P R E S T O N
seven years ago
THE night is warmer than usual. It had been a humid fall this year, but as the month of October comes to a close it has become increasingly colder.
But not tonight.
The air is heavy and sticky and almost too warm for comfort being the time of year it is.
It should stick out to me. It should catch my attention. I'm usually very attuned to every little detail around me. I'm quieter than my friends, but it's because I watch, and I absorb, and I assess and learn.
I was taught by my father to not be the loudest in the room, but the smartest.
But the object of my current fascination is standing a few yards from me drawing my attention. Distracting me as she tends to do when she's around me. She's sitting on her driveway a ways down from the hill her mansion sits upon. She's reading a book that looks as thick as a dictionary and probably just as boring as the sun settles and the moon continues to rise. The sky above us is becoming increasingly darker as the minutes pass, but she continues to soak up each second of light left as she reads away.
She's obsessed with reading, and studying, and learning as much as she can jam into her tiny head. She's tall for her age, but she's still so small. So awkward and gangly and every bit a teenager and still the most beautiful girl I've ever laid my eyes on.
Jameson Davenport has always stood out to me like a single glowing star in an otherwise starless night. From a young age I could see the strength that filled her bones and the spark of defiance that flared when she was told she couldn't accomplish something her brother did. I could see she's going to become someone special, even if her asshole father couldn't see it.
Her dark chocolate hair that's shiny and perfect and looks so soft it constantly begs me to reach out and touch it. But I never do. Her vibrant green eyes that shine with the need to live the life she wants, and not the one her father wants. Sometimes I push her buttons just to see that spark because I love to play with her fire.
She refuses to stay in the box her parents want her to grow in. The box they want her to stay small in. She bangs against the walls until they crumble around her because she will always be more than what they can see. She will always want more than they want for her.
Her smile is larger than life and her passion and stubbornness are the flickering flames that have always drawn me near. I've always loved the heat. The inferno. The wild raging fire that can take down the world in seconds.
I walk over from my house across the street almost as if I'm being drawn to her like a moth to it's favorite flame. The light continues to be pulled from the sky as it darkens with every step I take towards her. Her gate is open as I easily stride over and continue to watch her. The warm wind sends a breeze flying over her and flutters the pages of her book like fall leaves on the ground. I love that even at the tender age of fourteen she has such an old soul. She rarely even posts to her Instagram like the other girls in her class, and only has a Twitter account to follow her favorite professors and lecturers.
She's always had my attention, but as we get older I appreciate her differences more and more. I love that she goes against the grain and pushes the boundaries of what everyone around her believes she can do. She's not only trying to prove herself, but also simply better herself. She doesn't believe in limitations, and it's something I'm secretly envious of.
"What are you reading now James?" I ask with a tilt of my head as my hands stuff into the front pockets of my dark jeans.
Her head snaps up and she jumps slightly as if she was so lost in her own little world she didn't even notice me approaching her.
"Anna Karenina," she tells me as she closes the book slowly and watches me with a touch of hesitation.
She's always been slightly weary of me and the rest of us boys her brother sometimes hangs around. Maybe it's the label the world puts on us or maybe it's because we scare her. We are known for our not so playful antics that only happen at midnight. But something deep within me ignites at the idea that someone so fearless and brave as Jameson would fear me.
I take a step closer and watch the way her eyes hold mine. Never backing down. Holding her own. "What's it about? Is it good?" I ask though I don't really give two shits if I'm being honest. But I like the sound of her voice. Warm like honey and filled with a strength most fear. She doesn't fall for lines and cares little about social status.
She is a challenge. One I like to think is specifically designed for me.
"It's good. A bit slow at times, but good," she tells me with a small nod as she tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "It's about a married aristocrat who has an affair with an officer and it's very scandalous."
A smirk lifts my lips. "Sounds fun."
She snorts in disagreement. "Sounds messy," she retorts as her lips press together in a firm line.
"And messy isn't fun?" I question with a raise of my dark brows already knowing what her response will be.
Jameson lives a life of strict rules and regulations, which I know partly has to do with her father. She wants to prove him wrong, but she has yet to realize that she doesn't owe him anything. She'll realize it one day, and if she doesn't I'll show her.
She shakes her head sharply. "No. Messy is the opposite of fun Preston," she tells me sternly. But mainly my focus is on the way she says my name. Her words are strong and focused much like her, but when she says my name her voice wavers faintly as if my name alone causes a burst of nerves to creep up into her.
The thought alone, even if completely baseless, causes the smile that's already touched my lips to widen. "You are such a stickler when it comes to fun," I tease her lightly. She's made it clear on more than one occasion that she doesn't find our pranks fun or enjoyable.
Jameson rolls her eyes at me. "Sorry I don't consider teepeeing and egging houses fun," she states dryly.
"I don't either," I admit as I lower myself onto the warm asphalt of her driveway right as the street lights flicker on casting a yellow glow across the now dim sky. I sit right next to her, so close our knees are bumping each other and it makes me feel weird being so close to her. I'm never tense but something inside me makes me feel unsure as the disappearing sun heats the air between us.
"You don't?" she questions taken back by my confession.
"No that's just stupid high school rebellion that one has to do as tradition," I explain to her with a casual shrug. "But I don't find it very fun," I tell her openly as I run a hand through my dark hair ruffling up the freshly trimmed sides.
I watch as she trails her finger over the spine of the book that still resides on her lap. "What do you find fun then?" she asks quietly in the humid night air before raising her eyes to meet mine.
Without thinking I lean in closer letting my dark eyes trail over her perfect face. At the age of fifteen I've already had my fair share of hookups though nothing serious, but being this close to Jameson I have this overwhelming need to press my lips to hers and that feeling alone has my hands shaking and my stomach flipping with anxiety. I hate and love how she makes me feel out of control and powerful all at once. "Actual destruction," I whisper darkly with a grin. "Mayhem and fires."
She swallows and her heated face flushes even more. Maybe from my words or maybe from our closeness, but either way I love that I've affected her. I love the way her round cheeks turn rosy and her bright eyes fall a shade darker. "That's not fun," she voices though it comes out a bit breathless and unsure.
My eyes fall to her lips and the small freckle the lies above the right side of her upper lip. I want to kiss it. I think I've always wanted to kiss it. "Can't knock what you haven't tried," I murmur as my heart begins to race and I lean in a touch more than I should under the dark sky and glowing lamps.
A loud honking car horn causes my entire body to freeze, and my body shoots upright as I jump to my feet forcing the much-needed space between Jameson and myself. I pause as I hold her gaze for a second longer and I can see a mixture of emotions flash through her green eyes, but the most obvious one is disappointment. My hands fist at my side knowing that whatever I was feeling at least she felt it as well. But now it's gone, and I worry I'll never get it back.
With a heavy sigh I turn around and let my brown eyes land on my friend Lawrence's white jeep as he pulls up to the curb right near us and parks.
I immediately spot Everett in the back smoking a joint and Nathaniel in the front with his signature frown present on his face.
He's been in a shitty mood the past couple of weeks because his girlfriend left him for a senior at our school, Lucas. But he's convinced she was stolen and that she secretly still wants to be with him.
Nathaniel has never taken rejection well.
"Going to go cause some mayhem?" Jameson inquires from behind me. I flip around to catch her lift her book to her chest and watch her fingers hold onto the thick book tightly. Almost as if she's using it as a shield to protect her from me.
A smirk pulls at my lips as I take in her pink cheeks and eyes that refuse to meet my own. "It's the only kind of fun I know," I tell her wickedly.
Her chest heaves with a deep breath before she raises her eyes to meet mine. She holds them steady before slowly saying, "Be safe." Her voice is filled with a note of seriousness almost as if she's worried about me. Almost as if she can feel the difference in the air tonight as well.
I take a step away from Jameson as I slowly back away from her driveway. "Always am my favorite Davenport," I say letting the nickname fall from my lips with ease. She rolls her eyes at the name, but can't hide the smile that overtakes her face at the same time.
With a shake of my head I stuff my hands into the pocket of my hoodie and stalk over to my friend's car.
"Why are you talking to James?" Lawrence asks with inquisitive eyes and a judgmental tone as soon as I walk up to his open window.
I shrug trying to remain nonchalant though I know he can read me easier than anyone else in our group. "Just talking while I was waiting for you assholes," I tell them a chuckle that feels and sounds forced.
Thankfully no one seems to notice, besides Lawrence of course. I can see the way his brows pinch together as he continues to watch me, and his thumb taps annoyingly against the steering wheel as he remains silent and deep in thought.
Everett leans forward from the back seat letting out a puff of thick smoke. "Four hundred bucks that in the next few years she becomes hot as fuck," he announces as if he can see into the future. Everett Kingston has always been one to bet, gamble, and spend his money any way he can. The more illegal the better. It's not even about winning for him; it's about pissing off his father any chance he can get.
"You think?" Nathaniel questions with doubt in his tone evidently not fully convinced. "I think she'll still be the same ugly duckling she's always been," he says with a deep laugh that jumps down my spine and hits me in the gut like a sucker punch.
I grit my teeth together to stop from saying something I will regret. His words piss me off to no end, but I have to stay silent. Jameson is nothing but a fascination from afar right now, and that's how she will remain for the next few years most likely. So no need to add fuel to the fire in this moment.
"Bet?" Everett pushes with a wide grin.
"Bet," Nathaniel agrees before they bump fists.
Everett instantly leans out of the back seat window and calls out, "You're my swan Jamie!" He uses the nickname I know she hates, because her nostrils always flare when her mother calls her that name. His loud voice catches her attention and she looks over at us confused not quite understanding his words.
My eyes flicker over to see she's moved down to be able to use the streetlight to continue to read her book, but she doesn't seem as invested in her story anymore. I can see the way her curious eyes lift every few seconds to meet mine before falling away as if embarrassed to be caught.
"What are we doing tonight?" I ask changing the subject from the girl who will always be a swan in my eyes.
Nathaniel runs a hand through his short dirty blonde hair. "I think it's time we pay Lucas a visit," he says with venom is his tone and untamed anger in his eyes.
"Why can't you let that bitch go?" Lawrence asks with a yawn referring to the ex our friend can't seem to let go of. He's perfectly relaxed in the drivers seat with his wrist hanging over the wheel. He doesn't much invest himself in the dramatics of Nathaniel's life.
"Don't call her that Law," he growls back gripping the can of beer in his hand. He may just be sixteen but we've all had fakes since we started high school. Though in this town it's not like we actually need one. People know our last names and know not to cross us, or more accurate our fathers.
"Well if the shoe fits..." Lawrence trails under his breath.
"What do you have in mind Nate?" I ask not wanting Lawrence and Nathaniel to fight again. Last time ended in black eyes, bruised ribs, and an almost broke wrist on Nathaniel's end. It was bloody and nasty as fuck. And our parents chewed our asses out for weeks after. Apparently men of our status shouldn't be acting like street thugs. Words directly from my father.
Nathaniel's eyes light up like a match striking in a dark room and a smile casts over his face like a shadow in the night. "I have an idea," he drawls before lifting the drink to his lips and chugging the rest of it in a few easy gulps.
I pause, and I never pause with my friends. They are my brothers and I would follow them anywhere. But something about the look in his eyes causes hesitation to crawl through my bones as the heady air sticks to my skin. "What's the idea?" I ask trying to remain calm but something feels off and I can't quite place it.
Nathaniel trails his tongue over his teeth. "Get in," he commands before facing forward with full expectations that I will follow his order without question. Because that's what we do for each other. No matter what we have each other's backs. No questions asked. Ever.
But I remain frozen standing by Lawrence's window as my eyes once again fall to Jameson only to see that she no longer is there. She's gone I realize as I swallow the thickness suddenly clogging my throat. My eyes lift to her room, but her curtains are drawn and there's no way for me to know if she's in there or somewhere else in her massive home.
"Is Aiden coming?" Everett asks drawing my attention away from the house before us.
"Hell no," Lawrence tells him gruffly. He's never been a fan of Jameson's brother, which I can kind of understand. He is younger than us by a few years and can be rather annoying, but overall he's a cool dude with good intentions.
"Why do you even hang out with him King?" Nathaniel asks with annoyance cutting through his every word. He's always made it clear he finds Aiden to be not at the same caliber as the rest of us.
Not cut from the same cloth, he once told us. Whatever the fuck that means.
Everett roles his eyes as he falls back into his seat with a soft thud. "He's chill," he tells us defensively before taking a hit of his joint. Everett will befriend anyone, but at the end of the day he knows we are the only ones who would ever put ourselves on the line for him.
Nathaniel crushes the can in his fist before dropping it to the ground at his feet. "Well he isn't one of us," he stresses with a growl.
I see frustration flash through Everett's eyes, but he doesn't say anything. He rarely does. "Am I not allowed to have friends outside of this group?" he asks though the words come out teasing and playful and not filled with the true anger I know resides in his chest.
He's going to snap one of these days. He holds onto his resentments. He's a ticking time bomb at this point.
"Nope," Nathaniel responds with the single word in all seriousness.
"Screw you," Everett tosses back though the fire has lessened as he now takes a sip of whatever he has poured into the flask he always keeps on hand.
"Get in Preston," Nathaniel tells me once more and I bristle at the demand but don't fight back even though the uneasy feeling is only growing in my bones.
I climb in the back seat of the jeep and glance into the trunk to see the array of items we typically use when pulling pranks. But my eyes catch on a bottle of lighter fluid in the corner that's never been there before and I'm instantly become more curious on what my friend has planned for the night ahead.
Maybe mayhem and fires are on the menu for tonight. I laugh under my breath at the idea.
Yeah right, I think knowing the most destruction we've ever caused was to an old decaying barn on one of the many properties my family owns.
"Let's try and not damage too much property tonight," I say lazily. I quickly grab Everett's flask from his hand and take a pull letting the liquor burn my throat and warm my chest causing me to instantly relax.
Lawrence switches gears and begins to pull away from the curb and as he does I can't help but look up one last time to see if Jameson is looking down at me from her bedroom window. But all I can see is a shadow, and I don't know if it's a figment of my imagination of if she's really there.
"You know I can never promise that," Nathaniel laughs as he cracks open another beer pulling my attention away from the girl who takes up too many of my thoughts.
With the windows down and the music blaring Lawrence drives off to Lucas's house, which is only a few neighborhoods over from ours. With the sun gone and the night sky officially black I can't help but notice not a single star lives in the sky tonight. The moon is almost completely covered by the clouds in the sky and the thick heat causes beads of sweat to gather on the back of my neck as anticipation begins to bubble to the surface.
It's as if a new level of darkness has been born for this night and an energy buzzes through the air at the possibilities of the night ahead of us.
The bright orange of Nathaniel's cigarette burns in the dark air and as he hits the white stick against open window I watch as the embers fall to the ground and scatter against the newly paved street.
The night feels endless with every possibility at our fingertips. We are untouchable and can do no wrong, and as I take another swig from Everett's flask I know this night will be one of those nights that defines us.
I can't explain the feeling, but it feels epic and burns in my veins as the emotion grows and festers into something so large I feel like I might be consumed.
And consumed I was. By the flames. By the screams. By the sirens.
And ultimately by the blood on my hands.