Chapter Eight
Peter Pan, Acne and Some Serious Smooches
(Harlow)
"So, are you from around here?"
He shook that beautiful head of his, cupping his mug gently. "Born in Corry, Pennsylvania and raised in Sumter, South Carolina. It's where my Mum's from. How about you?"
I smiled, trying to figure out the least awkward way to answer this. "Around Rhode Island, I think."
I think I hard failed at the whole 'not-awkward' thing.
He nodded slowly, looking at me with a slightly quizzical look. "You think?"
I shrugged. "Not entirely sure, but my birth certificate said Rhode Island. Westerly, I think."
He smiled. "I went to Westerly once, I was probably ... five, six. Don't remember it, but my Mum's got a gazillion pictures up at home of that trip. I'm pretty sure that was the year that all I wore was a Peter Pan Halloween outfit to every school, casual, family and outdoor function there was, just a phase I was going through ... I wish she'd burnt those photos. And I wish I hadn't just told you that."
"I'd love to see those," I laughed, holding my own steamy cup tightly and pretending not to notice the beet red of his dimpled cheeks. "I don't remember much of Westerly, but I've seen pictures and it looks beautiful. Not nearly as beautiful as you in a small, spandex Peter Pan outfit, but almost."
He laughed, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably - oh, his cute little awkwardness! Honest to God, guys, my heart beat a mile a minute for this loveable little dork seated in front of me. "It is beautiful. Westerly, not me in a sparkly celery colored jumpsuit," he clarified, blushing slightly. "You should go back one day - just visit. It is where you were born, after all. Might be nice to check it out?"
HAHAHA FUNNY JOKE. Hell fuckin' NOOO I wasn't goin' back to visit! Fuck that, fuck Westerly, fuck birthplaces.
"Maybe one day," I said brightly, feigning thoughtfulness as best I could (but in my head, I was actually thanking GOD he couldn't read my mind - can you imagine? He would know all about my distaste for Westerly, my ragin' Buell libido and dirty thoughts about him in skimpy Peter Pan outfits - oh damn). "So, if you were raised in Sumter, what made you transfer all the way to Pennsylvania?"
"My dad," he said, leaning forwards slightly - oh Christ, I could smell the old spice wafting off that gorgeous bod - hold me back, I WILL POUNCE. "He's a state trooper in Corry."
"That's a pretty good reason," I said, crossing my legs tightly under the table (maybe if I smoosh the ol' vagoogoo, the raunchy thoughts would cease to fill up my brain? ... lemme see ... oh, nope - definitely not). "Do you - ow - talk to him a lot?"
"Eh," he said, with a shrug of those disgustingly manly, firm shoulders - rawr. "Little bit every now and then. My Mum raised me, so I'm closer to her and her side of the family, but I see my Dad once every couple of months."
"That's nice," I said earnestly, feeling a slight pang of jealousy at the words 'close' and 'family' - God damn you, scorned and loveless heart! GOD DAMN YOUUUU! "It's good you still have some kind of relationship with him."
"What about you?" he asked, looking thoughtfully at me with those big, gorgeous brown eyes - they were the color of chocolate, I swear to you - I wanted to melt his eyes and slather them all over my body. Is that weird? ... Don't answer that. "Were you closer with your Mum or your Dad?"
Oh God, and it begins.
I took a hurried sip from my steaming mug of hot cocoa to try and bypass answering that question. Smart, huh? I'll just sit here and hold steaming chocolaty beverage in my mouth to avoid answering the whole 'Fam Jam' topic. Ugh.
Stella's, the bakery Ryan had suggested, was adorable. It was quaint, that much was true. But it was charming. It was covered, wall to wall, with all the kinds of baked goods you could ever have imagined. Loaves of bread, bags of donuts, boxes of steamy, homemade apple pie's, rolls of cinnamon buns, bagels, raisin bread. Pound cakes, birthday cakes, wedding cakes, pudding cakes, bunt cakes. Shelves and shelves of cookies - oatmeal, M&M's, sugar, peanut butter, chocolate chip, gingerbread, gingersnap. The place reeked of warm, doughy goodness. Had I not been with this horrifically attractive twenty-something year old man sitting directly across from me, I probably would have salivated all down the front of my shirt.
I AM SOOOOOO ATTRACTIVE.
To save myself the embarrassment of Ryan thinking I was a total man (which, hey, when it comes to eating - watch out, bitches!), I had attempted to seem like a slightly dainty young lady with a light appetite and a delicate, slightly refined approach at the whole 'eating' thing. Guys liked that, right? I was pretty good at it, too - well .. I still used my fingers, but I did put a napkin on my lap - that's gotta score me some brownie points or somethin', right? It's not that I was trying to hide who I really was with him - I mean for God's sakes, he already knew I saw dead people. But regardless. I didn't think ordering an entire pan of Vanilla Pudding Cake to yourself on a first night out with a guy was really .. giving a good impression (what, you doubt I can eat it all? Bring it!)
God, do I ever digress.
Anyways. After pretending like one cinnamon bun would suffice (Oh God, I can not even begin to explain to you guys how badly I wanted to just jump that counter and stuff my face full of every warm, gooey thing I could lay my hands on - ughhhhsoogood), Ryan and I both ordered Stella's 'Famous' double mocha steamy hot chocolate and started our slightly awkward, but up until this point completely innocent small talk about school, friends, extra-curricular activities, and all that boring, albeit normal first date topics.
But alas - now, we delved into no man's land - the horribly awkward, unfairly pathetic, slightly tragic and so-bad-it-was-almost-humorous family story time.
Well, for me anyways.
"Who was I closer to .. well," I said slowly, wishing there was some sort of food on the table I could stuff into my mouth to bide me just one more second. "I wasn't really close with either of them. My biological father died when I was just a baby, I don't remember him, and my Mom and I weren't exactly ... close. She died a couple of years ago, anyways."
Ryan nodded. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"Don't be," I said automatically, then I blushed in slight embarrassment. "I mean .. it's fine. She wasn't really a huge part of my life, anyways."
"Yeah," he said. "It still sucks, though. But y'know, you turned out pretty fantastically anyways."
Oh God, I want your weiner, fine Sir.
I smiled bashfully. "Oh, jeeze, you're makin' me blush."
He grinned back at me. "So tell me - were you always the kind of student you are today? Y'know - best dressed, 4.0 GPA, Teacher's Favorite, A+ student, sports team captain, Queen Bee and all of that high school goodness?"
The thought of me with some fancy, dorky sash with a million friends and followers, waving like the queen, was enough to make me laugh. "Definitely not. Oh God, Ryan, if you only knew."
We both laughed, and he looked at me thoughtfully. "I find it hard to believe."
I grinned. "Honest to God truth, I'm just a really big dork who happens to be sort of good at volleyball. I was nothin' special in high school."
Saying that word almost made me gag, ugh. High School. TERRIBLE WORD. BURN IN HELL, HIGH SCHOOL.
Ryan shook his head in disbelief. "That's probably the biggest shock I've had since finding out about Santa Claus."
I laughed. "It's true though! Honestly, I traveled around the country so much, I never really got time to settle in to any one specific place before I had to move again. And up until about the age of 17, I was the most pathetic, homely lookin' thing you could ever imagine, so no one really wanted to be my friend, anyways. And there was never really anytime to get to know me, so no one really bothered. I was just a little, scrawny library nerd who's best friend was the school's librarian."
Ryan's 'awwed' sympathetically - that sympathy made me want to jump him from across the table. Good God, that fox.
You show me sympathy, Ryan Buell? I'll show you my TaTas.
Oh God, this man makes me such a mind whore. Shut up, skank brain, shut up!
"It's okay," I assured him. "I'm fine now. Eventually I figured out how to hit a volleyball, my acne cleared up and I filled out a little bit. You don't stay a wallflower forever, I guess."
"You're definitely no wallflower now," he said, and if I wasn't being too smug or cocky, I swear to you guys that I saw him take a quick, nervous little peek down at my girls.
KEEP LOOKIN', BUELLY.
Oh shit. I'm sorry, you guys. It's his Old Spice, it skankifys me.
"So why'd you choose Penn State?" he asked me, and I felt a little bit of shock at the earnest interest in that handsome face. I don't think I'd ever been out on a first date with a guy that legitimately gave a shit about something other than my honkers - oh, he's such a sweetie!
"I had never been through or lived in Pennsylvania," I said simply, tapping a thumb lightly against my mug - my brain was screaming at me to shut up, but my heart told me to keep going. "Out of the fifty U.S. states, I had lived in 47 of them by the time I was 18. I just wanted to go somewhere I'd never been."
Heart trumps brain - always.
"Forty seven out of fifty," he whistled, shaking his head with disbelief. "That's .. ridiculous. I'd barely left South Carolina when I was 18."
"Believe me," I said, with an embarrassed little laugh. "I wish I'd been the same."
There was a definite lull in the conversation, which made me realize (rather tragically, might I add) that there really was no avoiding it - the topic of my shitty family and even (if humanly friggin' possible) shittier 'gift' would have to be discussed at some point if I wanted this relationship to go any further.
Oh sigh.
I could sense it, simply from his body language and hesitation, that he was trying his best to avoid the topics he could tell weren't exactly the easiest ones for me to talk about. I didn't even know it was possible, but he made my heart even warmer with that careful, gentlemanly courtesy. I don't know how, but there was some part of me that just knew - knew - that he would never, not in one million years bring up the awkwardness that was my personal life. So it'd have to be up to me.
Basic facts, I'd decided. As we drove to Stella's, rambling about the most random, unimportant shit ever('Strange weather we're having, eh?' or 'Yeah, I've never seen a 711 being built either, how weird!' or 'I'm allergic to cats' or 'Chunky Chicken Noodle Soup is my favorite soup besides Tomato' - total nerds, aren't we?), I had gone over how this date would go in my head about a million times. In my ideal situation, we'd be able to avoid all the awkwardness, skip over my family, ignore the fact that I was chillin' with the live folk and the dead - he'd think I was cute, would like me almost as much as I liked him and then he'd totally propose right here, right now with a big 30235 pound diamond ring or somethin' - isn't that every girl's dream? Or maybe I just watch too much TV. Hm.
Anyways! I had to face the facts - none of that would ever happen. For five simple reasons. See, first and foremost - I'm a terribly awkward person. Straight up, guys, not even lying - I don't know how to initiate shit, I'm rather hopeless in that field. Secondly, talking about my family? Well .. I'd rather have done a naked ChaCha dance routine in the middle of the restaurant than bring up the hell that was my childhood. Number Three: regardless of what Ryan seemed to think of me, in actuality I was an awkward, gangly lookin' chick with no real attractive, alluring features. I don't know who he thinks he's kiddin' - I was plain, plain, plain. And it was my simpleness in outward appearance that only intensified my lack of real confidence on the inside. Which could eventually prove to be quite a problem, don't you agree? Numero quatro, there was no possible way - none - that Ryan could be as fond of me as I was of him. There just wasn't - nuff said. And reason number five as to why my ideal little date with the Buell man would never ever work - frankly, a late night cini-bun snack with a paranormal investigator isn't the best time to brush off a conversation about my Mediumship. If anything, I'm pretty sure it's the best and only time to discuss it, wouldn't you think?
So. Three (or rather, more like five) strikes, I'm out.
But really, what did I have to lose? Oh yeah. Y'know. Besides this beautiful man seated in front of me.
Here we go. Awkward paranormal talk, commence.
"I don't know how much Chip said after I left," I said, staring down at my mug (like lookin' at it would somehow zap me somewhere else, some place in time where I didn't have a dead chick as a room mate and Ryan and I were married or hard knockin' boots, or somethin'). "But there's probably some stuff you should know .. about me, that is."
I peered up to see him looking at me intently, holding his own half-empty mug rather tightly in this broad hands.
"Harlow," he said slowly, very seriously - that monotonely beautiful and calming voice warming me right down to my bones (God how I loved when he said my name). "I don't .. I don't want you to think you have to tell me everything. I respect that there are some things that are secrets. It's unfortunate that I found out in the way I did about your .. gift. But just because I know, it doesn't mean I'm gonna demand you tell me everything .. some secrets are are meant to be kept. I can respect that."
I looked at him for a moment, but I couldn't help the smile that split across my face. "You're a very wonderful person, Ryan. Didja know that?"
He blushed, and shook his head in embarrassment, resting his hands palm down on the table in front of him. "I just don't want you to feel like you're obligated to tell me things you don't necessarily feel comfortable telling me about ... y'know?"
I nodded, pushing my hair behind my ear - oh Ryan, you thoughtful son of a bitch, I would like to straddle you and your gorgie bod sometime in the near future, you know that? "I know. But there's some stuff you just gotta know, I think .. I mean, things you should know if you - like me, that is - want to move further, be better or closer friends, or .. or more."
He nodded in agreement, and I felt my tummy flop happily - I'd seen the ghost of a smile on the beautiful face, I swear I had, right after I'd said 'or more'! HAH. We on the same page, Buelly Baby or what!
"That is, if you wanna know," I said quickly - by all means, I could've been reading the expression all wrong .. but I somehow, kinda doubted it :). "By all means, I'm not forcing you to listen to the boring drabbles of my childhood - "
"I would love to hear," he said, voice quick but soft: he was looking me dead in the eyes, very seriously and very intently. "Truly, I would. If you trust me enough to tell me, I'd be honored to hear."
"I trust you," I said complacently.
"Then I'm all ears," he said, scooching his chair in a few inches - we were only feet apart now, I could see every eyelash, every freckle on that alarmingly handsome face. Oh baby! "Whatever you need to say, I'm listenin'."
His suaveness almost frustrated me. Seriously! How can you be so calm and have such impressive ease on a first date? I was a ball of frickin' nerves, and Mr. Cool over here was handling everything like a seasoned pro. God, I was such an embarrassment sometimes. Chill the fuck out, Harlow!
I smiled despite the mini self-loathing party that was raging on in my brain, and put my own freakishly miniscule hand on top of his large, rough one - I could still feel the warmth of his mug radiating up through his hands. "Well before the boring shit - which I swear won't take long. Honestly. Can I ask you a question?"
"Absolutely," he agreed, leaning even further forward.
I'll be damned if I'm the only one on this date that's being a horrifically embarrassing, lumbering ball of awkward! Let's see you keep your cool now, Mr. Sly Fox:
"Are you really single?" I asked, biting my lip questioningly - I'd seen this done on TV a million times. Apparently, a lip bite is ridiculously alluring.
I know. I don't get it either.
He looked confused at first, but then nodded, brow furrowed and corners of his mouth twitching erratically - smile for Mama, babycakes! I know you wanna. "Definitely. Why do you ask?"
I shrugged, and pet his hand gently. "I just don't understand it, that's all."
I think I was going to make it a game - 'How Many Times Can You Make Ryan Blush In 5 Minutes?'. For reasons that were far beyond me, I'd like to think I held the World Championship belt for that one.
(Ryan)
Oh God. I swear, if there was like, a ... 'How Many Times Can You Make Me Blush in Ten Minutes' game or somethin' out there, Harlow would be World Champ by now.
I laughed, and shrugged my shoulders awkwardly. "Oh, pff - y'know, it's .. yeah, haha, it's pft - hm, yeah - hah."
Pretty straightforward, AMIRITE?
She grinned, and pulled her tiny, warm hand off of mine - I could've cried.
"I'm sorry, bud," she apologized. "Didn't mean to embarrass you."
"Oh no," I assured her, blushing profusely. "No, you didn't at all, it's okay. It's .. it'sah good question. Yep."
Oh God. Kill me now, end this date of pure, Buell-induced misery. First I told her about my Peter Pan outfit phase. And now I've congratulated her on a personal question about myself well asked. Seriously. Strike me down now.
She brushed a stray piece of that chocolaty brown hair out of her face, and took a deep breath. "I figure .. well, I guess I should be honest. Completely honest. I really like you, Ryan. It's so weird, I mean .. I only met you like, barely even a week ago. But .. I like you."
NEVER MIND, DON'T STRIKE ME DOWN. OH GOD, LET ME LIIIIIVE!
I swear, my heart stopped and restarted itself after those words left her mouth - holyfiggin'moly! Oh my Lord! Oh sweet Jesus! BEST. DAY. EVER. In what had to be the biggest shock in the history of the world, I managed to keep my face relatively well composed (although it likely looked like I had a severe case of lockjaw, but what else is new?).
"I really like you too," I managed to choke out - it was hard, y'know, since I almost swallowed my own frickin' tongue. "Like .. a lot. A lot. Haha - y'know, it's .. yeah, like - heh, pff, yeah .. heh."
My eloquence was staggering.
She beamed over at me - God, I wish she wouldn't do that. Not that I didn't enjoy her smiles, don't get me wrong. It was just the fact that her face was alarmingly stunning enough as is - I really just didn't need that brilliant, wonderfully sexy, inhumanly beautiful smile adding to my already horrible case of Harlow induced IBS. She could've leaned across the table with a knife, stabbed me and pulled and twisted out my heart, and it would still be beating faster than ever. What she did to me, I don't think she'd ever know ...
"Well, I'm glad we're sorta on the same page," she said, clasping her hands loosely in front of her. "To be honest, I don't want to start a potentially good thing off with a bunch of secrets. And .. yeah."
There was another slight silence between us, and I watched her tighten her grip on her cup absentmindedly. I figured I could start this off - why not? Better me than her, right?
"So," I said, her face snapping in surprise to look up at me - her eyes were round as saucers. "Forty seven states out of fifty in eighteen years .. that's pretty impressive."
She smiled, rather thankfully, at me and nodded her head. "Yeah, not a lot people can say they've done that in a lifetime. The fact is, uhm .. well from about the age of six to eighteen, I was in the United States Foster Care System."
I nodded, setting a solemn frown on my face - I really really liked Harlow, and as much I as I wanted to start this thing off on a good foot as well, I had sworn to Chip that I wouldn't let on that I knew about her childhood. So a secret it stayed - I had to play my part, and I had to play it well. "I'm really sorry about that."
"As am I," she said softly, those plush lips cast into a faint but clearly evident frown.
"Were you placed in there because your parents passed away, or .. ?" I asked.
She shook her head. "My biological Dad died young, I was only one when he did, and my Mum passed away about six years ago - I had just turned 18. I won't go into the details of why I was put in the System, but a main one was the fact that my Mum had a pretty severe, long history of drug abuse."
I nodded. "Is that why you moved around a lot?"
She nodded, running a finger slowly around the rim of her mug, avoiding my eyes like the plague. "A lot of unpaid debts, trouble with the law and tax problems - a mix of a bunch of stuff. I didn't know at the time that that's what it was, but the older I got the more information I was able to get out of my case workers. Anyways, she moved us around the country a lot. Probably once every four or five months we'd be in another state or on the opposite end of one."
"Was it just you and your Mum?" I asked.
She shook her head. "No. She got married a year after my real Dad died, and then her and the new guy, they divorced, and then she met another guy and the two of them got hitched a month later in Vegas. We were livin' in Nevada at the time. But it was always myself, my sister Brody and my brother Kingston. Brody was three years older than I was, Kingston was five years older. Brody's biological dad was different than mine, so was Kingston's. We all had the same Mom, but different father's."
She looked at me, curiously, but I said nothing - I'm no psychologist or anything, but even I could tell it was sort of a relief for her to get it off her chest. She plunged on.
"We were the three youngest of our Mum's seven children, actually - all the elder siblings had died by the time we came along, and eventually, so did Brody," she said, the story was horrifying, but her voice was tough and void of any real emotion.
I hadn't heard of the four other siblings, only of her brother and sister. Chip had never mentioned the four others. Maybe he didn't know about them? Either way, my heart broke for her, but my sympathy was clearly useless - Harlow herself showed no real emotion as she recounted the memories of her long lost siblings. Just stoney, indifference on that fabulous face. It startled me, I'm not going to lie.
"I'm sorry," I said again, for what had to be the millionth time in twenty minutes.
"Really, don't be," she said softly. "I didn't know any of the older ones, they were all under two. Birth defects, SID's. It's dangerous, having children when you're hooked on so many different things. I hadn't met any of them."
She raised her mug to her lips, brilliant eyes avoiding my own. I had to seek them out - they weren't focusing on me, they were preoccupied, distant. I wish I could reach over and train them on the here, and the now. On me.
The bright and cheerful girl I'd grown to adore was nowhere in sight - it was this strange, distant and cold shell. How bizarre it was, to see this beauty so broken. I'd never seen the damage before, but I did now. Even after I found out she was the girl from Chip's story, I still had trouble believing it. This happy, wonderful, brilliant and content girl, a victim of the Foster care system? Never. But the stiffness in her body now, in this moment, the way she told me her story like a monologue, not like a life she'd personally lived and the way she stared through me, around me, past me, like by avoiding me she'd be avoiding the truth - it made the whole thing easier to believe.
"So for the first six years of my life, it was myself, Brody and Kingston, traveling around the country with my Mom and step-dad, Andrew," she continued, gazing dreamily over my left shoulder. "Life wasn't easy but it is what it is. Eventually, around the time of my sixth birthday, Brody and my Mom's husband both died, and Kingston was admitted to a hospital in upperstate New Jersey. My Mom was sent to prison, and I was placed in Foster Care."
I had to pretend that I didn't know all the gory details. Pretend I didn't know about the fact that her sister took her own life. That I didn't know how her mother blew her step-dad's brains out all over the kitchen floor. That I was oblivious to the fact that her brother was rotting away in a Jersey state mental hospital this very second. I set my face as blank, but sympathetic as I could.
"I don't know how much you know about our Foster Care System," she said, face tensing slightly but eyes still avoiding my own. "But it's terrible. It's horribly unorganized and inhumane, and frankly, an embarrassment to this country. They don't have enough social workers working for them. And the majority that do, don't give even the slightest shit about the children they're supposed to have on their cases. It's crowded and cramped, and rarely, if not never, do people give you the time of day. You're in a system that couldn't care less if you lived or died. In the twelve years I was in it, I was relocated and sent to different homes over fifty times."
"Jesus," I whispered, unable to keep it in. "A new home every couple of months?"
"Every couple of weeks, actually," she said breezily. "Never in one place more than once, never a familiar face in any of the homes. It was different everywhere I went."
She peered outside the window beside our table, and smiled a small, simply content smile. "Eventually, once I became a legal adult, I got out of the system, and was able to move to wherever I wanted and do whatever I wanted. At the time of my eighteenth, I was stationed in Denver, Colorado. So I finished up high school there, worked for a year and moved up here to Pennsylvania to start a new life."
"And now, here you are."
"Here I am," she agreed, eyes peering out the window at the navy, white laced sky surrounding us.
With the end of her story, came the end of her fierce demeanor. Her body eased, face loosened considerably and the bright, cheerfulness in those eyes overtook the dark and the fury that had burned so harshly just seconds before.
I had to do it quickly, in fear of her thinking I was a bigger creep than was already humanly possible, but I looked at her very closely; the face on this girl was unnatural. Not even jokin', you guys. Her skin was as smooth as silk, and her long, thick eyelashes curled elegantly above her piercing, protuberant eyes that were the color of harlequin. Plush, vermilion lips, long and rounded nose. Her deeply contoured jawline set harshly against the soft, easy curls of her russet hair. Some called her Harlow. Some called her Lo. Me? I think I was going to start calling her Insta-Boner.
Got a nice ring to it, I think.
She looked back over at me slowly, allowing me enough time to compose my pathetic little self. Well. A little. She smiled, and I could still see the slightest amount of tension still lingering only slightly in her face. But her eyes met mine for the first time in nearly fifteen minutes, and I felt relief - they were no longer clouded with anger, but were clear and bright once more.
"You wanna start headin' back?" she asked softly, unfurling those dainty, smooth hands from her cup.
"Sure," I agreed, pushing my own mug away from me.
We stood in comfortable silence, my awkward, lanking uneasiness clashing with her inhumanly easy, uninhibited grace embarrassingly. As we walked out, a few of the men at surrounding tables - and a few of the women, as well - took awed little peeks at Harlow over their mugs, or around their thick textbooks.
Oh honestly. Piss off you pigs. She's mine, my brain screamed, with a mingled sense of irritation at the bakery patrons and pride at the beautiful girl right in front of me.
Naturally, all of this attention was completely unbeknownst to Lo. She turned around right near the front door of the bakery, apparently checking to make sure I was behind her. She gave me a small, satisfied grin, and pushed the door open.
"Comin'?" she asked.
"Comin'," I responded quietly, as she propped the door open with that amazingly round bottom - I put a hand against it (the door, not her ass - God, I wish) and moved with her out into the nippy evening.
The night air seemed to erase any of her remaining discomfort. She sighed, and swept her long dark locks behind her shoulder, peering over at me contently.
"That was fun," she said cheerfully. "I like Stella's."
"We'll have to go again," I said, as we started the long trek to the car.
"I'd love to," she said, with the ghost of a smile lighting up her face.
"Well we've got each other's numbers now," I said, weein' myself a little at the fact that I held her magical, wonderful, deity-chested digits safely and soundly in my glorious iPhone. "We can go out anytime you want."
There was no tension around us at all anymore - it was like we hadn't just discussed her childhood from Hell. She was brilliantly joyful again, bobbing along happily next to me down the street lamp lit sidewalk. Her joy was infectious - seconds ago, I'd been shaken up, terrified of all (or most of, that is) the gory details of her childhood. Now? I could barely hide the smile threatening to explode onto my face.
"I'm always free," she said, but frowned a moment later. "Except this Friday. We've got another playoff game."
"Another one?" I asked.
She nodded. "We win this, we've got one left before we move on to Nationals. It's just an elimination round, sort of - narrow down the top team in Pennsylvania. If we win this one and the next one, we're on to Nationals."
"Wow!" I said, thoroughly impressed. "You guys are gonna take the championship home this year, I can feel it."
She smiled, and slid a hand confidently through my arm, patting my forearm lightly - I could've squealed in excitement (suuuper manly, right!). "I doubt that .. Texas State's taken the NCAA title every year for the past two - they're practically unbeatable."
"It's your turn to start Penn's winning streak," I said confidently, squeezing her arm lightly against my side. "I know it."
She grinned, resting her cheek lightly on my shoulder as we walked slowly down Lancaster Road. I could smell her hair, and I realized after all these .. days (God, how lame) that it was her hair that smelled so strongly of coconuts. Must've been her shampoo - her body must have been the strong vanilla scent. I'd have to investigate further.
Oh God, naked Harlow day dreams. OUT OF MY HEAD, OUT, OUT.
To attempt to distract myself, and possibly even her (not to flatter myself or whatever, but ... yeah, okay, to flatter myself! GO RYAN, GO GO, GO RYAN), from noticing the unsubtly large bulge growing from the crotch of my pants, I draped an arm around her slight shoulders, and blurted out the first thing that came to mind:
"So. Chip Coffey, nice guy."
She peered up at me, and nodded, clutching my hand hanging over her shoulder with her own soft one. "Super nice guy, definitely."
"So, Chip said you guys met almost twenty years ago, he was a crisis counselor at your school, or somethin'?"
Awesome one, Ryan. Let's talk about her abuse and neglect filled childhood to hide your horrendously apparent erection. Good one, you fuckin' tool.
She blushed slightly. "That was a bit of a lie, actually. I met him when I was six - it was after my step-Dad and sister had died and I'd been put into the system. I think they wanted someone to check that I wasn't entirely insane."
"You're not," I said quickly, and she laughed.
"Jury is still out on that one," she mused. "But according to Chip, I was mentally stable enough to be thrown into the slums of Foster Care, so ... voila. Ended up in there. Never saw Chippy again, it broke my heart to tell you the truth."
"He always talked about a Psychic girl he knew when she was young," I said carefully, casually. "Said she had one of the most amazing abilities of anyone he'd ever seen. Never in a million years would I have pegged you as the girl with the amazing Medium abilities."
She smiled sadly. "I don't know if I'd call it amazing."
"I would," I said simply. "I think it's astounding. I have nothing but respect for you and Chip, and .. and everyone that can see what you do."
"Thanks," she said timidly. "I think I'd rather have been like .. super good at math or something. It's not exactly a talent every young girl dreams of having."
I laughed, that wicked humor bringing a smile to my face once again - oh, how I loved her. "No, no you're right. But it makes for an interesting life."
"I've had a decently interesting one with or without it," she said softly. "But Chip always flatters. I didn't know he was a Medium until I was .. sixteen, at least. I saw him doing a seminar in Bakersfield, when I lived there. Big posters all over the theatre."
"Did you go see him?" I asked.
She shook her head. "Naw. I had no cash, no way to get in. And frankly, I didn't really want anything to do with him - not because I disliked him, just because that time in my life wasn't a happy one. My sister had passed away, I was pulled from my home, I lost my family - y'know. I just avoided it at all costs."
I nodded. "I understand, definitely."
"But I'm thrilled to have gotten the chance to see him again," she said cheerfully. "Does he work with you guys on a lot of cases?"
"A ton," I said. "He's our go-to guy for most of our investigations. He's so modest, but really he's another person who's got one hell of a talent."
She smiled. "Has he ever explained to you how he sees them? The spirits?"
"Yeah," I said, as we rounded the corner of Landon on to Lanmark. "He said it's like a movie in his head. He doesn't see them as like .. people, or objects in front of him. He see's them in his mind and can hear them in his mind."
She frowned, bobbing happily along next to me. "Can he talk to them?"
"I think so," I said thoughtfully. "More like, they'll talk to him and relay messages to him, but in his head. That's how he communicates with them, all the times I've seen him do it, anyways."
"Hm," Harlow said, a look of sincere perplexity on that sharp face. "That's so strange."
"You don't see them like that?" I asked.
She shook her head. "Not quite."
"You don't have to tell me," I added quickly. "Sorry, I just assumed you all saw them like he did, I'm sorry - "
"Don't apologize," she said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "You didn't say anything wrong. As far as how other Medium's see them, I'm not entirely sure .. I haven't really done a lot of research on the topic. I just find it interesting, hearing how other people can see it, and deal how they can deal with it. All I know is what I am."
"Fair enough," I said. "I think they all see things differently, though. We work with a lot of different mediums, and they all see the spirits in mildly different ways."
"Like how?" she asked interestedly.
"Well .. Michelle Belanger, she can see them wandering around, kind of like people that no one else can see, and that can't see anyone else," I explained. "They communicate with her through her head, though - same as Chip. Another one, CJ Sellers. She can't see them but she can sense things, she's more of an empathetic Medium - the room and place she's in helps her figure out what happened and who wants to communicate with the living realm."
Harlow's brow was furrowed. "Interesting."
"Are you like any of them?" I asked.
She shook her head. "No .. no, not really."
I wanted more than anything to ask why not, but I didn't want to push her to tell me things she didn't necessarily feel comfortable telling me.
"Oh," was all I managed to say.
She peered up at me, and smiled humorlessly. "I see them as people."
"People?" I asked, dumbstruck.
She nodded. "Yeah. People. Like .. walking around, they look just like you and me. Sometimes, I can't differentiate between who's alive and who's dead."
I blinked, looking subtly down at her in awe. "They're that real?"
She nodded again. "Yeah. I mean, sometimes it's obvious. If they have gunshot wounds everywhere or they're dressed in period pieces or whatever, I can assume they're not alive anymore. Or if they walk through objects. Or if people don't notice them, just walk by - or through - them. Then that's another sign. Obviously, heh."
"That's .. that's incredible," I said blankly. "How do you talk to them?"
"Like I'm talking to you," she said simply. "I just talk, and they talk back."
I couldn't hide it anymore - I stared at her in polite shock. "Just .. talk out loud?"
"Yeah," she said, looking up at me with slight concern. "Is that not normal for Mediums?"
I wanted to point out that that was a slightly oxymoronic sentence, but .. perhaps another time.
"I don't know," I said, thinking. "I mean, I've never heard of any communicating like that before."
"It's strange," she sort of agreed. "But it's the only way I know how to."
"So .. do you see all of them? I mean, all of the spirits that are on the planet? Are you like .. surrounded by them at all times?"
She nodded. "Always."
"It must be frustrating," I noted.
"It is," she agreed. "Most of the time. It feels like I'm stuck in this limbo between the dead and living, all the time. I'm stuck in the Inbetween, but I'm alive and it makes no sense to me."
"The Inbetween? What's the Inbetween?"
"Just a thing I made up," she said, brushing it off. "It's nothing."
"It sounds interesting," I pushed. "Where'd you hear that from?"
"Nowhere. It's just a word I use. It's the only way I can think of that kind of explains how we see them. We, like .. Mediums. Psychics."
"What does it mean?" I asked.
"It means we're stuck in between the living and the dead. Inbetween. We can see both people, on both ends of the spectrum," she said, blushing slightly. "It's no parapsychological term or anything. It's just how I see it."
"That sounds .. brilliant," I said, the word running through my mind. Inbetween. In between. In between. The Inbetween.
She smiled. "It is what it is."
"Chip can turn it off," I said suddenly, the thought popping randomly into my head. "Chip - he's able to tune out if things get too intense. He can slip out of the Inbetween, I guess."
She shook her head. "Once you're in it, you're kind of a lifer ... do you mean he's able to ignore the spirits around him?"
I nodded. "I think so. I just know we've been on nearly a hundred investigations with Chip, and if things get too intense, he can kind of ... shut the spirits out."
She nodded. "That's plausible. I've seen a lot of shows about them and read a lot of books about them too. A lot of them can do it."
"Can you do that?"
She shook her head, her face unhappy. "No."
"Have you tried?"
"I wouldn't even know where to begin, to be honest."
"So you're just .. you're always in the middle of it? You always see them?"
"Always," she said softly.
"Even when you were young?" I asked incredulously.
"I think so," she said thoughtfully. "Honestly, I look back now, and I really wonder how many people were really people that I knew and talked to throughout my childhood. I didn't understand the things I could do and the shit I could see until I was at least ten years old."
"You didn't know they were ghosts?" I asked. "The people around you when you were young, I mean. You don't know if they were ghosts or not?"
She shook her head. "No, I mean I thought .. I thought they were alive. Like everyone else. I was a kid - being a ghost meant you looked like Casper. Being dead meant you were lying on the floor and not moving. It was much simpler when I was seven, I guess. I don't know how many friends I had that were alive and how many I had that were dead."
"So .. you could've been sitting in a playground talking to a person you thought was there, but in actuality, people looking from the opposite side of the park would've just seen you sitting there talking to yourself?"
"Could be," she said thoughtfully. "For all I know, that very well may have been the case .. after a while, once I figured out what was going on and everything, I just kind of ... closed myself up. Around my tenth birthday, I just became kind of introverted."
"Everyone must've thought you had imaginary friends when you were young, then. I mean .. they couldn't have possibly known .. could they?"
She shrugged. "I don't think they did. They just thought I was a weird kid, with an imaginary friend. Or friends."
"Well, most kids do have them."
"What makes you think they're imaginary?"
She looked at me, those glorious green eyes dazzling in the moonlight. She grinned at my undoubtedly snow white and surprised face, and laughed a cheerful, contented chortle.
"It's just something to think about," she said simply. "It doesn't mean it's true."
"It's an interesting thought, though."
We continued walking in the cool, night air towards my car in comfortable silence. Her hand had slid off of my arm, but my hand had somehow (mysteeeriously! Ooh! Ahhhh!) managed to slide off her shoulder and get tangled up with her own hand. We walked together, in sync and in silence, happily.
"So," I said slowly, breaking the silence. "You remember the night of the Kegger? We were talking about finding peace, and ... and all of that?"
She nodded. "Yep."
"Is this why you don't think you've ever found peace?" I asked. "Because you've been stuck with this gift for so long,? This thing you don't want?"
She frowned, and looked ahead of her contemplatively. "That's a good question."
"I thought so," I said, and we both laughed.
"I guess it is," she said. "Other reasons too. Many other ones, that I don't care to talk about. But maybe being so close to both sides of the universe has left me with a ... somewhat skewed version and outlook on life. This thing I have. It's left me with more questions than answers."
"I'd imagine it would help you find peace, if anything," I offered timidly.
She smiled sadly. "Maybe for some people. But it just leaves even more unanswered questions for me, in my opinion."
"Like what?" I asked.
"Another time," she said softly, squeezing my hand gently. "We're almost at your car."
She was right - I cursed myself for parking so close to the God damn restaurant. This had to be one of the most fascinating conversations of my life. Her story, where she'd grown up, how she'd grown up, the hardships she'd had to face - they broke my heart, confused me, alarmed me, angered me. They made me ache so badly for her. Her ability, the way she perceived spirits and the outlook she had on them - fascinating. Her story and her abilities on the whole, were astounding. And then, of course - there was her.
I didn't know, didn't understand how a person that looked and spoke and lived and .. and did anything like Harlow could really, truly be on a date with me right now. This girl was all types of perfect. Her past, her abilities, her life - maybe those weren't.
But to me, there was no one better, no one lovelier -
no one I'd rather have been with right here, right now, than Harlow Vincent.
(Harlow)
"This is yours right here?"
I peered out the window and nodded. "Yep, Building 308."
"It's beautiful," he remarked, slowing the car down in front of my place. "Huge."
"I love it," I said cheerfully. "First place that's ever really felt like home."
"Amazing view you must have," he said, shifting his car into 'Park'.
"Gorgeous," I agreed. "I'm on the thirteenth floor, second highest."
"Unlucky thirteen," he said, with a small smile.
"It's been pretty good to me," I laughed.
He grinned, hands resting lightly on the steering wheel. I had to do it quickly, but I glimpsed the side of his face, drinking in his fascinating and unconventional beauty. The traces of his dimples, a faint five o'clock shadow. The deep contours in his face, the heavily lidded eyes. The prominent jawline, the faint laugh lines near his chocolate colored iris'. To each their own, I'd heard that a million times - but I couldn't imagine a person in the world who wouldn't be attracted to this beautiful man sitting right next to me.
"Well," I said, his eyes glancing back over to me. "I gotta get goin' - I guess I should really start on that report."
"You should," he agreed. "I had a really nice time tonight, Lo."
"Me too," I said happily. "You're a good guy to go out with."
He chuckled. "Well, if you want to, I'd like to take you out again sometime. Sometime soon. Whenever you can, really. I mean, if you want to, you don't need to feel like, obligated, or whatever, like - "
I couldn't help the giggle that escaped from my lips - he'd done this twice before, his blundering. It embarrassed him, I could tell. But I loved it - he was such a cutie when he was nervous!
I put a hand on his lean, sturdy arm and smiled reassuringly as I could. "I'd love to go out with you again."
He smiled thankfully, practically melting my heart right on the spot with that gorgeous grin of his. "Lemme know whenever you're free."
I nodded. "I don't have much of a life, mainly school and volleyball. I'll text you or somethin' tomorrow, or I'll probably see you on Campus."
He smiled. "I hope so."
The conversation died, but the car was on fire. Not literally, of course. I'd hope to God we wouldn't just be chillin' in his front seat while the Civic was engulfed in gas fueled flames. But the air around us is what I meant, the connection between us - we lit the air on fire.
I don't know, even now thinking back, who initiated it first. All that matters is that we moved in, same time and same speed, towards each other, our lips meeting somewhere inbetween.
His lips were soft against mine, softer than I thought they'd be. His body was warm, the smell of him, his chest, his hair, his mouth, everything - filling my nose, quickening the beating of my already spasming heart. His hand had found my waist, had cupped so slightly, so gently around it - my right hand was pressed against his warm cheek, my left, resting lightly on his broad shoulder.
I shifted after a few moments, and we broke apart, gazing curiously at one another, before the awkwardness of all first time post kisses really hit us.
"Thanks," I said, my voice thick.
"I .. anytime," he said, voice matching my own in mild stupefaction.
"I'll text you tomorrow," I said, regaining my composure - but only slightly.
"Okay," he said, dopey grin sliding over his face. "Sorry - no, that's great, thanks. Yeah, thanks."
I laughed, embarrassed at our thirteen-year-old-esque awkwardness. I moved forward again, barely even brushing my lips against his own. I felt his lips turn up beneath mine, and a large, but surprisingly gentle hand run itself lightly over my hair. I smiled against his own, gave one last light peck, and pulled away.
"Bye," I said softly, attempting but failing miserably at hiding the goofy grin fighting it's way onto my face.
"Take care, Lo," he said, with my dopey grin's twin on his own handsome face.
I slipped out of his car, gave a small little wave and shut the door behind me. Rule of first dates! Never look back after being dropped off! Every girl in the history of the world knew that one. Duh.
I grabbed my keys out of my purse, going through the motions without really thinkin' about em. I slipped inside, walked in my own pathetically stupefied thrill to the elevator, and clicked the up button absentmindedly.
I had about a million things to do before I went to bed tonight. Reports to write, essays to edit, Psychology articles to go through. Notes to highlight, websites to search. A house to clean, bills to pay.
But honestly? None of that mattered right now.
All that mattered, all that I could think about, all that was stuck in my brain, was the feeling of his lips against mine. The heat from his body. The cool brown of his eyes. The smell of his cologne. The soft but roughness of his cheek under my fingers.
"Son of a bitch, he's fine," I muttered, stepping on to the nearly vacant elevator - in front of me, a small, wispy haired man stood calmly, all four feet, six inches of him wavering anxiously. He smiled as I stepped on to the lift, and pressed the number thirteen on his side. The light dinged on.
"Thanks Clance," I said dreamily.
"Who's so fine? Me?" Clancy asked cheekily, taking his bowler cap off and holding it politely against his chest.
I waited for the doors to ding and slide shut, before I grinned and peered over at the man, who's place was four floors below mine. "You wish you were as fine as this boy, Clancy."
The elevator lurched, and began it's quick and steady climb.
"You know," he said, with a bashful wave of his hand. "Back in my day, I was the coolest cat on the block!"
"Then take your amount of gorgeousness and times that by thirteen million," I said, with a faint sigh. "That still wouldn't even bring you close to matching Ryan's man beauty. Ho. Lee. Shit."
"Whatever you say - I still think I'm the cutest," Clancy said, with one last tip of his bowler hat. The elevator continued it's speedy ascent up towards the thirteenth floor, as Clancy moved swiftly for a man of his age to the steel doors in front of us.
I grinned, mind still hazed from the car smooch.
"Not by a long shot, Clance. Not by a long shot."
He winked, and popped his cap back on his balding head. "Evening, Harlow. This is my stop."
And with no more than the whistling of the elevator cables and faint lift music in the background, he disappeared through the closed steel doors.
Ghosts floating through sealed, steel elevator doors? No big deal.
I had just macked on Ryan Buell.
"I love my life," I muttered, dopey smile still plastered all over my face.
Oh God, how the hell was I going to hide this from Chick?
Authors Note: oh my GOODY GOODY GOODNESS GRACIOUS GOODY POOPY SDHDS AJSDIW JGSDOIGNS. 20 REVIEWS, MY GOD YOU SEXY BUNCH OF HOT TAMALES. I LOVE YOU, LOVE YOU, LOVE YOU.
i just realized, i seem like such a freak in every single one of my author's notes ... it's just that i love your reviews and i love your love for me, and my love for your love is so lovely, and .. and ... SQUEALLLL. nevermind my pathetic squealing! on to the thank you's i must give out for the FABULOUS reviews i got!
ferret assassin nin: bahaha we have the same humor! i'll make a really raunchy joke and people will think i'm seirous, and they'll be SUPER offended and i so don't mean it! i agree with you about chad though, and i actually love you so much for reading the entire author's note. you are such a keener, i love it but i love you more, haha!!
lindzxhatter: ohhh why HELLO there wife! (i decided you're my wife. hope that's alright. i don't care if it's not, i got too much mad love for ya.) as for our children, i think they're gonna be HARD loved by everyone, cause they'll be amazing and funny and we'll dress them in polka dots and shit, and make them wear "I HEART PARANORMAL STATE" shirts and shit. yep. most popular kids in their class, GUARANTEEED. i love you and your reviews and your polka dot obsession. xo
PureAngelEyes: i'm glad you like my long chapters! initially i was really concerned that that would be a big turn off for people, cause of the amount of reading and everything, but i'm stoked you like it! and i loved your review :D the more people tell me what they like/dislike, the more i can tweak it and make it better. here is the next chapter for you, i adore you to bits! 3
TJToxic614: we are on the same boat as far as ryan being too adorable goes! you can be captain, i'll be your number one seaman. ... is that bad? i don't know. i meant it in a cute, I LUFF YOU way, but i think i'm more creepy, fanfic author stalker psycho biotch now. whatevs. i love you and your reviews, they brighten up my whole day! here is a chapter for you, because you're hot and also enjoy ryan as much as i do. xo
futureauthor62: you always make me squeal with delight when i read your reviews :D thank you bb cakes, you are the best!! hope you enjoyed the new chapter!
SurriB: my one true love! I LOVED YOUR REVIEW. i included more than originally intended about her background in this chapter, just cause you said it interested you ;) thanks for the fab review! and don't make fun of me for hating koalas .. they make seem innocent, but they are evil, eeeevil little fluffy goons. i do not trust them. ENJOY THE UPDATE ,you're my bff 3
ashleymaria: hope you're doing good, bud! take care of yourself, hope you enjoyed the chappy :)
kcollins: i read your review and even IIII got excited - and it was my own freakin' story! your enthusiasm makes my heart beat faster. love it, love the review, love you! thank you thank you!
LilGirl23: we are the same person, i swear to you! i agree with you, one hundred percent about chip. i mean, i don't care if he is or isn't gay, i think he's AMAZING. but i'm like .. almost positive that he is. which, hey, good for him. i love his sassiness. but you know what i love more than chip's sass? YOU AND YOUR AMAZING REVIEW. i appreciate it more than you will ever know, the least i can do is put you in my messy, badly formatted author's note, haha! thank you thank you thank you! xo i hope you've had a better day!
aangs fangirl 1214: that is so crummy you had a bad day, but i'm glad ryan's terrible awkwardness made up for it a little! uhm, i find that SUPER hard to believe, you have no fans? puh-lease. i am your number one fan. all you need is me. *wanders off to go make large, glittery signs for you* thank you for the review, much love!
voll3yg1rl: vacation! i am so jealous you don't even KNOWWW! i hope you had fun, but i just wanna say .. i'm miffed i was not invited. i can fit into most carry on luggage things. soo ... hinty hint hint. just jokin'! hope you had fun, i'm STOKED you're back, and thank you for that long ass review! you know just how to make my day better :) xo
Aria DeLoncray: you and i both love ryan, bud! we're gonna have to share. i callsies him on all days that end in day. i think that's fair :D thanks for the review!
Sarah's Boo: glad you liked the ending! thank you for the review, you are the sweetest pea in the whole pod, mwah! xo
stufoo: oh why thank you, new reviewer! i shall continue on with this story just for you, and cause you asked so nicely :D enjoy the chapter! thanks for the review!
Purple With A Purpose: hahaha, i will convert everyone into my downsies club! you will use that word everyday for the rest of your life now, i do and i can't even help it, bahaha. thank you for the review! i'd like to meet with you asap and plan out these ryan buell shirts. we gotta make em HAWT. i'm thinkin' of catchy slogans as i type this ... "BUELL MAKES ME DROOL". oh my god, i am a genius.
runningtoxstandstill: oooooh, you flattering flatterer! thank you new reviwer! your review made me blush and wave my hand in embarrassment. love it! and then, after i got your initial review, i got a SECOND one. which i loved JUST as much. and then the third one i got, you were so hopped up on the suga, as we gangstas call it, you made no sense and rambled on and on and on ... AND I PEED MY PANTS IN EXCITEMENT, i laughed so hard, hahahahah!! thank you so much for the THREE (count em, 3!!) excellent reviews. i. love. you. so. MUCH. xo
Aly123654: ahhh, i'm flattered you liked it that much! i really, truly, appreciate the feedback, thanks so much!
once again, i have SEVERE cramps from writing this freakin' author's note. am i going to bitch? nope. because i have a group of the best, most STUPENDOUS, AWESOMEEEE reviewers any author could ever have asked for EVER. 20 reviews! you guys blow my MIND. hopefully, you liked this chapter, because it was a bitch to write (it's hard when you got a million things you wanna write but you gotta wait for later on, bah!:( ). i'm going to try and update as quickly as i can, but i notice i've fallen into the habit of saying that, then having to wait like 3 weeks. SO. fingers crossed! this next chapter should be a relatively easy one to write.
thanks again, you lovely, lovely people! i love each and everyone of you. have a good week/weekend, talk to you soon!
love; ellah!