Ok. Sorry it took a minute. This one is longer, but not quite as long as the last. And this chapter may or may not throw you for a bit of a loop.
Thanks again for the reviews, everyone.
Morrowsong: It could be. Yes.
BanannaSammich: Yeah, Kev is definitely thinking with his head. Just not the proper one if you know what I mean!
Idcam: I'm not sure who's more disliked at this point. Mark or Reves? Haha.
Reves Calaway stood in the doorway of her sister's bedroom with furious wrath that could rival the Almighty's.
Having torn his mouth from the young girl that lay prone beneath him, Nash turned to stare at the irate blonde in alarm. Well shit. I certainly hadn't taken this into account, he thought as he slowly lifted himself off the bed, hands raised as though he were under arrest for his heinous crime. He was cursing himself for being so fucking reckless. "Now, let's be c-" he started to speak in a sedate manner.
"Shut up, you fucking creep!" She shouted at him, as she reached over to the dresser, plucked up the first object within her grasp, and chucked it towards him. Not stopping there, a rapid succession of fodder was hurled towards the large man as she expelled every expletive under the sun.
"You've gotta be fucking shitting me!" Nash growled as he dodged object after object from her onslaught. This was almost worse than the time they had to save Kid's ass because that Marine came home early from deployment to find him nailing his broad. Luckily, Reves was either a terrible shot or just too blinded with rage to even come close to her target, or both. As the blonde girl continued to assault the unwary man, the next object she grabbed was the fake skull.
It was molded out of some sort of plaster, making it solid and weighty. Clutching the prop in one hand, Reves drew back, poised to hurdle the thing right at Nash's head. (Or at least try to. She was completely fine if she got him in the nuts.)
"Hey! Whoah, whoah, whoah!" Nash cried desperately as he thrust his hands out in from of him. He knew from her previous attempts that if she were to propel that towards him, it would probably end up crashing through the nearby window, down onto some unsuspecting partygoer. "Stop it! Are you trying to kill someone? What the fuck's wrong with you?" Nash bellowed as his astonished expression turned to rage after being accosted in such a manner.
"Yeah! You. Fucker. Gimme one good reason why not?" She hissed, her words dripping venom. Had she been a snake she would have went right for the jugular.
"Reves, stop!" Heather demanded once she was able to gather her wits about her as she sprang off the bed.
Paying no mind to her sister's order, Reves all but dropped the skull on the dresser and zipped over to her. She clasped the younger girl's face between her hands. "Are you okay?" she questioned urgently, as though she were a child who'd accidentally wandered into traffic. She found her heart drumming wildly at the thought of what may have happened had she not discovered them.
"Y-yes...I- " Heather began to answer, perplexed by her sister's sudden protective demeanor.
"Did he hurt you?" Reves cut her off hastily.
"Reves..."
"Hurt her?" Kevin interjected in an incredulous uproar. "You're fucking joking, right?" He was unequivocally insulted by the mere insinuation that he would ever purposefully or maliciously bring harm to his Little One.
Reves snapped her eyes towards the behemoth in a seething glare that could have possibly killed him on the spot. "Shut up. Nobody's talking to you, asshole!"
"Reves!" Heather chided her, but the older girl could not seem to identify her exasperation.
Blood boiling and enraged, Kevin opened his mouth to tear Reves a new one. Then he paused. He observed the way she cradled her sister's face in her hands. The way she swooped in because she thought he was hurting her or taking advantage of her. She didn't know he never intended to hurt her. Realizing this, his anger began to dissipate. Then, the guilt settled over him at the realization of what he had been about to do. The truth was, he didn't know how far he was going to take things, but Reves was right to stop him.
"Reves!" Heather repeated, twisting her head from side to side aiming to break free of her grasp. She gripped the older girl's wrists, yanking them away from her face, and forced them down to her side. "Stop it!" she yelled at first. "He...I..." She lost her voice as her face flared, igniting in a crimson glow and her eyes dropped to the floor.
Taken back by Heather's action, Reves paused. "Wait. You..." The expression on her face shifted from rage to bewilderment, to astonishment. Something seemed to click inside her brain as her eyes darted back and forth between the pair. "No!" she gasped, her eyes nearly bursting from their sockets as her mouth fell open. "Get the fuck out of here!"
Heather mumbled, "H-he wasn't hurting me, Rev. He wouldn't…" She was too mortified to continue. She found his actions, to the contrary, exceedingly pleasant. So much so, she was near as displeased by having been disrupted as she was by having been discovered. And to add insult to injury, in such a compromising manner as well. She dared to glance into the face of the goliath beside her and he seemed to be wearing the same guilt-ridden expression, albeit lacking the humiliation that she herself carried.
Reves was silent for the first moment since entering the room. Stunned speechless, she gawked at them once again as she pushed back her long ashen hair. She could scarcely believe the sight before her. How was she supposed to believe what she was hearing and all that her sister was trying to tell her?
Reves thought back over the last few months. As she was coming to terms with how painfully evident this had been, it was actually stupid. The most telling sign was last month when Heather had fucked up her ankle. The huge lout wasn't exactly subtle rushing to rescue her like they were in a damn Disney movie. And the flowers. They were from him and him alone. "Jesus H. Christ," Reves muttered under her breath. No wonder she was clutching the damn things like a security blanket. Standing up for her when she ran over McMahon, the trainings, flipping his lid anytime she was involved in anything. Saving her at the rest stop. "Why wouldn't I?" His words finally made sense to her when she had thanked him for rescuing her sister.
Reves felt like a dumbass for not piecing this together beforehand. But it was so incredibly implausible! This was Kevin fucking Nash, after all. And Heather was – well, she was Heather. Her sister, who balked at the very thought of physical human contact, was up here practically doing the two tongue tango – and who knows what else, had she not interrupted them. She was doing all of this while everyone was just outside and of all people, with this giant moron who called himself, Big Sexy. How dare they keep something like this from her!
"How long has this been happening?" Reves questioned.
"It's not been happening! Listen, it's not what it looks like," Kevin stated with borderline panic. "It's..." his voice trailed off. It was exactly what it looked like and Reves knew it.
Reves narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh yeah. Sure. Cause it looks like you were up here playing tonsil hockey with my little sister," her tone held an odd mixture of disgust and intrigue.
Then a perverse sort of grin came across Reves's face. Her innocent baby sister. It was so deliciously ironic, so devilishly scandalous. It was just the sort of thing that would throw Daddy Deadman headlong into a stroke and then have him rolling in his grave. Now that would be a sight. Still, she wasn't a twit. She knew enough that this would need to be kept hush-hush in order to cover all of their asses. That was something she could certainly do – for a price, of course. The pity was, she just couldn't draw any type of recompense at the moment. She would have to mull it over, but she was positive something would come to her.
"Well," she began slowly, "this has been sufficiently awkward if I do say so myself." She glanced between them yet again. "I'm just…yeah, I'm gonna leave now. And you two can get back to…whatever it was that you were doing," she said backing out of the room as they watched her. "Oh and Heather, Dad is down there about to have a damn conniption over those tongs. You may want to consider that," she grinned wryly before disappearing.
Heather stared at the bathroom door that Reves had retreated back through. She was both flabbergasted and mortified at being discovered by her sister. By Reves's reaction, she shared the same sentiment. Heather knew she should be terrified that Reves would expose them, but curiously her response did not seem indicative of such an action. Heather craned her neck up towards Kevin, a sheepish, half-smile playing on her lips as pink tinted her cheeks.
"No. Fuck!" the goliath growled through gritted teeth. "I'm a fucking jackass. What am I doing? This was a mistake. A huge fucking mistake. Why? Fuck! Why you?" he exclaimed frantically. He ran both hands over his golden mane as he paced the floor like a caged animal. What the fuck had he been thinking following her up here? Let alone having the shit for brains to act on his urges. More and more, his self-control was slipping away each time she was in his presence and he'd be lying if he said that didn't terrify him to no end. Anyone other than Reves could have walked right in on them. One of her brothers or Sara, - for fuck's sake, Mark. That would be magnificent. He'd have his balls cut off and shoved down his throat at the very least.
He ceased his pacing once out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the ebony-haired girl staring at him. Not staring, glowering at him. She was eyeing him as if he had just field-goal kicked a puppy from the forty-yard line. Even in her perceived vehemence, her countenance was utterly darling. He would have found it absolutely comical, (Her expression. Not the idea of kicking puppies, of course.) were it not for the fact that he had never seen such seething ire etched across her adorable features as he did now.
Heather scowled at him as a maelstrom of fury was taking form within her. Battling the tumult inside her, she struggled to reign in the emotions that had conflicted her for months now. She noticed her heart beginning to beat like a war drum inside her ribs. Her face grew hot, but this time, not from mortification. Storm raging, she felt the levee burst as she lost control of her sensibilities. "You know, I just – I don't get it," she spoke, and her words were fervent and point-blank. "You trespass into my room – uninvited I might add – and you see fit to encroach on my life when I didn't ask for your interference, not once. Greater still, you kiss me and you make me feel these things, things I've never felt, nor can I even begin to comprehend," her voice quivered a bit, but she never wavered in her course. "I don't have the slightest clue as to what the hell is going on. If I'm supposed to, it's beyond me."
Caught wholly unaware, first by her expression, next by her impassioned speech, Kevin stood there like a mere simpleton. Slack-jawed and dumbfounded, he simply gawked at the little ball of rage before him.
Heather continued, her voice gaining more strength and ferocity as she went on, "You expend a great deal of energy chasing these females that don't give a flying fig for anything save monetary gains and notoriety. Yet, you still possess the need to impose upon me, while declaring it to be a mistake? Well, my sincerest apologies for ever having inconvenienced you in any manner. Now, why not do us both a service, and just leave me the fuck alone!" she shouted. With that she spun on her heels and stormed from the room, leaving him there, stricken with awe.
Kevin continued to gape at the door, now left half ajar, as if he were waiting for her to return. He felt almost disorienting bewilderment, much like an unexpected blow to the head and he wasn't at all certain what his reaction was supposed to be.
Moments later, his first cohesive thought came to his mind. So, the little kitten has claws after all. In spite of his befuddled state, he felt a smirk stretch across his lips. She also had a filthy mouth apparently. Well, that wasn't much surprise, considering all the time she had been spending around the boys and himself.
Kevin now had half a mind to chase her down and deliver her a good tongue lashing. One that involved plundering her dirty mouth until she was whimpering desperately for him to stop as she trembled helplessly in his arms. He noticed himself grow achingly hard at the thought. Fuck! Her words should have had the opposite effect, but that little spark of fire, the fervor in her eyes, albeit directed at him hatefully, did something to him. Buried beneath that stoic exterior was an ardent passion and it turned him on immensely.
No! What the fuck? Coming to his senses, he reprimanded himself. That was exactly the scenario he needed to avoid. She had just bitched him out and told him to leave her alone. "Leave me the fuck alone!" Yes, that is what she had said. Boy, was she pissed, but he couldn't fully understand why. Replaying her censure over in his head, he only became more perplexed. Was it because he said it was a mistake? He shook his head. He hadn't meant that she was a mistake, or even that kissing her was a mistake. Only that it had been a mistake to act on it here. He shouldn't have kissed her in the first place, that was a given, but he didn't regret it. Against all of his better judgment, he wanted more.
And she had accused him of chasing females. Rightfully so, but the only one he could recall chasing in recent months was her. Following her as she ran through the rain like an impetuous child. Tracking her down the hall after she burst in on him with Scarlett. For Christ's sake, he hadn't even been laid in close to two months and it all boiled down to her. He wanted her more than any other woman that had thrown herself at him and it was driving him to the brink of insanity.
Perhaps this was just as well. If she despised him, they'd never have to cross that line again. The problem was, he didn't want her to despise him. He wanted to cross that line with her so blatantly that they would erase it out of existence.
Kevin pushed the loose hair that had escaped its ponytail out of his face. He was a certified jackass. How could he want to do that to such a young, innocent creature? Ruin her like that and for his own fulfillment? He looked down at the rumpled bedspread and the host of stuffed animals that occupied the space at the head of the bed. Some of them had been displaced, strewn about as their territory was invaded by this giant bumbling idiot. An unnerved feeling settled over him as he stared at them. Their stitched-on smiles and unseeing eyes leered up at him mockingly.
Heather had bound out of the house, running across the deck. Flying down the steps, she practically leaped off of them. She knew she should take greater care as she had only recently fully recovered from her injury, but she was fuming so greatly, that she didn't pay any mind to her ankle. Her only meditations were on carrying herself as far away from the house and all those jaunty guests as possible.
Once she touched down in the grass and proceeded to sprint away, a demanding voice called out to her, "Heather!"
She halted immediately, as was her custom when the voice addressed her but didn't turn. She felt her irritation rising. Her old man. Of course, he would impede her in her course. "Yes?" she asked, amazed at the level of agitation in her own voice.
"Where the hell are those tongs? It's been over twenty minutes, girl," Mark groused.
Tongs. That was what was so fucking important? She whipped around eyes flaming savagely. "You're twenty feet from the door. Get them your damn self!" she hollered at him in a shrill tone.
Unlike Kevin who was stunned into silence by her unanticipated outburst, Mark instantly flew into a rage at her disrespectful argument. His eyes blazed with more wrath than she could ever wish to muster. "Who the hell do you think yer talkin' to, girl? Speak to me like that again, I'll tear you up in front of God and everyone here! I don't give a fuck. Do you understand?" Mark roared, his face red with fury.
For the second time that day, the festivities were halted by a sudden confrontation that left everyone stunned. Everyone had stopped to stare at the father and daughter quarreling with each other. Some stood in astonished silence, while a few hushed whispers floated around. Docile little Heather had just told her father off, something most grown men were afraid to do.
Heather knew she'd regret those words as soon as they left her mouth. Her disposition promptly shifted from frustrated to cowering inwardly as her bravado deflated. She had certainly done it now. Ashamed that everyone had seen and heard her in her outrage, she hung her head. "I…I'm s-sorry, Sir. I d-don't know w-what came over me," Heather whispered meekly as the toe of her sandal dug at the dirt.
Mark opened his mouth and it appeared as though he were going to explode all over again. "Just go do what the hell I told you to do. Now!" Mark growled in a muted tone.
Heather jumped like a whip had been cracked against her backside and sprinted towards the kitchen. By this time, Kevin had exited the house and was standing just outside the entryway. Noticing him, but not daring to meet his eye she rushed into the kitchen. She snatched up the tongs that her father had been after, yanking a litany of other utensils out of the jar along with it. She left the other items clanging on the counter without a second glance. Normally she would have remained to straighten her mess, but she needed to quit the vicinity as soon as possible.
She returned back outside and approached her father, holding the utensil out to him. "H-here you are, Sir," she muttered as she forced herself to look at him. She did not want to, but she knew if she didn't, he would reprimand her once more.
"Now that wasn't so hard following simple directions, was it?" Mark sneered at her in an almost condescending manner. Still angry, Mark practically snatched them from her. He was not only riled by her attitude, but now the food was burning.
Perhaps, a thank you? Heather suggested inwardly. "N-no, Sir. If there's n-nothing else. I'll g-go now," Heather mumbled, feeling defeated and humiliated.
Turning away with his back to her was his method of dismissing her. Relived, darted off across the lawn once again. She could hear him as he addressed the onlookers menacingly, "What's everyone looking at? Haven't ya had enough to gawk at today?" With that, it seemed everyone was diving back into their previous conversations, but her feet were carrying her too far away to tell. Her blood was pounding in her head, eyes burning from the unshed tears.
Once she cleared the doors of the stables, she allowed the floodgate to open as the tears flowed freely down her cheeks. A strangled sob tore from her throat as she threw herself into an enormous pile of hay. Phillipe was busy munching on the dry straw when he nudged her arm, but she scarcely paid any mind to the large equestrian. Why was she harboring such dreadful emotions? Why? This had to be the worst feeling in the world.
"Aww, Heather, don't let yer old man git to ya."
The voice startled Heather, mainly due to its immediate unfamiliarity. Pulling herself up, she had expected to see Jeremiah gazing down at her sympathetically. Instead, it was Brandon Bedson she was staring at through her slick lashes. Puzzled, she watched him as he sat beside her in the hay. Heather had no inkling he was even attending. When had he arrived? It must have been her mother's doing, inviting him here, she realized with a surge of agitation.
Brandon inched closer to her as she continued to stare at him. "Are ya okay?" he asked as his hand began traveling down her back.
She tensed at the unanticipated contact. No, she was not okay. She felt dejected and like a fool. She had just snapped on two men in a tremendously unhinged manner.
"Hey, yer too pretty to be sad."
Heather sat there, damp eyes locked onto him and she realized he was leaning into her. For what purpose? To kiss her? Heather's stomach clenched. This didn't seem right, but, what did it matter at any rate? Who cares if she kissed this boy or that one? Everyone she knew went about doing whatever with whomever they wished. It was obvious that it all meant nothing.
However, the instant their lips touched, Heather was acutely aware of her fallacy; her heart shattering into a million pieces. She released a muffled cry against his mouth as she tried to pull away, but his arms were already encompassing her slender frame. He pushed her back down into the hay as his mouth pressed forcefully over hers.
Suffocating. She was suffocating. The air was robbed from her lungs and it wasn't in the exquisite fashion that left her breathlessly overcome by a delightfully aching pleasure, like when Kevin kissed her. This was stifling.
Heather attempted to shove him away, but it seemed the more she did, the greater his exuberance.
"Oh yeah, baby. C'mon, suck that dick!" a male voice rang out, startling them both.
Heather took the opportunity to heave Brandon off of her as she shot upright gasping for oxygen. There were others in stables! Disgrace overtook her as her heart pummeled her chest.
"I told you to be quiet, you idiot!" a female voice whispered harshly. Heather recognized the voice right away as belonging to Reves and a couple of moments later, she witnessed her descending from the ladder that led up to the loft above.
"Hey, where are you going? Rev? Babe, don't leave!" Erik Nickson poked his head over the ledge as he watched his girlfriend climbing down the ladder.
She stopped halfway down and leered at him. "Don't come," she purred with an evil grin and resumed her descent.
When she reached the last few rungs, Reves hopped down and turned around. Her face glinted with a momentary look of disbelief as she saw Heather and Brandon sitting in the hay together. If it were possible, her eyes seemed to flash with an air of disgust that exceeded the way she had stared down Kevin Nash. However, that Cheshire grin never left her mouth. "Well, somebody sure is a busy bee. Lemme, guess. It's not what it looks like? Ha!" she chortled. With a flip of her ashen hair, she then strutted off, all too proud of the havoc she was leaving in her wake.
With that, Heather sprung up and bolted out of the stables. Eyes blurred with tears, lungs burning, she ran across the field as if she had the hounds of Hell at her heels.
For a few moments, Brandon watched her go. Briefly glancing upward, his blue eyes met Erik's in a shared look of bewilderment. Brandon nodded curtly at the other young man, then dashed off after Heather.
Heather stopped once she reached the approximant edge of the property, nearly doubling over and gasping for air. She jolted with alarm when someone seized her wrist. Jerking her head to the side, she realized it was Brandon. "What's the idea of just running off like that?" he demanded.
"Stop! Let me go!" Heather cried as she wrenched out of his grasp. "It was a mistake! A stupid mistake." She stopped, her stomach tightening into a knot. That is what Kevin had said. But when Kevin kissed her, it didn't feel like a mistake, not like kissing Brandon. When Kevin kissed her, it was…perfect. So why did he seem so penitent? This didn't make any sense and she just wanted to scream.
Mark had observed Heather racing across the lawn and the Bedson boy chasing after her. He shook his head in exasperation. These damn kids. "What the hell's going on over there?" Mark shouted as he moved to the edge of the deck to get a better view.
Brandon relented at the sound of Mark's voice. Shit. Her old man had seen them. It didn't help she was screaming her head off like a banshee.
Heather sped off again, running as far away from Brandon Bedson as she could get until she reached the deck again. She settled herself into a chair panting from near exhaustion. This day was becoming more dreadful with each passing minute.
Kevin sat off in a corner by himself, brooding. He didn't even know why the hell he was still there. Everything that had happened so far had turned to shit. He didn't want to engage in any activities. He didn't want to talk to anyone, which was absolutely unlike himself. He simply sat there, discreetly observing the little one as she was displaying poor attempts at having a grand old time. He battled with himself over whether he had been an idiot to not go after her and try to set thing straight, or if he was better off just letting things be. Logic told him the latter, but his emotions couldn't accept that stance.
He broke his fixation on her when he noticed someone looming over him. He looked up to see Scott holding a can of beer out towards him. A peace offering. In the opposite hand, was a Sprite for himself. Silently, Kevin took the beer and Scott took a seat next to him. There was the crack of the opening of the can, followed by silence for a few moments. Neither of the men looked at one another.
"How's that eye of yours, Prick?" Scott asked, disturbing the silence.
"Fine," Kevin answered off-handedly. "How's your lip, Jackass?"
"Fine."
They needn't say much more on the matter.
The sky had shifted into hues of orange and pink as the evening wore on. Eventually, it deepened into a dark, inky blue, a perfect backdrop for an explosion of colorful fireworks. With all the acreage the Callaway's owned a full showcase would be presented. Mark had spent an exuberant amount of money (much more than he would have liked) on the spectacle, but it kept everyone from griping, so he supposed that was something.
Just before it got too dark, Mark and a bunch of the guys headed out into the pasture to set up for the exhibition.
"Oh, God. Dudes with explosives. How is this going to go?" Lisa Moretti asked, standing beside Sara as they watched the men go.
"Hopefully they don't go blowin' off a limb," Jackie Moore commented, shaking her head with a smile.
"I don't think that'd slow Mark down one bit," Lisa added, giving both Sara and Jackie a laugh.
"Here, Snow. I brought you a s'more. I dunno how you like it, so I just made it the normal way," Jeremiah grinned at her. He knelt down on the blanket and handed her the treat on a paper plate with a patriotic design.
Heather smiled with faint enthusiasm as she took it. "Thank you," she said, holding the plate on her lap. It looked scrumptious, but she scarcely had the desire to eat it. She hadn't possessed much of an appetite, considering everything that had occurred.
Jeremiah watched Heather, just staring at the plate. "Is it too done? Not done enough?" he asked.
She shook her head, "Of course not. It's perfect." She picked it up and took a small nibble for her friend's benefit.
"Okay, so now that we've gotten the question of my culinary skills out of the way, what's really bothering you?"
Heather placed the dessert on the plate again and turned away, fixing her eyes to a spot the flannel blanket. "It's nothing," she murmured knowing she didn't sound convincing.
"Snow, what's wrong? You've been acting super weird ever since you came out of the house earlier. And the way you yelled at your dad – I thought he was going to chokeslam you for real! And the thing with Bedson. Did he hurt you?" an edge coming to his tone.
Heather wished not to entertain contemplations of Brandon Bedson, but a warmth spread throughout her chest due to her friend's concern for her. Still, how could she explain to him the current of emotions whirling inside her when she couldn't even comprehend them herself. She had mucked everything up, as she tended to do. How could Jeremiah ever understand her dilemma?
Heather glanced at her friend, feeling a pang of guilt that was growing larger. Jeremiah had confided in her his most intimate secret, yet she lacked the courage to reveal even a minuscule portion of what had been plaguing her.
Setting the plate on the blanket, Heather hugged her knees to her chest. She was silent for a few moments as she observed the fireflies that drifted through the humid evening air, creating an exhibit all their own. She felt the burning in her eyes and willed her emotions away. "Could we perhaps discuss it at a later date? Would that be satisfactory?"
Jeremiah regarded her with a frown. Something was seriously troubling her. He knew that Heather didn't have the bubbliest personality, but he had never seen her pissed off like she was earlier. Now she seemed downright depressed and she wouldn't even tell him what had happened. "Sure thing," Jeremiah replied. After a pause, he added, "You know I just want to help you. The same way you've helped me."
She stared at him dubiously. "I, I have not done anything," she asserted.
"You've done more than you know." Now it was his turn to be somber.
"Oooh, the fireworks are starting soon." The solemn mood was broken by Jazzy as she practically ran towards them. "How romantic!" she clutched her chest theatrically as she fell down between them, tittering.
"Jazzy, you almost fell on Heather," her older brother scolded her mildly. "Besides, you're just jealous because you wish Ian was here so you can kiss him during the fireworks," Jeremiah teased lightheartedly.
Jazzy then became very serious and sat up. "Have you been reading my diary?" she questioned.
"Sure did. Every word of it!" Jeremiah declared and winked at Heather over Jazzy's head. "Now are you going to keep harassing us, or do I have to tell Heather all your secrets?"
Jazzy's mouth fell open. "That's not fair!" she whined.
"Not so funny when the shoe's on the other foot is it? Are you ready to repent?" he asked in an ominous tone as he attacked her midsection, drawing outfits of laughter much the same way he liked to do to Heather.
"Never!" Jazzy proclaimed breathlessly.
"I suppose I will need to assist you then," Heather stated to Jeremiah, praying that she was perceived to be in higher spirits than she felt.
"Oh my- fuck! Fuuuck!" Sean screeched as he hopped back after sparks from one of the mortars, they were testing burned his hand. He shook his hand in the air like a madman as he continued cursing.
"Be careful, Kid. I'm not taking you to the hospital if you blow your damn hand off," Paul Levesque chided. Paul, of course, was one of the few present who was sober.
"I didn't mean to!" Kid whined.
"Who the hell let you anywhere near the pyro anyhow?" Mark questioned gruffly as he strode over and ripped the lighter from Sean's possession. "Hey, y'all need to do a better job at babysitting," he called to the rest of Sean's buddies who barely batted an eye.
Crystal, Glenn's wife had appeared to bring her husband another beer as he was talking with Scott and Kevin. "Thanks, Sweetie," Glenn smiled as she handed it to him.
She took hold of the front of his shirt and pulled him down towards her. "Don't get blown up. Kay?" She deadpanned and then kissed him before walking away.
"Awww, so cute!" Scott ribbed him in a taunting voice while Kevin chuckled.
"Shut up, Hall! You assholes are just jealous," Glenn barked but took the rib in stride. After a moment he asked, "So, when are either of you gonna get married again?"
Kevin snorted and took a long sip of his beer. "Why the hell would we do that? Getting all the pussy we want? No fucking nagging battle ax when we go home? That's the dream, brother," he said in a gloating type of manner that he hoped made him sound all of the selfish prick he portrayed himself to be. Better that than the simpering stooge he had become. He wished he felt as much conviction in his words as he alluded to with his tone.
"Fucking right," Scott echoed his sentiment bitterly.
Kevin could practically see into Scott's mind, sure that he was envisioning Reves in a white dress. Poor bastard, he thought before Glenn's words pulled him from his thoughts
"Well, at least you two seem to have kissed and made up. I guess that's good," Glenn chuckled, dishing out the ribbing now.
"Yep. My lover will be back in bed tonight," Kevin quipped as he put his arm around Scott's shoulder and pulled him in. He wondered if Glenn notice that his wisecrack lacked his usual enthusiastic flare.
"You wish, fucker," Scott protested, pushing away from the larger man.
"Should I give you two some privacy?" Glenn teased.
The first pyrotechnic shot into the air and exploded with a loud bang and a burst of color in the dark sky. It was followed by another as Mark called over to them, "Are you fucks gonna help me or are you just gonna stand there, being useless?"
Heather and Jeremiah sat with Jazzy between them as they gazed up at the vibrant display. Bursting and popping, and painting the night sky in a rainbow of colors before they disintegrated, leaving hardly a trace of their fleeting existence.
Heather's attention shifted to Reves and Erik laying on a blanket some feet away. They were close, embracing one another. Heather wished she could regard them as foolhardy as she had once upon a time. Now she harbored the acrimony of contempt, a justly unpleasant sentiment to possess. She veered away when she witnessed them kiss, only to inadvertently meet Jeremiah's gaze while he grinned at her. She felt the heat simmer in her cheeks as she restored her attention back to the open sky. Gigantic stars were bursting and fading, bursting and fading.
As she watched the presentation, Heather mused bitterly that a firework was somehow akin to a kiss. When well received, it detonated with a thunderous boom, blinding with its multitude of hues. It crackled and fizzled until it ultimately dissipated, offering nothing beyond its haunting remanence.
I have to say, I had fun writing sassy Heather again. (More like bratty, but hey.) Chapter 50 be prepared. ;)