~ Kriss Darcy ~
I'm not doing anything wrong.
I kept chanting that in my head over and over again as I followed Jase through the front doors, walking across the driveway to take the path that led to the gardens - though why we didn't just go out the back doors was a mystery to me.
I'm not doing anything wrong.
I was nervous - Ash didn't seem to be in the best of moods when I left Mother's study, and spending time with Jase was just asking to antagonize him further.
But why does he care so much? All he asked is that I sing only for him. It's not like he asked me to love him.
But as I thought that, Ash's voice rang through my head.
Your voice may sing for me, but your heart sings for another.
I'd told Ash that my relationship with Jase was strictly platonic... but we both know that's not true. Try as I might to suppress my feelings towards Jase - to stop my heart from singing for him - those feelings got stronger and harder to fight off the more time I spent with him.
Maybe I should go back inside. Maybe I should go see Ash. He seems to wash away unwanted feelings.
Being near Ash shielded me from the barrage of memories that threatened to overwhelm my mind at every moment. It was always a constant struggle to keep them locked away, to keep my own mind in check. But with Ash, it was like the memories completely vanished. All the bad thoughts just disappeared.
But it was always a temporary relief. When he left, and the memory of his alluring voice started to fade, my mind became a glass container again.
And if you abuse a glass container enough, eventually, it will break.
I should go back inside.
I glanced over my shoulder as we walked down to the gardens. Would Jase completely hate me if I left him now? Or would he understand, like he did about me not wanting to kiss him again?
He looked at me now, quizzical. "Kriss, are you all right?"
That depends on the context. Mentally, or physically?
"I'm fine," I said. A half-truth. "Are you sure this is a... good idea? I mean... after what happened yesterday..."
He stopped, holding up his hands. "It's okay, Kriss. I told you, I understand. You don't know what you want yet. And if you decide you'd much rather be friends..." he shrugged. "I'll accept and respect that. I'd rather have you as a friend than not have you in my life at all."
I wasn't completely reassured, though. "But being around you can be... confusing for me. My thoughts get all jumbled up, and it takes me even longer to get them straight," and Ash getting all jealous doesn't help matters.
Wait...
Why do I care what Ash thinks? He doesn't own me. I'm my own person.
Jase stepped closer, but still kept a few feet of distance between us. "Kriss, take as much time as you need to decide," he said quietly. "I'll wait."
I'm doing nothing wrong. I'm taking a walk with a friend. Besides, what's Ash able to do about it?
I took a deep breath, and walked forwards, towards the gardens. Jase fell in beside me, matching his pace to mine. We walked in silence for a few minutes, the sound of our quiet breathing the only thing disrupting the quiet of the early afternoon.
"Do you remember your old house, up by Rochester?" Jase asked suddenly. "How quiet it was in the morning, how peaceful it could get around dawn?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said teasingly. "You the one who ruined the silence. Why you decided to wake up at the crack of dawn when we camped out in the backyard is beyond me."
"The sky looks pretty at dawn," he said. "I was only admiring the view!"
"But you didn't have to wake me up."
He laughed, then threw me an innocent look when I gave him a good-natured glare.
"Remember that one summer, when my family came up for that entire week, how we convinced Weston a giant snake was living under the bush where the sprinklers were being fixed?" Jase asked, smiling brightly.
"I do!" I grinned. "And he fell in the hole, broke a pipe, and got soaking wet!"
"Then he ran inside, muttering about imaginary snakes, and while my dad was losing his mind over damaging Weston's good clothes, your dad was standing behind him, trying to stop himself from laughing at our creativity," Jase said.
Yes, I thought, my smile faltering. One of my fonder memories of Father. The glass dividing my mind from my memory box was vanishing, the box loosening. My fists balled into balls, my teeth gritting. Jase stopped, noticing I wasn't moving. Subconsciously, my right thumb pressed into the palm of my left hand.
Stop thinking. It will get worse if you keep thinking about it.
But wanting to stop thinking about it makes me think about it even more, which made it about a hundred times worse.
Jase stepped forward, his eyes zeroing on my hands. He gently grabbed my left hand, pulling my thumb away, and pressed his own thumb into the palm. He then looked directly into my eyes, searching.
"Kriss?" he asked. "Is this fine? I noticed it seemed to help yesterday..."
Yes. This had worked yesterday, too, to my great confusion. He didn't take away my memories though, like Ash does when he does this. Instead, he made it more bearable, like I was suddenly strong enough to fight it off.
I focused on my breathing, the pounding of my heart, and the gentle pressure of Jase's thumb on my palm.
"It's helping," I said, when I was finally able to speak. "I don't know how, but it is."
He didn't move back. "If you don't mind my asking, why do you...?"
"Spontaneously panic?" I finished for him, then sighed. "I don't really want to talk about it. It's not something I take very lightly."
"Then I won't pry," he said. I started walking again, and, once again, he kept pace with me.
I want to tell him why, but what if he thinks I'm just being irrational?
You're being irrational now. Father's death was a traumatic experience. It turned your head from a metal box into a fragile glass bowl. This reaction is natural.
But he might not understand.
He knows what it's like to lose a parent. He'll understand.
But it was a completely different scenario. His mother was sick. Her death was expected. Father's took everybody completely by surprise.
Stop being so self-centered. You think you're the only one who's ever lost a parent so suddenly? Think about Jamie. Do you think she expected her parents to die in that car? Do you think she expected her brother to completely abandon her and move to France?
I sighed. You're right. But I'm still not ready to tell him.
And he understands that. He won't pressure you. He's respectful and hot and you share a history. Stop being indecisive and go for it!
My mental voice suddenly sounded like Megan. I'm terminating this mental conversation.
To distract myself from my internal argument, I let my gaze wander, visually exploring the garden, trying to channel Jamie's child-like wonder. Unfortunately, it didn't work - the gardens, which I'd walked through so many times before, held no more wonder. Sure, it was beautiful, calming, and relaxing, but it no longer intrigued me as it did when I was younger.
My eyes fell on a rosebush - a white rosebush. I glanced sideways at Jase as we walked past it. He was being quiet, waiting for me to speak first, letting me take all the time I needed to gather my thoughts.
What a gentleman. Seriously.
"I see you found the roses," I said, casually mentioning the flower that was still resting on my bedside table. I should probably find a vase to put it in, so it doesn't die as quickly.
He shrugged. "I was running with Weston, passed this bush, and remembered how delighted you were when I picked a white rose for you when we were kids. And I remembered your necklace..." he trailed off. "I explained some of this last night, Kriss!"
Subconsciously my hand reached up to touch the red rose charm hanging from my neck.
"What's the story behind your love of roses, anyway?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious, and not at all like he was just trying to make conversation.
"What makes you think there's a story?" I said, my lips quirking up into a small smile.
"You don't seem like the type to love something without a good reason to," he said, then, looking sideways, peered curiously at me. "Would that be a fair assumption?"
"It might be..." I said. "I love the symbolism behind them. They're often used in books to symbolize something, whether it be the mood, the dynamic between characters... though sometimes, a rose is just a rose. And I love how they come in so many different colors, and how each color has a different meaning behind them too. Plus, they're beautiful."
"What does a white rose symbolize?"
I frowned, trying to remember. I'd had all of this memorized at one point in an essay I had to write back in high school. "Um... purity and innocence, I think, and youthfulness. And... um... new beginnings, everlasting love... I'm sure there's more, but I'm blanking."
Jase looked thoughtful. "No wonder they're used as wedding bouquets so much," he looked at me curiously again - or, at my necklace. "What about a red rose?"
"They're what everybody thinks of when you think of a rose," I said, then sighed. "But they can symbolize romance, true love, desire, passion... they're the classic I love you rose, I guess."
He frowned. "Are you sure the person who gave that to you is just a friend?"
Why does he sound like Ash now?
"Quite sure," I said. "And don't be getting all jealous on me, Mister Charlton."
"I'm not jealous," he said, and I threw him a disbelieving look. "I'm not, Kriss, I swear it! I'm just simply... inquiring."
I let out a snort of laughter. He looked at me, amused.
But also... why did Ash give me a necklace with a red rose, of all things? Did he make it thinking of the symbolism of a rose? Or was I reading too far into this?
The latter, probably. He's helping you sing. No ulterior motives. He's not like one of the horny pigs at NYU who just want to 'help' you.
But then again...
You don't know how much I want to kiss you right now. But it is time for me to leave, my Angel.
My reaction to that statement was overshadowed by my desire for him to stay. I didn't take the time to let it fully sink in.
He wanted to kiss me? Did I want him to kiss me?
I don't know the answer to that last question.
Don't think about this with Jase right here, please. This is why you're so confused all the time.
I put all of my attention solely on Jase, forcing my mind away from any last lingering thoughts of Ash. His shamrock-green eyes, the tousled, messy-but-in-a-charming-way sandy-brown hair, square-ish jaw, the sweep of his eyelashes, the precise shape of his lips...
Aaaahhhh abort mission.
"Also," Jase continued. "I'm sorry if I come on a little strong. But I was your first kiss," he grinned. "We're connected, you and I."
"Is this the part where I swoon?" I said in a monotone.
"It wouldn't hurt," he admitted. "But it's true."
"I don't think that's how it works," I said. "We're not freaking werewolves with that weird bond-thing."
"Looks like somebody's been reading too much Wattpad," Jase teased. "Or Twilight. Maybe both."
"I don't have a phone or a laptop. I can't read on Wattpad," I reminded him. "And I've only read Twilight once. Stalker vampires and adolescent wolves aren't really my thing."
He burst out laughing. "That's a new one," he said. "I don't think I've ever heard that as a reason to not like Twilight," he suddenly gave me a weird look. "So, you don't like Twilight, but you do like old English plays that end in a tragic double suicide?"
"It's well-written," I said. "Plus, the nineteen-ninety-six film..."
"Ah, yes, the legendary Leonardo DiCaprio," Jase said, morphing into his terrible British accent. "The true master of making people swoon with his dashing good looks."
"Please drop the accent," I said. "It physically pains me to hear it."
"Harsh, Kriss," Jase said, though at least he said that in his normal voice.
I didn't respond, but smiled. He didn't continue with the subject, and we walked in silence for another few minutes. A gentle breeze had begun blowing through the air, rustling the new leaves that had grown in just a few weeks prior. Jase's hand gently brushed against mine, though when I stole a glance at him, he was looking off to the side - it was either not a conscious movement, or he was pretending not to notice. I didn't think too much of it, but when it happened again, and I looked back over at him - he was definitely trying to fight off a smile.
The cheeky little devil.
When his hand brushed mine for a third time, I grabbed it, entwining his fingers with mine, and this time it was his turn to look at me. I kept my expression carefully neutral.
This can't hurt, right?
"We should play a game," Jase said abruptly. I turned to him, puzzled.
"Oh?"
"Twenty-one questions," he said.
"I'm not sure if I want to play twenty-one questions," I said hesitantly.
"Oh, come on, Kriss!" he said, grinning again. "Just as friends, and we'll keep it PG-13."
I was still hesitating. Why? You haven't seen him in a half a decade. This could be the chance to get to know him again. Maybe his answers will help you decide what it is you want.
I took a deep breath. "Fine, Jase," I said. "But I get to ask some questions, too."
He looked giddy. "Deal!" he said. "Favorite book?"
"You already know this," I said, laughing. "Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. And yours is The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien."
He shrugged. "I thought I'd start off easy. Hmmm... what's your favorite quote from Wuthering Heights?"
"I have not broken your heart - you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine."
Jase gave me an odd look. "This book sounds really depressing," he said.
"Yeah..." I sighed. "Some parts of it are more light-hearted than others, some of the characters are basically insane, and everybody hates one another."
"Then why do you love it so much?"
"I'm counting that as one of your questions," I responded. "I love how it's written, how poetic it can be. It plays into the whole soul-mate idea. Basically, it's a masterpiece of literary genius. Yes, it's depressing, but not all novels are meant for entertainment. Some are a heavier read than others," I felt the itch to pick the book up and read it from cover to cover - I've read it so many times I can recite most of it from memory. "My turn - if you could be any character, who would you be?"
"I don't think that thought has ever occurred to me before," he said, looking thoughtful. "Um... Jake Peralta?"
I burst out laughing. "And why is that?"
"I'm counting that as one of your questions," he threw my words back at me. "He's relatable, I guess? I haven't thought this through, you put me on the spot!" he frowned, like he was deep in thought. "I'm trying to think of a poetic way to say this," his brow furrowed with concentration. Amusement bubbled up inside me of how much thought he was putting into this. "I would be Jake Peralta because he's one of my favorite sitcom characters. No deeper meaning to it. Now, favorite musical?"
"Faust," I replied instantly. "Though it's an opera, not a musical. I guess if I had to choose a musical, it would be Les Mis. And you?"
"I've only ever seen Grease, on television once, and my mom took Weston and I to see Cats, once," he sighed. "I had no idea what was going on, so I guess Grease is my favorite. All I got from Cats is that it's about a bunch of depressed cats who want to die."
"That is not what Cats is about," I protested. "Each cat is making a case as to why they're worthy to enter the Heaviside Layer and be reborn as a younger, better-looking cat."
"And the Heaviside Layer is cat heaven," Jase said. He stopped walking and folded his arms. "I rest my case."
"Agree to disagree," I said, facing him. We were by the pond, the afternoon sun dancing off the water, making it sparkle. "Favorite movie?"
"The Fellowship of the Ring. Favorite color?"
"Lavender. Favorite song?"
"Duel of the Fates from Star Wars. Favorite food?"
"Chocolate, which you knew already," I laughed. "What's the most embarrassing thing you've done to get a crush's attention?"
"I normally don't have to do anything," he said, then met my gaze - his eyes were dancing with amusement. "But there was this one time I had to give a girl a white rose in order to escort her to dinner..."
I shoved his arm. "Shut up," I said. "I'm being serious."
"So am I," he responded. "And don't look so surprised, Kriss, you know how I feel about you."
I morphed my features into a neutral state. "That wasn't very embarrassing..."
"It was for me," he said. "First, all of your friends were there, and then they left, which made it even more awkward, and then you just stood there staring at me for quite some time, not saying anything! For a moment, I thought you were going to reject me."
"Sorry," I said. "You just caught me off guard... and I was remembering when you gave me a rose when we were kids."
"You are reluctantly forgiven," he said. "Dating history?"
"I don't have one," I blurted out, then blushed.
He blinked. "You haven't dated anybody?"
I shook my head. "I tend to reject everybody within a five-mile radius."
"Have you ever kissed anybody?"
"Of course I have!" I exclaimed.
"Besides me?" he raised an eyebrow.
"I've kissed Pipes a few times."
"On stage?"
"Of course on stage!" I snapped. "As much as I dislike her, I wouldn't do that to Cordelia!"
"So I'm the only person you've ever kissed for real?" he looked... thrilled. "I feel so special."
"You should feel special," I said, rolling my eyes.
"Damn, Kriss," he said. "So, you're a virgin?"
"That depends on the context. Physically or mentally?"
He didn't miss a beat. "Physically, of course. I already know you're mentally corrupted."
"I'm friends with Megan. I have to be mentally corrupted," this conversation has taken a weird turn. "And to answer your question, physically, yes, I'm a virgin, and proud to be one!" I narrowed my eyes at him. "And are you a virgin?"
Jase blushed. God, I've made him blush. "No," he said. "I lost my virginity three years ago. Somewhat regret it. It was a graduation party. Everybody was emotional, horny, and drunk. Title of my sex tape. I then dated the girl for a year. She was quite... clingy."
"So much for keeping this PG-13," I muttered. "Um... dream job?"
"No clue," he said. "I think the fact that I still live with my dad and came here with my brother speaks for itself."
"Doesn't Weston also still live with you?"
"Yes," Jase agreed. "But Weston is going to take over my dad's... empire, for lack of a better word. I'm the second-born. I'm always criticized for not being as successful or smart as Weston. I could probably join the army or something and Dad wouldn't care less... though I think Weston would."
"Ah, so I take it he's not the biggest prick in the world?"
"No, he is," Jase laughed. "He's just a supportive prick," he sighed. "What's it like to be an only child?"
I shrugged. "It was all right, up until I was nine. My parents and I were pretty close. Then we moved here, and Megan and Mrs. Green started living with us, and I realized how lonely I'd actually been. Megan and I were - and still are - inseparable."
"I wish I had friends like that," Jase said, somewhat bitterly. "All of my so-called friends are just entitled rich-boys I went to school with."
Now this conversation has taken a somewhat depressing turn.
I also didn't really know how to respond to this.
As I tried to find something to say - maybe a subject change, I heard something.
And by the look on Jase's face, he heard it, too.
Behind us, in the manor, somebody screamed.
My brains cell just said nope - hence the weird turn this chapter took.
I also hoped nobody minded Twenty-One Questions. I tried to not make it too cliche, but it was hard... I put it in this chapter basically for that whole virgin talk, because when that idea went through my head while planning this book, I found it funny. And Twenty-One Questions were interactive, too - you can answer the questions in the comments.
Okay, so we didn't quite reach twenty-one questions, but they kept getting off-track, and then somebody screamed (the same cliff-hanger two chapters in a row, I'm so evil). Also, I had another cliche - the whole girl's-a-virgin-and-the-guy's-not, but it's not really in Kriss's character... though we do have a male virgin... our lovely antagonist. (and we have Megan, who is most definitely not a virgin.)
Right. Any more questions?
Don't forget to vote and comment!
Love you all!
~ Evie