Early update! Love me, feed me, never leave me xoxo
☆☆Dedication to @KandyRants ☆☆
T h i r t e e n : Wet and Wild
Me: Hi
Me: I have a proposition
sQuidge: Has nobody ever told you that it's naughty to text in class?
Me: I want to do something tonight
sQuidge: hmm
sQuidge: like what?
Me: Not sure yet. Are you free later?
sQuidge: I'm weighing my options
sQuidge: homework or hanging out with you? :// it's tough
Me: my homework is more thrilling than your jokes, I know that much
sQuidge: you are the type of person to be thrilled by homework
Me: Fibs. What do you say then?
sQuidge: I'm in. Where r we going?
Me: Open to suggestions
sQuidge: Meet me at the pool, 5:30pm
sQuidge: I'm feeling a swim
Me: That's after swim practice. Won't it be locked?
Me: Chase?
sQuidge: When has that stopped us before gorgeous?
I click my phone screen off with a sigh, sliding the device into my back pocket where I can't be tempted to re-read the messages again. It's 5:32pm and I'm standing outside of the locked doors to the Lindale High swimming pool, a building that Miko and I haven't set foot in since we would drool over the swimming team as freshman students.
Tonight, we'll both see the pool again. Only, one of us will be hiding.
My fingernails are digging so hard into my palm that when I open my fists, a line of small crescent shaped marks split my hand like a stormy sea. It's not the first time tonight that this has happened. I lean back against the wall and splay my fingers across the brick. The tranquil dusk over the school grounds is deceptively pretty. It speaks nothing of the girl crouching in the bushes somewhere, or the ambush lying ahead. That's all a whispered secret in the wind.
I wonder if Miko is feeling as uneasy, as restless, as guilty, as I am. I don't think it's possible.
"Hi gorgeous."
A voice interrupts my anxious thoughts, and I become aware of Chase, ambling towards me with an easy smirk and a clean white t-shirt. On his lower half, he's wearing a pair of Nike khaki swimming shorts. The reality of swimming with him, in very few clothes and completely alone hits me and a wave of anxiety crashes through my body. It was something I had completely forgotten to worry about, in the larger scale of tonight's events.
Suddenly, my black bikini feels a little tighter under my clothes.
"Have I rendered you speechless?" Chase is in front of me now, standing with his head tilted patronisingly. I can see that underneath the teasing, however, is genuine curiosity.
"No," I mutter quickly, shoving my hands into my short pockets. "I'm just nervous."
"Ah," Chase scratches his jaw. "Don't worry- we'll be careful, we won't be caught."
That's not why I'm nervous! I know we'll be caught.
Any further worries are cut short and stolen from me as Chase takes a step forward, leaving my mind blank with surprise. He is close enough now that I can feel the warmth of his breath fan over my face, and if I wanted to, I could count every single beauty mark and freckle on his complexion. One of his hands slides up to my hip and sits in the curve, like it was meant to be there. His gaze, which had been glued to my face, finally tears away to follow the movement of his other hand, up to my hair. It winds through the curls at the side of my head.
Then, he smiles slightly and pulls out my hair pin.
"I'll need this to pick the lock," he says, brandishing the thin metal pin in front of my face. He's biting back a smile when he turns to the door lock beside me, but the tell-tale laughter dances in his voice and incriminates him. He teased me on purpose.
"You're an asshole," I mutter.
He grins at the lock, continuing to twist the pin. "I know. It's so fun."
With a particularly loud click, the building door unlocks and Chase swings it open. He gestures for me to enter, that particularly irritating smile still sitting proudly in his features.
Rolling my eyes and ignoring the coiling anxiety in my stomach, I step into the building. The pungent stench of chlorine clings to the humid air, instantly overwhelming my senses. As we walk past the seating stands where Miko will hide, the pool is finally visible: a turquoise rectangle in the centre of the room, irresistibly calm. It's a stage for tonight's events. I swallow, and glance at the changing rooms on the right side.
"Should we-" I begin to ask, twisting around. "Oh!"
Chase's shirt is already up and over his head. He peels it free from his arm and drops it, puddling cotton on the tiles. His toned chest commands no less attention in the subdued lighting.
"You're wearing your swimming costume under your clothes, aren't you?"
"Yes," I mumble, my voice oddly thick as I watch him kick his sneakers off.
"So, take them off, Monroe." His head cocks to the side. His eyes seem darker in this lighting, and they spark like hot coals. "Or do you want me to do it for you?"
"Very funny."
"Suit yourself." The last thing I see is his smile before he twists, runs and throws himself easily into the pool. Water splashes my legs from the collision of his body with the water, and laps into the drains at the pool perimeter. When he emerges, his hair is inky dark and dripping down his forehead. Droplets cling to his cheekbones, his septum, the swell of his bottom lip.
This boy is deliciously dangerous.
Averting my gaze from him, I take a deep breath and undo the button of my shorts. Swiftly, like ripping off a band-aid, I slide them down my legs and push them into the little pile beside his t-shirt. Without removing my long-sleeved top, I take a few running steps and cannonball into the swimming pool.
Water swells around me, invading every crevice of my body and face to greet me. When I finally pop up to the surface, it takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust past the blurring droplets. I smooth the hair away from my face and wipe my nose. Chase is swimming a few feet away in the water, leaning back until the reverberating waves of my arrival kiss his Adam's apple.
"Why did you keep your shirt on?" He asks, confused.
"I just prefer to keep it on."
Chase continues to look at me, as if he needs more explanation. I try again.
"I just...feel more comfortable covered up."
Chase frowns, his tongue darting out to catch a bead of water on his lip. "Okay, but you have no reason to be self-conscious, you know."
Betraying me, my eyes flit to the seating area where Miko will inevitably hide to make the recording of us. This moment feels too private, too dangerously intimate, and I almost long to see her raven coloured space buns sticking out from amongst the rows of empty seats.
"Thanks, I just-" My words stick in my throat as I look back at Chase, and I struggle to dislodge them. "My eczema is pretty bad on my arms at the moment. It's not pretty."
Chase frowns. "Erika, you're always pretty."
"No, don't say that," I say, almost whining, as I propel myself backwards through the water to put some distance between us. "I'm not trying to search for compliments, or comfort or anything. This isn't a big thing, like, at all. I just don't like showing my arms when they're bad."
Chase swims closer, his tanned arms barely breaking the skin of the water. "Gorgeous."
I shake my head, almost desperate. "You don't need to make me feel better."
"Okay, I won't."
I groan. "You still have those sympathy eyes like you want to tell me I'm pretty."
"I call you gorgeous every day," Chase says, shrugging slightly as he treds water. "It's hardly out of character for me. Will you let me see your arms?"
"I don't like how this is becoming a thing," I say uncomfortably, gripping my elbows underwater and praying that if I hold them protectively enough, the ravaged dry skin there will disappear from sight. "I don't need you to compliment me or say anything at all. I mean it."
"Okay." Chase hums a little in consideration, and then his pecan brown eyes lock with mine again. I'm not sure if it's the humidity of this room, or the chlorine getting to my head, but he looks utterly, devastatingly hot. "How about you show me, and I will promise not to say anything at all?"
I hesitate, but eventually my grip on my arms loosens and I relent. "Okay."
Without moving his eyes from mine, Chase swims closer. Closely enough that our legs clash and kiss under the water as they move, like lovers and haters. Closely enough that every time he moves an inch, the water ripples around both of us as if we were one. Closely enough that he can reach for my wrist under the water and I can let him.
He lifts my arm to the surface and the maroon cotton of my top clings to my arm like a second skin. He begins to peel up my cloth protection, exposing me more inch by inch, in a motion that is more furiously intimate than any make-out session I've had with a boy, ever. Slowly, the smooth skin of my lower forearm becomes dry and split, and the urge to pull my arm back intensifies.
When the entire crook of my arm is revealed, Chase releases the sleeve.
As promised, he is wordless as he examines my arm. The red, textured skin seems to burn under the heat of his gaze, but when he finally looks away to meet my eyes, the relief is only momentary. Because the burning is starting again, this time in my face. Chase holds my eyes for a few long seconds, before his chin drops again and his head moves down.
I don't realise what he's doing until I feel the warm pressure of his lips on my forearm.
Oh my god.
When he calmly pulls away, I have no words to greet him with.
"I think I really did render you speechless this time," he says quietly.
This guy is more dangerous than he looks.
"Not speechless," I manage to say.
Before I'm recovered enough for more words, his wicked grin returns. His hands press down on my shoulders and I'm dunked down into the cool water, startled back into reality by the current of bubbles tickling my ears as they race to the surface. My eyes close as the water envelopes me completely. For just a moment, I realise how scarily vulnerable, yet warm, I feel.
When I resurface, my old self resurfaces with me, and I instantly shove a wall of water towards the idiot opposite me. Only when he's laughing, and I'm not so distracted by my own skin, do I notice the small black shape on his right collarbone. Tentatively, I reach out a finger to touch it. A small crescent moon tattoo, no larger than my thumb. Chase inhales sharply.
"Clearly your skin tells a story too," I murmur, examining the wet mark. "Want to share?"
"It's just a tattoo," Chase says stiffly. "It doesn't mean anything."
"All tattoos mean something. Even if it's just that you like moons."
Chase rolls his eyes, leaning back into the water until the top of his chest breaks through. He's pretending to relax but I know he's just avoiding my eyes. "Fine, then I like moons."
I hum and swim a little closer. "Are you a werewolf?"
"Erika." Chase sighs, finally glancing at me.
"You don't have to tell me," I say softly. "I just don't know much about you."
Chase shakes his head slightly and splashes me half-heartedly. "You don't need to."
I can't help but feel slightly disheartened, but I disguise it by splashing him again. As the water slaps his face, he shakes his face clear like a dog and then fixes me with a playful scowl. It's magical, how quickly he starts smiling when there's no personal questions involved.
Whenever he isn't overwhelmed by my superior splash game and walls of water, he's splashing back and we're chasing each other around the pool, calling out the Jaws theme tune and pretending to be sucked under water by a hyper-unrealistic Great White Shark.
I'm having so much fun that I can almost ignore the camera lens pointed at us, from between two of the seats on the lower row.
Almost.
*~*~*
"Erika! Welcome, welcome, come on in."
Sada swings open the front door and the warm air of the house floods out to greet me on their front step. I've always found Miko's house completely comforting. Even her hallway is fresh and airy, filled with plants and diffusers, and studded with large bay windows which paint light all over the wooden floors. Her house is smaller than mine, but beautifully decorated. Sada is a sole trader for interior design and she's incredible. I come over for dinner quite often, but the beauty of each room never fails to impress me.
As I step inside, Sada pushes the door shut behind me. I watch her honey eyes flit over my soaking wet hair and spare t-shirt, but she doesn't question it. "Would you like a drink, Erika?"
"I'm okay thank you," I reply. Sada can be strict at times and she values manners, but her smile is kind and she wears those thick woolly jumpers that make her a lot less intimidating. She wants the absolute best for her kids, and Miko has so much respect for her.
Soft padding on the stairs alerts me to my best friend's presence.
"I have good news. I've just found out that Okaasan is making Sukiyaki," she says as she skips down the last few steps. Her hair is tied up and she's wearing grey leggings and a large sweatshirt with her slippers on. I eye her fluffy feet with jealousy.
"Just the thing I need," I agree, smiling weakly. "When are we eating?"
"Five minutes," Sada replies, gesturing to the kitchen with her thumb. "I'm going to finish, and I'll be in shortly. Miko, call your brother for dinner, please."
"I will," Miko replies. She hesitates, waiting until Sada has completely left the room before she grabs my hand and begins to tug me up the wooden stairs. Her voice, despite being out of earshot now, is hushed. "How are you feeling? This is all so intense."
"I feel like a deflated balloon," I say with a grimace. When we reach the upstairs hallway, with the thick ply carpet that always makes me sneeze, I can't help but sink back against the wall for strength. "So, reporting time. Did you manage to get the footage?"
Even to my own ears, my voice sounds bitter and defeated. Hesitantly, Miko nods.
"How much did you see?"
"I think I arrived in time for the second shark attack."
"Nothing before?"
"No," Miko says, frowning. "Why? Did something happen?"
"No, no." I peel away from the wall and examine the wet patch from my hair with disdain. "I just wanted to know how long the footage is. Can you definitely tell it's him?"
Miko nods her head tentatively, barely even a movement. Something in my chest still plummets at the news that our strategy has been successful. After everything I've done to be in this position, all the lies I've told, I'm still searching for a way out.
"I guess we're set then. We've got everything we need to kick him out of school."
"I'm sorry, Erika," Miko says quietly.
I shrug lifelessly. "At least it's over."
"You have time. You can wait."
"I'm not sure how that helps anything really."
The moment of silence that lulls comfortingly between us is interrupted by the sudden burst of rap music exuding from Kaito's room, at the other end of the hall. In this house, with all of it's thin walls and wooden floors, sound travels easily, and I can hear the enunciation of each dreadful word, feel the bass thrumming through the soles of my sneakers. Miko makes a grumbling sound in her throat and turns to face her brother's door.
"Kai, turn that rubbish off- dinner is ready!"
After waiting a few seconds for a response, she sighs and calls again.
Still nothing.
"Chikusho," Miko complains, "He makes me walk to his door every time."
"I'll come with you," I offer.
As she begins to walk towards her brother's room, I follow closely behind. Kai's room is left at the top of the stairs, and in all the time I've known Miko, I've only ever seen inside once. Kai has never been particularly hospitable or nice to me- he tends to just steer clear.
As we approach, the loud music becomes unbearable and Miko's face is downturned into a scowl. She doesn't bother to knock as we reach his door. Twisting the handle, she throws open the door to reveal the dark interior of Kai's room.
The room is a lot darker than I remember it. The thick drapes are drawn, and his walls are forest green and covered in posters of bands and singers. He sits in the dark with only a small lamp lit, lying in a pile of dishevelled black sheets. He bolts upright as the door splinters light onto his bed, and his expression is furious as he pauses his music.
He doesn't manage to get a word out in protest before I've noticed what is on the bedside table, closest to the door. My breath catches in my throat and I stare in horror.
A small, transparent plastic bag filled with pastel coloured pills.
"Oh no." Miko says softly.
A/N: Okay so maybe I am a little evil for leaving you on a cliffhanger... :)
Hope you enjoyed the chapter, it was one of my favourites to write!☆