Fucking Gravity
Chapter 15
"Fancy meeting you here."
A grin splits my face as the familiar voice cuts through the music and chatter. I turn expectantly to greet my friend, and offer her one of the cups in my hand. Strangely, I've started looking forward to these Friday's not spent with Kim.
Sure, I still go roughing it when the day winds down, but the hours before aren't so bad.
Leah takes the offered cup without any fanfare and takes a sip. "Soda. Nice."
There isn't really a need for alcohol when I have someone to talk to- when I'm with someone I want to be around. I wouldn't have dreamed, a few months ago, that that person would be Leah Clearwater.
I do enjoy our little tradition of meeting up every other Friday, but… "You know, since we both only come to these stupid parties because we're looking for entertainment, we can find somewhere else to entertain each other." I pause, cup casually half way to my mouth, before thinking over my words. "That was not in any way an invitation to entertain each other by hooking up."
Leah laughs. "I know, Fay."
"Kay, just making sure. But I figure, if we're unofficially meeting up every other Friday, anyway, we can officially choose somewhere else to unofficially hang out."
Leah bumps up against me in a familiar way. "Sure. I actually did come here with Seth, but let me just go tell him I'm leaving."
I follow her eyes to the boy being lifted over a keg into a handstand, while the others around him cheer and laugh.
"Um… Is he going to be okay?" I ask.
"He'll be fine," she snorts. "He's smart. Usually. Plus, he has a wolf metabolism that makes it nearly impossible to get drunk. He's just showing off for his friends." I decide to trust her unconcerned countenance as she touches my arm briefly with a, "be right back," and starts in the crowd's direction.
I watch from the sidelines as Seth is set on his feet and graciously accepts congratulations in the form of hand claps to the back and fist bumps.
He grins wider when he spots his sister and says something to her. He glances in my direction and waves. I return it as he goes back to his conversation.
After only a few seconds, Leah comes trotting back over. "Alright, we're good to go. So, where is or new ronde vu spot?"
"Oh, well," I stutter with the strangest feeling of Déjà vu as I'm put on the spot. "I didn't really think that far."
"Okay," she chuckles. "How about same as last time then. Movies? Except, at my house?"
I relax as the pressure of thinking about something is lifted from my shoulders, and I smile. "Sure. That sounds great."
"Well, then, come on. We can stop by a Redbox on the way, in case you don't like anything we already have." She tugs on my sleeve, and we start up the beach at an unhurried pace.
As her bare feet kick up sand over my shoes, I can't help but notice that this feels different from the last time we went to watch a movie together. For one, I'm not thinking about my dad at all as I hurry just the slightest bit faster so that I'm walking at her side.
….
I don't intend to stay the night. But one movie turns into three, and the comfort of central heating, a couch, and a blanket thrown across my lap (and the general absence of my father), all bring about feelings of safety and security.
I don't even notice when I nod off, until I'm suddenly blinking awake to the morning sun and the smell of bacon.
My hand comes up to block the morning light as I lick my lips. My mouth tastes like cotton soaked in flat, day old, soda. My stomach snarls as my nose processes the smell of breakfast coming from just the other room.
Intending to search out the heavenly sizzling sounds, I turn my head, only for my nose to bump into a tan, sandy, foot. I reel back, finally processing the situation- that I had fallen asleep in the middle of watching movies, instead of trudging out to my camp site.
I twist around, spotting the tv. Someone turned it off at some point. I twist farther to see Leah sprawled across the other side of the couch, head shoved into the corner at an awkward angle, one arm dangling to the floor, the other trapped under her somewhere.
It's not a pretty sight. Drool is smeared across her chin, trailing further down her cheek, and I can feel her other foot (the one not in my face) jammed into my lower back.
I grin madly at the imperfect realness of it all. It's nothing like the morning after you see in the movies- with stage mused hair and wearing perfect makeup. And, as I watch, Leah's nose twitches, and her snores abruptly cut off as it lifts into the air, sniffing.
I laugh, and Leah's eyes fly open, landing on me instantly. She blinks, as startled as I was at finding myself here, and then she breaks into a goofy smile.
"Morning," she murmurs, voice hoarse with sleep. She pulls her feet back toward her body, and there is an instant relief in my back, making it apparent that it was probably pressing on one of my bruises.
"Good morning," I return, sitting up.
It's a little weird waking up in someone else's house, other than Kim's or my own, but it's far better than waking up outside. It's nice, even. The night had passed without any bad dreams. I don't remember what I was dreaming about, but they might have even been good ones.
Leah goes about stretching and yawning, unconcerned with my eyes on her. She looks over only when she's satisfied with the number of cracks she's gotten out of her neck.
"Breakfast?"
I'm entirely unsurprised with her line of thought. To be honest, my mind might have been moving along the same thread.
"Absolutely."
I'm also unsurprised to find, when we enter the kitchen, Mrs. Clearwater as the one standing at the stove. She smiles brightly when she spots us.
"Good morning, girls! Looks like you two stayed up late."
"I guess so," I answer, for some reason feeling sheepish under her parental gaze.
"Well, have a seat. This should be ready in a minute. Then I'll have to see if I can get Seth up."
"Forget about him," Leah says, climbing eagerly onto a bar stool. "You snooze you lose."
Her mom clicks her tongue admonishingly, and turns back toward her growing stack of bacon. She returns a moment later with a large bowl of eggs and the bacon she has cooked so far. Half of the package still remains, open and raw on the counter. She swats at Leah's hand as she reaches for the food.
"Let Fay gets hers first, before you go eating it all," she scolds, and I'm reminded that she knows of her children's supernatural nature. She was there when they first changed, as her husband died, and was able to calm two panicking, confused, wolves.
I think, maybe, she must be a little superhuman herself. Or at least super brave. Braver than I've ever been.
….
Life moves… strangely as the weeks pass. Different from before, but a new routine that settles comfortably around my shoulders.
More and more of my weekend camping trips, turn into sleepovers- crashed and passed out on the couch or in the floor of Leah's living room. At first, it's not on purpose- I'd just be watching movies one moment, or we'd be talking, and then I'd be blinking awake to the morning sun in my face and the smell of breakfast wafting in from the other room.
Slowly, it turns a bit more deliberate. It's not discussed- we don't talk about it. Just, one day, instead of deciding to leave, I settle down into the couch cushions purposefully and Leah whispers out a quiet 'good night.'
And then, suddenly, it stops being weird to wake up in Leah's living room- her feet in my face or jabbing me in my back.
For the first time ever, I have another friend. It's a very different friendship to the one I have with Kim, but it's mine, and real, and precious. Leah offers a whole new dimension to my life that I didn't know I was missing, wanting, craving. I'm not so delusional that I don't know why it's different from my friendship with Kim- but that doesn't need to be mentioned, either, right now.
I just want to enjoy it as it is, without putting labels or complicated feelings to it. I like things just the way they are.
If it weren't for about 18 hours of my week, I even might venture to say that I'm happy.
I wince as the socket wrench goes whizzing past my ear and clanging, hard, against the metal doors. It doesn't touch me, but I can feel the breeze as it brushes past. The force rattles the entire wall.
"Are you stupid?" my dad snarls, looking up at me from the mechanic's creeper. I try not to think about how easy it would be to kick him in the face. "I said a ¼ inch."
"Sorry," I mumble, picking up the correct size. He didn't, though.
I hate Saturday workdays the most. It's the day I'm expected to open up shop and take care of everything until he eventually shows up. I think he only hired me so he can disappear randomly and do who knows what. Then, when he does show up, he works on his new pet project- restoring a vintage 1956 Chevrolet Bel Air- and uses me as his wrench monkey. He doesn't let me touch it myself, and the only time I can do anything else at all, except stand there ready to fetch, is if a customer comes in.
It's the longest six hours of my life.
He never actually strikes me at the shop, but if no one is around, he does throw things.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I glance toward my dad. All that's visible of him are his bent legs sticking out from under the skeleton frame.
I pull out my phone and glance down at the message just as it buzzes again.
Sent 1:36
Wolf Girl
Hey
Sent 1:37
Wolf Girl
How's slavery treating you
I bite back a smile, comforted by the sounds of tinkering and muttering.
Sent 1:37
You
He's a bit cranky today.
Sent 1:37
You
Expects me to get what he's thinking instead of what he says
In a way, I can be more honest with Leah about my dad, than I can with Kim. She doesn't have this image in her head of him- her friend's nice dad she's known since childhood. She doesn't really know him except in passing- so nothing I say can disillusion her from the way he appears to everyone else.
"Give me the flame thrower."
I blink a moment, and then reach for the blowtorch on the rolling tray, passing it into the outstretched hand. He's an excellent mechanic, but he works alone- he doesn't really care about the names of tools.
My phone vibrates, and I look down.
Sent 1:39
Wolf Girl
Poor baby
I shove a hand over my mouth to smother a giggle.
There is suddenly a loud clang and cursing, and I instantly sober, hurriedly shoving my phone back into my pocket.
My dad rolls out from under the car and tosses a metal lump across the garage, uncaring to where it lands or what it crashes into. "That part is useless."
"What part is it? I can pick a new one up for you," I offer immediately.
He turns his glare on me for a moment, just a moment, before his expression morphs into something softer- less dangerous. He sighs. "They don't make those parts anymore. I'll have to make a run to the junk yard." He appraises me. "Can you hold down shop?"
"Sure," I say quickly, trying to not show how eager I am for him to leave. Whenever he goes to the junkyard, he always spends at least an hour or two there.
He nods and lifts himself off the floor. "I'll be right back then."
When he leaves, I hesitate another few minutes before pulling out my phone again where another text awaits me.
Sent 1:40
Wolf Girl
Do you need me to come save you?
Sent 1:48
You
Want to stop by for a bit? The warden is out
The reply is almost instantaneous.
Sent 1:48
Wolf Girl
Be there in 5
I can't help the way my heart jolts or the grin the splits my face. I clean up the garage as I wait, plucking up the useless scrap my father threw, and the tools that got knocked to the floor.
If you asked me, right then, I would have told you that life is as perfect as it's ever going to get. Kim and I are as close as ever, and even with Jared in her life, it feels more balanced now that I have Leah to occupy the other half of my time. Studying several times a week with Leah means my grades are higher than ever, final exams are only a few weeks away, and then we'll be seniors and applying for college.
A little over a year from now, I'll be free. I wonder why that notion feels as daunting as is it exhilarating.
"Hey, cutie," the tease pulls me from my thoughts, and I look up to spot Leah laying across the hood of my dad's pet project.
I yelp, unable to help the edge of panic leaking into my voice. "Get off of that thing! Oh my god, my dad would kill you if he saw- he would kill me."
She laughs, unconcerned, and slides to the ground "Relax, I didn't scratch it. Looks like a piece of junk to me, though."
With her no longer in contact with the vehicle, my heart manages to slow down, and I crouch again to continue collecting the tools. "He's in the middle of restoring it. It'll look amazing once he's done with it."
She sidles closer and plucks the tool box I'm clutching right out of my hands. "Oh, look at you. You sounded like you might even be interested in cars." She sets the box onto the work table and boosts herself up beside it.
"Self-preservation," I excuse, blushing. "If I'm going to be working on cars for hours, I should at least have an appreciation for them."
She thinks on it, and then shrugs. "Makes sense. The only thing I appreciate about a car is if they go, and if they stop. It's the simple things in life that keep me going."
I finally raise from my crouch and lean sideways into the table, unable to look away from the sharp glint of her teasing smile.
"There is nothing about you that is simple," I observe, somewhat affectionately now. I don't particularly like the supernatural element hanging over my friend, but most of the time, it doesn't even, really, come into play. And when it's just talk, it's easy to pretend that we're just discussing a book or something.
She pulls an offended expression, swatting at my arm. "Take that back," she laughs. I catch her hand before it can come in contact with a bruise, holding it out to the side in a guise of restraint but, what really happens, is that it pulls me closer to her.
Inches away now, her amusement melts into something softer as I'm caught in her gaze. The raw affection in it always leaves me feeling bare and inadequate. But also, warm. Appreciated. Wanted. Like there are no conditions for her love.
Her fingers tangle with mine so that it's more of a hand hold rather than a cuff.
While she doesn't hide her feelings, she hasn't once pushed for anything more, even if I do allow the lines the blur a little too far away from friendship sometimes. It's weird knowing that my feelings are returned, and that our entire relationship is left up to me.
At this point, I've accepted that we are, basically, dating. We have been for a while. Now I just… need to let Leah know. 'Do with that what you will,' she said. It's such a blanket permission, I don't know what to do with it.
Maybe she means 'whatever I want.' Right now, I just really want to kiss her.
God, Kim is going to be insufferable.
"Fay?" Leah murmurs when the tense silence stretches longer than is proper, and I'm so close, her breath fans across my face. Her free hand curls white knuckled around the edge of the work desk, but the other remains gentle in mine. "It's okay. You don't have to-"
"But if I want to?" I ask, inching closer.
I hate that surprise lights her face (because we've been dancing this line for weeks), but after the surprise is so much hope and longing that it steals my breath before our lips even touch.
"Whatever you want." Her eyelids droop, but she still doesn't bend down. It takes me another moment to realize that she's not going to make a move, that this next phase of our relationship really is up to me- has to be taken by me. So, I reach up and cup her jaw, this overwhelming feeling like I have to be gentle with her, even though I've seen her take flailing fists to the face without flinching.
Despite holding herself back, she doesn't resist at all as I pull her head down.
Leah is warm. Really warm. And once our lips touch, she doesn't restrain herself any longer. She surges forward, her fingers tightening in mine, her other hand suddenly reaching out to me. It startles me at first, the sheer fervor she responds with, but it quickly catches something in my chest and bleeds into my very veins. Her fingers tangle in my hair, drawing me closer, and I gasp, flinching, as my hip (bruise taking up the entirety of my right side) bumps up against the edge of the desk.
She's pulling back in an instant. "Shit- sorry. I- sorry- I didn't mean to do that." She lets go of me quickly and runs both hands agitatedly through her hair.
I can't help the breathless laugh that escapes as one hand touches my lips and the other presses against my bruise- the spike of pain already fading.
"That's okay," I hum, feeling drunk on adrenaline. "Let's just… take things slow."
"Okay, yeah, of course," she agrees hurriedly.
A/N: Don't worry, the hard parts aren't over just yet. My brain has apparently decided to make this far darker than I originally intended. All I wanted was to give Leah love, and now I can't help torturing her.
Please let me know what you think! Also, if you are getting alerts, because I'm not.
~Silver~
