Dedicated to my dear friend Anne-linde for being such a dedicated fan and for proofreading every word I write. I love you! I also suggest you read her amazing stories, my dear people.
Picture of Violet on the side. -->
DON'T FORGET TO VOTE AND COMMENT. THIS IS IN THE WATTY'S!
“Reports of gang violence in the area have risen from ten to forty four in the last week, ranging from robbery to severe assault. Twenty four year old Amy Sutton describes how she witnessed her elderly neighbour being robbed of her handbag, containing valuable family heirlooms and a purse holding five hundred dollars in cash.”
The screen flickers to the image of a young brunette sitting in what looks like an ordinary lounge. A vase of multicoloured flowers stands on the shelf behind her, and the brown leather armchair she is sat in looks comfortable and new. If it isn’t for the clear bags underneath her dim blue eyes, I would have thought that she was perfectly normal.
“There were a group of them,” she starts; her voice clear, yet a faint tremble can be detected beneath the façade. Her eyes flicker to the window on her left warily. “Dressed in black; some wearing hoodies, others with balaclavas. Lilian was walking to her car- to visit her grandchildren, as she does on every Friday night- when they just came from nowhere. It was almost like they had it planned. I was only looking out of the window to check the weather, but I saw them charge Lilian. They must have taken a minimum of thirty seconds to get the handbag and leave, because when I ran outside, there was no site of them.”
“What did you do?” a new voice asks, presumably the reporter behind the camera.
Amy’s eyebrows knit together as she twiddles her thumbs nervously. “I made sure that Lilian was okay,” she answers simply. “She was shocked, but not badly hurt. It could have been much worse,” she adds as an after-thought.
The screen freezes on the thoughtful young adult, before returning to the news studio, where the reporter moves onto a story about the falling of electricity lines in a nearby town.
“You wouldn’t believe that gang violence would happen in our town,” a voice from the doorway mutters with disgust. Startled from my trance with the screen, I jerk to life, taking in the disappointed expression of my mom.
I nod lightly, stretching and turning the TV off. I try to disguise my anxiety by sending a small smile in her direction, which she just as quickly returns. On the inside however, the angst squeezes tightly around my heart, a dazed feeling overcoming me. My small town in California has always been a safe haven, the place where I have grown up. Gangs don’t go around attacking old ladies in this area; that’s reserved for the big cities, with narrow alleyways, and dirty binbags strewn across every abandoned road … isn’t it?
I push myself to my feet, heading towards the front door. “Where are you going?” mom’s voice calls out, causing my hand to pause on the handle.
“Micky’s house,” I respond quickly, slipping on my shoes and opening the door.
“Stick to the busy streets,” she says sternly. I look back to see the looking-out-for-you expression on her face. I smile genuinely, rolling my eyes. It’s not as though I’m going to go wondering through the back streets after watching that story on the news.
I slip out of the door, only pausing to assure her that I’ll be fine, before taking to the crowded streets, and heading the complete opposite direction to Micky’s house. Only a momentary pang of guilt hits me at lying to my mother, before I dismiss the emotion. It’s not as though I’m going to do something reckless. Instead, I follow the directions burnt into my mind, hurrying past the sign post Barry Avenue.
Two minutes later, I find myself on the doorstep of an average, brown house, hand poised to knock on a white, chipped wooden door. I let out a big sigh, the air whooshing between my teeth, psyching myself up to knock on the door of Aaron Nichol’s house.
Just as I convince myself, my knuckle connecting with the wood, the door flings open suddenly. I blink as the white paint is replaced with a pair of big blue eyes peering up in evident surprise. I find myself frozen in place as I look over the small girl in front of me, possibly only ten years or so in age. Her waist-length, dark brown hair is held in a loose plait contrasting nicely with a plain white dress. Everything from her round, cute face to her button nose and intense blue eyes holds an uncanny resemblance to Aaron.
“Hello?” The curiosity in her voice is evident as her eyes search over me critically. Even the way her lips purse together and her arms cross indignantly remind me of Aaron.
A small smile slithers onto my face as an image of the almost six foot guy with pursed lips and crossed arms pops into my mind. “Hi,” I respond, only just realizing how creepy I must look just standing, smiling wordlessly, on their doorstep. “Um, is anyone home?” I ask, my eyes searching her face.
“Yes, they are,” a familiar voice answers before the girl can open her mouth. I glance up to see Aaron’s shadow at the end of the corridor. As he moves into the light, his trademark smirk is in place. “Missing me already, are we?” he asks, placing a hand on the little girl’s shoulder.
“Obviously,” I reply sarcastically, crossing my arms in defence.
I open my mouth to break the silence between the three of us, but find myself beaten to it. “Are you one of Aaron’s girlfriends?” the girl asks, grinning up at me. I notice that her front two teeth are missing, her gums ripe and red.
“No, Violet,” Aaron answers quickly, steering her around. “Go and play with your dolls,” he orders, pushing her lightly down the corridor. Reluctantly, she glances our way, before trudging through a door into a different sound.
“One of your girlfriends?” I ask, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.
He smirks cockily, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Let’s just say that many girls have seen the inside of my bedroom,” he brags, winking at me.
Grimacing, I invite myself into the house, shutting the door loudly behind me. “You’re disgusting,” I inform him, glancing around the hallway. The house reminds me of my own; it’s nothing special, but it’s homely and neat. “You never told me you had a little sister.” I purse my lips, peering at him accusingly.
“You never told me you were going to turn up on my doorstep,” he responds smoothly, spinning on his heels and walking down the corridor.
I follow him carefully, wondering whether or not to remove my shoes. Deciding not to, I quicken my pace to keep up with his long strides. “Are your parents home?” I ask curiously, my eyes flitting over the pictures on the walls. A family picture on a sandy beach catches my eye, a bright sun in the sky. The Aaron in the picture, his face more rounded and cheeks noticeably chubbier, grins up at me. His arm is slung around a younger Violet, the both of them stood in front of two older versions of themselves. Both faces are stretched in large smiles, the whole family looking young and carefree.
An automatic smile reaches my face at seeing the younger Aaron, before I continue on. It’s apparent that he hasn’t noticed my dawdling, as he throws an arrogant smirk over his shoulder when he reaches the stairway. “Why? Are you hoping to see the inside of my bedroom too?”
“What?” I splutter, my cheeks flushing an involuntary red. “No.”
He waggles his eyebrows knowingly. “Sure,” he replies in a tone that shows that he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. He then takes the stairs two at a time, touching down with a thud on the landing. “And for your information, my parents are at the supermarket!” he shouts down the stairs.
I follow his lead, taking the steps one at a time, however. When I reach the top of the stairs, I spot him disappearing through the door at the end of the room. Frowning at his sudden urge for abandonment, I trail after him once again, pushing open the almost-closed door. It swings open easily, revealing a very messy- and very empty- teenager’s room.
My frown deepens as my eyes search the room, moving with distaste from a pile of dirty laundry to the leftovers of a mozzarella pizza on the queen sized bed. Apart from the obviously mouldy pizza, stinking clothes, and empty Pepsi cans on the floor, there are no signs of life. This, and the fact that the room is empty, sparks the idea that Aaron is a deranged alien with the ability to disappear at will. Who am I kidding? I already know that he’s a deranged alien- an egotistic one at that.
“Boo!” the loud shout and sudden grip on my shoulders combined cause me to squeal loudly, toppling backwards onto the floor. My hands grab onto the nearest thing to support myself, but already half way to the ground, my reaction only brings the object tumbling on top of me.
I hit the floor heavily, the breath whooshing out of my lungs as the object- which I realize is Aaron due to the distinct blueberry scent accompanying him- lands on top of me. If I was not so heavily winded, I would probably blush a furious red at the position we are in, but instead, I erupt into a throaty coughing fit. Tears fill my eyes as my chest wheezes, coughing, yet trying to suck in air at the same time.
A small amount of the weight lifts off me as Aaron pushes himself up with his hands, his eyes searching me with worry. “Are you okay?”
Hacking one last time before I feel I can talk, I sigh with relief. “Do I look okay?” I ask, letting out short cough. “I could have died,” I point out accusingly. “And it would have been your fault.”
The corner of his lip turns up as he looks at me. That’s when I realize that I’m trapped beneath him with no means of escape. “On the contrary,” he drawls, lowering himself so that the tips of our noses are touching. “You look more than okay.” His breath mists across my lips, a minty taste on my tongue, before I close the distance, wrapping my arms around his neck.
I feel his hands find their way to my hips, pulling me closer against him as he deepens the kiss. I work my way through his hair, my mind completely going blank as my pure senses take control. I breathe in deeply, a whoosh of blueberry scent filling my nostrils, the smell more than satisfactory in the present situation.
A strange feeling of loss fills me as Aaron’s lips leave my own, and a small moan escapes my mouth without warning. Just as quickly as the loss of contact registers, his lips connect with my jaw, trailing small sweet kisses down to my neck.
Before I know what’s happening, my hands find themselves slipping underneath his shirt, exploring the smooth skin there. A shiver shoots up my spine as I feel Aaron’s lips lightly sucking on the exposed skin on my neck. I grip his chest tightly, my hands like burning hot pokers against cold marble, as he bites into my skin, sucking harder.
Just as I think it can’t get any better, two large hands leave my hips, sliding across my stomach instead. I return my lips to his, forcing him to break away from my neck, a tingling sensation in their wake. As my tongue snakes around his, the feeling of hands steadily rising up my torso, a loud bang fills the air, startling me out of my trance.
I whip my hands out from underneath Aaron’s t-shirt, pulling my lips away from his. His hands leave my skin quickly as he jumps up, pushing the slightly ajar door shut.
“Honey, are you up here?” a woman’s voice calls, followed by the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs.
My eyes widen as the realization that I’m going to be caught, alone, in a boy’s room- not to mention that I must look like I have run through a hedge- and I send an alarmed look in Aaron’s direction. “Quick,” he hisses, grabbing my upper arms and lifting me to my feet. I search frantically around for somewhere to hide as he ushers me towards… the window.
“Oh my God- no way,” I whisper harshly as he pushes me to the ledge, pointing at the large tree outside. Opening the window as quietly as possible, he prods me violently in the back. I can hear his mom’s voice, nearer this time, at least at the top of the stairs. My eyes, nearly bugging out of their sockets, focus on the nearest branch, leading to the main trunk. “I can’t-”
“Go,” he whispers urgently, helping to lift me out of the window, until I find myself sat on the edge of the window sill. My legs dangle dangerously in the empty air, the hard green grass and bushes metres below me.
I stare fearfully at the distance between the branch and my feet, my head rushing with sudden adrenaline. I whip my head back to Aaron’s dishevelled appearance, and then back to the tree, before squeezing my eyes shut tightly and leaping at the branch.
Closing my eyes probably isn’t the best idea, as I realize half way through, when I find myself flying at nothing. Thankfully, I manage to open them just in time to grab hold of the branch, landing safely on two feet. Just in time as well, as Aaron’s mom’s voice carries out of the window. I breathe in shakily, edging my way towards the main trunk, before picking my way carefully down the tree.
When I reach the dear, firm floor, I pause to peer at the window I have just escaped from. Aaron’s figure fills the window, and even from here, I can see the mischievous smirk on his face. That must have been the most rebellious thing I have ever done in my whole life.
Hope you enjoyed! I spent all of my Sunday afternoon writing this, and yet, it's not as long as I would hope. But I hope the small amount of steaminess suffices. ;) *Wiggles eyebrows* Oh, Aaron and Emily, you little snoggers (excuse the British-ness).
Ooh! Before I disappear into the horrible school life I'm now living, I must ask- what do you say to a chapter in Aaron's POV? A few people have suggested it. I wanna know your opinion. Comment. :P
**WARNING**
I AM CHANGING MY USERNAME THIS WEEK. Next time I send out a story request, etc, you'll be notifited with a different username. I'm not sure what it will be yet, but it should be similar to one of these - SnowyRoses, PaintedRose, FallDownAHole. So please watch out - I don't want to lose any of my lovely fans.
- Katie