17 | Cold Comfort
?? ?????????? ??
My sister's car smells like a million different fruits and those fuzzy cherries keep irritating me, bobbing about in the corner of my eyes.Ava and Riley sit in the backseat, talking at a low, repetitive volume.
I prefer my own car, even the parts of it that need to be fixed. That clinking noise that it makes, seemingly invisible every time I try and solve it. Maybe I should go and get it fixed properly.Either way, without those flaws, the silent space is glaringly obvious.
I flick my eyes up to the rearview mirror to catch Ava. She's sat there gently, oversized hoodie falling over her body. It's funny to watch her like that, with her guard down, even more so than when she was drunk. Right now she thinks there are no eyes on her at all.
The little curve in her soft smile, the way her blue eyes flash through shadow as I drive, the fluttering of her eyelashes as she blinks. It's almost like taking a photo of her, the same glowy cadence that always seems to follow her.
I should be worried about that. Recently her gentle beauty usually captured in a lens is spilling dangerously into the real world. When I first saw her, this morning, with that hair spilled down her cheeks I couldn't keep my mind from trailing back into those thoughts from last night.
She looked too pretty. It caught my attention more than it ever has.
Her eyes suddenly flash to mine in the mirror. There's a moment of something.Whatever it is makes me feel like I'm suddenly holding my breath underwater. But, unlike usual, her gaze doesn't harden. She looks confused almost, like she's trying to work something out.
I wonder if it has anything to do with what I said. That she doesn't really want me to leave her alone. I saw it in her face, that weakness, even if she didn't say the words out loud.
I even thought for one sinful second that she saw me in this same new light. She didn't pull away when our hands touched, nothing fell from that smart mouth when I told her to eat.
Something was different, that or I'm losing my mind.
It makes me think she was pushing me away because some part of her enjoys our strange relationship as much as I do. Fuck. I shouldn't like any of this, looking at her, watching her expression flicker, think about her.
It's only been a few days and I haven't managed to get her out of my head at all. She's tangled in there, wrapped in the fabric of my mind more than I'd realised.
Riley's voice suddenly bursts out louder and both our eyes scurry away, mine flickering back to the road, hers to her lap. But I can still see the imprint of her gaze faintly beneath my pupils, the remnants of that sea of blue.
How the fuck is she doing this to me?
When we get to the hospital Riley leaps out the car, snatching her keys back off me before linking her arms in Ava's. I trail behind the two, watching their quiet conversation. They act exactly like they did as kids, I see glimpses of it sometimes.
It makes something close to guilt churn in my chest. My thoughts towards Ava are getting messy, messy in a way that doesn't mix with Riley's plan for me.
But I shouldn't feel guilty. I haven't done anything, my thoughts have only bordered on inappropriate. I flick myself in the arm as we come through the doors of the hospital, a warning to myself. Stop thinking about her.
Inside stand their two other friends, the ones whose names never stick. I barely have room in my head for Cole right now.
They hug, smiles forming and a sort of knowing about this situation. I don't know Cole, what any of this is about, but drunk fighting could practically go on my CV. His headspace isn't good, I can tell that from everyone's solemn looks alone.
When Ava approaches that boy with dark hair and blue eyes they hold a moment. He says something softly that I can't hear before they hug, firmly. I barely realise my eyes are glued to his hands around her back, pulling her tighter towards him.
I'm staring. Why am I staring?
They seem close and it's making my head swirl. If I think, without the barrier of rationality, there's a simmering feeling of unease. I don't like it. I really don't like it.
They pull away after the longest seconds of my life and Riley turns away from the receptionist, directing us all towards a room. Again, I trail behind them all, feeling like a ghost. That or a grossly underpaid chauffeur.
"Why the fuck are you here?" Cole's croaky voice echoes as soon as Riley pushes the door open.
She bounds up to his bed but stops upon hearing his sentence, frowning.
"Is being a dick a concussion symptom I'm not aware of?"
He groans dramatically, pushing himself upwards on two hands.
His eyes are both bruised, one completely purple and almost swelled shut.
His lip has been split, a crater of skin crusting with dark blood and the rest of his jaw looks fairly damaged.
His whole face seems pretty fucked up. Who the fuck did he get into a fight with? The hulk?
It reminds me of things I don't think about. I mean, shit like this always does, but this really does. This doesn't seem like a bar fight. Anyone I used to see like this was intentionally targeted, given an unmistakablestamp of damage.
It reminds me of a specific person's damage, actually.
"No, it's nice to see you all," Cole mumbles, "It's just really embarrassing."
The girl with the curly hair gives him a pitying smile, "It is, isn't it? Maybe next time you'll think before getting fucked up by a stranger?"
"Ughhh, don't even remind me." He pauses to let out a strained, pain-induced noise, "I'm wiping it from my mind forever."
I stop paying too much attention after that. I stay hovering at the doorway as all his friends gather around, half scolding him, half relieved that it's not worse. It really looks like it should be, though.
I have a small, passing thought. He does look like he was beaten up intentionally, or at least by someone who could do a lot more damage - like they were holding back purposefully. It's stupid, strange older memories bleeding into the future, but I can't seem to shake it.
When Ava reaches over to give him the best hug she can over the side of the hospital bed I'm only fixated on those purply shades across his eyes, the dark red seeping through his skin. It's familiar, too fucking familiar.
I can suddenly see every scar still lingering under my own skin, feel every bruise faded from my body, see those daunting glimpses of a past that is usually so easy to ignore. Something stutters in my brain for a moment, pauses, chokes on itself.
My chest clenches, breath warped. There's something hot and unwanted pulsing through my skin. There's a single moment I can't breathe at all.
And then it passes.
It always does, because facing it would probably crack the earth around me.
But, unlike every other one of these stupid jitters, the reason it's stopped is because I might have realised something worse.
On the side of Cole's neck, just beneath his ear is something I haven't seen in a long time. It's a small scratch, but it's deep, too deep. Where the blood has dried you can barely make out a shape, it's small enough that you wouldn't question it at all.
But that's the point. You only recognise that carved out 'X' if you're the one it's meant for.
And suddenly I'm fourteen and that same mark is dragged down the side of a neck I don't know, a man who I've never seen in my life.
And I'm watching that line of red trickle down his neck slowly.
I can't look away, even if I wanted to. And I don't really understand what I'm seeing because I'm not sure what substances are resting under my skin.
The memory is so vivid I feel nauseous. I can't remember the last time something I actually can picture slipped through the cracks of my memory.
Everything in me is frozen, processing, flicking through possibilities that don't even seem real. I was right, about Cole's condition. It was calculated. That's not a coincidence. That's a sign, a warning. The otherparty in this wasn't just another drunk asshole.
My head works harder than it should. There are two very bad possibilities. That the 'X' was for Cole, that he's mixed up with those people. Or, that this is a sign for me.
Without much comprehension my eyes drag away from the scene in front of me, followed by my body. It's like the room has been filled with nauseating gas, that or the oxygen is being quickly suctioned out the space. I need to get out.
My hand fumble as they push open the hospital doors, passing two people who only look like vague figures in the corners of my eyes. I'm hoping desperately that the fresh air will drown out the dread in my lungs.
The questions circling my mind are too big, too confronting. What the fuck is happening? Is that message for me? What does it mean? There's no rulebook with this shit, it's usually just pretty obvious what you've done to piss off the wrong people.
And the only thing I did which fits that could probably give me a heart attack. I wouldn't be surprised if that happened to me right now, actually.
When my chest begins to unwind itself a little I take in where I actually am, where I've wandered off to.
A quiet part of the parking lot, there's only a few cars back here and the quiet whisk of odd trash caught in the wind.
It feels safer, like whatever happened inside has stayed there and contained itself.
"Chill the fuck out," I hiss quietly to myself.
I don't know if it's helping but I need to do something to stop the derailing in my head. I haven't freaked out like this in years, I'm not starting again. Not now.
My muttering is interrupted then by a hum of a car, approaching from near by. I barely glance up, not expecting anything at all, but I'm struck by something unexpected. Or rather, someone.
"Long time, no see," A voice speaks.
I'm blinking but it doesn't feel real. My words aren't forming, processing even. All I can see is the man in front of me, the dark, messy mullet, fading into the tattoos trailing up his neck. Those beady, dark eyes, an abyss of colour.
He stares at me too, much less awestruck. He's revelling in this. His face is badly suppressing a wide grin, some silver shining through the parts of his teeth that are visible. His head tilts, one hand gripping the steering wheel.
"What? You don't want to speak to me anymore?" He goads, voice slick with ugly confidence, "We used to be pals, Nole."
Nole. No one's called me that in years.
For some reason that snaps me out my trance, brings me back to the present.
"What the fuck do you want, Diego?" I ask with a level of force that surprises me.
He just smirks, enjoying my frustration. He doesn't care, he's probably not even listening to a word I say. He never did.
"You got my brother's little...present?" He asks casually, as if he's not referring to my sister's friend, who has nothing to do with any of this, being unfairly targeted.
"It's hardly your brother's," I shoot back, narrowing my eyes at him, "He can't do shit himself, not for a long time."
Diego laughs, deep and for way too long. It's irritating, pulsing in my ears. It swirls with the hatred of seeing him again, hearing a voice I pushed out of my subconscious a long time ago. None of this is fucking funny.
"That's where you're wrong. He gets out in two months."
What?
The words don't even sound real. Things I'd made peace with, accepted firmly so I wouldn't ever have to think about them again, are coming undone in front of my face. He was sentenced for ten years, just over half of that time has passed. It's too soon.
I don't even have to say anything to display the confusion on my face and it makes Diego rumble with another low, mocking chuckle.
"You'd be surprised how much good behaviour gets you, and my brother, he deserves a fucking gold star."
His brother deserves to rot for a long time. Longer than what he's in there for, definitely longer than this half-assed short sentence. I can't even think about the implications of that so I switch to more important questions.
"What the fuck has this got to do with me?" My voice is harsher now, burning with something angrier, "What has this got to do with the innocent guy you pulled into this shit?"
"You're still the same, you know that?" He tuts, looking off to the side. I watch his hand fall over the car's red metal. "You deny, deny, deny. You're the reason he's been stuck behind bars for years, the only fucking reason."
He spits it like venom, like if there weren't weird rules to this stuff he'd kill me right here in the middle of the parking lot.
Maybe it's justified because I am the reason.
I should've known they'd figure it out, hell, they probably figured it out years ago and were just waiting for me to come back.
"Cole and the rest of your sister's friends are just collateral. Again, a little pre-release present from my brother," He adds, like it makes sense, like it's the most normal thing he could say.
Fucking asshole. Not only has this conversation unlocked memories, it's unleashing something deeper. That anger, the emotion I don't feel because it's smothered by everything else, is humming in me like background radiation. My jaw clenches, skin pulled tight.
"Leave me, and them, the fuck alone, you and your psycho brother can rot together, away from my sister, away from all of this," I don't even realise how angry I am till my voice is borderline shouting, "The past is done, we are fucking done."
Diego just tuts, unaffected, "This is where you're wrong. Leaving to a fancy little college doesn't erase anything. It gives people long, ugly years to plan what'll happen as soon as you come back."
I blink, trying to force the resentment swirling in my chest to translate into something tangible. Physical aggression won't help, telling him he's a worthless piece of shit won't help. I can't seem to come up with any other options. Something hazy, close to fury, blurs across my vision.
"Oh, look-" He muses suddenly, gesturing behind me with his head, "It's my favourite one of your sister's little friends. Fuck, the things I'd like to do to her..."
The two parts of the sentence hit me separately. First, when I snap round to see Ava halfway across the lot, paused and glaring at me. What is she doing?
The second bit is a lot less confusion and a lot morewhat the hell did he just say?
"Don't everfucking talk about her like that," I spit, that anger now simmering harder, "Keep her out your mouth, Diego. I'm serious."
"Chill, man," He sighs, calm in that way that makes my anger seem unreasonable. That manipulative prick. "This was just a little welcome home, gives you something to think about for two months, hm?"
I can't pick out much of what's in my head. It's a sticky, vicious cobweb of Ava, Diego's venomous scowl, his threats, my own stifled anger.
"I'll tell you a secret, though," He continues after a pause, "I'm really going to miss herass, highlight of my day."
My fingers clench into solid fists without a second thought, arms braced and this encapsulating defensiveness shoots through my body. He has no right to talk about her at all, let alone say things like that. Part of me wants to smash my fist across his stupidly smug face.
Maybe I would've a few years ago. Maybe I will if he stays silent a few seconds longer.
"Careful there, Nole," His eyes glance at my tight fists, "Wouldn't want to relive the past, would we now?"
I hate how much he's tormenting me, twisting deeply into things I barely consider weaknesses anymore. I can hear my heartbeat thumping in my ears, the world in front of me seeming so far away, so distant despite a rush of feelings consuming every part of me.
Diego just presses his foot down, flashing another calculated smile before shooting forward, along the concrete and towards the exit. So casually, like he hasn't thrown cracks into a world I thought I'd sealed for good.
My head is spinning, hands still clenched.
But then, despite everything, I turn around. I look at Ava, still standing there, still paused and looking at me with something I can't decipher this far away.
And then I'm moving gently towards her. Because, for some reason, my first instinct is to check if she's okay.
I can deal with me later, shove everything back down into my gut where it belongs, if my thoughts are adding up then what she's about to say is more important.
"Who- how... do you know that guy?" She sputters, blinking at me like I'm a ghost.
I gaze over her face, pink lips and gentle,hurt expression. It's a lot of things at once, some mix of confusion, upset, fear,maybe. I know, without thinking much, that the car I just hovered beside was the one she burbled to me about yesterday. The one following her.
"Is that who was following you?" I ask, voice low with concern.
Her eyes widen, tone breathless, "How did you know...?"
"You mentioned it, yesterday, briefly..." I hesitate a little, "... but you said it was your dad."
Her expression takes on something else, blankness. Something I know well, that I'm probably trying to regain right now. It tells me her dad is something to avoid, to not think about, an emotion so overwhelming it's not worth feeling at all.
She swallows a lump in her throat, "I didn't know for sure, I- I just assumed..."
Guilt rests on my tongue. She was scared because of me, because of people that see her as a pawn in a game I'm somehow still involved in. That guilt is overridden by something else though, a need to prove that she's okay, safe in this moment.
I shake my head firmly, "It's not your dad. It's my shit, old stupid fucking bullshit that has nothing to do with you."
She digests the information, slowly. I can't stop my next question from trickling out my mouth.
"Why would you think it was your dad, Ava?"
Her eyes meet mine, something bad swirling through the blue. I'm so encapsulated by her pupils that I almost don't notice her hands, the way they're trembling slightly. As soon as my gaze drifts across her skin I act without thinking.
Slowly, I take her hands in mine, a gentle touch that does actually make her pause. I don't want to over-step, part of me thinks this might make her uncomfortable, but she doesn't tell me to stop. She just watches the faint touch, sparks between our skin.
The trembles are still there and I resist the urge to squeeze her hands tighter.
Her voice eventually comes out in a hollowed whisper, "I don't want to talk about him, please."
I meet her small expression, her hesitant body language. Unlike her usual guardedness I can tell that even acknowledging her dad's existence is hard for her, fuck, it looks like it's killing her. And it's killing me that she's trusting me with the things that hurt her.
It feels silly to reflect on anything right now but this, whatever it is, is so different to any other moment we've ever had.
"The guy in that car won't go near you again, I fucking promise you that, Ava," I assert, my voice a strong whisper. Her body pulls a little closer to mine with our makeshift hand-holding, "And if he does I'll-"
She shakes her head, hard and confused, interrupting me, "Who are you?
It's a good question, one I can't answer myself.
"I'm not the person who knows guys like that, not anymore."
Whether it's true or not, I have to be. I have to resolve this shit quickly, and it seems like that timeframe is about two months. Two months to clear my head, work out how to get myself out of a place I didn't think I was still in.
I notice then that Ava's hands have almost stilled, now warm in my fingers. If I wasn't trying to read how okay she is I'd probably be concerned with the burning in my chest at our touch. It's scarily close to things I feel when she's too pretty.
"I came outside to tell you something," She says with a deep, steadier breath, "God, this is stupid."
I shake my head, "No, it's not."
Nothing she says is ever stupid.
Reluctantly, she begins to admit something, "I was going to tell you I maybe, kinda, don't like you leaving me alone. Not talking to me."
It's a truth I already figured out but it's surprising to hear her say it. Maybe that's what that softness in her eyes has been since this morning, some part of her letting go of old reservations.
"But now I know this shit is to do with you and I... I just don't know what to think. That dude really scared me."
Diego. I swear I'm going to fucking kill him one day.
I shouldn't think like that but any boundaries in my brain seem to dissipate when it comes to her.
"Hey, hey," I say softly, hands slipping away from hers.
Instead, one finds its way to her chin, grazing the soft skin and tilting it upwards, "I don't want you to be scared of me.
I'm really sorry people from my past think it's okay to intrude my life like that.
I didn't know he was following you, now I do he won't fucking do it again.
I'd never purposefully put you in danger. "
She sighs softly, breath light against my fingers. I'm closer than I think I've ever been, individual blue flecks visible in her eyes. She's still, not moving, not protesting. She's letting me do what I hope is comforting her.
"You've seen, that I'm trying to be better, right?" I add.
She hesitates, eyes searching mine, then nods. It's small, but it's real.
"That's why I said I'd leave you alone... I thought it would make things better. Maybe I thought it'd make me better. For you, for my sister, for everyone."
"But it just made things weird," Her small voice echoes back, finishing my sentence like she's inside my head. It's worrying that she actually is.
My hand stays beneath her chin, her eyes forced up to meet mine. It's gentle touch but it's weirdly commanding, like she's giving in to something. She looks good, worse than the incessant prettiness, she looks fucking beautiful.
And I can't keep my gaze away from her lips.
And my gut is swirling with a need to let her consume me.
"I don't hate you. I don't think I ever have," She eventually breathes, an admission, "I just want us to be more... normal."
Normal. I tried normal, at the photoshoot. I've been trying normal this past week. But normal isn't my skin fizzing at the smallest touch, normal isn't caring this much when I barely feel for anything else at all. Normal definitely isn't having my eyes glued to her face.
But this is about her, about what she wants. Ava wants normal.
"So I can do you favours then, Birdie?" I ask gently, lightening the mood a little. I don't notice the nickname until it's out in the air. Shit.
She frowns, falling out of whatever softer state she's just been in. My hand drops too, suddenly very aware of its placement. But I'm still close enough to inhale the rose-scent clinging to her skin. It's strangely addictive.
"Yes, if you have to," She murmurs, tilting her head, "But nocalling me Birdie."
I nod. It makes sense, it's too old, too much of the past caught in two syllables. Maybe I need a new nickname for her.
But the only words floating around in my head are synonymous with beautiful.
Nicknames that aren't mine to think, let alone call her.
The bad thoughts breech through my conscious because suddenly a new question is resting on my lips.
Looking at her face makes it seem important. I shouldn't say it. Fuck it.
"Is calling you beautiful still off limits?"
I regret the words immediately. They're suggestive and not fucking normal.
But Ava's face isn't the same defensive one it was when I first let those words slip. It's still and searching for words she doesn't have. She doesn't know how close to let me get, where or how to draw boundaries. She chews the inside of her lip gently.
But, just as she opens her mouth to speak it's cut off by another, vaguely familiar voice.
"Is everything alright?"
I turn around, met with the hovering body of that boy that seems to cling to Ava like a rash. Or he doesn't and my brain just wants to paint him that way.
"Oh, hey, Alex," Ava says with a sharp inhale of breath, "I'm fine."
Alex. That's his name. For once I don't feel like forgetting it. Instead, I scan his features, the way he's looking at Ava like she could be in trouble. Like I wasn't the one out here, making sure she was okay. Like she said, she's fine.
"Are you sure?" He asks again, eyes darting between us suspiciously.
She nods dismissively, "I just needed some air, that's all."
His gaze flickers to me with a silent question.
"Nolan was just getting some air too," She answers, "Trust me, we're all good here."
As soon as she throws him a somewhat convincing smile he relaxes, shoulders visibly tensing as he walks a little closer, motioning for us to follow him.
"Visiting hours are almost over. Cole wants to milk his poor injured boy treatment as much as possible."
Ava scoffs a laugh before muttering to herself, "Of course he does."
It makes me remember why he's like that. Cole might have a drinking problem but that fight wasn't random, he was targeted. I can't tell Ava, it'll scare her. I'm lucky she even wants anything to do with me after it sounds like Diego practically stalked her.
That danger can't be anyone else's problem. It's mine to deal with.
The thought makes me catch her arm just as she begins to walk, bringing her to an abrupt stop. She turns her head around to face me, eyes wide in expectant questioning.
"I mean it, I won't let anyone touch you," My voice is firm, truthful, "Don't worry about this, you don't have to be scared."
She hesitates, searching my expression before a smile slithers it's way onto her face.
"I mean, I did tell him I'd rip his tiny dick off, so I wasn't that scared."
My eyebrows raise, amused, "You did?"
"Mhm," She purrs before slinking out my grip, spinning back to walk away again.
And even though her tone is jokey I can tell that she's thankful. There was something in her eyes that looked relieved, looked like it might even trust me.
It makes me realise that I care about her, making sure she's safe, that nothing hurts her.
I don't know when it happened but I seem to want to protect her more than anything else.
?? ??