Take Me Away
By Rosie
Disclaimer: Not I!
Oh this is lengthy.
Very sorry!
Chapter Ten: Come a Little Closer
What was I on?
Though she neither smoked nor took any drugs, Rachel Craven considered the question seriously before returning her attention back to her painting.
I have no idea what inspired this.
The subject, she could easily identify. The jagged shapes in her painting were disjointed dancers, graphic colors in thick oily paint. What confounded her were those pesky details… sudden bouts of inspiration had made her outline only four dancers in red, and the background seemed blurry only in certain areas. These dancers had no faces, had no hands, and instead showed emotion through their curved, wilting bodies…
In fact, as she stared harder, she could almost argue that these figures could be soldiers- was that one carrying a baton or a gun?
Okay stop. You're being pretentious, and do not have enough talent to analyze your work this much… just focus on the little things.
Oh those little things. Backtrack a few days to AP Calculus, and suddenly she saw those curves and angles… If she felt the need to retrace her steps all the way to Geometry, she could study shapes. Shoving her paintbrush into her ponytail, she focused on absorbing all the contours and shades and patterns, taking apart each line and curve- instead of the entire image. Strangely enough, as she studied she thought about love.
And it's contours, shades, and patterns.
Relationships are colors. She theorized.
There are the intense and extreme, those bright reds and brilliant yellows, vibrant greens, violent pinks. Where nothing was peaceful, and there was always passion and thrilling anger and teenage-flavored angst.
With this in thought, she was instantaneously reminded of Bethany Honey and Victor Stone. The golden high school couple was currently at wits end with each other, tormented by the prospect of being apart.
-.-.-.-.-
The end came weeks ago.
Despite a nearly unanimous sympathy throughout the school, no one was particularly shocked by the dilemma. It was the same story told everywhere, the one that breaks apart many high school sweethearts. That destroyer of relationships, the start of a new life: College.
MIT, Massachusetts Institution of Technology, to be precise. Victor had been accepted, was going, and through the eyes Bethany, was already gone.
How could this work? She could barely last a weekend without him, let alone semesters, let alone months.
They stood together outside of Bethany's house. Victor had offered to give her a ride home from the after party of a victorious football game. Shifting hesitantly in her gold and white cheerleading uniform and white parka, Bethany had leaned into Victor, felt his arms wrap around her naturally. All of a sudden, she felt a pain split through her, so intense she couldn't breathe and quietly whispered her dread of him leaving for MIT.
"Come with me," was Victor's response to her distress, his tone clearly stating: Isn't it obvious? You're being silly. What else would we do?
Bethany was impulsive, she admitted it. She rarely thought before opening her mouth, but for some reason, she thought this time and swallowed her initial agreement.
Because, if she really thought about it, the idea of traveling cross country to a new environment, away from her scatterbrained best friend Terra, her wise mother, her encouraging father, and her little sisters made her want to throw up.
However, the thought of being separate from Victor triggered the same nausea.
Lately Bethany spent a majority of her time in the bathroom.
"Victor," She whispered, feeling heart sick, "You know I can't. You know I'm not leaving the west coast. I can't be that far from my family,"
Victor had kissed her soundly, still not understanding the problem. His calm exterior made her want to hug him and throttle him at the same time. "I know," He patiently said, "But you're my family. You've got to come with me. Babe, what else will we do?"
Bethany softened at the nickname, and then hardened seconds after. Had he listened to anything she just said? She read his easy-going, still thrilled at his MIT acceptance expression.
…Apparently not. And if he had listened, he just didn't get it. Bethany exhaled angrily, shaking her head. "Victor. What the hell am I going to do at MIT? How am I going to get in to MIT?"
Victor rolled his eyes, "Doesn't have to be MIT, dummy, just somewhere in Massachusetts,"
She lost it. "Do not call me a dummy when I'm trying to be reasonable here! Look, Victor, I've talked this over with my family, I've told you all of this- but just in case you weren't listening then, listen now: I am not going to the east coast. I'm staying on this side. I want to go to Washington!"
She knew as soon as the words left her mouth, after watching his expression, that he may have heard her say the same thing before, but hadn't thought she meant it.
"You…" Victor didn't finish his sentence, as he comprehended Bethany's statement. She refused to go with him. What other option did this leave?
In his heart, he knew the other option.
No. No way in hell.
Eyes narrowing, his temper flared, met hers, and matched the same frustrated heat. "So fine. Okay, stay here- tell me this, am I supposed to stay here too? You want me to give up MIT? Where I've always wanted to go?"
She knew as soon as he said it, that he was right. Yes, that was exactly what she wanted. And she was surprised at this discovery. She knew she had a degree of selfishness, but she had no idea that she had this much.
Babe, what else will we do? She thought broken heartedly.
Victor jerked back as though he had read her mind. "You are… unbelievable," he muttered, shaking his head.
Bethany felt a burst of anger so intense she almost shrieked, and moved away from him. "Well what did you think when you applied? That I'd follow you? That I'd leave my family-," She stopped, watching him nod and actually let out a shriek of outrage, "Victor, what am I supposed to do? What are we going to do now?"
She was backing away from him, not looking at him anymore, already seeing some future with his absence. She couldn't stand it and shut her eyes tightly against the sudden tears that formed. Victor watched her back away and saw what would happen, the inevitable truth, that they'd have to break up, and he felt his throat close.
Without a second thought, he took two long strides towards her, toward the most dear and constant thing in his life, and lifted her up. The movement was familiar and Bethany automatically wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, pulling him as close as he could go. They raced for each others mouth and met halfway; drawn together like magnets, and poured out every ounce of anger they had into this aggressive kiss.
Bethany knew what this was, knew that she should make this easier for herself and pull away, but instead found herself throwing everything she had into this kiss. It wasn't their best, it was clumsier, painful, and long, but it was a kiss they both knew they'd remember forever.
They kissed against Victor's car for a long time, savoring their limited time, and the taste of goodbye.
-.-.-.-.-
Rachel sighed, breaking concentration briefly, and then continued her study, moving toward one of her favorite parts.
Those juxtaposing, weirdly compatible colors. Colors that originally seemed like foils, but strangely fit. Purple and red. Gold and black. Yellow and gray.
Those contrasts, that compatibility.
Orange and pink.
Wally and Jenny.
-.-.-.-.-.-
They moved toward each other like they were each other's own personal gravitational pull. They orbited each other, oriented themselves so they always touching, always close to each other. They adopted each other's little habits.
Jenny started grinning. Wally began smirking.
During art class, Jenny would start into a story, and suddenly begin talking a mile a minute, just endlessly inserting details and thoughts and facts without once pausing for breath. Rachel would watch, a little impressed, very bewildered. Jinx didn't always have the enthusiasm Wally possessed when he told stories, but she could trail on without end just as long, possibly even longer than the red haired boy.
Wally adopted sarcasm. It didn't have the stinging quality Jinx's remarks had, nor did it sound nearly as condescending, but whenever he did, his usually grinning mouth would transform into something closely resembling a sneer.
Somehow Wally had managed to create a very friendly sneer.
Of course, not everyone approved of the couple. Wally had many friends who were girls, a great number who had pined for him openly. Everyone assumed he would pick someone a little perkier, a little sportier, and a little friendlier.
Instead he chose cynical, unpredictably hostile, black coffee and scary poetry: Jenny Curse.
"I don't get it," Rachel heard a junior girl state flatly to her friend. Both were looking at the couple, watching as Wally unlocked and opened Jenny's locker, and leaned down toward her for a kiss. Jenny brushed past him with raised eyebrows and started to collect her things. Partially outraged, Wally turned toward her and demanded a kiss.
Jenny retorted that if he always got a reward for doing something nice, he would cease to hope for one. In response, Wally leaned in and kissed her himself, and Rachel watched in a mixture of amusement and discomfort as it progressed into a rather heated make out scene.
For someone who often remarked how disgusting public displays of affection were, Jenny was quite passionate when motivated.
A distinctly uncomfortable teacher separated them, and Jenny blushed rather prettily for a girl who tried to act so tough. Wally smirked and winked at her, "I highly doubt I could ever cease to hope for that," With that as his exit line, he departed, leaving a very dazed Jenny leaning against her locker with a silly grin on her face.
Rachel giggled to herself, and the two junior girls scowled and walked away, still bitterly arguing amongst themselves.
-.-.-.-.-.-
"You are miles away, my dear," Mr. Mod gently pushed Rachel's shoulder. She looked up from her trance, to one of her favorite people's eyes.
Mr. Mod recognized that look. He observed this girl, this young woman actually, who had streaks of paint on her face, under her fingernails, and all over her work shirt and jeans. Her usually neat hair was haphazardly tossed into a sloppy pony-tail with a paintbrush stabbed in the middle. She would have looked very young, if it weren't for the astonishingly intelligent look in her eyes.
She sighed, tilted her head a little to the right, and continued to consider her painting.
Mr. Mod decided to remain silent, and glanced at her painting. His breath stopped as he saw its appeal, and with eager eyes, examined her utterly raw talent.
He studied it for one full minute, and dropped his gaze knowingly. If it were him, he wouldn't have changed a single thing.
As pride filled him, he told her gently, and watched her acknowledge his words with a slight nod. Part of her knew the painting was finished, just as many artists do, but stared at it nonetheless, as though trying to recapture what the point had been, what it meant to her.
As for himself, Mr. Mod was more delighted than he could find the words to say. "Don't get too lost in the picture, my dear," Was all he said, and walked away from his favorite student to check others in his separately taught private class.
Meanwhile Rachel immersed herself in a part she loved dearly, smiling as she took in all those unexpected clashes of colors and collisions in movement.
Those dark colors slashing through, crashing into the graceful, softer colors.
And there were Zachary and Kori right there in her painting.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Rachel walked into the coffee shop, and felt her body simultaneously relax as she inhaled the scent of pastries and coffee beverages. The sound of soft jazz and the sight of those plump purple couches soothed her in indescribable ways and she glanced around intently.
"Rachel, over here!" Michael called nearby from behind the counter. She raised an eyebrow at his green apron and disheveled appearance. His white blonde hair stuck up in odd angles and she resisted smoothing it down, knowing it would embarrass him. Bright eyes examined her navy pea coat and vanilla colored scarf, and he smiled in silent approval.
"When do you get off work?" She asked, leaning against the counter, touching her forehead to his by standing on the very tips of her toes.
It was a secret of hers, but she had been very relieved when he had told her about this job. There were constant rumors floating around that he distributed drugs for one of the local corrupt companies, but she hadn't built up the nerve to ask about it. When he had told her about this job, he had specifically added that it was his only job. With a sly, knowing smile he had answered her unasked question and she had given him a kiss for it.
Michael checked his watch, his very nice, expensive watch she noted, and answered, "About fifteen minutes,"
He watched her face fall ever so slightly, and grinned, flashing bright, even white teeth at her. "Make yourself comfortable,"
Rachel bit her lip, wishing she had brought a book with her. "Oh, okay," Unexpectedly Michael leaned in and kissed her forehead. He was remarkably affectionate, she realized with pleased shock. She had never expected that.
"You'll have fun, trust me," He murmured in a sly tone.
Rachel raised her eyebrows. "I will?"
"Oh! It's Rachel!!" A cheerful high voice squealed from behind, in sync with a male baritone voice chiming in with, "Fires, you old rogue, old buddy, old pal!"
Rachel didn't have to turn around to know who had spoken. Instead she shared an amused smile with Michael, and slowly turned to hug Kori hello.
The tall red head practically lifted Rachel off the floor with an enthusiastic hug, and sincerely repeated how happy she was to see her friend. "You look beautiful, by the way. Is this a new coat?"
Rachel nodded, pleased as Kori complimented her outfit. She did dress carefully before coming, and wore brown leather wedge boots, deep navy skinny jeans, light green long-sleeve skirt, coat and scarf. Her dark brown hair was loose and agreeable today, and Rachel ran her fingers through it lightly.
"So, how did you and Zach run into each other?"
Kori laughed suddenly, her eyes glazing over as she remembered some previous moment. "It's funny because that's exactly what happened. I was walking back from ballet and Zach turned up on Main the same time I was walking down it, and we literally collided,"
Zach suddenly appeared behind her shoulder, and poked her playfully. "Yeah, for a ballerina, she's really not all that graceful,"
Rachel opened her mouth to defend her friend, but watched as Kori spun neatly and pointed a finger in his face. "You would have fallen to if some big oaf had practically line-backer tackled you into the snow,"
"I didn't tackle you!"
"What would you call it then?"
"Kori, if I had tackled you," Zach began in a matter of fact tone, "You would be flattened into the sidewalk,"
The sound of Michael's disbelieving snort echoed from the counter.
Zach smiled serenely, not turning to look at his friend. "Just as Michael could tell you, in great detail,"
"I know where you sleep, Rex," Michael sang quietly, winking at Rachel.
"No one wants to hear about your gay tendencies, Fires," Zach sang back in a high falsetto.
The sound of Zach's painful groan echoed around the store as a large tin container of whipped cream flew out from behind the counter and hit him on the back of the head.
At Kori's hurried suggestion, all three went to wait in line to buy drinks, and she and Zach casually struck up a conversation about movies. Rachel listened half heartedly, but was entertained much more by simply watching them interact. Both were dusted with snow from the walk over. Zach's brown leather jacket and red scarf with decorated with snow and Kori brushed them off absentmindedly.
Zach grinned suddenly and ran his hands through her lose red hair, mussing it up playfully and shaking off all the snow. Kori shrieked and smacked him on the shoulder, protesting, "Zach! Stop it!" The wide smile on her face ruined any intimidation she was going for.
The line ended abruptly, and they quit rough housing to order drinks in a very civilized manner. Rachel took all of this in with growing astonishment, wondering when on earth their flirting had exhilarated to dating-measures.
"Tell me this, Miss Andrews," Zach proposed loftily as they later stood idly by the counter, waiting for their drinks, "What self-respecting teenage girl wears mittens?"
Rachel glanced down and sure enough, Kori was sporting green mittens with her green scarf, long gray plaid coat, fuzzy white sweater and jeans.
"I'll have you know that lots of girls wear mittens," Kori answered, nose in the air. She grinned at Rachel when she caught her gaze.
"Name five," Zach demanded, stepping closer to Kori, cutting off the already small distance between them.
Kori stepped back, but couldn't resist smiling. "Excuse me. I have rights. I don't have to tell you,"
Zachary let out a loud bark of laughter, "Oh yes, Amendment 29 of the Constitution: Kori does not have to talk to Zachary,"
"Oh good, I'm glad they informed you of that," She answered coolly, glancing away with a haughty expression.
"If you two are done have verbal sex," Michael promptly intervened as he set their drinks down, and took off his green apron, "I'd like to borrow Zach for a minute,"
Zachary lifted an eyebrow but complied.
Rachel winced at Kori's strangled protest, and held out her arms automatically for her embarrassed friend who dove into them, face brighter than her hair.
Michael and Zach exchanged amused grins, and drifted off to talk quietly to each other. "Rachel?" Kori asked, voice high pitched with embarrassment.
"Hmm?"
"Your boyfriend is just a little awful,"
Rachel smiled, "He teases because he cares,"
Kori pulled away, but smiled a little. "Aww," She cooed, beaming at Rachel, "What utter bull shit," They laughed together, and Rachel felt herself slip into the familiar comfort that was the presence of her red headed friend. Kori's amiable chatter filled the air as they discussed future plans for a sleepover and Tim Burton movie marathon.
"Sleepy Hollow," Kori demanded in a matter of fact-tone.
Rachel nodded, and added in an adoring voice, "Sweeny Todd,"
The lithe red head made a face, but allowed it. "Corpse Bride," She contributed.
"Nightmare Before Christmas," Rachel countered.
"Willy Wonka," Kori suggested, smiling.
"Ugh, must we?"
"We must."
"Fine then. Edward Scissorhands,"
""Classic"" They said at the same time, their voice ringing with the same, almost religious fervor. They grinned at each other, and Kori began to bounce on the soles of her Minnetonka snow boots. "I'm excited!" She cheered, "We'll paint nails and everything,"
Rachel grimaced but, she had to admit, only half heartedly. Deep down, she knew that Kori could have planned a night of acupuncture and a stuffed animal reenactment of Grease-, and Rachel would have felt compelled to allow it. She hadn't realized how long it had been since they had spent so much time together. It wasn't as though they never saw each other, they did, daily. But Kori today, with her vibrancy, her liveliness, it reminded Rachel of how dead Kori had seemed lately. It hit Rachel suddenly, how much she had missed her friend. Without a second thought Rachel simply stepped forward and hugged her.
Kori stiffened a little at first, confused by the affection that she usually initiated. But she hugged back hard, felt her bones and skin melt into that familiar place.
She was tugged away all too soon. "C'mon, tear yourself away from your girlfriend," Zach teased, grinning broadly, "We're not welcome on their date,"
Kori raised her eyebrows, looking up at the brown haired boy, "Oh? We're not? Not even as awkward tag-a-longs?"
Michael winked at Rachel, wrapping an easy arm over her shoulder. "'Fraid not, Kori. Go frolic with Zach. Tackle someone other than me,"
Zach and Kori exchanged a look. "Where's the fun in that?" Zach asked in disappointment, shaking his head.
"I was just thinking the same thing," Kori told him, as they walked toward the door. "What shall we do now?"
"Have more fun than them," Zachary answered amiably, linking an arm through the tall red head's.
Michael snorted and shook his head, turning to face Rachel. "You have the oddest look on your face," He informed her gently. "What's on your mind?"
Rachel blinked, scattering her thoughts from her head. "Oh. Kori. And Zach. They're in love, aren't they?"
Michael smiled comfortably, as though this thought didn't surprise him in the slightest. "Well, Zach is. He just doesn't know it. I have no idea about Kori,"
The dark haired girl let herself be hugged, and snuggled deep into Michael's chest, inhaling the scent of coffee and cologne. "Hmm. I have no idea about Kori either,"
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Family Dinner was an old tradition in the Andrews family.
Every Sunday evening the Kori, Ryan and Becca (if they were home), would sit down at the table with their parents for a three course home cooked meal.
Attendance was required if you were perfectly healthy and had no school-related engagements. You did not show up in jeans and a t-shirt either. The phrase 'church clothes' was a common theme for these dinners. Stockings, shoes, and make up were subtly obligatory.
Dinner was at seven. Tardiness led to being temporarily ostracized, or worse, questioned by the Mr. and Mrs. about moral values. In other words: "How could you?" And Vivian Andrews could work up a peculiarly elegant rage when she wanted to.
They sat in specific seats at the long, rectangular mahogany table. They discussed work, politics, religion, and the weather. They commented on the meals. They told silly little stories of the minor adventures they had the other day. They reported little details about friends, "Oh, darling, you'll never believe who I ran into the other day…"
And so on.
At 6:15, Sunday night, Kori sat in front of her vanity, carefully brushing her straight red hair. She smiled experimentally at the mirror, slipping into it like a comfortable pair of shoes. It formed to her face comfortable, and with familiarity. Smiling was the easiest way to get through the night, get through snide comments, ugly criticism, and blatant insults.
Her smile became strained.
Family Dinner really made her want to kill herself.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Zachary shifted gears experimentally, trying very hard to listen to the car motor, but had difficulty under the roar of the snow storm outside.
"Shit," He muttered to himself, thinking back to the tips Wally had given him about his new car.
"It's a standard, Zach," Wally had promised. "It takes a while to get used to, but you shouldn't have a lot of problems. Go out and practice," Handing Zach the keys, the red head had smiled a little awkwardly. "Er, if you stall, just call me, okay?"
Half an hour later, Zach was wondering if that would be necessary. He shifted to third, and strained to hear the motor. It sounded quieter, more of a gentle hum, and he smiled in relief. "Okay, sounds good," He said aloud to himself.
The car had only cost him five grand, a great deal with its gas mileage and appeal. It was forest green, a little ancient Chevy, with a good number of miles already on it. Zach didn't care. It was love at first sight, and Wally had been trying to get rid of it for two years.
Zachary glanced around the area he was in, and furrowed his eyebrows. "Oh crap, where am I?"
These were some hardcore houses here. Estates, almost, with surrounding gates and everything. The houses themselves each sat on hills, each one trying to outdo its neighbor. Zach glanced at an upcoming red brick beast, and it jostled his memory.
He smiled suddenly. Kori lives on this street. Excellent.
She'd love this car. Further more, maybe she'd love to go for a ride in it. Positively giddy, he drove up the steep driveway and glanced at the dashboard clock. 6:55 pm.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
The door bell rang just as Kori was climbing down the stairs. She sort of hated this staircase. Walking down it always gave her the uncomfortable feeling that she was making some hugely important début.
She certainly felt that way right now, encased in uncomfortable shoes and awful stockings. She glanced at the door warily, looking around to see if their butler Martin would catch her if she answered. He became very persnickety if she offered any sort of help, answering the door included.
Kori only saw her sister, Becca, texting someone on her cherry red iPhone and didn't seem to have acknowledged the door bell.
With an irritated sigh, Kori clicked her way (she hated high heels!) to the door and yanked it open.
-.-.-.-.-.-
Half way expected some tall, distinguished butler to answer the door, Zach jumped in surprise to see Kori open the door. "Hey look, I dunno if you're busy, but I just got the sweetest car-," He stopped mid-sentence as eyes took her all in.
Her red hair was pulled back away from her face and neck, in some sort of twist that he couldn't see from the front. Without the thick red curtain around her face, her could see how long her neck was, how delicately round her face was.
Her vivid green eyes were outlined in an even line of black. Mascara extended and thickened her already long, black lashes. Her eyelids seemed to shimmer with a faint sparkle. Pink lips were smooth and coated with a frosted gloss.
His eyes traveled downward, and he saw that she wore a deep purple velvet dress, spaghetti strapped and with a low v-neck. A silver necklace hung around her neck, and the tiny cluster of jewels on the end sat comfortably in between the neckline of her dress. Her arms were bare, but she carried a black cashmere cardigan with her. The skirt flowed around her the tops of her legs, stopping mid-thigh. His eyes followed down her long legs and saw her feet incased in black, stiletto shoes.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice protested his initial reaction to throw her over his shoulder, and carry her away to…
"Ahem!" He coughed loudly, tearing his eyes from Kori. "Um…," He glanced back cautiously to say something, and to his delight and distress saw her lips widen into an extremely charming smile.
Nice girls shouldn't smile like that…
She shifted her weight to her left foot, and he was hit once again with the smooth, straight length of her legs.
Have legs like that…
"Zachary, are you okay?" She asked in her usual polite way, except all of a sudden he noticed a subtle note of sensuality wrapped in her angelic voice… Or was that just his imagination?
Have a phone-sex voice like that…
Dear God, he was starting to sweat, in the middle of this frigid snowstorm. And if he didn't say something fast, she was going to question his already questionable sanity.
"Are you busy?" He threw in desperately, kicking himself for asking such an obvious question.
Kori bit her lip and nodded. "Unfortunately I am. We're having a Family Dinner in…" She glanced behind her, checking a clock. "Oh. Now. I really have to go, I can't be late-," She paused, glancing at him.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Opening the door had never given her such a reaction before. Relief seemed to flood her body, and her morbid house and disposition disappeared as soon as she laid eyes on Zachary.
He had the most ridiculous red hat on, with long strings hanging either side of his face. His thick mahogany brown hair poked out in random sections, and his brown leather coat opened, revealing a rather snug blue sweater. Bright tawny eyes found hers and held them in the warmest gaze that grew hotter and hotter as she eyed him up and down. He smiled his mischievous smile, and she wanted to fling her arms around him, bury her face in his wonderful normalcy.
He started to speak, but trailed off as he took in her outfit.
She tried not to flinch, knowing she looked like she was about to go to a wedding. Next to his jeans, converse sneakers, and sweater ensemble, she looked ridiculous.
Kori watched his eyes sweep down her body and blushed as he mouthed 'Wow' to himself, golden eyes wide in shock.
A few seconds passed, and she would have given up a thousand dollars if she could have listened to what went on in his head. She let a few moments slide by, feeling happily appreciated by his intense stare.
She counted to a hundred in her head, and then mentally sighed, knowing this was narcissism in its plainest. "Zachary, are you alright?" She asked politely, wishing she could just screw manners and her shyness, and simply jump him.
"Are you busy?" He said in a strangely hoarse voice, and seemed to shake himself.
No I'm not. Let's go. Get me out of here. She sighed, nodding. "Unfortunately I am," She grudgingly explained the importance of the night, and checked the time quickly.
7:01. Shit.
"I really have to go, I can't be late-," She stopped talking as she took in his slightly deflated expression. She frowned in desperation, thinking rapidly. "I want to come. I really do. I can't,"
Zach moved his mouth into a dazzling smile that didn't meet the disappointment in his eyes. "I understand, don't worry about it. I should have called,"
Oh God, she seriously hated this. Give her Family Dinner for a week straight, just save her from the very serious, quiet understanding in his voice… A large part of her yearned for his typical spontaneous actions, and wished he would simply take her away. Instead he looked oddly resigned, and briefly she wondered how out of place he must feel, amongst all the obnoxious, frivolous splendor that was her house.
Without another word, Kori stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, promising to hug for just two seconds before slamming the door in his face and dashing to dinner.
What she didn't anticipate, though, was his reaction. His long, strong arms engulfed her, slid under her arms and lifted her into the tightest, warmest hug she had ever received.
Somewhere, distantly in her mind, she knew that her skirt was probably riding up, that her parents were going to kill her for being late, that she should let go…
And she would.
Really.
Any second now.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
He had been ready to leave quietly, swallowing his bitter irritation and trying not to reveal how unreasonably upset her was.
Because none of this was her fault, and if she knew how he felt now… He imagined a perfect crestfallen look on her face, the same look he tried to smother on his own face.
Zachary sighed very quietly and forced what he hoped looked like a genuine smile. His hands burrowed into his pockets as he readied himself to face the bitter cold. What did he expect, anyway? That she'd abandon a perfectly warm house, hot dinner, and her own family, to spend time with him? Zachary suddenly felt very acutely how shabby he must look, after eying the grandeur of her house, the finery enhanced by Kori's flawless appearance…
Not for me. The quiet thought slipped into his mind, and he sucked in a breath and suddenly he was babbling something probably pathetic. He heard himself mutter, "I should have called-,"
All of a sudden, her arms were around his waist. Zach couldn't remember a time when she, Kori, had ever initiated the hugs or any sort of contact. It was always him grabbing her hand, him hugging her, him playing with her hair…
All of this ran through his head in the span of a millisecond. One moment she had hugged him, the next he was holding her against him, contemplating throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her away. No, she's not for me.
Instead he swung her around, loving the feel of her lithe body moving against his, the sound of her laughter joining his as they spun in a circle. At the end of their twirl though, he happened to look over her shoulder, and froze.
The female figure was dark and indistinguishable in the distance, but her critical stance made him stop in his tracks and set Kori down.
Mother? Aunt? Sister?
Kori turned to see who had caught his attention, and visibly stiffened. "Becca, I'm coming," She called, her voice dropping a couple degrees in warmth. It almost sounded dismissive, flat, and he couldn't remember a time when she had ever spoken in the same tone.
Becca, possible sister or cousin, nodded once at Kori, but Zachary could sense her eyes on him. He became (if possible) even more uncomfortably aware of his dirty converse sneakers, his informal jeans and sweater, his floppy red hat…
Becca stepped forward a few steps, into better light, and he almost instinctively stepped back.
This was the famous Andrews sister. The rumor mill had not lied when they described her as unforgettably beautiful. Becca Andrews could have brought a stronger man than Zach to his knees. Becca had dark, shadowing features, unlike her bright, fiery toned sister.
Both had the same eye shape, but while Kori's were a vivid green, Becca's were a deep blue, almost purple. Their hair was long, straight, and incredibly thick, but in contrast to Kori's vibrant red hair, Becca had a head of coal black locks.
They were exactly the same height. Standing next to each other, Zach could have guessed them to be twins.
But as most sisters go, their differences in looks echoed that in style. Kori's attire was subtly revealing, still classy but with undeniable confidence.
Without a doubt, Becca dressed to impress. Her long black hair fell over her shoulders and down her back. She wore a red silk dress that ended a couple inches above mid-thigh and silently flowed around the top of her legs with every movement. The sleeves were lose and ended above her elbows, but the cut of the v-neck bust dipped low to her navel. She wore gold bracelets, chandelier earrings, and a long gold necklace that dropped between her well developed chest.
Zach averted his eyes down quickly, and saw small feet encased in five inch gold strappy stiletto heels.
Holy mother of God! He thought instantly. He felt the oddest mixture of curiosity, attraction, and the impulse to run like hell. You could just tell from first glance: this woman had appetites.
Zachary blinked a few times and then turned his gaze to Kori, who looked at him searchingly. He flinched inwardly, wondering how long he had gawked at Becca. Smooth.
"Sorry, I shouldn't be keeping you," He muttered, mentally kicking himself. He kept his eyes on Kori, who had the strangest look on her face.
"Nonsense," Becca spoke for the first time, and the sound of her voice didn't sit right with him. The mixture of her high, lilting voice, with the cool, almost condescending tone only increased the desire to flee. Zach kept his eyes on Kori, who watched her sister.
"Becca?"
"Kori, how rude of you," Becca chided gently, eyes still on Zach. "Invite your friend to dinner. And why haven't you taken his coat? Speaking of which, where is Martin?"
"Martin?" Zach whispered to Kori.
"Butler," She mouthed.
He grinned with raised eyebrows. Knew it.
Becca turned and walked -, no, strutted down the hallway. "I'll tell mother and father that we're to expect a guest, Kori dear,"
"Thank you, Becca," Kori answered in the most monotone voice Zach had ever heard come from her. She smiled apologetically to Zach, "Um, you can run if you want, I'll tell them you had a family emergency or something,"
He halfway agreed to it. However, something in her eyes, the way she had folded her arms tightly across her chest stopped him. "Nonsense," He said, adopting Becca's lofty tone. "I'd love to come,"
His approach worked, and Kori giggled and relaxed. "You really have a knack for impressions, you know that right?"
"I have a knack for everything," Zach informed her, shrugging out of his coat. "So you have a Butler?"
"Mmmhmm," Kori nodded, taking his jacket from him and heading toward a nearby closet.
"May I call him Jeeves?"
"No," She snorted, "You may not,"
"Where on earth does one get a butler anyway?" Zach pondered, as he took off his hat and dragged his hands through his flattened hair, leaving it sticking up in odd sections.
"Sears," Kori answered curtly, taking his hat. She smiled as Zach burst out laughing and took a moment to simply reevaluate her surroundings.
Zach, with just his presence, suddenly warmed her forever freezing house. The darkness outside didn't not diminish the bright lights of the chandelier, the marble staircase did not suffocate, the high ceiling did not intimidate.
With Zach standing there, just being himself, she felt more at home in her house than she ever had before.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
It never failed.
The crinkling sound of her cotton sheets and comforter always made her smile.
Rachel sunk deeper into her bed and closed her eyes.
There was something therapeutic about Sunday nights, or at least her routine.
Maybe it was the mid-afternoon bath she always indulged in. The mixture of frothy bubbles, steamy, sandalwood and lavender scented waters, and some tattered book (today was The Lovely Bones an old favorite) rarely failed to appease any stress or troubles.
After her bath, she pick from a list of approved activities:
Meditate by using an old spiritual guidance book she had bought years ago in a book store in New Orleans.
Sketch
Continue to read
Listen to her iPod
Nap
After an hour or two or whichever she picked (today she read, not resisting whatsoever to the magnetic pull that was Alice Sebold's prose), she would meander downstairs to help her mother with dinner. They'd turn on the television to House, and watch while they cooked. Neither were expert chefs, and more often than not they ended up tossing the failed efforts and ordering out.
Today, though, they had managed to scrape together a decent looking plate of pasta.
As usual protocol, they blatantly ignored the nice dining room table, and hopped up onto the counter to talk about school, work, friends, music, or books…
After they finished, her mother would always insist on cleaning up, no matter how weary she felt. As she had done since she was a little girl, Rachel would compromise by putting away all food and drying dishes.
Now she lay, perfectly comfortable in her bed, wondering why she deserved this good fortune when her beloved friend Kori was certainly going through hell on earth this very moment?
Oh Kori, you poor thing. Rachel winced, knowing how much her friend detested these nights. As for her, there was nothing about this night that she detested. Homework was always done on Friday nights, or Saturday mornings, and on Sundays she braced herself for the daunting school week.
Rachel sighed a satisfied little sigh, and felt her very core melt into her warm, fluffy bed… Any second now, she'd surrender her mind to dreams.
I just want you for my own!
Her eyes flew open, startled by her singing cell phone lying a few feet away on her desk. More than you could ever know!
"Now is not the time, Mariah Carey," With a growl, she dragged herself off her bed, and snatched the phone, still happily singing the seasonal tune, Make my wish come true!
All irritation ceased as she read the caller I.D.
All I want for Christmas is you!
"Hi Michael," She said into her silver razor. "What's new?"
"You stole my question," He accused in a mock angry voice. "But since I'm a gentleman, I'll answer. What's new?" He repeated to himself, and Rachel felt her lips spread into a happy smile just from the smooth undulations of his voice. "Well, I'm kind of calling on my stalker attributes…"
Rachel raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware you had stalker attributes. What do you stalk?"
"Not what, who,"
Ahh, she knew where this was going, and felt a flash of excitement, followed with a flash of horror. She was wearing her Pokémon footie pajama bottoms and matching tank top. "Um…" She struggled to find a way to stall him, "…Am I wrong to guess that you're close to my house?"
She could practically hear him smirk. "You'd be quite accurate,"
"Give me ten minutes?" She pleaded, mentally going through her wardrobe.
"No, no, keep the pajamas on, they look intriguing,"
Rachel groaned, looking over towards her second story window. Sure enough, on the street below, someone was standing, looking up at her house, and waved.
"Are they… footie pajamas?"
"Go to hell!" She scowled, flicking off the named figure. His warm, rich laugh pacified her, but she wouldn't let him know that. "C'mon, Rach, I'm supremely bored and want to hang out with my girlfriend,"
The way you say 'girlfriend'… She thought to herself, biting her lip to keep from grinning, Is it your mild British accent, or just the reminder that we're dating, that makes me want to scream and jump up and down?
"Hmm…" Rachel pretended to ponder, and was rewarded by his irritated exhale.
"Right. Well, I was going to be polite and knock on the door and meet your mother- but since you're being difficult, I'll just have to do this the easier way," Michael growled, and she watched him stalk his way towards the house.
Rachel smiled and said, "Okay, fine- you can-," She heard the dial tone and her eyebrows shot up. "…He hung up on me…"
Suddenly every malicious thing she had ever said about schmaltzy, gooey couples came back to slap her in the face, as she stared at the phone in outrage. "How dare he!" She hissed, and prepared vicious insults in her head and she headed downstairs to greet him.
Part of her was a little nervous and a little guilty, as she tip-toed down the stairs and passed her mother's room on the first floor. The tip-toeing was unnecessary, she realized, as she heard the faint sounds of her mother showering.
That would make it a little easier to sneak him in and out, she thought to herself, biting her lip a little in relief.
She reached the door quickly, and waited for the knock.
About twenty seconds passed as she stared at the door. Finally, impatient, she rolled her eyes and yanked open the door. To her surprise she saw empty air and her doorstep.
"…Michael?" She called out uneasily.
This was weird. Hesitantly, she shut the door, and glanced around for her cell phone. With a wave of annoyance, she realized it was sitting on her bed.
She dashed back to the steps, taking two at a time, and walked down the hall, passed her bathroom, and into her bedroom.
And there on her white iron full sized bed, lay Michael.
"Hey you," He greeted easily, stretching idly on her warm sheets. "Good thing I didn't hold my breath,"
Rachel's mouth opened and closed as she floundered for something to say.
One perfect arched brow rose in mild concern. "You all right?" He asked genially.
"Sure," She managed, taking a deep breath, "Just give me a second to restart my heart,"
Lips stretched into a pleased grin, "I scared you?"
She leaned back against her closed door, tilting her head back to hide her smile. "Only a little,"
"I apologize," He said, sitting up smoothly, and walked towards her. "Now let me see- they are footie pajamas!"
Rachel's head snapped down and she glared. "Don't mock the sex appeal,"
"Oh, I'm not," Michael said sincerely, hiding a grin behind his palm. "Seriously, they are weirdly sexy in an endearing way…"
Rachel snorted, walking passed him to avoid his studying eyes. An arm caught her waist, and pulled her close to his shaking body as he chuckled. "Really, Rachel, I like the jim jams,"
She couldn't help but reveal her smile now, and snickered, "Did you just say 'jim jams'?"
Michael blinked. "…Yes. What's so funny about that?"
"Who calls pajamas 'jim jams'?" She laughed even harder, pressing her face into his chest to smother her mirth.
Michael's mouth fell open. "Let me get this straight. You're the one wearing footie pajamas, and yet I'm the one getting made fun of? How did this happen?" His arms, however, pulled her closer, and he reveled distractedly in her warmth. It had been particularly frigid outside.
Rachel nodded helplessly, still laughing. "I'm sorry, it's just… the way you said it-,"
"Oh shut up," He scowled half heartedly, smiling as well, and poked her side absentmindedly.
Her reaction threw him completely off guard. She seemed to convulse instantaneously and shudder at the same time, and she shrieked a mille-second afterwards. "Stop, don't!" She protested, pushing against him, "I'm ticklish,"
As soon as she spoken those two words, Michael's concern transformed into undeniable satisfaction.
Rachel could practically see the predatory look growing in his eyes, and she berated herself for revealing a weakness to an evil, evil person…
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Please review!
Because if you don't, I'll know.
Oh yeah.
I'll know.
Nothing gets passed this writer.
Rawr.
-Rose