Chapter 15
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
ISLA
After Julius left Friday afternoon, Kraven made his way into Julius’s bedroom.
Julius didn’t say much to me that morning.
I could tell he was lost in his own mind, which only worried me more, as I thought he was getting into something illegal.
I wasn’t naive enough to think otherwise, and I knew he was aware of that, too.
It was probably why he was quiet. He didn’t want to lie to me and was aware I would know if he did.
I was sitting at Julius’s desk, working on some trigonometry homework.
To say I was avoiding Kraven would be an understatement, especially when I had no clue what to expect from this nightmare of a scenario that I unwillingly found myself in.
The choices were made for me.
Kraven didn’t waver, ordering, “Be ready in an hour and try not to dress like you’re attending a burial.”
I scoffed, glancing down at my clothes. I was wearing black sweats.
What the hell?
Without missing a beat, he cut right to the point. “Listen, if this is going to work”—he gestured back and forth between us—“then you’re going to have to be on your best behavior, and by that, I mean, black cat is going to have to retract her claws. Understood?”
I glared at him, and he laughed at me.
He gestured to my expression. “Case in point.”
I couldn’t help it. I softly chuckled.
“Now nod your pretty little head if we’re on the same page?”
Of course, my stomach decided to flip-flop the second it heard the word “pretty” out of his mouth.
I gave a slight nod, mostly because I wanted to see where this was going.
“Great.” He grinned with a flicker in his gaze. “Since we have that out of the way, the next order of business is that you’re going to have to follow my orders. Are we clear?”
I glared at him again, this time in disbelief.
This was the most he’d ever said to me, and all he was trying to do was boss me around.
Who the hell did he think he was?
“Let’s get this straight, so there’s no confusion. Alright?” He paused, waiting for my nod. I didn’t give him the satisfaction.
“I’m not Julius, and I have no interest in pretending I am. He asked me for a favor, end of story. I also owe you one, and I always make good on my promises. Which makes you my responsibility this weekend, and I take that very seriously.”
I didn’t move a muscle.
“Great, you agree.”
My eyes went wide as I firmly shook my head, showing him the opposite of agreement.
“Yeah, I know.” He pointed at himself, smiling widely. “I’m always right.”
Oh my God, the nerve of this guy.
I shook my head so hard it hurt my neck as I abruptly stood, literally standing up to him.
“Now last but not least,” he executed with conviction.
This was where he almost knocked me on my ass when he demanded, “You’re going to actually speak to me.”
KRAVEN
Seeing her get flustered was far more entertaining than I thought it would be, and knowing that I was the sole cause was just as comforting.
Ignoring her blatant dissatisfaction with my disregard, I stated, “I’m so glad we see eye to eye. Now get dressed. You’re going with me to a party.”
With that, I spun to leave, but she grabbed my arm, holding me in place.
A literal spark of electricity rang between us, and I blamed her. “Are you trying to start a fire?”
She yanked her arm away like I’d burned her, making me wince for a second. I hated that she saw it, but mostly, I despised that she pulled away from me.
What the hell is that?
It was my turn to shake my head, shoving away those thoughts and questions. She spun around to the desk and started writing something on a piece of paper before handing it to me.
There, in front of my eyes, in all caps, she wrote:
FUCK YOU!
I laughed so hard my head fell back until she began laughing too. Rolling her eyes, she smirked. Catching this moment between us like I had. It was weird to laugh with her, but it was also easy, if that made any sense.
Using this to my advantage, I spoke the truth.
“Do you see why I need you to talk to me…?” My words hung heavy in the air, fueling my next truth.
“Unless you want me to spend the entire weekend twisting your mixed signals and us fighting to communicate because I don’t speak black cat, then I highly suggest you get your shit together and use that pretty little mouth for what it’s for, talking. ”
Folding her arms over her chest in defiance, she cocked her hip to the side with a shit-eating grin on her face.
Not holding back, I spoke another truth, “You’re cute when you’re angry.”
Her hard expression quickly softened, and I realized I was getting to her by just being myself.
It was the reality check I wasn’t expecting, and the worst part was, I liked that I didn’t have to pretend to be someone I wasn’t just to get her to talk to me.
I was starting to think that the key was to let her get to know who I was, and that alone was a daunting thought.
This should have been my warning. This was when I should have known better… Nothing simple comes easy, and I learned that the hard way.
Specifically, when it came to her.
Feeling a sort of truce, I extended my hand out for her to shake. “How about we try to get along, yeah?”
She took one look at my gesture, grabbed a piece of paper, and wrote:
What game are you playing?
I met her eyes, debating, “Why? Afraid you’ll lose?” Adding insult to injury, I joked, “It’d make Julius happy, and that’s what you want, right?”
She didn’t hesitate to call me out.
Are you trying to manipulate me?
“Why?” I grinned. “Is it working?” Extending my hand again, I suggested, “Truce then?”
She swallowed hard, her chest rising and falling, making me catch my breath. She was obviously struggling with my intentions, and I couldn’t blame her—she was far more jaded than I initially assumed.
“Come on,” I insisted. “Can’t you just meet me halfway?” Speaking another fact, I confessed, “We’re not that different, you and me. Sometimes I go silent too… but if I don’t speak, I’m not heard, and if I’m not heard, I let them win.”
Her lips parted, taking in what I just admitted for the first time out loud.
As soon as our hands connected, this suffocating silence filled the small space.
It felt as though there was a sudden shift in our dynamic, where we truly saw eye to eye.
She was a lot more perceptive than I thought.
I was starting to see why Julius was drawn to her.
There was far more to her than met the eye.
She was like a piece to this massive jigsaw puzzle that I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to piece together.
Not only that but I wanted her to trust me.
It was the only way I’d get answers out of her.
At least that was what I kept telling myself.
The last thing I needed was to get emotionally involved with my brother’s girl.
Besides, he asked me to do this. If he wasn’t going to ask her questions, I sure as hell was.
Trust was such a foreign sentiment for me. I’d never experienced the desire to have anyone confide in me. Not even Julius, and he was my flesh and blood. It came with too many strings attached and emotions I refused to waste time on.
I didn’t care to have anyone’s trust. It never bothered me, seeing as I didn’t trust anyone either. How could I demand that from someone when I wasn’t willing to give it out myself? It was the way I’d always been, and there was no changing that.
It didn’t take a therapist to understand it was trauma from my parents being selfish bastards. I had more memories of the bad than I ever did of the good. The number of times they left me somewhere or with someone to do or get drugs was unforgivable.
I learned at far too young an age what drugs looked like. At one point, I thought everyone’s parents were always high. I didn’t know until I was about seven or eight that it wasn’t normal to see your father stumbling around belligerent or your mother depressed or extremely happy.
She was either up or she was down.
There was no in the middle.
I often thought about her mental health and whether she wasn’t suffering in silence. However, when that notion was acknowledged, I’d wonder if I had it too. I’d spiral, thinking something was wrong with me.
Constantly being self-aware of any triggers that would keep me up at night was just the consequence of trying not to lose my shit on a daily basis.
Which was another reason to become cold and detached.
If I didn’t care, I didn’t get hurt. Having two parents who were junkies didn’t help my anxiety.
The apple didn’t fall far from the tree, and I never forgot it as much as I tried.
Right when the stillness was becoming too much, I reminded her, “You have an hour.”
She grabbed the paper, writing:
The only clothes I own are black.
With that, she gestured to the closet, and there in the corner was a pile of pitch-black darkness.
Most of it looked old and tattered, and for another reason I couldn’t explain, it pulled at me.
My gaze shifted to the stuffed animals that were on the floor in the corner of the closet.
I recognized them immediately. They were comfort items from CPS.
Did she run away from them?
She noticed what I was looking at and reached for the handle to close the bifold door, but I stopped her.
I blurted, needing to know, “You were in the system?”
She hesitantly nodded, eyeing me cautiously.
“Is that what you’re running away from?”
The question lingered in the air, along with her worry about what I’d do with the information, as I answered the question for her.
Not ceasing my interrogation, I pressed, “Where are your parents?”
Again, I should have known better because she wrote down, challenging…
Where are yours?
I argued, “I asked you first.”
Her stare narrowed in on me.
I don’t know.
There in three little words, I was shoved to the edge, crashing to my demise, and I sincerely replied…
“Me neither.”