Chapter Thirty-Nine #2
I unfold the stick, connecting the pieces together, and turn it around in my hands.
It’s a black base, the elements as neon pink as her hair, so they clearly listened to my favourite colour—it’s one of the things we both have in common, and littered across it are skulls and ghosts reading.
The ghosts have books, and the skulls have a Kindle propped up against candles, each with a magpie sitting on top of it.
It’s as personal as personal can get.
“Look closer at the glittery bits.”
I do as she asks, and in a darker, more magenta pink, are pictures of Ted’s face.
“You put Ted on there?”
“Yep. Now you always have him with you. Whenever you need grounding, and he’s not with you physically, you can look at the stick and focus on his face. I doubt H will ever let you go anywhere without at least one of them, but just in case.”
I hug her, and we walk out of the house.
We walk down the street, and a silence settles over us, the cold spring air tinging our cheeks red.
There are three houses on the street, all with land between them, so no close quarters or chances for the neighbours to eavesdrop.
“I don’t say all of that to scare you, Quinn.
More to reassure you that even before he knew of your existence, he wasn’t a man that dipped his dick in anything that spread ‘em. He’s a gentle giant.
The very definition of the BFG. He’s loyal, and he loves hard.
And once you’re in his circle, you’re there forever.
And let’s be honest, Ted has decided you’re going to be his mum, so Harley lost his vote.
Even if he didn't, the rest of us voted, and he lost.”
I take a moment to think about her words, the sincerity in her tone evident.
“I think I love him, too. Not that I’ve ever been in love to know what it feels like.
But I feel like my heart is beating outside of my chest. Like being inside his skin wouldn’t be close enough.
I want to touch him at every given opportunity, even if it’s just a fingertip.
I’m obsessed with that man in the only way a fictional FMC in a book could be when she finds her real-life book boyfriend.
And he’s not even my boyfriend. So, if that’s what love is, then yeah, I guess I’m a simp for him too. ”
“Don’t you fucking tell him I told you that,” Lulu says, laughing loudly. “He’ll post my deepest, darkest secrets to his socials just for the views.”
I join in with the laughter. “As if I ever could.” I pull my hand up to my mouth, mimicking the action of zipping my mouth closed, before offering her my pinky. “Pinky promises for me are life or death,” she says, pointedly.
“Me too,” I reply. “And I only make pinky promises with the ones I deem worthy.” She links her pinky with mine, and we cement the promise forever.
“See,” she says, “I told you we’d be besties.”
For the first solid hour of our three-hour walk, I was on edge, looking over my shoulder and waiting to be grabbed and yanked into a van or the bushes by my brother, Dane or my mother.
But about halfway through the second hour, I realised I was just as safe with her as I would be with Bones, and I relaxed into myself and made sure I was epic fucking company—if I do say so myself.
The smell of freshly cut grass lingers in the air, which used to be something I loved. “Ugh, freshly cut grass used to be one of my favourite smells,” I say as we turn the corner.
She eyes me like I’m a fucking weirdo. “You used to? Don’t tell me your sadistic cunt of a little brother traumatised you by the beautiful smell of freshly cut grass.” It takes me a second to realise she’s making a joke, and I actually burst out laughing.
“That was fucking quick,” I tell her.
She stops in her tracks and curtseys. “Why, thank you very much. I’m here all week. My talents are known to be quick but efficient.” I choke on nothing.
“For fuck’s sake.” I double over, clutching my stomach, while Ted stops where he is to see what all the fuss is about. He comes running back to herd us up.
“So, did he?” she asks.
“No. I’m a reader. I read once that the smell of freshly cut grass is the smell of the grass crying, and it broke me. I’ve never been able to appreciate the smell since.”
“What a crock of shit,” she exclaims.
“Google it!” I tell her. “And don’t trust the AI summary because that’s a load of stolen bollocks. Look it up properly.”
We follow Ted as she types on her phone. “Well, I’ll be fucked,” she says.
“Not in front of me, you won’t, thank you very much. I might read some kinky shit, but that just ain’t my vibe. So, come on then, what does it say?” I ask smugly, knowing exactly what’s coming.
“It says that the smell of freshly cut grass is the grass sending out an SOS to signal it’s injured and that it releases chemicals to help heal itself and attract predatory insects that feed on pests.”
“Told ya so,” I say as I skip off in the direction of the sign pointing towards the beach.
“Oh, fuck off, asshole.” She walks behind me. “So because you read that once you can’t enjoy the smell anymore?”
“What can I say? I'm an emotional being. Must be because I’ve been so abused my entire life.” I keep my face straight.
She looks at me, and her mouth drops open. Speechless.
“Pahahaha, got ya.”
“Ohhhh, Quinn’s got jokes, I see. Touché, motherfucker.”
“I’d rather not fuck my mother, thanks. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s fucked my brother.”
Lulu splutters. The area is sparse. We’ve walked the trail towards a tiny private cove with a small strip of sand that’s littered with rocks. She puts her arm around my shoulders and pulls me into a side hug, squeezing me tightly. “You’re gonna be just fine, Quinn, you know that?”
“I think I’m starting to believe that.” She lets Ted off his lead, and he bombs towards the water with her not far behind him, letting his ball fly through the air.
He’s ball-fucking-obsessed, that boy. I spy a rock big enough for me to sit on and plant my ass on it.
I take in the view around me. Either side of us are big walls of rocks with the footpaths continuing along the top and connecting into the trails that link the entire coastal path of the country.
If I had to pick the one place on earth where all of my troubles fall away and cease to exist, it would be the beach.
There’s just something about a big body of water and the sound of the waves crashing in your ears while the wind flings your hair around your head.
Everything is messy and imperfect, just like me.
I pull my shoes off so that I can feel the sand on my feet, and next to me I see a rock in the shape of a heart.
There are probably hundreds littered across beaches all over the world in exactly the same shape, but this one I’m taking as a sign.
Love is on the horizon for me, and I’m here waiting for it with open arms.