else would hear him. She'd only barely made it to the living room, and surely at least Joe, who was still in the dining room picking up the last remains of lunch, could hear Jules.
She spun around in his arms, pushing on his chest a little. "Jules!" she hissed. "What if Joe or Leah heard you?"
He laughed. "Does it even matter, Trouble?" He cupped her face in his hand, rubbing his thumb over her cheek. "Leah loves me. And I think I might have just won Joe over during lunch. Besides, it's not like Joe would 'tattle' on us, and I'm sure Leah can't even hear us right now."
Deciding it would be easier to go with him than against him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her, whispering, "Why don't we pick up from where we left off than?"
He grinned wickedly, murmuring, "As you wish."
In one quick movement, he lifted her into his arms by the waist, her legs circling his body as he drew them closer together, and carried them both upstairs, stumbling a few times. They were both distracted, caught up in the moment, giggling and managing small kisses, as he walked down the hall and came to an abrupt stop at her door.
Skye gasped as her back came in contact with the hard, cold wood, giggling when she realized how silly she was acting. "Jules," she breathed, brushing her lips over his. "Did anyone see us?"
He tried to groan but it came out more as a chuckle than a groan. "Skye," he purred, "no one saw us. But we are being quite loud, you know?"
She closed her eyes and pressed her lips against his, a much more aggressive kiss. Her body shook with energy so oppressive, so heated, she didn't know whether to stop or keep going. "I'll shut up if you will."
He chuckled, the vibration sending jolts of pleasure coursing through her body. Clumsily, he spun the knob, releasing the door of its jam, and tossed it open, filling the space it once was. He brought them forward a little, gripping the door and closing it behind them as quietly as possible, and lifted Skye up as she started to slip.
She pulled away from his lips to catch her breath as he carried her over to the bed and laid her down against the mattress, catching his own breath in the process. She stared into his bright eyes, the green bold and inviting, asking her to request permission of something, anything. She grinned, butterflies springing, warmth flooding, and anxiety gripping her restless heartbeat.
In that moment, everything else disappeared. Leah and Joe, Victor's behavior, Johnny's betrayal, the uncertainty of what would happen next—all vanished. There was nothing that could bring her down, nothing that would change the life she finally felt inside. Jules was her medicine. He and he alone, stripped all of her troubles away.
Jules, climbing on the bed beside her, grinned sheepishly at her. He crawled over her, hands brushing against the sides of her arms, breath warming all the cool of the air-conditioner away. Once their faces were mere inches away from each other, he stopped, playing with her hair as he stared into her eyes.
"You're beautiful, Skye," he whispered, the sound caressing her ears. "I can't believe I went as long as I did without finding you. I really wish I'd met you sooner."
"You're perfect," she breathed, reaching a hand to touch his face. She hesitated before brushing a finger against his jawline, distracted by the way he was looking at her. "I don't deserve you."
He grabbed her hand in his, shaking his head. "No, Skye," he muttered. "I don't deserve you. It's like you're too good to be true. I've waited my entire life for someone like you, but I'd never expected to really find you. You're...incredible."
Before she could say anything else, his lips were against hers, kissing her with gentle poise. He didn't push harder than she led on, nor did he try to touch her. They lay together, him above her, hands at the sides of her head, kissing with a much less aggressive, reckless attitude, but instead, a gentle, genuine expression of their feelings towards each other.
When they broke away for air, Skye took the opportunity to say three words she'd been aching to speak for what felt like an eternity to her: "I love you."
At the sound of her voice, Jules smiled and ran his fingers through her hair. "You don't know long I've wanted to hear you say that." He kissed her forehead. "I could never tire of being with you, listening to the beat of your heart, hearing your voice, seeing you—I could never stop loving you, everything about you. You mean everything to me, Skye. And I mean...everything." He kissed her lips gently, just a simple brush of the lips.
Her heart skipped a beat, body gone rigid with fresh, renewed energy. She was about to say something, but stopped herself short, clumsily seeking his lips instead. There was a jolt of needles that tingled its way through her body, coursing through her veins, so raw and so enchanting she didn't know whether they were pure or impure. All she knew was that she couldn't stop herself from clinging to the man she loved, the man she'd wished for all those times when she'd been lost with Bryan. She couldn't reject the gravitational pull Jules had on her, luring her to push the level of their relationship up a big step.
Maybe even a leap—a leap of courage.
Drawing him down closer to her, she fumbled with his shirt, unbuttoning the buttons and pushing it off of him as she leaned in for another kiss. She gasped as his hands brushed against the bare skin under her shirt, gently. It wasn't fear that caused her heart to race, but desire. There was very little distance between their faces, lips meeting and parting repeatedly as they lay next to each other, deciding where to go next.
Slowly, she moved her hands along his chest in a downward motion, causing him to groan as he gripped her sides, almost roughly, and pulled away from a luscious kiss. She winced as the pressure of his hands at her side caught her off guard. She became restless, torn, by the sudden aggression he had. She didn't want to fear him though; she wouldn't allow herself to go down that road.
He won't hurt me, she chanted in her head. He's not trying to hurt me. We're both simply caught up in the moment. And just as she was about to swallow her fear whole and try for another kiss, she was stopped short. She couldn't stop the inevitable fate that suddenly plummeted into her life, as treacherous as it would seem.
Abruptly, Jules had drawn back, climbing off of the bed quickly enough so that she had no say in the matter before he was on his feet, running a shaky hand through his tousled hair. "No, Skye," he snapped, disoriented. "We can't be doing this."
She sat up, hurt and trembling. "What?" She gasped for air, all of it having suddenly left when he'd spoken such distant, unnerving words. "We can't be doing what, Jules?"
He avoided her gaze, staring at the floor instead. "This," he whispered. Without looking her in the eyes, he pointed to her, eyes terribly distant and dark. "Skye, we can't get that close. You're going to get hurt. I mean look what I had done to you already? You didn't tell me to stop, Skye, and I was that close to crossing a line. You can't tell me you wished I hadn't touched you like that."
Her mouth threatened to gape at him, taken so far aback that she couldn't feel the pulsing in her temples anymore. She fell completely silent, trying to speak again and again, but only coming short. She screamed at herself inside, demanding that she'd speak and tell him he was wrong, but no matter how hard she tried, nothing happened. Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach, eyes stung with tears, breath caught in her throat—she was frozen, staring at the man she loved with such a frazzled, timid stare.
"I'm so sorry," he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut. "I shouldn't have let that happen, Skye. I'm terribly sorry I did that to you. It was wrong—we both know it was wrong."
Tears cascaded down her pale face, emotions raging inside of her. Gaining enough courage, she managed to speak quiet sounds of a trembling heart, "I wanted you to touch me, Jules. I wanted what just happened to happen. Maybe it could have been better, how it came about and ended up, but I don't regret it." She shook her head. "I could never regret being with you, taking chances. What you did wasn't wrong, Jules. So please don't apologize, it wasn't your f—"
"It was my fault, Skye!" He looked at her—eyes red and swollen, dark and far away—face set in a grim expression. "I hurt you, and if you don't think I did, well—I could have hurt you. Don't you see that, Skye? Don't you get that? You have no idea what I'm capable of!"
She scooted closer to the edge of the bed, closer to him, but he only backed away, fists clenched in distress. Her breath was escaping her, the air growing frighteningly cold around her, everything clenching her in a miserable knot, squeezing the life out of her. What was he saying? Was he trying to tell her that, without a doubt, he would hurt her? She couldn't breathe as all of the air in her lungs left her, leaving a desperate ache in its place. He wouldn't hurt her, she'd convinced herself, frowning when she remembered his sudden temper, something so unusual it didn't go unnoticed. She could tell from the look in his eyes that he was torn and nervous, angry with himself too. It broke her heart to see him so worked up.
Slowly, she closed her heavy eyes and took a deep breath. Breathe, Skye, she instructed herself, you can handle this. Despite the pain that pounded through her head, clouding her thoughts and fracturing the feeling of security she'd once felt, she shook her head. Her hands were clasped together, tightly, palms sticky with sweat. She was so confused, so torn, wondering why Jules could possibly be acting the way he was. Don't know what I'm capable of? What was that supposed to mean?
She had no idea.
But what she did know was that she had to change his mind. She was certain that she had to calm him down, convince him that everything would be fine. With every last nerve in her body, she wanted to be sure he knew that she wasn't scared of him. She wanted him to understand that she trusted him and wasn't worried about him hurting her, needed it. Although, despite her feeble attempts at clearing his unease at what they'd found themselves doing away from her mind, there was still that part of her—small but painful—that told her there truly was something more behind Jules's warnings. Something wasn't quite right—something awfully unnerving.
Searching for his face, Skye crossed her legs and chewed on the insides of her cheek, on edge about what was happening between them. "Julian," she croaked, using his full name for the main purpose to get his attention solely focused on her. Her heart dropped when she saw the pain and confusion flash across his face as he tilted his head to peak a glance at her. "You would never hurt me." A sob threatened to burst from her lips, to break down the barrier she'd put up. She softened her raspy voice, with every will she could muster. "Please, Jules,"—she hoped calling him by the name he preferred would lighten the situation—"stop suggesting that you will hurt me. I know you would never sink to that level; you're too loving, too gentle."
He gave away no emotion for a moment. His face was expressionless, slack, as he seemed to be processing her words. In that moment, Skye felt a glimmer of hope, air flooding into her lungs again. But the hope vanished as soon as it came, leaving her heart in a million pieces as her lungs went hollow again.
His face contorted in frustration, eyes darkened and lost, jaw tightened, brows creased. "I'm capable of much more than you'll give me credit for, Skye!" The way he said her name, with an edge near disdain, caught her off guard, striking her right in the chest, tearing her heart apart. "I'm sorry, so sorry, that I touched you like I did. I'm sorry I've hurt you, confused you, and invaded your life like I have. It was a horrible mistake of mine. But most of all, I'm sorry this ever happened. I never wanted you to see me like this. I guess I'd just hoped I would be able to disregard my issues before they caught up with us and changed things. But the truth is, you don't really know me, Skye. You don't know my history, my past life, my problems; all you see is this side—the better side—of me. You have no idea what I've done. And I'm just—I'm sorry." His voice was straggled, rigid, by the time he finished.
Skye slumped against the bed, distraught, ashamed, heartbroken, and utterly confused. What was he trying to say? Was he trying to push her away? No, he couldn't be. He wouldn't do that to her; that would do much more damage than just hurting her physically. But something nagged at her shriveled up heart, telling her that she had been wrong about him.
Jules, the boy she'd fallen irrevocably and madly in love with, wasn't who she thought he was. He was capable of hurting her, not physically but emotionally. There was nothing more she could do, nothing more she could say, to change what had just happened. She'd lost a piece of her heart, broken off by the only person she wanted to confide in.
She was sure then, in that moment, unable to look Jules in the eyes or breathe properly, that her world was truly falling apart. But she didn't want to let it crumble easily; she wanted to fix things before there was nothing left. Yet, her emotions got the best of her.
"You were right Jules," she whispered, hoarsely. "I don't know you." She looked at him, briefly, and saw only emptiness staring back at her. Jules's soul—his caring, lovable soul—had fleeted. And she realized just how terribly she'd wished there had been pain—or something—because at least pain would mean he felt something more than simply empty. A shell of numbness eclipsed her, raw and icy, replacing her desperate ache for resolve as she struggled to think. The truth was she didn't know what to think, or say. So she sat there, eyes glued on Jules's masked face, heart shuddering as she slowly came to the conclusion that she and Jules had had their very first—major—fight, and some things could possibly never be the same again.
Making a sound that resembled a choked up sob, Jules lowered his head, body rigid and shaky. "I'm so, so sorry, Skye," he mumbled, quiet enough that the sound of his voice barely reached Skye's ears. "I've messed up. I hope you'll be able to forgive me later. But for now, please don't follow me." He sounded desperate, almost tortured, as if his words were killing him from the inside. And for a moment, Skye caught a glimpse of his soul, his emotions that expressed the same kind of pain she felt, but it quickly faded when his last words really began sinking in.
Follow him? Where was he—?
Everything shattered at the truth.
"No!" she cried out, unable to stop herself. Her heart slammed itself against her chest, her vision clouded with gushing tears, her body deepened in agony—every part of her scattered out of balance. He couldn't leave her, not how she was; he couldn't betray her like that. But she knew it was inevitable, unstoppable, and too late—Jules was already almost out the door of her bedroom, leaving her completely broken and lost. "Please stay, Jules! I need you!"
Her pleads carried away with the air in the room, unable to stop Jules from making the terrible mistake of leaving her. She watched in utter horror as he left, glancing back at her only once, his shirt returned to his body, his eyes sad, everything about him giving off the anguish Skye could only hope he felt for leaving her like he did.
She wished she was strong enough to go after him—to chase him until he would wrap her in his arms and promise her that everything would be okay—but she wasn't. She'd tried getting up, only to end up collapsing against the floor beside her bed, limbs too shaky and numb to hold her up. So she stayed there, curled in a ball with her back pressed against the bed, as she shook with body racking sobs, heartbroken and alone—again.
After a few miserable moments left curled up on the floor, in tears, completely torn and alone, there was a vague shuffle of someone's feet near the doorway. Skye heard it but couldn't force herself to look up and find out who it was. She was having a hard enough time breathing properly; opening her eyes and moving was out of the question. Every time she tried to move, to gather her bearings so that she could run after the boy she wanted desperately to be close to, she couldn't. Her body had grown weak—too weak to stand or function properly.
Someone's hand touched her shoulder, gentle words leaking into her ears, "Skye, I'm so sorry."
There was a moment, right after she processed the words, in which she thought the bittersweet words had been spoken by none other than her beloved, Jules. But when she peeled her eyes open to see for herself, her heart plummeted into her stomach.
"Victor?" she croaked, blinking away a tear. "What are you apologizing for?"
He captured her eyes in his steady gaze, not once looking away as he spoke with her. "I couldn't stop Jules." He sighed. "Honestly, I don't know if anyone could stop him right now—he's not quite himself. He looked very...distressed. May I ask what happened?"
Skye tried to calm herself so that she could speak with her new friend, breathing long, deep breaths and pushing away the memories of the last couple of minutes away. She had to find a way out of the ache that plagued her insides, stealing the life out of her. This ache, a pain so raw and vile that it threatened to shatter her composure completely, was brought about solely from the way Jules had treated her and, even more so, the last three words he'd spoken to her: Don't follow me.
"I—" she began, quickly cut off by sobs that broke out from her lips, her body shuddering under the pressure of it all—their fight, Jules's temper, her weakness—everything. Vaguely, as if it was merely a trick of her mind, she felt warm, lean arms wrap themselves around her, holding her securely in sudden security. She had no time to push away, gasp, or make any kind of reaction, before she found herself reaching for the comfort, pulling it closer. Her voice barely above a whisper, she croaked, "I don't know."
Victor held her against him, protectively, rubbing one hand up and down her arm while the other stroked her back. He rocked her, gently, cradling her in his lap. "It is all going to be okay," he soothed, a gentle promise. "Jules will come back—he loves you. And I'm sure that despite whatever he said or whatever happened between you two, you'll both recover, soon. Really. I promise."
Warmth, unlike anything she'd ever experienced around Victor before, traveled along Skye's insides, ridding all of the cold anguish she'd felt mere moments before away. Her breathing started to come properly, her heart slowed into a normal beat, her pain numbed. There was something strange about how she felt, but she couldn't wrap her finger around it; and, being in the state she was in, she decided it was best if she let it go for the moment. She had more important things to think about.
She had to find out why Jules had run off so abruptly. She had to gain back her composure so that she could do the only thing she'd been told not to do: follow, or in this case, chase after Jules. Not about to give up easily, Skye pulled Victor's hand in hers for a moment, looked up at his smooth, deeply in-thought face, and tried a smile. Her lips wavered, unable to fully form a real smile, but it didn't matter.
Doing something she'd never imagined herself doing, she kissed Victor on the cheek and whispered, "Thank you, Vic. You're a good friend." With that said she wobbled to her feet and turned straight for the bedroom door. She'd caught a little glimpse of Victor's surprise and confusion a moment before, conflicted about something. And before she could make it out of her room, a hand clamped over her arm, gently.
"What are you doing?" Victor asked, frowning.
She'd glimpsed over her shoulder at him, blinking residue of her tears away. "I have to find him," she explained, still choked up. "I have to."
His expression softened. "I'm coming with you then. I can't let you go out there alone, not now."
She blinked harder. Coming with? She thought, carefully weighing her options. Figuring she really didn't have any other options, she nodded and swallowed hard, clearing any forms of distrust she'd had towards Victor. I have to at least give him a chance. Besides, he'll probably be of help finding Jules, she concluded. "Let's go."
He let go of her arm and smiled, a small, kind smile. "Let's."
* * *
"Hey Skye," Rachel's sweet, chipper voice spoke into her cell phone. "I know it's pretty early for me to be coming home, but I heard all about what's been happening with you, and after a lot—and I mean, a lot—of talking with my cousin and sorting my thoughts out, I finally came to a decision. So now I'm heading back to your house, and I should probably get there in about a half an hour or so, give or take. I just thought that I would let you know ahead of time so you don't totally freak when I arrive. But, seeing as how you didn't pick up your phone, I bet you won't even get this message before I get there. Either way, I'm on my way, so I guess I'll see you soon."
She ended the message with a quick snap of her phone and tossed it on the passenger's seat. For two days, she'd been worried about Skye, wondering exactly how she was dealing with everything that had happened, desperately hoping she would recover okay, and wanting to be back with her best friend, comforting her. There hadn't been a moment when she'd actually stopped worrying about Skye in the past few days, even during her dreams.
Unable to handle the uncertainty of the matter any longer, she'd packed up her things from her cousin's house and hopped in her car for the forty-five minute drive home. She'd already been driving for about ten minutes or so, during which she'd spent the time listening to music and trying not to worry about Skye. Leah had left her a message earlier that morning, telling her about Skye's confrontation with the incidents by talking with the Chief and how Rachel wasn't to worry about her because she was doing better, but Rachel still felt slightly unnerved. She needed to see for herself that Skye was adjusting.
The roads were clear, very little traffic across the map. She'd tried to keep her speed under the limit, but as her anxiety grew so did the speedometer. Glancing in the mirror to scope out cops, she saw nothing. That was it. There was not another car on the road for miles, almost as if the roads were supposed to be clear. And suddenly something didn't sit well with Rachel's nerves, causing her to push on the break a little and slow the car.
Just as she was about to reach out for her phone to call Leah, sirens blared from behind her. On instinct, she let out a small chirp and clenched her hands on the steering wheel, heart jumping in her chest. She'd never been pulled over by the cops before, never had received a ticket, and she was beyond nervous at the thought of it. Taking deep breaths, she glanced in the mirror, grimacing when she spotted a police car tailing her.
Why now? Why me? She bit her lip. Maybe he'll just drive right passed. Maybe's there's someone in front of me speeding. Taking in the clear roads ahead, she cursed herself. She pressed her foot on the break a little and veered off the road, pulling over. The best she could do was hope the officer would be merciful and let her go, unscathed.
The police car pulled up behind her, stopping a few feet away. Nerves clenched, mind spinning, Rachel busied herself trying to think up a good excuse. My friend needs me, she came up with. She's gotten caught up in some trouble and I need to make sure she's okay. So you see, Officer, I had to push the limits a little. She could do it; she could convince the gentleman to leave her with only a warning. At least she hoped she could.
Knuckles rapped against the window, jolting her out of her hazy thoughts. She was shaking, but tried her best to control it. Slowly, she brought herself to roll the window down and took a sharp breath.
Before giving the officer a chance to speak, she hastily began, "Look, I know I was speeding, Officer, but I—"
She let out a high-pitched, shattering scream, catching a look at the man outside of her car. Everything crumbled around her; her voice was lost, heart pounding rapidly against her chest, as she misplaced her thoughts in a frenzy of reeling fear.
"Hello, Rachel," Johnny's cold, dark voice cooed, a smile at the edges of his lips. He leaned his head closer to Rachel's, hands on the edge of the window. "Heading back to see Skye? What a coincidence; so am I." He chuckled, playing with her thin, blonde curls, eyes firmly locked with hers.
She flinched, drawing away from Johnny's cold hands. "You'll never get her, Johnny!" she spat, rage boiling quickly. "Everyone's looking for you. You'll never get away with anything. You might as well give up." She shuddered with fear and pent up anger. She hated Johnny, just as much as Skye. Stay strong, Rachel, she told herself. Don't let him get to you. Roll up the window, now! Listening to her own advice, she jolted into motion, attempting to roll up the window.
But Johnny was quicker than her, already a step ahead of her, and grabbed her wrist, jerking her closer to him. He laughed then, the sound sickly in her ears. "Oh but I think I will," he drawled, breath brushing across Rachel's cheeks. "I've got you now. That's got to be worth something."
At his words, she jerked, frantically reaching for an escape. She screamed, but knew it was only a feeble cry. No one was around to hear her. Johnny gripped her under one arm painfully, yanking her closer to him, as he fumbled with something in his hand. Before she could inflict any discomfort on him, something pierced her skin, clouding her vision with swarms of hazy colors and speckled blackness, her body gone slack at the liquid that coursed through her veins. Then, everything went dark.