Chapter 14 - Minds

The entire next day, Shannon was desperately anxious, waiting for him every single second. She tried to look busy to Brian, spending an hour in the shower, taking way too long to put on makeup, and stalling. Then, at about lunchtime, Shannon said, "It's time."

"Okay," he said emotionlessly. "Should I –"

"Just slap me right here," she said, gesturing to her upper left forehead.

"You sure about this?"

"I'm sure… just… just do it, okay?" He lifted his arm, and Shannon awaited the impending slap. He faltered, but then he just crossed her face with his hand, hard, and she winced in pain, tears stinging in her eyes.

"Okay?" he said.

"Yes," she sniffled. Brian went into the other room and flipped on the TV. Just like that. Well, she had asked for it, but still…

"So, when's he coming?"

"I'm not sure. Probably in a few hours."

"Okay, because Bridgett and Greg called, they want us to go out with them tonight. You want to go?"

"Sure," she said absently across the kitchen, opening the refrigerator to get some ice.

"Why are you getting ice?" He asked harshly.

"Um," she said uncertainly. "I don't know?" Should I not be getting ice for some reason?

"It'll look worse if you don't put ice on it." He answered, still staring at the rugby game on television.

"Oh…" she said, shutting the door to the refrigerator.

"I just had an idea, Shannon." Brian said suddenly. "How about when your brother comes, we can be just getting ready to leave to go out with Bridgett?" That was a good idea. The next few hours inched by, desperately slow. She was absolutely dying to see him, but even when he did arrive, she couldn't act too happy about it. Correction - she couldn't act happy at all.

"You sure he's going to try to pay me?" He said to her a few minutes before Boone's arrival.

"Positive."

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

"Because if he doesn't, this'll be a bloody waste, know that?"

"Yes, Brian, I know that." She said, an edge in her voice.

"What'd I say?" He said, shaking his head in exasperation, and giving her a dirty look. "There's a rental car coming into the driveway. Go into the bedroom!" Shannon went into the dark room and sat on the cold, empty bed, the gnawing guilty feeling in her stomach intensifying. Why was she doing this? But now there was no turning back.

"Yeah?" she heard him saying rudely. Shannon hated just sitting here, doing absolutely nothing and sitting there feeling pathetic. So she went into the connecting bathroom, and put on another layer of lip-gloss.

"I'm looking for Shannon." She heard him say in a faux- tough voice. He sounded so stupid, but so…

"Who are you?" he said brusquely. Shannon began putting an earring into her left ear.

"I'm her brother." Oh, but he was so much more. This was her cue. Shannon stood up and began putting her right earring in. She missed a step when she saw him, looking so worried and confused and pathetic. But still hot.

"Boone?" She said. Well, who the hell else would it be?

"What's going on?" Were his first words to her. He'd obviously been expecting a better welcome.

"What are you doing here?" She said, signature bitchy tone evident. Jesus, what had he ever done to deserve this? And yet she kept going.

"Fifteen hours," he said, as Shannon had expected him to. "I just spent fifteen hours on a plane… happy to see you, glad you're here, something like that might work." Even though they got on each other's nerves a lot, his tone sounded more than just annoyed. He sounded… hurt.

"Listen, this isn't exactly the best time." Each word she said was more and more difficult, meaner and more heartless, but her tone did not waver. "Brian and I were just on our way to meet some friends. Why don't you give me a call then?" This was it. Make it or break it. She ran her hands through her hair, pulling it back to reveal her new bruise quickly. It was working. His eyes seemed to flicker twice as she did this. "Please?" She needed him to leave before she hugged him, or kissed him, or worse, started crying in front of him.

"Okay," he said, still looking as if someone was going to jump out of the closet and yell, "April Fool's!" But no one did. "Have fun with your friends." He rolled his eyes, and left. The door swung behind him, and Shannon's heart felt hollow but heavy at the same time. She wasn't this heartless… why did she pretend to be? Why did she have to hurt him so much? Why did he let her do this to him?

"Ready to go?" Asked Brian, nonplussed.

"I guess," she said in a small voice.

"Well, Bridgett is waiting at the theatre, let's go." They left the house, but Shannon didn't think of anyone but Boone, and the guilt, and how much she just wanted to have him forever and ever… but she banished the thoughts from her head and forced herself to become one hundred percent absorbed in the dumb action movie they were taking in. She tried to concentrate on the fact that Brian was flirting with Bridgett, and tried to make it make her angry, but it didn't work. She didn't give a shit. Brian could go fuck her for all she cared, and there was no denying it. After the movie, Brian drove Shannon back to his house, and they rode in silence.

"So, Shannon," said Brian, "Are we going to split this money equally?"

"Yes." She sighed.

"You've been snapping at me all day, what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing…" she slid her arm across the plush covering of the seat, digging her nails into the upholstery. When she and Boone had sex, he would always complain about how Shannon's too-long nails dug into his skin in anticipation. But she knew she loved it, the marks were his only proof that they had actually done the deed, and it hadn't just been some perverted dream he had.

"What are you thinking about?" Brian said.

"I was just thinking that," Shannon responded, "I didn't like that you were flirting with Bridgett tonight."

Shannon hadn't slept well in an extremely long time, not since she had been in Boone's arms the last time they had slipped up, the night before she left. She found the touch of Brian's arm to be heavy and uncomfortable – she tossed and turned trying to avoid his unnaturally large hands clenched around her shoulders. Tonight was no different, but his irritating touch was not the only thing keeping her up this time. When she finally fell into a fitful sleep, she dreamt of, who else, Boone, and his intriguing blue eyes, and that look he had in his eyes when he first saw her. He was just so smitten with her – a part of her loved that because it made her feel so much more… wanted, but another part of her wondered what was so special about her, and how anyone could possibly love someone like her so unconditionally. Shannon wondered about this a lot.

The next morning, Shannon awoke in the bed alone, and she knew, somehow, that Brian was probably at the marina, getting ready for his job as a coastguard, and somehow, she also knew that Boone was going to try to pay him soon. She wanted to call him on his cell phone and start screaming at him to stop, it was fake, it was all a scam, but Shannon realized that wouldn't really get her anywhere.

Not that anything she and Boone had done together in the past three years had gotten them anywhere. It had gotten them some serious pleasure, but guilty pleasure, only to be replaced by regret and denial afterwards. It was still worth it, she thought. But was it worth it for him? Was she worth being his weakness, his Achilles heel; was she worth being the one thing that held him back in life? She wasn't worth it and she knew it, and she knew that she didn't deserve him. Not that she would do anything to stop it… because she enjoyed this game they played.

He called, just like she had asked him to, around ten that morning. "Hi," he said, "Want to tell me what's going on?"

Yes, but I'm not going to. "Well, Brian got a little rough the other day, and …"

"He hit you?"

"Yeah…" she said quietly.

"God… I can't believe he'd…"

"I would have been nicer to you, but he gets really jealous, even though I told him that you're my – "

"Okay, okay, when should I come?"

"To take me home?"

"Yeah."

"Like, four o'clock?"

Shannon was alone all day long – she dawdled in many time consuming tasks… Daytime Soaps, catching up on the latest magazines, she even did the dishes and the laundry. Funny how the most random things seemed to remind Shannon of him – Boone used to do Shannon's laundry for her, during their affair, and Shannon had found it a little peculiar when she got back from France and tried to do her own laundry, that Boone was the one who knew that her black bra was a delicate, and the silk boy shorts had to be washed in cold, that her hot pink Abercrombie tank top was actually a dark, all that. Shannon had felt like an idiot, after arguing with him that said tank top was a light, and found her favorite white skirt a tinge of pink. But he didn't smirk at her, or give her a look that clearly said, "Yes, you are pathetic." He had just squeezed her hand, smiled that half-smile of his, and bleached the skirt for her. She hadn't worn that skirt since arriving in Australia.

The doorbell rang at 3:07 PM. "You were supposed to come later," she said as she opened the door for him. He didn't respond, just brusquely said, "Do you have any bags? Anything you want to take?" She looked at him, his eyes looking fiery and determined, his hair all messed up like it always was... like it had been when they had made out in the Jacuzzi that summer day before her senior year...

"You should go back," she said, not quite sure what the hell she was talking about. But she needed that money… and Brian wasn't back yet… and how the hell was this going to work... the water had been hot, burning that day, so somehow they ended up skinny-dipping in the freezing cold pool...

"No Shannon, we're getting out of this country." What was with him, suddenly being all high and mighty and condescending, like he owned her or something? She hesitated… how was she going to get the money? "Is there anything you want to bring?" She stalled again... he had kissed her so hard that day, with such passion and fervor and - shut up, brain. "What's wrong with you?" Just then, when things couldn't get anymore fucking confusing, Brian walked in with groceries. Groceries? Here she was, in the middle of a friggin' emotional apocalypse, and he had been at the grocery store buying… bananas? The fuck? At least the little trip to Nostalgia City had gone away.

"Aw, look at this." He said in that stupid accent of his, which Shannon could have sworn was fake. What the hell was that supposed to mean? God, she was confused. Boone looked a little intimidated, and bewildered, so naturally, in true idiot fashion, he stepped closer to Shannon and got all in-your-face like he did when he was mad. It used to make her feel all hot and bothered, but now it was just stupid.

"Let's go, please. C'mon, we can go." He said in his soothing Captain America voice. Oh, go save a baby bird. Brian opened his mouth. Oh shit. Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it, she silently pleaded with him, while also trying to keep a straight face for Boone.

"Hey mate, you just don't get it, do you? What's what." Oh, fuck you! He was going to hate her forever! As Shannon saw Boone's facial expression change to a look of pure disbelief, then distort again to a look of rage, she rethought her theory. He would forgive her, right?

"You set me up…" he said, almost as if it were a question. "This whole thing was a set up." He said again when no one attempted to disprove him. Shannon avoided his gaze; unable to look at him, otherwise she feared that she might get another trip to Nostalgia Land... or break down in front of him...

"She's just getting what she's owed." God, Brian, you idiot! Why was he doing this? This stupid little backhanded, "I'm on your side," and then turning around and… God!

"What'd you say?" Said Boone, trying to be intimidating, but his pretty little 5 foot 9 self was not, by any means, intimidating. Especially to a 700 foot tall guy who weighed like 8 billion tons.

"She told me your mum screwed Shannon over after her daddy died, kept all her father's money for herself. Sweet mum you've got there." God, why? Boone looked really, really pissed. Like, beyond pissed.

"This isn't the first time, is it?" He said, clearly remembering the incident in France, when he had held her and told her how friggin' amazing she was… Shannon couldn't even imagine how he felt. "Oh, you've done this before, you little bitch." His face contorted into one of the most furious looks he had ever given her – it definitely challenged the look he had given her on the elevator that day, but this time, she didn't argue. It was true. He got even more in-your-face, until -

"That's enough." Said Brian, shoving him away. Okay, she didn't really want him to get into this! And Boone hated being touched by people. He always had, ever since her father had slapped him when he was eleven and had forgot to… Shannon brought herself back into the scene, because holy crap, he was going to try to hit back. That idiot! Brian was like 700 feet tall! Within seconds, Boone was on the ground, and being hit in the face by Brian. Okay, one hit would have been okay, but he was like, in serious beat-up mode. She couldn't let him hurt Boone!

" Brian, get off of him!" She screamed. "Get off of him!" Boone was still struggling under his touch. "Get off!" He wasn't getting off, so before she could even think about it, she pulled him off herself as hard as she could, which was a feet considering that he was 700 feet tall. Boone hoisted himself up with the couch, looking hurt, confused, disoriented, broken… she was sitting on the floor, next to Brian, she realized, which wasn't an especially good representation on how she was feeling right now. On whose side she was on...he hoped he could see how her guilty expression differed from Brian's sneering face. He stood up with an effort, and Shannon couldn't figure out exactly what he was thinking, but he was still pissed off, and he had a bloody nose. Walking towards the door, Boone just sort of stared at her for a second, boring his eyes into her, How could you? It was worse than anything he could have said, and then he closed the door behind him. He looked like he was willing himself not to look back, but always the weak one, he did.