Chapter 5 – “august” - Taylor Swift
ELENA
“AUGUST” - TAYLOR SWIFT
AGE SIXTEEN - AUGUST
Two knocks clang against my bedroom door, and I spin in my desk chair just in time—Zach leans against the hinges, my favorite smile on his face, his arms crossed with a massive bouquet of red roses tucked between them. “Happy Birthday,” he drawls.
“Are those for me?” My voice comes out at least an octave higher than it should.
He only laughs, stepping into my bedroom and shutting the door behind him. “I wanted a second alone with you before the party.” He strolls over to my bed, sitting on the edge as he tugs the leg of my chair and wheels me toward him. “I have a gift for you.”
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” I murmur, hardly able to speak through the butterflies clogging up my windpipes.
My body feels like Jell-O when Zach grabs my chin and lifts my head, tucking a wild curl behind my ear.
He flashes me his megawatt smile, and his chocolate eyes crinkle in the corners, causing my heart to hammer against my chest, begging to be let free and held by him.
“Of course I had to get somethin’ for my girl. ”
My girl .
My stomach lifts like I just took the drop off a roller coaster.
He hands me the flowers, so bright and fragrant. Normally, I’d prefer something less commercialized and less…red, but they’re from him, and that’s all that really matters.
“They’re beautiful,” I say, clutching the bouquet to my chest.
“That’s not all,” he chuckles, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a small purple bag. Zach opens it, revealing a silver chain necklace with a small green gem at its center.
A mixture between a gasp and a squeal leaves my mouth as I clamp a hand over it. Zach holds the necklace up. “Peridot,” he says, motioning for me to stand and turn so he can put it on. “It’s your birthstone.”
He spreads his legs as I spin and step between them, lifting my hair from my neck as he brings the chain around my throat, fingers warm where they graze my skin as he fastens it at my nape.
I turn to face him, brushing my hand over the gem. “It’s stunning. I can’t believe you remembered.”
His hands come to my hips, inching beneath the hem of my T-shirt to caress my bare skin.
My flesh lights on fire at the touch. “I even went to that crystal shop you love downtown. Told the lady working there it was for you, when your birthday is. She helped me pick it out.” He smiles.
“Oh, and”—reaching into his front pocket this time, he pulls out a small, folded piece of paper—“it came with this little card.” Unfolding it, he reads aloud: “Known as the stone of compassion, peridot is believed to bring good health, restful sleep, and peace to relationships by balancing emotions and mind. This friendly, bright green stone has the uncanny ability to inspire eloquence and creativity; it also brings delight and good cheer.”
“Hmm.” I laugh. “Sleep, emotional balance, and delight are things I’m lacking.”
He shakes his head, chuckling as his lips whisper against my neck, “You’re pretty damn close to perfect, actually.”
He tosses the card onto my bedside table, his hand resuming its place on my hip as my fingers rake through his hair. “It’s perfect, and so are the flowers.” I lower my mouth to his. “And so are you.”
He groans, grabbing me swiftly and tossing me onto my back as he crawls over me. He peppers kisses along my jaw, and those butterflies flutter out of my throat in the form of giggles as my heart pounds to a rhythm that could level buildings.
“I wish I had all day with you,” he rasps against my throat.
“Me too,” I whisper.
When he pulls back to look at me, his gaze is full of adoration and desire and something I want to call love, though I’m not sure I can, since he has never said the words.
“Let’s make sure we get some time alone tonight, okay?” he asks breathlessly.
“Yes.” I nod furiously, because it’s impossible to want anything other than his feverish touch and his blazing eyes that look like love.
AUGUST
“Happy Birthday to my first and second favorite set of twins!” My brother raises his plastic cup, nodding toward Elena’s chest before tossing her a wink.
Everett promptly throws a can of beer at Zach while Leo cups a hand around his mouth and yells, “Boooo.”
Elena’s blushing, glancing down at her chest, which admittedly does look fucking phenomenal beneath her low-cut tank. Everyone around is laughing, and I don’t understand why. That joke wasn’t funny. It wasn’t witty or charming or even original. It’s like Zach can do no wrong, and it drives me nuts.
Someone starts the music back up—“The Spins” suddenly blasting all throughout my house. I stumble through the wafting smoke and shouting teens, stepping out into my parents’ backyard.
By pure coincidence, my mother was invited to some fundraiser in Los Angeles, so my parents decided to make a weekend of it.
Zach took it as the perfect excuse to throw Elena and Everett a birthday party—except I know Elena would much prefer a quiet day with bookstores and brunch over an alcohol-infused sweat fest like this.
I also know Elena would hate having her body objectified in front of a large group of people, but somehow, if it’s my fucking brother, she welcomes it.
I sigh, taking a sip of some concoction Leo mixed up that tastes like vodka, strawberries, and ass. I toss the drink in the grass and recycle my cup before sitting on the porch steps and stretching out my legs.
I thought Elena was done with Zach after he stood her up at prom—the same night she looked at me like she might want to choose me instead, and I fucked up by stating she was my best friend . She almost looked disappointed when I said that, like she was hoping I’d tell her she’s so much more.
And I should have. I clammed up, and the words wouldn’t come. After the moment passed, I hoped I’d get the chance to tell her how I really felt, but as soon as my brother showed up at her house the next day, begging for forgiveness, she was putty in his hands again.
And I’ve been fucked ever since.
Now, I sit outside alone while the girl of my dreams is inside my house, sitting on my brother's lap, his hands on her waist, his face in her neck, his name she whispers.
My throat burns, my stomach sinks, and my jaw clenches. The envy so deep inside my bones, it’s like they’re breaking beneath the pressure of it, concaving and cracking and fucking killing me.
I suck in a sharp breath, face falling into my hands where they rest on my knees. The back door opens and closes behind me. “Oh. Sorry, I?—”
“No, it’s fine.” I sigh, lifting my head to turn around. Abby Phillips stands behind me, her bright red hair falling off her shoulders, pale cheeks flushed and sprinkled with freckles, her blue eyes wide as she takes me in.
She swallows, slowly sitting down beside me. I meant it was fine she was outside; I didn’t necessarily mean I wanted her to sit next to me, but I don’t know how to say that.
My fingers drum awkwardly against my thigh as she says, “Hey, August.”
“Hey, Abby.”
“Um.” She turns to face me, smiling softly. “How's the party?”
I shrug. “I don’t love having my house invaded by people.”
“I can imagine.” She nods. “Sorry to be an invader.”
“No, I—” I shake my head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. You’re fine.” I stumble over my words. “You’re great!”
I’m fucking stupid.
She giggles, hiding her face. “Thanks. Um, anyway…you’re taking Mr. Adams’s A.P. Literature class this term, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I assumed. You’re so smart.” She smiles, biting her thumb. “Have you read The Great Gatsby yet? For the summer reading list?”
“I read Gatsby years ago, but I’ll probably read it again before school starts up.”
“Of course you’ve already read it.” She laughs.
“Well,” dipping into the pocket of her jeans, she pulls out a napkin, “I thought…if you wanted to get together before the school year to talk about it, maybe read each other’s reports?
I…” She bites her lip, gently placing her hand, and the napkin with her phone number scribbled across it, on my thigh.
“If you want to get together, you should text me.”
Fuck . Does she mean what I think she does? Is that what this is?
My head whips sideways, meeting Abby’s gaze head-on, and she’s staring at my lips.
I clear my throat. “Thanks, Abby. I’ll…uh… I’ll definitely?—”
The back door opens again. Thank God . It’s not that I don’t find Abby attractive. She’s cute as hell. She’s nice and smart, too. From what I hear, she’s not crazy, and she hasn’t fucked Everett, so that’s a plus.
But when she put her hand on my thigh, I felt nothing—nothing compared to the way I know I’m capable of feeling when a girl touches me.
“Augustus!” Elena’s voice chimes, and my entire body goes on alert, reminding me precisely just how much sensation I can experience from the presence of another person.
“I’ll talk to you later,” Abby murmurs, standing abruptly. Her footsteps pad up the steps, and the sliding glass door slams shut behind her as she re-enters the house.
“That was weird,” Elena mutters, plopping down beside me, her drink sloshing over her cup and spilling down her hand.
I track the droplets of Leo’s fucked-up punch dribbling down her wrist, and I can’t stop thinking about how much I’d be willing to stomach the toxic liquid if I was licking it off her skin.
“She’s nice,” I say instead.
Elena shrugs. She’s definitely tipsy.
“Why did you run away?” she asks. “I missed you.”
“Not a big fan of parties.”
“But it’s my party,” she slurs.
“I thought you weren’t a big fan of parties either.”
“I’m a big fan of you .” She giggles, throwing her arm around my shoulder and dropping her face into the crook of my neck. Her breath is warm, sending sparks down my spine as she continues, “Everett wanted a party, and I wasn’t going to let him get all the attention on my fucking birthday.”
That sounds more like her.