(no subject)
It is Wednesday, May 26th. I have six days to wrap up what I need to in Flight. I have approximately three more scenes to write and pop in there, and it will be ready to be read! I'll let yall know June 1st if you'd be awesome enough to want to give it a read through before I start querying.
June 1st= D Day, and I am up for the challenge. Anyone else have big goals for June?
Oh, and to make up for my lack of posts/reviews/etc, here's a teaser for your pleasure (I hope ;))
Trudging to class each day has its benefits, and I reach the tower in no time, sprinting deftly up the stairs. I knock on the door quietly before I swing it open. Then I gasp. Asher is half naked, doing push ups on the wooden planked floor, his naked muscles glistening with sweat. Thoroughly embarrassed, I turn my head away, but not before stealing a good look. He holds himself up with graceful ease, his skin a milky pale, with compact muscles built in all the right places. Across his back is what looks like a large tattoo, but upon closer inspection I realize it’s a scar, with deep red welts in the form of a serpent winding across his back. Asher hops up from the ground and shakes out his shoulders.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to just walk in,” I apologize.
“It’s alright. I forgot you were a night owl, too,” he says dryly, grabbing his crisp white dress shirt from the sofa and pulling it on. I notice he leaves the buttons undone, showing off the slender curve of his stomach. I need to stop looking.
“Where’d you get that scar?” I ask instead. I remain planted at the doorway, watching cautiously as he plops onto the couch and pulls two white socks on over his feet
“I was born with it,” he says calmly. He looks at me expectantly and pats the cushion beside him.
“Right. And I’m supposed to believe that?” I say, moving to sit down on the ridiculously uncomfortable arm of the battered sofa. He smiles as if from an inside joke.
“Shark bite?” he suggests.
“Still too ridiculous. I don’t even think sharks exist anymore,” I point out.
“What about a crazy ninja carving?” he says, slumping onto the couch into a groove fit expressly for him.
“That’s a little more believable, I think I can accept that,” I joke. I’m enjoying his flashy smile a little too much when I remember the last time we’d spoken, and how much of a jackass he’d been.
“So what are you today, Dr. Jeckyll or Mr. Hyde?” I ask, sliding down onto the couch cushions, lumpy and old they might be. My heart rate has slowed down enough that I don’t feel like such a nervous mess.
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“In the hallway you walk by me without noticing me, and now you’re joking with me like we’re old friends. What is that about?”
“Ah, right. Sorry about that. I do have a reputation to uphold in this school, you know? I can’t just be buddies with the new girl, what would people say?” he says. I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.
“Fuck what people say,” I reply, slightly annoyed.
“Look, it’s really for your own good that we don’t speak in public. I’m okay to chill out here, but you don’t understand how gossipy this school is, and how much they like to gossip about me. I am, of course, the most handsome guy in the school,” he says, laughing.
“Right,” I reply, but in my mind, he’s right. His sloppy dark hair and devil-may-care attitude make up for his lankiness, and the slightly angular face I once thought dorky now screams with appeal.
“And there’s Darcy to think about too. I know she’s my sister and whatever but she is a super bitch, and loves to bring people down. You’re already on her shit list for dating that Nelson kid,” he continues. I realize he means Tor, and I can’t help but blush.
“We’re not exactly together,” I feel the need to clarify.
“Together, not together, what does it matter? The way he makes googly eyes at you is enough to make anyone want to puke, but Darcy’s still hurt deep down from when he broke up with her. She would never admit it, of course, but I know the pain’s still there. You’ll be safer from her if she doesn’t know that we know each other,” he says.
“What about Gabe? He doesn’t seem to care about any of that,” I comment. Asher rolls his eyes at the mention his brother.
“Gabe doesn’t care about anything, that’s the problem. He’s perfectly content just floating by, like everything will eventually fall into place,” he says.
“And you and Darcy take it upon yourselves to be his guidance counsellors?” I guess, taking note the sour expression my comment brings to Asher’s face.
“You wouldn’t understand, you don’t have any siblings, do you?”
I bite my lower lip hard, drawing a few drops of blood. I’m struggling between punching him in the face and bursting out into tears.
“My brother died last year,” I murmur, trying to keep my composure. Asher’s gaze immediately softens, and it seems he’s about to reach out and touch me before he backs off suddenly.
“I’m sorry about that,” he says quietly, turning his eyes to the floor.
“I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it, what with all of the rumours going around,” I reply, putting my tough skin back on over the fragile, scarred tissue underneath.
“I don’t like to listen to what other people have to say.”
“Haven’t you heard that I’m a murderer? That I killed my own brother? Aren’t you nervous?” I spit out. I’m on the verge of becoming hysterical, nearing the point of hyperventilation. Asher seems uncomfortably out of his element.
“I don’t believe it. You’re not a killer,” he replies.
“How do you know?” I say. He shrugs, placing his arms lazily behind his head.
“You’ve been alone up here with me a few times now and you’ve barely let yourself sit down on the couch. You’re nervous, but not in the way a killer would be. Your eyes aren’t shadowed constantly with secrets, and your body language suggests that you probably want to be closer to me in a completely non-killer way,” he says, giving me a lopsided grin.
“Are you some kind of expert?” I ask, suspicious.
“No, but I make it my job to be able to read people. Makes it easy to tell if people are trustworthy or not,” he says.
“Do you think I’m trustworthy?” I ask. He looks me up and down, and I feel like I’m starting to sweat. He looks like he’s really judging me, taking in every detail of my body. Then he shrugs.
“If you weren’t, I wouldn’t be sharing my best killer-finding secrets,” he jokes.
“What if I’m not an intentional murderer? What if I’m a killer by proxy, or I can’t quite remember how everything happened?” His eyes narrow slightly at this, like he’s deep in thought.
“Sometimes things aren’t so black and white, I think. Come here,” he says, standing up and holding out his hand to me.
“What are you doing?”
“Just trust me, I want to show you something,” he says. I hesitate, then place my hand in his, the feel of his skin against mine sending tingles through to my brain. He helps me up from the couch, then leads me over to the window he’d snuck out of the first night. I shake my head violently, no. I can handle vicious harpies and blood and bullet-wounds, but I’m terrified of heights. That’s why I like to shoot things out of the sky.
“Come on, don’t be such a baby,” he says, propping the window open. The cool breeze from outside caresses my face, goading me forward like a Venus fly trap.
“What if I fall?”
“You won’t, just trust me, okay?” he says again. My heart is thumping in my chest, telling me not to move further, but Asher’s arm is gently pushing me forward. I estimate the height of the clock tower is about one hundred feet, and I could probably survive it if I landed properly, so I take a deep breath and take a step out, securing my foot on the two-foot ledge outside. I take another step, gripping onto Asher’s arm for dear life as he gracefully pops out onto the ledge with me. Standing still for a moment, I take deep breaths, allowing myself to calm down. I’m safe here, I haven’t fallen.
“Wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asks me.
“Easy for you to say,” I reply, barely opening one eye to glare at him.
“Now sit down. I promise you won’t fall,” he says. Using him and the edges of the window for support, I lower myself until my butt is firmly planted on the ledge. Once Asher is seated beside me, I let my eyes open.
“Wow,” I gasp as my eyes take in the sight. From this vantage point the night sky seems so luminous. My eyes pick out every tiny star grouped in the massive constellations that swirl above me. The minute inner workings of the world seem to pale in comparison to what I’m feeling right now.
“It’s strange, isn’t it? The earth is just the right distance from the sun to support life, and yet there are millions of other stars out there, and we still haven’t found anything quite like us,” he says quietly. I look at him and he’s gazing up at the sky, his shaggy hair being gently tossed over his face by the breeze.
“Even after nuclear war, the earth still moves on, adapting itself so it can survive. We’re all just a part of the bigger picture, a tiny percentage of the shit that goes on day to day. Every time I come out here it reminds me of that, and I find some sort of solace in it, you know?” I can only nod, my eyes still fixated on the different patterns above me. We sit in complete silence, like we don’t even need words to speak for our thoughts to intertwine. He holds my hand firmly and it feels so natural, so right.
“Thank you for sharing this with me,” I say finally. I want to stay out longer, but the band of light above the horizon is beginning to glow, signalling morning, and I haven’t slept at all yet.
“I’d better get going.” I slip back through the window cautiously, relieved when my feet land once again on solid wood. Asher follows me through the window, dropping once again to the tattered old couch.
“Thank you again, Asher,” I say before I head out the door.
“Don’t mention it,” he replies, stifling a yawn. I take one more look at him before creaking the door open to leave, knowing that tomorrow at school he’ll go back to being a stranger.