chapter six.
swirling.
"Do you think I'm selfish?" Rikki asked, looking away from her half-glass of prosecco. It had long gone luke-warm.
"I think you have a healthy investment in yourself and the things you enjoy," Zane replied, knocking his bare foot against hers.
Damn. Even King, the scruffy golden retriever Zane sweet-talked her into, made a sound of displeasure, a low whine from where he laid to Rikki's left. The first rule Rikki had made when they brought King home two days previous was also the first rule to be broken—no dogs on the furniture.
"Lewis thinks I'm selfish," She said. It stung to say aloud.
Emma had called her selfish too, years ago. And Cleo, in a kinder, roundabout way. And her father. And her mother.
Zane snorted. "Lewis has a martyr and savior complex all rolled in one. I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it."
Over the last year or so, a friendship had started to form between Zane and Lewis. Rikki still wasn't sure how she felt about that. She liked having Zane to herself. Will and Lewis she shared with Cleo, Emma, and Bella, but Zane? Zane belonged to her. They lived in their own world, in their beautiful little apartment in the city with their scruffy dog and mismatched silverware and too-small closet. Lending Zane to Lewis struck the wrong cord with her, but in the same vein, Zane seemed more mellow after spending time with Lewis, more adult–and it was nice to see him have a healthy, mature adult male friendship. Nate was still an idiot at twenty, working at a local surf shop and cheating his way through a business degree.
"He's not the only one," Rikki admitted. "Maybe I'm just a bad person."
She felt Zane shift then. She turned to look at him and found he was already looking at her, eyes dark and warm, like wet earth and dark water, inviting and deep. Her stomach swooped, and the heat of desire flushed her cheeks. He was so handsome— She wanted nothing more than to set her glass aside and crawl into his lap, kiss him and kiss him and kiss him until this conversation was long forgotten, buried.
"You're not a bad person," Zane said. "A bad person wouldn't be worried about being a bad person. Besides—you're my favorite person."
He reached for her free hand and brought it to his mouth, kissed it. "Promise."
Guilt weighed heavy in her chest, fluttered and flapped at the cage of her ribs like a huge, dark bird. Rikki debated, for a brief, wild moment, spilling everything to Zane—the fact Will, and now Lewis, were developing powers, and that Charlotte was apparently back, and hurt, and that deep down she missed her original power, and was terrified of the rapid changes happening to her and the others, but when she opened her mouth to do so, she couldn't.
Rikki loved her peaceful home with her Zane, and she loved their little bubble of existence, them and their rescued dog and all the bad reality tv Zane wouldn't admit he loved to watch, and she couldn't bring herself to wreck it all. So much for radical honesty. . . She'd been the one to set that rule, always being radically honest with one another, and now she was the one lying and hiding, keeping secrets. Rikki was so tired of secrets.
"Are you okay?" Zane asked.
She nodded and lied again, "Yeah, I'm okay."
King crawled into her lap then, and Rikki grunted—then laughed—at the heft of him. He rolled onto his back, nearly kicking Zane in the face with his back paw.
"King! No!" Rikki half-shouted, but couldn't find it in herself to mean it.
Zane laughed too. He leaned forward and bear-hugged King, burying his face in King's long fur. Who's a good boy? He asked, grinning. Who's the best boy? King continued to wiggle in her lap, wagging tail thumping against the couch, and Zane continued to rub his belly and grin, and Rikki felt a rush of love so strong it nearly knocked her breathless.
— — —
Even in sleep Lewis looked troubled. His brow was furrowed, and there was a slight purse to his lips. Cleo watched him rest and breathe, and resisted the urge to reach out and touch his face in fear she may wake him. She knew he was exhausted—and ruminating in guilt, as he was prone to do.
Bella would be alright. He hadn't even left much of a mark on her. But the fact remained: He burned her with magic. Just like Will had frozen the shower with magic.
They were human. They didn't have tails. The full moon was weeks away. What on earth was happening? Not to mention all of the changes that were happening to her, Emma, Rikki, and Bella's tails. Tails— A thought struck Cleo then, wracked her with anxiety. If Will and Lewis were developing powers, what if they suddenly popped a tail too? And what if they popped said tail in public, in front of the world?
It's one thing to almost be caught by someone while already sporting a tail. There were people who swam in mermaid costumes—it'd be decently easy enough to explain away. But to actually see someone transform. . .
Cleo squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in Lewis' pillow. His were firmer than she preferred, but she still slept better next to him than at home. Her father would have a conniption if he knew.
After taking a few deep breaths, she opened her eyes. Lewis still slept soundly next to her. She debated sneaking out of bed to start breakfast, but felt reluctant to get out of bed. She couldn't help but think back to sixteen, lying in bed after a long day of school, earbuds in, and imagining the warm weight of Lewis' body next to hers; Imagining the way his breath would feel ghosting across the bridge of her nose, the way kissing him in such a warm, safe, intimate setting would differ compared to the few chaste kisses they'd shared in their new, fledgling relationship at the time, the way his strong, deft fisherman's hands would feel sneaking up her cotton pajama top—
Want overcomes her, hot in her belly. She gently shakes her head, bringing herself back to reality. Now wasn't the time to close what little space was left between them and discover the answers to those questions. Their relationship, while strong now, had been quite off-and-on in the past—together, break up, together, break up, together. . . Cleo couldn't shake the fear she felt of rocking the boat of their relationship. What if everything changed? What if they slid back into that Break Up category? And now that Charlotte was back, that fear had intensified. What she had with Lewis was too precious to risk. At least, for now.
Still. It didn't make her want to reach out and touch him any less. What did the skin at the junction of his neck and collarbone taste like? The cut of his narrow runner's hips?
"You look like you're thinking pretty hard," Came Lewis' voice, starting Cleo from her indecent thoughts.
She flushed.
"Good morning," Cleo said, a soft smile gracing her delicate features like sunlight across the shore. "I was just thinking about what to make for breakfast."
"Well, Will went shopping this week," Lewis said, yawning. "So I hope whatever you're thinking is low-carb and organic."
Cleo laughed. Will was right up there with Emma when it came to healthy eating. She wished she could be more like them. She had a stash of TimTams and three mini Almond Joys in her purse.
"I'm sure I can think of something," She said.
Lewis kissed her then, easy as breathing, and Cleo wished she could wake to this every morning for the rest of eternity. How would she be able to go back home now? Lewis pulled away from her too soon, and Cleo found herself yearning, desperate for just one more kiss—aching for more.
"Since I'm off today," Lewis began, "I told Bella we'd meet her and Emma at Hurricane's at one-thirty—try to figure out what the hell is going on."
Cleo frowned. "We can take a day off from hunting for answers."
"I need to figure this out," Lewis said with a chord of finality that left Cleo's heart splintering. Oh dear Atlas, the world's a beast of a burden— "I just need a little time."
"You need a break," She insisted; She reached out and laid her hand on Lewis' bare chest, felt the steady beat of his heart. His skin was hot to touch. "I know what's going on is… Stressful, and certainly… crazier than anything that's happened before, but we're going to figure this out. Together."
Lewis smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"I should probably take a shower," He said, sitting up, shifting the topic of conversation; The bed covers pooled at his waist. "Will will be home from his run soon, and I want to get to the hot water before he does. I'll leave the door cracked in case you need anything."
He leaned over and kissed her once more, easy and sweet. Cleo's heart leapt in her chest. She leaned in, hoping to extend the kiss—for even just a moment. She signed contentedly into Lewis' mouth.
"I'll start breakfast," She said. "Eggs and french toast okay?"
"You don't have to go to all that trouble," Lewis said, sliding out of bed.
He stretched his arms above his head. His body was lean and strong, sunkissed and lightly freckled, in the early morning sunlight that streamed in through the window—a product of his many running sessions with Will. Cleo's fingers itched to reach out and touch.
"It's no trouble," She said. "Go take your shower."
Lewis did.
Cleo slid out of his bed and headed for her overnight bag, which she'd set next next to the tv stand in Lewis' room. She riffled through it until she found her favorite hair brush and a thick silk scrunchie. She sat on the edge of Lewis' bed and brushed through her thick, dark waves until they'd been tamed enough to not tangle, then tossed her hair into quick high bun. Cleo didn't mind the frizz or loose hairs; It was just to get her hair off her neck while she cooked.
Breakfast preparations went by quickly. Cleo was so lost in her own thoughts, mulling through what might be going on with the boys and the power switch-ups, all the strange happenings associated with Mako Island, that she finished the french toast before she even realized. Cleo blinked, dazed, at the heaping plate of french toast next to the stove. Enough for her, Lewis, and Will. She wiped her hands on the back of her pajama shorts and grabbed the powdered sugar, about to sprinkle it—
"Hey Cleo," Came Will's voice from behind her. "Whatcha' cooking?"
She nearly leapt out of her skin, sending powdered sugar pillowing into the air like a tiny cloud, and speckled over her navy blue pajama top.
"Will! Hey. Sorry," Cleo said breathlessly. "You startled me."
"No no, I'm sorry—I didn't mean to startle you. You alright?"
She nodded. "I'm fine. Just didn't hear you come in. You want some eggs? The french toast is already done."
"That's alright, I don't want you to go out of your way—"
Cleo waved her hand. "It's no trouble. The skillet is already hot."
Will grinned, his features boyish and young, yet still so much a man of twenty.
"Lewis here?" He asked.
Cleo nodded. "In the shower. I'm trying to convince him to take a day off of his... search for answers."
"It's... unsettling," Will began. "What's happening to us. Scary. Lewis always says that the best way to fight fear is with information—you're less likely to be afraid or wary of something if you understand it. Hunting for answers is his way of coping with all of this, I think. It's the only thing he can control in this whole... situation."
"Wow," Cleo said, leaning against the counter, two brown eggs in hand. "I didn't even think of it like that."
Lewis dove into dark, shark-infested waters to bring her home. He'd been kidnapped. Flew across the world alone. She couldn't imagine him being afraid of anything.
Will shrugged. "Who knows, maybe I'm wrong, but I like to think I know Lewis pretty well by now."
It was then that Lewis joined then. He wore a pair of light gray basketball shorts and a dark relaxed fit Metallica t-shirt, his skin still flushed from the shower, his hair still damp.
"Master of Puppets?" Will asked, nodding to Lewis' shirt.
He grinned. "The only number one album Rikki and I can agree on."
Cleo chuckled and turned back to the skillet. She cracked four eggs, then seasoned them with salt, pepper, basil, thyme, and paprika. Meanwhile, Lewis poured her a cup of coffee. She knew he kept her favorite french vanilla coffee creamer here just for her, despite drinking his black.
"Thank you for breakfast," He said, kissing her cheek.
Cleo warmed at that. "Anything for my favorite scientist."
Of course, it was then that, from the small kitchen table, Will sneezed and it began to snow inside the kitchen.
— — —
"One day!" Lewis exclaimed. "One fucking day of normality is all I ask!"
Once Will sneezed, everything seemed to happen all at once—snow began to fall inside the kitchen, actual snow, which landed on Cleo's skin, melted upon impact, and promptly caused her to transform and hit the tiled kitchen floor with a sharp, thick thud, and Lewis leapt over her tail—which hardly fit in their kitchen—to turn off the stove and prevent the scalding hot skillet from landing on her, as she was stuck on the ground. Cleo's tail had smacked the kitchen table and chairs, sending them flying across the kitchen into the living room, and Cleo's hot coffee landed on Lewis' chest, burning him.
"I'm so sorry, oh my God, all I did was sneeze—"
"I'm going to do crack," Lewis said vehemently. "It's snowing in my kitchen. In Australia. I'm literally going to start snorting crack—"
"Oh, Lewis, don't be so dramatic," Cleo said, bristling—She was the one stuck on the floor, heavy and bruised. "And go get me a towel. And some aspirin. I landed right on my elbow. And I think I have splinters in my tail fin."
The sharp stinging in the thin, delicate tip of her tailfin told her so.
"We should call Rikki," Will suggested. "I'm sure she can get away from the cafe for a little while."
Cleo itched her left shoulder. "I really can't deal with her and Lewis arguing today. Remember last time? And Bella and Emma are at work, so they're out too. I hate to pull her back into this... but Miss Chatham, maybe?"
She itched her arms.
"Are you okay, Cleo?" Will asked.
Cleo opened her mouth to respond, but Lewis cut her off. "Jesus, Cleo. What the hell is that?"
Cleo frowned and reached for the soft gray towel in his hands. "What?"
"The rash covering your entire upper body," He said. "When did that happen?"
Cleo glanced down at herself and sure enough, a splotchy red, psoriasis-like rash had spread over her chest and shoulders and arms. It itched terribly.
Snow began to fall again, swirling lightly, on and off again, inside the kitchen.
"We should call Rikki," Cleo relented. "And Zane too."
So much for taking a day off.
next update at thirty two reviews.
a/n: sorry for the long wait, pals. life has been busy!
i feel i need to tack on this sidenote, and i say it with kindness: advertising your art commissions on someone's story, or messaging them privately, is very rude and very scammy. i've had more than four people do this on this story alone. please stop. going forward, if i see someone advertising on my work, i will simply block them.
with that out of the way, let me know what you think of the chapter!