Chapter 10 - Jonah - Past
ten
Jonah - Past
BABY, I’M THE DEVIL.
I didn’t feel like going to class the next day, so I didn’t. Instead, I took a walk.
Rather than the beach path, I went in the other direction, through the thinner parts of the forest that blended with the large grassy field separating Port Skelton from Meadow Park.
I had no business going this way. There was nothing to see or do in Meadow Park. Nothing good anyway. But the beach felt like my spot with Becca, and I didn’t want to go there without her. I didn’t want to go there with her right now, though, either.
After Bee left last night, I’d found it difficult to sleep. The events at the pier played over and over in my mind. Dex shirtless. Dex spitting blood into the sand. Dex being hurt.
It was Archer who’d been the one to go up to him after the fight, I’d realized, after talking to Bee about everything that went down. What were they to each other? Was Archer the type to check over Dex’s wounds? He didn’t seem like it. Did he have someone for that? Why does it matter?
Then there was the brawl afterward, and the ugly feeling inside that had me tripping that fuckhead.
Why? Because he was disgusted that Dex had licked him?
Why did that bother me? I’d be disgusted too in his position…
wouldn’t I? Then Dex came out of nowhere to defend me.
Or was it just because he was pissed about losing the fight?
Maybe it had nothing to do with me at all, and I was just overthinking it.
I had far too many questions and not enough answers, and they circled inside me like sharks going in for the kill, something awful yet inevitable swirling around and around.
Dex. Dex. Dex.
Everything revolved around him. All of it was his fault.
I needed to understand whatever these feelings were. I needed to make them stop.
The grass here was long, unkempt, typical of the area in and around Meadow Park. It was such a pretty name for such a shitty place.
Across the field were blocks of land containing run-down houses with yards full of junk.
Their fences were a mix of metal or wood so aged they’d sunk into the dirt like skeletons in a boneyard—sagging outward like not even they could stand proud and tall in a place like this.
It looked like a dump. Litter and trash tangled in some of the taller blades of dying grass, and weeds scattered throughout the field.
In the distance there was a dog barking, mean and ragged, answered by silence and something on the breeze, unpleasant and unwelcoming.
I shouldn’t be here.
I kept walking, wading through the field, destination unknown until a new scent caught my attention, just as unpleasant but far more familiar.
Smoke rose from a grassy area about twenty feet to my left, so I altered my path to investigate. The long grass concealed its source until it was far too late to change my mind—because the body that lay in the grass was already looking in my direction when he came into view.
Ice eyes stared back at me.
Silence cut through my chest like a blade. A staring match that restricted my airflow like Darth fucking Vader was choking me with the Force as it caught me in its invisible and terrifying pull.
The voice in my head told me to turn around and back away, as if I were the prey in a predator’s sights. But fear and something much worse kept me in place as Dex Weller stared back at me.
Pursed between wounded lips was the source of the smoke, a thin tendril that weaved and danced into the air from the end of his cigarette.
Despite the weight of his gaze, he seemed completely unbothered by my presence, lying in the grass with the hand resting behind his head obscured by thick curly locks a few shades darker than the dying meadow. The other was on his stomach over a dark green shirt and his faded leather jacket.
I forgot how to be when he looked at me.
There was always so much noise in my head, so many thoughts and feelings and rage that all tangled into a big ball of itchy something that I couldn’t unravel no matter how hard I tried. But it wasn’t there when he looked at me. It was silent. I didn’t know what to do with that.
I’m not sure how long passed with us simply staring at each other before he finally broke the tension and spoke. “Are you waiting for an invitation or something?”
“What?”
He rolled his eyes. “Lie down or fuck off. You’re blocking the view.”
The view?
I turned and looked up at the sky. It was as bleak as the field below it, more white than blue with all the clouds. When I turned back to him again, his gaze had finally left me to cast upwards. He was cloud gazing?
I wasn’t sure what to do with that. It felt like I should do something with that. Like this small piece of information meant something.
“Well?” He sounded annoyed this time.
Before I could even consider what the fuck I was doing, I was moving, my body obeying some unspoken command as I sank down into the grass beside him.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears as silence fell.
I was looking up at the sky, but I wasn’t aware of anything but him.
He filled my senses. All I could hear was his breath, with each exhale sending a new plume of smoke twisting into the atmosphere.
Any time he shifted, I had to fight the urge to look at him.
What the fuck was I doing here? Lying in the grass, looking up at the clouds. Why didn’t I want to leave?
“Smoke?” He spoke again after what could have been seconds or minutes.
“What about it?” Something like panic fluttered in my stomach every time I heard the low rasp of his voice.
“You’re kinda stupid, huh? I mean, do you want one? A cigarette, City Boy.”
My brain short-circuited at the insult, and I sputtered and stuttered, torn between responding to the insult or the offer.
“Go to hell,” I landed on.
“Where do you think we are?” I could hear the smirk in his voice.
It felt accurate, though. Hell, a.k.a. Port Skelton. “If this is hell, are you supposed to be a demon?” I responded before I thought better of it.
He chuckled, and my chest tightened.
“Nah, baby, I’m the devil.”
“Don’t call me that!” I snapped, mostly because I didn’t like whatever feelings suddenly sprang into existence at hearing the word “baby” leave his battered lips. His very soft-looking battered lips. I hadn’t even realized I’d turned to face him until he was staring back at me again.
“Whatever you say, City Boy.”
It wasn’t an insult, not really, but the way he said it made it feel like one. “Don’t call me that either. My name’s Jonah.”
“I know.” His lips tugged up in amusement. I don’t know how he knew my name, but the fact that he already did made that feeling building up inside me even stronger. Made it feel more urgent, like again I was supposed to do something with it.
“I’m not stupid,” I said after a moment, and even I could hear how sulky it sounded. I wanted to punch myself.
“Debatable.”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“I mean you picked a fight with one of the Deltran fuckheads last night and started a gang war. Sounds stupid to me.”
“I didn’t start a gang war. You getting involved started the damn gang war. If you hadn’t gotten involved, he would have just beaten me up, and that would have been the fucking end of it.”
He smiled again. “Yeah.”
Yeah? I didn’t know how to argue with yeah.
“Why did you do it?”
“Why did I get involved?”
I nodded. He shrugged. It pissed me off.
“You’re the stupid one,” I added, stupidly, knowing that provoking Dex Weller was not at all a smart thing to be doing, but instead of seeming insulted, he just smiled wider.
“We can both be stupid, then,” he said simply and turned back to the sky. I did the same, expecting us to fall back into silence but he spoke again. “Why did you do it?”
“Do what?” I asked, even though I knew what he was talking about.
“Why did you pick a fight with that waxed sasquatch?”
It took more effort than I would ever admit not to smile at that. “He said homophobic shit.”
He made a contemplative noise. “About me.”
It wasn’t a question, but I still answered it quietly. “About you.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw him nod. “So you were defending me.”
I felt like I had to defend myself against that accusation. “I would have done the same if he were talking about anyone!”
Would I, though? If someone had said something bad about Becca, I’d be the first in line to make them swallow their teeth, but if it was anyone else… would I have gotten involved, even knowing it was a fight I couldn’t win? I was afraid of the answer.
“Sure thing, City Boy.”
“I told you not to call me that.” I glared at him, but he wouldn’t look back at me to see it.
With his attention elsewhere, I took him in.
There was a fresh cut on his eyebrow, and his nose had dried blood around the left nostril, like it had been bleeding again recently and had only just stopped.
The dark shadows under his eyes told me it could have been broken.
It definitely seemed kind of swollen. So did his split bottom lip.
I glared at it like I could make the pain disappear if I intimidated it enough.
“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Those full lips smiled again, the split opening in a way that must have stung, but I couldn’t read any hurt in his eyes when mine met them again.
My mouth ran dry. “I want a smoke,” I lied. I’d never touched a cigarette in my life.
“Mmm… is that why you keep looking at my lips?”
“Fuck you,” I snapped. His eyebrow twitched up like I’d just suggested something he was considering. It was suddenly really hot. Wasn’t it supposed to be going into winter? Why was it hot?
Instead of responding, he reached into his jacket pocket, I assumed for the cigarettes. I tracked his movements—the spider tattoo, the veins in his hands, his busted knuckles. Maybe he was just used to pain.
He handed me a pouch along with a small bag of white things and a slim cardboard package with tiny papers inside. I took them from him and sat up—using my back as a shield between us—and examined whatever the fuck he’d just handed me.
The pouch contained loose tobacco. The white things seemed to be filters, and I guessed I was supposed to roll myself a cigarette using the thin papers.
I pulled one free and added some tobacco into the crease in the middle, not knowing at all how much I was supposed to use, so I added a bit more, then tried to balance it all as I put the filter in the end.
The paper wasn’t sticky, so I guessed I had to lick it or something to make it stay shut?
I thought I’d seen people do that before.
When I was done, it looked nothing at all like a cigarette, and most of the tobacco simply tumbled out of the loose tube-ish thing I’d created. So did the filter.
“You good?”
I flinched at the question, my cheeks heating in embarrassment. Why the fuck had I committed to this?
“Yes.” I pulled another paper to salvage this abomination, tucked the filter back in, and rolled the whole thing up in a tighter tube.
“You generally only need one,” said a voice right in my ear, causing me to drop the damned thing anyway. I recoiled as if struck, scampering back until I had some semblance of personal space again, my heart thundering as I glared at him.
He smiled, picking up the Frankenstein cigarette and examining it.
“Very… creative?” He didn’t even try to hide his amusement.
“Shut up!”
“Temper, temper, all you had to do was ask.” He smirked, reaching for the pouch again.
He made it look easy, rolled it like it was second nature, and when his tongue darted out to wet the paper, I noticed the glint of something in his mouth. Fuck, he had a tongue piercing. That… that was… something.
When he was done, it looked perfect. Dex brought it to his lips. Locked eyes with me as he lit it. Exhaled the plume of smoke in my direction before his hand extended toward me, the cigarette sitting pretty between tattooed fingers.
I took it from him, eyes refusing to leave his as it rested between my fingers.
“You gonna smoke that or you just want to hold it?” he asked after a long moment where we did nothing but stare at each other.
I brought it to my lips quickly, taking a deep inhale that closely resembled a punch to the throat.
Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t help but choke and sputter at the vile taste.
The bastard cracked up laughing, reaching out to take it from me as I caught my breath and forced myself to stop from coughing further.
When I looked back at him, he was lying in the grass again, smoking my cigarette.
“Give me that,” I snapped, voice slightly raspy from my coughing fit as I reached for it. He pulled it out of reach.
“Nuh-uh. I know you’re not a smoker now, City Boy. These things are bad for ya.”
Indignation burned within me at his condescending attitude. “You smoke them!”
“Yeah. But I’m bad for ya too.”
I glared at him, not knowing what to make of that. Then I launched for the hand holding my smoke. No one was going to tell me what I could and couldn’t do. He was fast, twisting his body away from me. We fumbled in the grass as I tried to grab for it again.
The next thing I knew, Dex’s arm was around my waist as he tossed me onto the ground on the other side of him. I had a face full of meadow as I caught my bearings, and when I turned to glare at him he was so close.
Like a deer in the headlights, I froze as he shuffled even closer.
What the fuck is happening right now? There were no words, no thoughts, just his face, his lips, so close…
My lips parted against my will. For what, I wasn’t sure, but it certainly wasn’t for the mouthful of smoke he force-fed me with his lips a fraction of an inch away from mine.
I shoved him away as hard as I could manage and scrambled to my feet, ignored the pain that flared in my leg, and marched away as quickly as possible.
“Running away again?” he called after me.
I didn’t even turn to look at him. I just stormed away from Dex fucking Ice-Eyes Weller.
Away from hand-rolled cigarettes and cloud gazing in dying grass.
Away from Meadow Park. Trying, while my gut told me I was heading in the wrong direction, to believe that he wasn’t the entire reason I’d come this way in the first place.