CHAPTER 22 #2
Astrid grabs my arm, deftly weaving me toward the exit.
Trevor and Noah assume their formation, one clearing a path and the other covering the rear.
The crowd parts easily and I am escorted off the fairgrounds.
Trevor hops on my bike while I ride in Astrid’s car.
He zooms ahead as Noah trails behind her hatchback.
Astrid grips the steering wheel fiercely, daring someone to cut her off.
I just curl up in my seat, staring at the photo in my hands. I look happy. The moment captured is one of joy and elation. My jacket slouches off one of my shoulders, carefree in the moment. How naive I was. Astrid snatches the photo from my hands and shuts it inside the glovebox.
“Don’t go down that path, Sparks,” she warns gently, placing a hand on my thigh.
“What path?” I say glumly.
“Whichever is closing you off right now.” Her thumb makes tiny circles on my thigh, unknowingly decorating my fading scar. Is this what life is now? Stabbings and stalkings?
“Hey!” Astrid interrupts my spiral. “What did I just say?”
I don’t respond, just sigh and lean my head on the window. Astrid squeezes my thigh, concerned by my silence. I give her a half smile. She doesn’t buy it. I guess I don’t either.
We pull up to Astrid’s apartment. I thought we were going to the compound, but it doesn’t really matter either way.
I go where I’m told, every moment supervised like I’m a small child.
It’s for my safety, they say. The mirror maze was the first time I’ve been alone outside the compound in weeks, and the vultures swooped instantly. I missed you. I miss myself too.
I climb the steps to Astrid’s apartment as Trevor passes her my keys and Noah finds a good place to park.
They’ll be here until their shift replacement takes over, and so on and so forth.
I’ll be here until I’m needed somewhere else.
I meander through the living room after discarding my jacket, settling onto Astrid’s sofa.
I lean over the frame, gazing through the window at the streets of downtown Boston.
People walk by, not noticing the onlooker from above.
Astrid sits next to me, placing a warm mug in my hands.
Drinks are how she soothes others, tea and hot chocolate flow endlessly around here.
I set the beverage to the side, content to ruminate in my self-pity.
Unfortunately, Astrid is not. She grabs my drink and wraps my hands around it.
I stare at the swirling brown liquid. I haven’t had cocoa in months, not since we broke up.
I close my eyes as I bring the mug to my lips. The rich liquid warms my insides as the flavor of anise dances on my tongue. Her recipes are just as good as I remember, if not better. It feels like home.
The mug is empty quickly. I cradle the ceramic to my chest, allowing the last of the residual warmth to reach my body. Astrid stays next to me, people-watching in silence.
“I love you,” I whisper, not knowing what else to say.
“I love you too.” She glances at the mixed expressions flicking across my face. “What’s Charlotte thinking?”
Astrid started asking about Charlotte a lot since our forced camping trip.
It’s an understood code between us now. When she asks about Charlotte, she’s asking about the thoughts I hold tight, buried beneath my layers of defenses.
I don’t always answer, and she respects that, but I try to give a good faith effort to be more open.
“She’s thinking…” my voice trails off, “that she lives in a fishbowl where others can sit and watch as long as they like.”
“Do you want me to close the blinds?” She offers.
“No, leave them open.” I hold her hand back. “It’s no use pretending otherwise. That feels worse.”
Emboldened, I go around the entire apartment, flinging open curtains and blinds. Bright light floods the rooms. I lay on the bed, soaking in the sun rays. Astrid flops down next to me, propping her head on a pillow.
“What’s Astrid thinking?” I tease.
“What I’m thinking is not super helpful right now.” She smiles and rolls onto her side.
“Well now I’m even more intrigued.” I grin up at her.
“Fine.” She pauses before she continues. “I’m thinking that when your tank top rides up, it drives me crazy. Every time, I just stare at the sliver of skin and wish I could unwrap the rest.”
“Why don’t you?” Her pupils dilate at my question.
“I didn’t think you would want me to.” Her gaze flicks down to my hips, eyeing the gap between the fabrics before tearing her eyes away. “I wouldn’t ever want to pressure you or―”
I shush her as I guide her hands to the hem of my shirt.
“Show me,” I request.
Astrid shifts to straddle my thighs, gently lifting the cloth covering my torso.
I arch my back, allowing her to discard my tank.
Her fingertips graze the muscles of my stomach.
God, I’m glad I did a core workout this morning.
Astrid moves slowly, intimately caressing my sides before unbuttoning my shorts.
She folds the denim down, exposing my hip bones to her affectionate revelation.
The lace of my panties peeks through, and Astrid tenderly removes my shorts the rest of the way.
I’ll admit, I had a feeling our day would end like this, and I chose my underclothes accordingly.
A skimpy thong accentuates the angles of my body, while my low-cut bra doesn’t leave much to the imagination.
The straps fall off my shoulders, taunting us both.
Astrid cups the lacy material, stroking the hem along the curve of my breast.
“You look beautiful right now,” she whispers. “The red of your hair is so vibrant in the sunlight, and your skin is so soft, and you are just stunning.”
“I love you.” I mean it.
Her lips brush mine, lightly at first, but craving more. She leans in closer, kissing me deeper as if she could never get enough. Her tongue slides against my teeth. She pulls away slowly, savoring every second we touch. Astrid unclips the hooks of my bra, and the material falls to the floor.
Her tongue finds something else to explore, circling my erect nipple.
Her hand massages the other tenderly, kneading and caressing.
My eyelids flutter as I tilt my head back, high on the sensations tingling my nerves.
Her hand ventures lower, skimming the last bit of lace I still have on.
She slides a finger past the mesh, moving as if she had all of the time in the world.
I moan, anticipation taking hold of my heart.
It beats faster and faster. I wonder if her tongue could feel my pulse through my chest. I rock my hips forward, leaning toward her touch. She tsks and withdraws her hand.
“Please,” I beg breathlessly. “I need you.”
“Since you asked so nicely…” Her mischievous eyes meet mine and she crawls lower.
Astrid bites the fabric of my panties between her teeth, gradually dragging it over my thighs.
Kisses line the path all the way to where my legs meet.
Her breath tickles, and my toes curl into her sheets.
I shudder as she flicks her tongue out, sampling how I taste.
Pleased, she dives in, sucking and licking to her heart’s content.
She enjoys her meal leisurely, savoring me indulgently.
She moves at her speed, no matter how much I beg for more.
It turns out, Astrid knows best. Slowly but surely, the tension mounts in my core.
I grip the rungs of the headboard. Astrid reads me like a book, holding my hips down as I squirm.
Time slows. Nothing exists outside of this bedroom. The whole world consists of just the two of us. Her name graces my lips as I crash from the peak, falling into the throws of her embrace. She’s there to catch me, she’s always been there. Her hands are in my hair, my lips find hers.
We spend the rest of the day exploring each other’s bodies. Tracing, massaging, kissing. Not in any particular hurry, not for any particular goal, only to seek pleasure in the touch of the one we love. Both thoroughly satisfied, we drift asleep in each other’s arms.
Click. Click. Click. Click. I stir in my sleep, somewhere between awake and dreaming. My eyelids blink lethargically, sleep pulling me back under. A loving hand strokes my hair, the leather soft against my skin. I moan drowsily, turning over to wrap my arms around Astrid.
Wait? Astrid’s over here?
I groggily sit up, rubbing my eyes to see through the dark. No one’s there. I shiver at the breeze coming through the open window, lightly blowing the curtains. Shaking my head, I pull the covers over Astrid and myself.
The morning sun cuts through the room, sharply glinting across my eyes. Normally the curtains diffuse the light, but I was an idiot and threw them open yesterday. Astrid stretches, rolling onto my chest.
“Good morning,” she murmurs. Her smile glints in her eyes.
“Good morning, gorgeous.” I brush her hair over her shoulder, pulling her in for a kiss. Her soft lips brush mine, lingering before she pulls away. I can’t imagine how I went so long without waking up next to her every day.
Eventually, we crawl out from under the covers. I can’t find the underwear I discarded yesterday, it’s probably tangled in the sheets somewhere. Luckily, I have several boxes of clothes in Astrid’s closet. I dig through and pull out a comfy, oversized t-shirt and some extra underwear.
Astrid pulls on a robe and heads toward the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. I hear her fiddling with some mugs, before she shrieks and I hear the ceramic shatter.
“Astrid!” I hurdle over the bed, running toward the door.
“No, stay in the bedroom!”
But it’s too late, I’ve already opened the door.
I freeze, taking in the sight before me.
Photos are strewn all over the living room.
There must be hundreds, no thousands, of them.
On the couch, on the rugs, on the end tables, on the bookshelves.
Astrid steps in front of me, trying to usher me back into the bedroom. What doesn’t she want me to see?
I step around her. The scalding water puddling on the floor burns as I pad barefoot into the living room. I pick up a photo, lifting it from the ground. My naked body is framed in the shot, focused on my arched back. The picture flutters to the ground as it falls from my fingers.
My scarred hand fisting the sheets.
My hair sprawled on a pillow.
My head rocked back, exposing my neck.
There’s so many. All of them are pieces and parts of me, somehow cropping Astrid out of every shot.
Biting my lip.
Clenching the headboard.
Grinding my hips.
The pictures are crystal clear, as if he was standing in the room with us. Every inch of my skin in perfect clarity. He’s watching me. He’s always watching.
My lips.
My thighs.
My breasts.
I stumble away from the horrific display. Astrid’s words blur as they leave her mouth. I can’t be here. He’s watching me.
I dart to the door, flinging it open and taking the stairs two-at-a-time. The rocks cut my feet as I sprint down the alley. He’s watching me. I have to get away.
I bolt around the corner, faltering as I enter a park. Heads turn to look at me. He’s watching me. They’re watching me.
There’s nowhere to hide. Concerned faces, someone asks me a question, a hand brushes mine. I jerk away. He’s watching me. They’re watching me. They’re all watching me.
I back away as the crowd inches closer. Don’t look at me. Leave me alone. Click. Click. Click. Click.
I can hear the camera shutters. I turn over my shoulder. Where is he? I whirl around. He must be here somewhere. Watching. Staring.
Click. Click. Click. Click.
Eyes staring at me. Everyone’s looking.
Click. Click. Click. Click.
He’s watching.
Astrid’s here, along with a man from the security detail.
She grabs my shoulder, and I fall to the ground.
My guard lifts me in his arms, carrying me to the van parked along the road.
He drapes a jacket over me before shutting the door.
Astrid pulls her robe tighter, worriedly watching the van drive away.
I slouch in my seat, pulling the jacket over my head. I can’t hide from him. He’s everywhere. I cry quietly until we park in the garage.