My entire life, I've only believed in three things with my utmost ability. One – if you want a secret to be kept, keep it that way. Tell no one. Even your closest friends are likely to betray you under the right circumstances. Two – It is crucial that we make mistakes. Not just any old mistakes, but the right ones. If I make a wrong mistake. . . well, shame on me. For instance, if I'm caught, that means I want to be. If I get caught, and it wasn't part of the plan, like I said – shame on me. Three – Don't look back. Don't regret. But don't forget. They say to forgive is to forget and to forget is to forgive. They're wrong. If I make a wrong mistake and then forget about it, I'll do it again. No if, ands, or buts about it. That's how the human mind works.
The day I lost touch with rule number one was the day that started my downfall. I wasn't thinking straight that day; the day he first put his hands on me. His touch was burning trails all along my skin, and his breath was suffocating me, in a good way.
There was an abandoned log cabin in the woods not far from my own house, and I tugged on his hand. His radiant, seductive smile pulled me in and captivated me. I was no longer my own. I was his. I tugged him along, looking back at him to steal glances and kisses as we went. We were young, but I was in love. I didn't care. Tree branches tore at my skin and roots seemed to go out of their way to trip me, but I didn't feel it. Like I said, I didn't care.
The cabin was old, and almost rotted, but it was my favorite place to be. I would go there to hide away from my parents when they upset me or maybe just when I wanted to be alone. It was my place. My secret place. It was my secret, and I led him right to it.
I didn't care.
He shoved me up against the wall of the cabin, sending chills down my spine. I loved it. He ran his hands down the length of my body and hoisted me onto his hips. He gave me no room to think, no time. Perhaps if only I'd had a few moments, a few seconds to think, I would have stopped him. Made him forget about my secret place.
Rule number three – no regrets.
He'd found the bed in no time. I didn't want to think about how it was probably rotted from the inside out, but it gave no moan of warning when he pushed me down on it and took me repeatedly. I had no idea who he truly was, and he had no idea of me either. We were each other's ignorance. Our bliss. I cried out for him as he did for me, and then it was over.
"You can't be here," I told him once he rolled off of me. I wasn't just speaking it to him, either. I spoke it as though it was a newfound revelation for me, as well.
"And why is that?" he asked, smirking as though I were amusing.
I wasn't amused. I rummaged around the room, picking up bits and pieces of my clothing and throwing them back over my body. "You have to leave. I shouldn't have brought you here. It was a mistake."
The smirk slipped from his face. "So, I'm a mistake." He said it as though that was exactly what I had said to him.
I rolled my eyes and sat on the edge of the bed, tugging on my boots. "You know that's not what I meant. This is just my place. It was supposed to be a secret."
I heard rustling behind me. His scent was so overwhelmingly powerful that I had to close my eyes to focus. His arms slipped around me and I felt myself fading into him again. His breath was hot and unmistakable in my ear. "You say that as if I didn't know of this place, mon amour."
His voice sent sweet chills down my back, but I fought to ignore them. "You knew about this place, Atticus?" I turned in his arms to look at him, and my hand fell to his waist, completely forgetting his nudeness. His brown hair fell just below his shoulders in strands of silk, just waiting to be touched, pulled.
"Of course," he smiled, a real smile, and pulled me into his chest. "Someone had to watch over you when you wouldn't watch over yourself." He trailed kisses from my jaw line to my neck, brushing away strands of hair as he went. My defenses were thrown to the wind, and I hated it and loved it all at the same time.
"Atticus," I groaned as he bit and scraped his teeth along my sensitive skin.
"What is it, mon amour?"
"I-" I stopped myself before I said something I would regret. No regrets, right? I just can't give myself anything to regret. I smiled at him, unaware of a certain pair of eyes set against us, watching our every move. "Make love to me again."
Very much like before, he shoved me down onto the bed and peeled away layer after layer of clothing once again. I didn't need to ask twice.
I curled up against him, tucking a leg around his, waiting for the inevitable question to escape my lips. A comfortable silence fell around us as he twirled a piece of my blonde hair around his finger. My heart hammered against my chest. I loved this boy so much and I knew it would only hurt me in the end. I was so stupid.
No, I told myself. I can't regret this. First of all, I shouldn't be regretting anything, much less something like this. It'll be okay. Everything is going to be okay.
"Phee, are you okay?"
I looked up at him through blurry vision, not even realizing I had been crying. Why was I crying? I didn't cry.
He knew. I know he did, but he didn't say anything. He only tucked me closer into his arms. I wished he would tell me. Why did my chest hurt so much? Why was I crying? Sobbing?
He held me tighter than he'd ever done before, and I could tell his hands were shaking. He pulled me against him and buried his head in my neck. "Don't cry," his voice cracked. "Don't cry, mon amour. I promise I'll be back. I'll come back every weekend. I promise. Just please, don't cry." When he finished talking, I could tell he was crying, too.
Was that why my chest was hurting so much? Because I was going to miss him? But I wouldn't cry over such a small thing.
Would I?
"I'm sorry," I sniffed and pulled away from him. He looked down at me, his brown eyes hidden behind a waterfall of tears. I laughed. I couldn't help it. I laughed through my tears. I put my hand on his cheek. "Don't cry." I told him sternly. "You can't cry."
"Oh yeah?" he laughed back at me. First we were crying, and then we were laughing. It made no sense, but then again, nothing made sense when I was with Atticus. "And why can't I?"
I took a deep breath. "Because I love you."
There. That was it. I said it, and it didn't matter because I knew he felt the same way. Or maybe I didn't care. Maybe he didn't feel the same way, but I knew in my heart that I loved him. I'd said it like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"And I love you, Phoenix Truesdale. Just don't tell your brother." He said it back, just as naturally, and even threw in a wink.
"Trust me. Zane is all bark and no bite."
"Yeah, well, he can be pretty scary," he said, and shivered to make his point.
I laughed, but it didn't last for long. My heart felt lighter, and then heavier in a new respect, and I knew I would have to ask soon. I sucked in a breath. "So, when are you leaving?" To avoid meeting his eyes, I toyed with the guitar pick necklace I'd gotten him for his birthday.
He was silent for a while, leaving the room in such a thick silence, I was afraid the atmosphere would crack when he finally spoke. "Tomorrow."
"So soon?" I asked immediately. I focused solely on his chest so that I didn't have to look him in the eyes. It would only make it harder to think. "What are you going to do without me?" I tried joking, cracking a smile.
"Pick on your brother."
It made me look up at his smile, which was contagious, seeing as how I couldn't keep one down. "That's not very fair. You know Syrus is only like, twelve, right?"
"Who says I'm talking about Syrus?" The mischievous twinkle in his eye made me giggle like a little school girl.
"Just don't forget about me, okay? I don't want to have to track you down and remind you," I told him, and tugged on a strand of his hair.
"Never. I could never forget you. Not even if I wanted to."
I leaned up and kissed him, knowing he was telling the truth. He said it in his eyes. Atticus had always been an open book. I kissed him long and hard, not wanting to pull away, not wanting to leave this moment; but as everything else does, moments come to an end. Our moment's ending just came way too soon, and before I knew it, Atticus was gone. Back to his school, his friends, my brothers, his world. I could never be part of his world. Not truly, anyway. Not with me being who I am.
Three things, I told myself. Three rules. No. Make it four.
Number One – Share no secrets with anyone. Not even Atticus. Not again.
Number Two – Make the right mistakes. Atticus was not a wrong mistake. He was a very right mistake, and one that I will make over and over again.
Number Three – No regrets.
And Number Four – Protect those I love with everything I have. I am powerful because she made me this way. Use it for good. Protect Atticus. Protect Zane and Syrus. Protect.