Harp Un-strung

Take me to a place far away
Away from this chaos
Away from this ache and misery

Take me to a place far away
Where they never find us
Singing and dancing
To music all night long
Born of my harp un-strung

Take me to a place far away
Hold me tight
And never let go of me

Prologue

I wake up with a start.

Rivulets of sweat adorn my face as I blink away the vestiges of a nightmare. My breathing is ragged and uneven and my heart threatens to beat its way out of my chest.

The flashes of black, blue and white fade away as the seconds tick by, leaving behind a cold silence. Concentrating on the white wall ahead, I try to remember past the bright burst of colored light.

A therapist suggested I write down my dreams in a diary…a hard thing to do when there is nothing coherent to write about. I sigh and groggily dismiss the dream, as I’ve done countless times before.

The pitter-patter of raindrops plays an eerie beat on the windowpane. It’s a soothing sound in the dead hush of my room. I look at the clock on my bed stand, which cheerily blinks a bright red 5:04 AM.

Convinced that sleep will not come any more, I trudge downstairs to the kitchen. The empty house is creepy, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why my sister spends her vacation at college.

Ice-cold water helps to relax my agitated nerves. I drink some of it and splash the rest on my face. I lean on the kitchen sink. Calm breaths and the sound of falling raindrops permeate my senses as I feel myself relax.

Out of the corner, something dashes towards me.

My equilibrium evaporates. The glass slips from my hand and shatters the silence of the empty house.

Shit.

“Look what you’ve done!”

My dog bolts away. The sudden noise had frightened him, but he’ll slink back in a few seconds to inspect his latest achievement. I hastily collect the bits and shards as best as I can. He sits down next to me after some time, looking with those big brown eyes, hoping I won’t be angry.

I can’t help but smile.

I pull him closer, and reassure him that nothing could ever be wrong with us. I could never be angry with him.

He’s my best friend.

Sitting on the kitchen floor, I become painfully aware of how lonely I really am. The tears surprise me for I’ve rarely wept in the last two years. He snuggles closer. I hold him tight, afraid to let go of him as the emptiness rears its ugly head. For a few moments, I’m afraid to open my eyes, afraid of the reality I live in.

As the panic subsides, I pat his head and let go of him reluctantly. Bracing myself for the day ahead, I stand up and go back to my room, hoping in vain that sleep will take over.

I lie on my bed, staring at the bare ceiling for the next half an hour.

Chapter 1

~ Inside his head ~

Some days my thoughts are so biting and morbid, it takes even me by surprise. I make sure to stay cooped inside my house, refusing to talk lest anyone sees the person I really am. My behavior defines me as a sociopath, an anti-social best left alone to his own misery.

In my defense, I’ll say that it’s a rare phenomenon. Living alone in a two-storey house can do strange things to your sanity, but I live through it, one day at a time.

My life’s a hell hole. It has been like that for the last two years. Loneliness and depression are my daily companions, and bad luck pops in to say hello once in a while. Some days the shit falls from such a height, I wonder if god himself had crapped on me.

Oh, and I just got expelled from school.

It was nothing. The star quarterback told me that I cried for “mommy” in my sleep. I said I didn’t. He insisted, and the next thing you know, he has a busted kneecap. His entire life was ruined in just five seconds.

Aunt Sherry could’ve won an Oscar for her stellar performance that day — begging on my behalf, and imploring the principal that I didn’t deserve an expulsion. She said I deserved mercy. It broke my heart to see her like that.

The Head finally agreed, transferring me to my cousin’s school with glowing recommendations. Provided I kept my nose out of his school for the rest of my life.

The drive back home was terrifying. I’d made my peace with god as soon as my aunt was summoned.

“So, Michael,” she finally asked as we stopped at a red signal. She looks just like mom, sans her deep-brown eyes. “What did that boy say exactly?”

I was truthful, repeating his insults verbatim. It was hard not to get angry, but an involuntary fear of my aunt kept me in my place. Her expression remained stoic as she digested the information. I waited for the howl of reprimand, the ones that Daniel usually gets every morning, but it never came.

“And how bad did you hurt him?” she asked quietly.

“I broke his nose,” I said hesitantly, “and…and a leg.”

She sighs in defeat. “I don’t know what to say, Michael. If I were you, I would’ve done the same thing.”

Nothing else was said on the way back home.

*

I surface from the reminiscence and stare at the clock again.

It’s 5:42 AM. The drizzle stopped a long time ago.

I drag myself out from the warm sheets, hating the feel of being exposed to a bitter morning cold.

Trundling to the bathroom, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I’ve made a habit of studying it every day. My face gives me an insight, a window to what goes on inside my head. With time, I’ve learned to hide my feelings behind a mask, but in the mirror with only myself to see, something is revealed every now and then.

Today, I’m a mess.

With bloodshot eyes and tornado-swept dirty blonde hair, I can easily pass for one of those homeless drunks squatting in the local park.

I shake my head to get rid of the sluggishness creeping throughout. I brush my teeth and splash my face with the icy water. The shock rejuvenates me as I gear up for the day. Tying up my shoes, I set out for a much needed morning run.

The parks, trees, roads — everything has remained the same for the last few years. The bright mellow sun cheerily heralds a new day. Its cleansing ray washes away my earlier gloom. I stop at the local park to catch my breath. Filling my lungs with the crisp morning air, I exhale quietly, feeling the stress ease out of my conscience.

New school, new environment, new people…it’s something that I have a hard time acquainting myself with. Perhaps I can, if I’m willing to try. I just don’t have the heart to do it.

I always used to wonder who invented the concept of schooling. If I knew, I would’ve buried his body in my front porch and make it a point to walk over his grave when I left for school every morning.

I hate school.

No, it’s not the grades I’m worried about. It’s the animals inhabiting the place. Screeching, leering and always chattering. Their behavior never ceases to amaze me. My last school was a horrible example.

I’m happy, for now. Getting rid of my previous school had taken an immense load off my chest. The morbid thoughts start creeping in when I’m alone. Otherwise, as long as I have people around myself, I seem to work fine. The crowd will notice a new guy in the middle of a school session, but they’ll forget about it pretty soon.

Public memory tends to be very short, should I remind you.

I take a quick shower, make a palatable breakfast of milk and sandwiches, grab my bag and set out for school on my bicycle. I only have to peddle a few meters to reach Aunt Sherry’s house. She’s my next door neighbor.

My cousin opens the door as soon as I press the buzzer.

“I’m up!” My cousin yells. “MOMLOVEYOUGOTTAGOBYE!”

“You don’t have to update the whole neighborhood,” I say.

“They hafta know that the Warners are still alive, matey,” he deadpans.

Just then, a shout…nay, a roar, pierces the peaceful morning air.

“DANIEL!”

He winces at the near physical impact of the words.

“COME BACK HERE AND FINISH YOUR BREAKFAST!”

I roll my eyes. It’s the same drama almost every morning. The difference this time is that we won’t be parting ways at the intersection.

With a visible slump in his shoulders, my cousin drags himself back into his house. I have to follow inside as usual and offer moral support.

Aunt Sherry’s house is the same size as mine, but a lot cleaner and tastefully decorated. Being a single Mom who worked from home, she had single-handedly raised Daniel and promised to raise me up with him as well. And she didn’t fail in either.

Daniel is the valedictorian of his class. He has already earned scholarships to reputed Colleges up North.

Me?

I haven’t commit suicide yet. I can chalk that up to her support.

Right?

“I’m so sorry you have to see this, Michael,” she says as soon as we enter inside. Turning back to my cousin as if I’m not there, she yells, “EAT UP YOUR BREAKFAST, PRONTO!”

“We’re early anyway.” My voice is a despicable squeak as compared to her mighty roar.

“I hope everything’s fine, Michael?”

“Yeah, of cour-”

“I’M WATCHING YOU DANIEL!” She bellows out loud without even turning her back.

My cousin was quietly trying to stash the breakfast into his bag.

“Jesus Mom! Even Banshees don’t scream that loud.”

I grin. It’s one of those rare moments where I feel like a part of the family. For those precious moments, nothing feels out of place.

*

“Keep your head high, shoulders straight and put that I-don’t-take-crap-from-no-one face,” Dan instructs me with a serious look. It feels as if we’re about to raid an enemy base camp.

“Roger that.”

Daniel’s school isn’t much different from my previous one. Different location but the same ole shit. These were standard procedures for a newbie anywhere.

The building is a standard white, not much bigger than the one I was kicked out of. Students litter the grounds in front of it, many in their own groups. I get a few stares as some pinpoint me as the new guy.

“Meet my friends,” Daniel says cheerily. “Guys, this is Michael. Michael, these are guys.”

I had expected his friends to be a typical bunch of social misfits. Turns out they’re pretty cool.

“I’m Sam,” The first one with jet black hair introduces himself. His handshake is firm. Not too tight, not too flimsy either.

“Call me Mike.” I offer a genuine smile.

“Welcome to the jungle, Mike.” He winks, and I take an instant liking to his easy air.

“Nathan.” The next one shakes my hand.

He’s huge, easily towering over me by half a foot. Judging by his voice, he’s a soft-spoken person. A small grin splits his dark face. “I’m the jock around here.”

Something must’ve shown on my expression because Dan jumps in quickly. “Mike had a bad experience with a jock.”

I throw my cousin a dirty look and he seals his mouth shut.

“Oh.” Nathan’s grin gets even wider. “Don’t worry. The only thing I’ve ever kicked around here is the school football and our Danny boy here.”

“Hey!” My cousin cries indignantly.

“Just kiddin’.” He laughs. “Nice to meet you, Mike. Call me in if you ever need help. They say my size is enough to scare away most of ’em.”

I grin. “I will. Nice to meet you too.”

They’re good people. Every one of them.

Sam looks around. “Where’s Nina? You have to meet her.”

“She’s stuck somewhere else,” Nathan says. “She’ll be back before lunch.”

“C’mon, let’s go before we’re late,” Dan pipes up. Then he smiles. “Heads up, Mike, you’re in Sam’s Class.”

Lucky me.

“Barring a few nuts, you’ll be fine.” Sam opens the door for us both.

We enter the hallway — a typical affair with lockers adorning both sides of the wall. A few more students take notice. They take a glance before realizing that I’m not worth their time. I couldn’t care less. I’ll be more than happy to remain an anonymous for the rest of this session.

There’s a girl standing just outside my designated classroom. Raven black hair, pale skin, extremely beautiful and way out of my league. She was chatting with a mousy brunette before she noticed me.

“Who is he?” she asks.

“He’s new,” Sam speaks for me.

She evaluates me with a slight cock of her head. Her eyes are a pale grey.

“Oh, a new guy,” her voice is lightly amused, a slight sneer clearly evident. She reminds me of the bitches from my last school — heads full of thin air and noses stuck high in the sky.

“Let’s go,” Sam says, ignoring her.

We brush past her and enter inside.

“Cheerleader bitch?” I ask quietly.

Sam grins. “Close.”

I take my designated seat in the middle of the class. As much as I’d like to sit near Sam, I don’t think he’ll be of much help in here. Dumping my bag on top of the table, I sit down with a sigh.

Dear Jesus, I pray silently, please don’t fuck this for me.

I swear I heard his laughter.

Chapter 2

~ Ice Queen ~

“Claire, please!” Jim whines pathetically.

I throw him a dirty look and, like a dog trained to obey, he shuts up. The bastard has been sleeping around behind my back.

I feel angry. Angry at myself at not being able to hold onto him. Frustrated too, because he could’ve slept with any of my friends all these months.

And sad because of my own…incompetence.

I have to get rid of him before he makes a scene.

“You know what?” he says angrily. “You’re just a frigid bitch!”

That’s it.

I stamp on his right foot. He howls in pain and hops around madly. I shove him back. With a foot out of duty, he lands flat with a satisfying thud. He’s still howling as I enter the cafeteria.

My girlfriends greet me. I greet them back with a smile, all the while boiling with a rage inside, wondering which of these two-faced bitches slept with my boyfriend all along.

*

My brother used to say that you could tell a lot about people just by looking into their eyes — their emotions, their thoughts, their evasions, their lies. It’s a window to their soul. By the senior year, I had figured out almost everyone. The nerds, the jocks, the princesses, the so-called upper class, the so-called lower class — no one escaped my scrutiny.

I see lust in Jim’s. It’s not a bad thing, but seeing it all the time is disheartening. I didn’t know how long I could resist. One day, I would’ve caved in and given myself away. I needed an excuse to break up with him, and he gave it to me on a silver platter.

My girlfriends — lying, conniving bitches, all of them — aren’t what I’d consider as my friends. Given a chance, any of them will stab me in the back and bring me down.

Then there’s Dan Warner and his group. They look so…happy, so carefree and honest. I can’t chat with my friends in the cafeteria without being interrupted by their howls of laughter. I’ve never seen so much liveliness clustered in a single place. How I wish I could shut them up for good.

Then there’s this new guy.

He’s a mystery.

I’ve interacted once with him on his first day. I wish I had behaved better, instead showing off my bitch persona. He didn’t deserve it.

He uses aloofness on the exterior as a shield. Underneath his liquid brown eyes, there’s a hint of sadness. Something that was happy, but a long time ago. A part of his real self emerges when he laughs without a care, but the sadness…it remains. In time, I’ll figure him out too.

In the meantime, I have other priorities to deal with.

The news of my break-up will spread out like wildfire. Guys will mill around to fill the vacancy, but I’ll pretend to be depressed about it. Hopefully, I can last through the rest of the school session without having to keep someone for company.

Luckily for me, school ends today without another incident. I race back home and fall face first flat on my bed. My head throbs. My phone rings just then, making in groan in frustration. Contemplating suicide seems like a very viable option at this moment.

I look at the screen, and my headache disappears just as quickly.

“Joyce…”

“Is Claire Bennet dead?”

For the first time in several hours, I laugh. And admittedly, it feels good.

“She’s close to that stage.”

“What happened?”

“Don’t ask,” I reply glumly. She has her own problems. Letting her worry about my crap is the last thing I want.

“It’s Jim, isn’t it?”

Damn. There isn’t a single thing I can hide from her. Somehow, sitting hundreds of miles away, she can always read my mind.

I sigh. “Yes.”

“Do you want to talk?” she asks.

“No. Yes. I-I don’t know.”

Joyce is the only sane thing left in my life. With her, I can lower my walls and be myself. I laugh, cry and snort freely. She never judges me. I really wish I could be with her right now.

“Okay, tell me this — did you break up with him?”

“Yes, of course I did.”

She breathes out a sigh of relief. “About time you got rid of that leech.”

“Leech?” I ask, grinning. “You thought he was a leech?”

“Yes,” she states firmly, “an emotional leech that needed to be taken care of sooner. Seriously, I don’t know how you stood him all this time.”

“Joyce, I don’t want to talk about him anymore,” I say softly. “Tell me what’s up with you? What did the doctor say?”

“Oh,” she falters at the sudden change of topic. “Dee gave me the permission to do light physical activities. I can now run for five and a half minutes straight without feeling dizzy or nauseous.”

“Wow,” I say, “that is good news!”

“And Dad said he’ll let me join college if I get well enough!”

Joyce was diagnosed with a rare cerebral disease at birth. She used to have irregular fainting spells. Other than walking and physical activities that required little to no exertions, she was restricted to the confines of her house and its four walls.

Her Dad, my Uncle, did everything he could to make life easier for his only daughter. Home schooling, physiotherapy and what not. She has no social life, but she didn’t let it hinder her faith that she’d be able to live a normal life someday. She has shown good signs of recovery of late. I hope she can attend college next year like she always wanted to.

“Make sure you learn some kung-fu,” I say, “for you’ll have to defend yourself from the lust-crazed guys in college.”

“Oh, puh-lease!” she says bashfully. “I’m sure they’ll find someone who’s more beautiful and doesn’t stammer.”

“No, they won’t,” I say firmly.

Inferiority complex is another drawback my cousin has. If only she knew how beautiful she is.

“Gee! You’re too good for my ego.” She giggles. “I think I’ll kidnap you someday and stuff you in my trunk.”

“Oh, that’ll be wonderful!” I exclaim. “At least, I won’t have to deal with the professional nuts in my house.”

My cousin ends in a fit of hysterical laughter. She’s amused by how much I hate my parents, and I use the fact mercilessly, just to hear the sound of her laughing.

“Okay, Claire, it’s time for me to go. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Make sure you have my kidnapping trunk ready, and make it comfy too.”

She laughs. “Of course, I will. Take care, Sweets.”

“You too.”

And with that, she ends the call.

I keep the speaker close to my ears, not wanting the feeling of euphoria to stop. But like all good things that come to an end, the reality dawns over me. Taking a hard swallow, I close the screen and set my phone aside.

A few years ago, I tried to commit suicide but I chickened out at the sight of the blade. As soon as Joyce heard about it, she flew all the way over just to see me.

She said nothing, preferring to hold me in her warm embrace. I bawled like a baby for the first time after my brother died. I don’t remember how long because I cried myself to sleep in her arms.
I don’t know where I’d be without her.

My parents?

They didn’t have a clue about it.

Not that they’d care even if the news reached their ears.

Just reminiscing those days gives me a bad shudder. I wait for the mild panic attack to subside as I take a deep breath before steeling myself for the day ahead.

One day at a time, I cajole myself, one day at a time.

Chapter 3

~ Mundane Happenings ~

The dying rays of the evening sun light up the sky in a dark hue of violet. Orange clouds laze above, seemingly unaffected by the turbulence of humanity below. The walk back home is a slow one — partly because I don’t want to be cooped inside, but mostly because I loathe the immediate silence after socializing with people.

It was my choice to live alone. The silence helps me think clearly, and I’m able to concentrate on my thoughts better without having someone around, breathing down my neck.

Over the last two years, I have become sufficiently independent. I know how to cook (my loyal taste buds fully agree), wash dirty linen and wipe the surfaces. My only luxury is a cleaner hired by Aunt Sherry who makes sure the house remains in its pristine condition.

I insert the key, and enter the house quietly.

Dark, creepy and classy — my house will give Dracula a run for his money. With a flick of a switch, the lights come alive, bathing the house in a soft, warm glow. Mom invested in some classy, designer lighting. It’s one of the few things that make this house worth living in.

Snuffles pads up to me wagging his tail and demands his daily dose of affection — a bribe of his favorite dog food — that I’m more than happy to provide.

He’s the chief of the dogs around here, so I never had to worry about him getting bored. He recruits dogs to help him hound the other dogs in our neighborhood. He never interferes in my routine and has been a silent, albeit annoying, guardian to me all these years.

I wash my hands and enter the kitchen. Donning my Bluetooth headphone, I start chopping the vegetables for dinner. My favorite is a broth loaded with diced vegetables, strips of cooked meat and various assorted spices. After a few disastrous trials, I got the combinations right and stuck to it ever since. As I turn off the gas, my smartphone rings.

And there’s only one person on God’s green earth who would call me at this time.

“Hey sis,” I greet her.

“Hiya studdly!” she chirps back in a horrible, godforsaken accent. “Whatchha doin?”

It’s the same as ever. She enquires about my health, and I ask about hers in return.

Emma feels guilty leaving her baby brother alone in this miserable house. She phones me now and then just to make sure I haven’t done something stupid. My news of getting “transferred” to Dan’s school has nagged her suspicions, but she was glad I would have Dan to keep me company.

“Scored any girlfriends?”

This is one of those few times she needles the subject.

“Why are you so interested in my boring life?”

“Oh, come ON!” she wheedles. “As your adorable and awesome big sis, I have the right to know.”

“Don’t worry; your brother is the owner of a successful harem,” I reply blithely. A dead silence greets me back from the other end as I pour my dinner and take a careful sniff of my handiwork. It’s spicier than necessary.

Perfect.

“Bummer,” she says after some time.

“I don’t have the time, sis.”

“Hermit.”

“Whatever.”

“All that is left for you is to run naked in the Himalayas.”

Despite the many times I’ve wanted to strangle her, she always brings a smile to my face. We talk for a few minutes more before saying our goodnights. I take a seat in the huge dining table and say my daily prayer with a religious fervor:

“May the gracious lord have mercy to prevent thy humble servant from choking on his own rations. Amen.”

After wolfing down my meal and cleaning up, I visit Daniel’s house for one of our clandestine nightly meetings. Our discussions usually start with current events, and slowly veer towards girls and women of our school and beyond. It always does.

Dan and my sister are the brains of our family. No doubt whatsoever. Dan coached me so well that I excelled in almost every major subject. It’s a boon. On the flipside, I doze at the insanely boring lectures.

“Guess what,” he begins. “There’s a major upcoming project in socials.”

“I hate that topic,” I groan.

“You can to do a nice exposé on Little Home. I’m sure Claudine can help you out with the details.”

My mood takes a U-Turn immediately.

“The project will be a walk in the park, literally.”

“Yeah, here comes the catch.”

“What?”

“It’s a team-work. You’ll be paired with one of the girls, and your partner won’t be of your choice. It depends on your academic track record.”

I had a good record in my previous school. Perhaps that won’t count.

“So, I’ll be paired with…?” I ask hopefully.

“You’re new, so you’ll be paired with someone whose record is neat.”

That’ll take some load off my chest, at the very least.

“What about you?”

His grin is outright creepy. “I usually get paired with Missy. She’s an absolute delight to work with.”

Nina had taken some time out at lunch to hammer in the names of a few prominent members of my new school. Redhead, busty and an impossible ass — that’s all I remember about Dan’s partner.

“Let me guess,” I say, “she’s stupid?”

“Of course, not!” he exclaims indignantly, “She’s a highly intelligent – and a highly sexual – creature.”

His obtuse innuendo doesn’t take long to hit home.

“You didn’t.”

His sly, near maniacal, grin speaks for him. I know my cousin lost his virginity before he hit eighteen. With his looks and easygoing manners, he can charm his way into any Ice Queen’s pants.

“She has a boyfriend, doesn’t she?” I ask.

Matt is another jock gorilla of my current school. He’d love to pulp Dan if he gets the chance.

“So what!” he says, and leans back in his chair. “That ass can’t make her happy, so I have to do his job instead. As long as she’s, er, satisfied, I don’t have to worry about it.”

It isn’t every day that my cousin narrates his sexual adventures in detail to a bumpkin like me. Listening to his exploits gives me the courage to start fantasizing about my own.

“What do you think?” I ask. “Can I have a shot at my partner?”

“If I were you, I’d carefully stake her out and draw the lines first before making a move. Then I’d start with something like –”

I sigh. “I wasn’t being serious, Dan.”

I had to stop him before he started one of his goddamn lectures on sexual approach.

“Mike, you’re eighteen! When the fuck are you going to be serious?”

“When I find the right girl, I’ll think about it,” I say solemnly.

I don’t really believe I will ever find the right girl.

My cousin shakes his head in disappointment. “Someday, you’ll die a virgin and get canonized as Saint Michael, I tell ya.”

*

Having successfully blended in with the crowd, I got to know most of the faces. I’d like to credit this incredible achievement to my ninja skills, but the hard fact that a boring guy barely makes any ripple is a wonderful truth I freely admit to.

My current school…well, it isn’t that bad. There are good guys and there are bad guys.

And there are the ones in the middle.

My cousin and his rowdy group fall in the third category. Daniel made sure that I sat with him instead of moping about my own. His friends, now mine as well, don’t talk about my past. Perhaps they already know, but they don’t talk about it. They know their respective lines and choose not to breach it. I gladly return the favor and watch their backs.

Today, I’ll be assigned to a partner. Dan’s words still echo inside my head. There’s nothing I can do about the inevitable, except keep my fingers crossed. I hope that my partner’s obnoxiousness is above my permissible levels.

I don’t know why this project is making me antsy. The beat of my pounding heart is an instinct that I’ve grown used to over the years. It’s a premonition of something disastrous coming my way. Perhaps my partner is a murderous lunatic.

Worse still, it would be a jock.

If that happens, I’d rather hang myself with old, smelly socks.

The teacher, Cate Mahen, enters the class. I watch with trepidation as she opens her file and takes out a printed sheet. She adjusts her spectacles and pores over through the list.

“I’m sure all of you are aware of the project and its details. There have been a few adjustments, but the idea remains the same. It’s a team-work, and I expect all of you to cooperate…”

Blah blah blah.

“Partners once assigned will not be changed.”

Damn.

“Asher, Samuel,” she calls out the first name on the list.

Sam stands up slowly, desperately trying to hide a smirk with his hand but fails.

He told me earlier that his regular partner faints with dread every time they’re paired together. Despite Sam’s reassurance that he’ll do every bit of his share, his partner hyperventilates from day one. So, he goes with the flow and scares her whenever he gets the chance.

“Your partner will be Karen Marr.”

Karen, the mousy brunette sitting beside me, quietly bangs her head against the desk. She looks at Sam with dread, and Sam returns her gaze with an evil all-knowing wink. I can’t help but shake my head. The moment isn’t far when I’ll be wanting to bang my own head.

Two people out of the picture. I hear a few more groans and giggles before my name pops up.

“Lehane, Michael,” she calls out.

I stand up, and smile sincerely at her. She reads the list, readjusts her spectacles, and pores through the list again. Then she looks at me over the rim of her half-moon glasses.

I feel like a goat being scrutinized just before its slaughter.

“You’re new?”

Go figure.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I reply.

She looks back at her list. Did I somehow piss her off?

Chill the fuck out Mike, I cajole myself, it’s just a project…a career-determining, make-or-break, larger than life project that you can’t afford to mess up.

“Ah, yes. There have been a few changes to accommodate your name into the list. Although, that makes no difference…”

Say the name already, four-eyes.

“You partner is…”

Chapter 4

~ Stranger Danger ~

My guts freeze every time the teacher assigns a project in Socials.

Not that I hate the subject, but I dread my would-be partner. Last time, I was paired with Jim, and I had to do all of his work. That asshole couldn’t do anything other than whine about how less attentive I was becoming to him with each passing day.

Fucking leech.

I watch people being assigned with their respective partners, and I pray that I don’t get someone who’ll mess this up. It’s set-up in a random order most of the time. Prayers are the only thing that can save me.

“Lehane, Michael.”

He stands up and puts a huge, outrageously fake smile on his face. His efforts are worth the snigger that erupts around him. Mrs. Mahen reads the list, readjusts her spectacles, and pores through the list again. Then she looks at him over the rim of her half-moon glasses.

He keeps shifting his weight on his feet, something he does when he’s nervous.

“You’re new?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he replies brightly.

She looks back at her list again.

Introduction of new kids changes the pattern, wreaking havoc on the regular partners. Means there are chances that I won’t be paired with asshole Jim.

A big grin splits my face as I consider my options.

“Ah, yes. There have been a few changes to accommodate your name into the list. Although, that makes no difference. Your partner will be…Claire Bennet.”

Phew! She didn’t pair me with —

Wait what?!

“Are you all right, Claire?” she asks me.

I jerk back to my senses.

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

“Yes, Ma’am…” I say in the smallest voice possible.

“You made a strange noise. Are you sure? The doctor might be available…”

“That won’t be necessary, Ma’am,” I insist, trying to squeeze myself into a smaller size. I hope he didn’t notice me.

She nods absentmindedly and goes back to the list. Lehane was observing me all this time. I soooo hope he doesn’t recognize me as that bitch from Day One. His face reveals nothing, but his eyes say it all.

Anxiety, anger…disgust.

“Michael, you may sit now.”

He sits down quietly, and throughout the rest of the class, he doesn’t move a muscle. I don’t know if I should be happy, or curse my luck instead.

*

Apparently, I’m an incorrigible bitch in his eyes.

So what?

I don’t care what he thinks about me. I never cared what anyone thought about me. Why should I be bothering about him?

Screw him, says my erratic inner voice. Who cares?

He matters because he’s a potential screw-up for your career, says my more sensible inner voice.

I sigh in defeat. There’s no way I can do this all alone. I need his cooperation, even if I have to drag him buck naked, screaming and kicking and lock him inside a dungeon.

It’s funny how a simple project can put students through so much mental drama. I’m hyperventilating and cooking up wishful scenarios. Perhaps, he isn’t that mean, or nasty. I have to try and see for myself.

The cafeteria din is unnoticeable as compared to the noise of my inner thoughts. I should’ve been more alert as I suddenly see Jim approaching me.

Too late to make a run.

I really wish Mother Earth could swallow and puke him somewhere far, far away from me.

“Claire!” he exclaims, his voice agitated. “I’m trying to convince Mahen to get us back together. We’ll totally ace this project.”

Yeah, you and I together sound so good.

Said no one ever.

I ignore him as he rattles on about his teacher conspiracy theories and other bullshit. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Lehane making an exit from the cafeteria.

This might be my chance.

“Shut up,” I order Jim briskly. His jaw is hanging midair, stuck between repetitions of some mumbo-jumbo, as I hurry towards my grumpy partner.

“Hey!” I call.

He doesn’t stop, and walks out of the cafeteria.

Stupid me. What was his name?

“Michael Lehane!” I call again, and he stops this time. He turns around and looks directly at me. He’s partly surprised and partly annoyed. Up this close, his liquid brown eyes are…mesmerizing.

“Yes?”

I screech to a halt and pause to collect my scattered thoughts.

“We’re partners,” I say lamely.

Damnit, take control, Claire!

“So?” He isn’t making it any easier for me. I don’t know if it’s deliberate.

“Look we’re partners,” I say, “and we have to work together. If you get lesser marks, so do I.”

He cocks his head slightly to the right. “So, you’re implying I’m stupid?”

“No!” I insist. Pissing him off is the last thing I want. “It’s just that…I don’t know you, and we have to start ASAP.”

His eyes soften. Finally, I’ve made some sense.

“What do you want?” he asks cautiously.

“Can I have your number?” His eyebrows shoot up, and I add hastily, “We’ll have to talk after school and keep ourselves up-to-date.”

“Anything else?”

“Do you have any idea about this project?”

“Dan filled me in with the details,” he says. Of course, he’s the cousin of the bloody valedictorian.

“Do you have something in mind?” I ask. Maybe we could chalk out something.

“I have something in mind,” he says with a nod.

Please, not the women’s shelter, I pray. That has been done to death.

“Little Home, owned by Claudine Marie…have you heard about it?” he asks.

“Of course I have,” I exclaim. Everyone knows about her. “But the project wouldn’t be worth anything if we can’t get an interview with the head.”

Claudine Marie refused to entertain any visitors unless they had urgent issues that had to be taken care of immediately.

My mother tried once. She was left red-faced.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “She’s a personal friend. She can’t say no to me.”

No. Way.

“That would be…great.”

“When will we start working?”

I want to say now, but building a good temporary relationship with my partner is the first step. Pushing him around could backfire badly.

“Can we start tomorrow? You can ask Claudine, in advance, if she’s willing to help us out.”

“Anything else?” he asks.

“Uhhm…nothing I can think of right now.”

“Okay, then. See you tomorrow.”

With that, he turns around and walks away. I realize my heart is beating erratically. I gulp and wait for it to slow down.

What the hell just happened?

Chapter 5

~ Mister Who ~

“Spill!”

It’s hard to avoid Joyce’s interrogation once she smells something. She’s like a friggin’ shark. As soon as she heard me on the phone, she demanded to know what happened earlier today.

“I said spill!” she repeats.

“I told you there’s no one.”

Oops.

“I knew it. What’s he like? I want names!”

“Joyce,” I insist, “I swear he’s just my project partner.”

“Ooooooh!” she teases. “I like the way you say partner.”

“Dammit, Joyce, I’m not joking!” I say in my sternest voice, but end up giggling. It’s never easy to remain serious around her.

“Alright, alright! So, seriously, what’s he like?”

“Umm…” I think hard. It isn’t easy now that I have to picture him. “He doesn’t speak much, like a reclusive mystery full of secrets.”

“All that observation from one meeting?”

“You know how much I like to observe people.”

“Yeah, like a lil’ dingo,” she quips.

I laugh. “He’s new, so I think his so-called allure will wear off once I figure him out. But I know that won’t be easy.”

“Is he rude?”

“He isn’t rude,” I say, reclining back on my bed. “He’s just…cautious.”

“Wow. Now, that’s interesting,” she says. “So, what does he look like? Is he a strapping fellow?”

“Joyce, you pervert!”

“Guilty,” she admits giggling, then she adds, “but I’m really curious. You never blathered about a single guy like this before.”

“I blathered on the phone?”

“Yes you did. Now, don’t change the topic.”

“Okay, let me think about it.”

I start creating a mental image, and slowly his face comes alive. His dirty blond hair, his brown expressive eyes, his cute boyish looks that he’s completely unaware of…his lean, yet toned body that are perfectly —

“Helooo? Earth to Claire!”

“What?”

“So what does he look like?” she repeats slowly, as if I’m a dunce.

“He’s unique,” I say after some time.

Dead silence. Peals of laughter follow next. She gasps for breath, only to laugh again at a joke I don’t remember making at all.

“Oh my god,” she gasps after some time.

“Did I say something funny?” I ask, genuinely confused.

“Oh, Claire!” she says after she finally catches her breath. “You won’t believe me even if I held up a neon signboard in front of you.”

“Try me,” I offer.

“Trust me, you won’t,” she says after another fit of giggles. “Okay, I have to take my medicines now. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

“Uh huh.”

“Bye, sweets! And thank you so much for the laughs.”

And with that she cut me off.

This time, I’m left staring at my phone. I don’t remember say something peculiar…did I? But then, Joyce is very sensitive, and could be eccentric at times. I conclude that my cousin is nuts, and go outside for a much-needed walk.

Date of Birth unknown.

Abandoned at birth. Brought up in a now closed orphanage, and ran away at the age of eight. Several years later, organizes dozens of successful non-profit organizations including shelter for the homeless, children and orphans.

Awarded at numerous prestigious events, felicitated twice by the President himself and once by the UNICEF. Voted by the Times Group as the most influential Feminist and Champion for the cause of Orphans and Homeless thrice in a row.
She is Claudine Anna Marie.

I pore over the near-endless list repeatedly. In earlier projects, I had to choose what more to add so that I didn’t fall short of the required pages. Now I have to decide what to ditch so that I can compile this huge thing on time.

I also realize that I don’t have Mike’s number. I didn’t insist, and he didn’t tell. Part of me says it was a deliberate move on his part because he doesn’t seem like a callous person.

I wait for the recess before I can approach him. He’s scribbling something, and it isn’t until I clear my throat that he even notices me. He covers up his shenanigans and looks up at me with unfocused eyes.

“Have you talked to her?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says with a curt nod. “She’ll have all the relevant files delivered to me. We can work it out from there.”

“Will she agree to an interview?” I ask. “That’ll seal a full A plus for us, you know.”

He nods again slowly, and I can see a hint of tiredness that obscures his usual alert self. There are dark spots around his eyes. What has he been up to?

“Umm…are you okay?” I ask.

“Huh?”

“You look tired.”

I don’t care what he feels like. I just don’t want him messing up with my…our project.

“I’m fine,” he says and shrugs it off as if it’s nothing.

He’s a terrible, terrible liar.

“I can compile the notes today and plan it out if you’re not feeling well. We can start from tomorrow.”

“I said I’m fine!” he snaps.

He pushes back his chair and stands up. I step back in reflex. Looks like I came close to pissing him off.

Perhaps I already did.

“Be at the Northern Greens at four o’clock today. She’ll be there,” he says, and walks out of the door.

*

Northern Greens is about ten minutes away from where I live. It’s easily one of the best places in this town at any given time of the year — full of idyllic sceneries and a giant, shallow, man-made lake in the middle.

I haven’t visited the park in years. The last time I did, it was with my brother who wanted a safe place for me to experiment with his mini bike….and as always, it brings back depressing memories.

It’s a weekday, so the park is mostly empty except for a large gathering of children near the forested area. Their shouts and shrieks of laughter are so loud that I can hear them even from this distance. A few uniformed caretakers mill around the perimeter, keeping a watchful eye on them.

Slipping my hands into my front pockets, I walk towards the group. I can’t see Lehane anywhere. A few children take notice of me, but they don’t pay much attention. A little girl, probably three years old, was busy doodling on a paper when I approach her.

“Hello,” I greet with a friendly smile.

She looks up at me in surprise. With her soft blonde hair and baby blue eyes, she’s awfully cute. I can easily cuddle her to death.

“Do you know where I can find Michael Lehane?”

“Mike?” she asks.

So cute.

“Yes,” I reply with a smile, “Mike.”

She stands up and leads me towards the lake where a lone couple sits by its shore with their back towards me. The child runs the last few meters, yelling her lungs out.

“MIIIIIIIIIIIKKE!”

I hear a distinct ‘ooomph’ as her body connects with his neck.

“You’ll break my neck, Breanne!” He laughs, and then he asks, “What is it?”

“Someone wants to see you.”

He turns around and notices me.

He looks happy, content, free and…different. No kidding, but he doesn’t look the same as he did in school earlier today. I wonder if it’s the same grumpy guy I was acquainted with just a few hours ago.

“You said she’d be here,” I remind him.

“Oh!” he exclaims but doesn’t get up. He turns towards the woman sitting beside him and says, “Claudine, meet Claire. She’s the one I was talking about.”

She’s sitting here — just like this?

Claudine half-turns and beckons me to sit down beside her. I swear my knees are shaking of their own accord. I approach her and sit down at a respectable distance on the soft grass.

“I don’t bite, Claire,” she says, laughing.

I laugh with her…or try to, but it’s a strangled squeak that comes out. Up this close, she looks even more attractive than the glossy magazine covers and more intimidating to my scared brains.

“I-I heard s-so much about you,” I stammer. “I can’t even talk right.”

She laughs. Michael smiles knowingly, but doesn’t say anything.

“I really thought you’d summon me into your office,” I confess. “I didn’t expect this.”

“Relax,” she says with a kind smile and pats my back gently. “Ask whatever you want to.”

A constant, gentle breeze blows from across the lake and caresses my face with a warm touch. I can see why she must like this place so much.

“Would you mind if I record?”

“No, not at all.”

I already had my smartphone at ready. With a single swipe, it starts recording.

“So, Miss Marie –”

“You make me feel like an old hag, Claire. Call me Claudine.”

“Okay, Claudine,” I repeat with a grin, “Could you tell me what motivates a person like you to…”

*

We laugh, crack jokes, and compete for the crown of unofficial self-deprecating humor contest. It’s the first time in years I have had so much fun.

She minces no words and speaks from her heart. Her passion, her belief, her confidence and her knowledge shines through her eyes as she narrates her goals for life and the Trust. I just sit there, jaws agape and listen to her with my undivided attention.

“Your childhood must’ve been a big influence in what you are today.”

“Of course, everyone’s childhood influences them in one way or the other. Either you take it as a motivation, or you mope about it.”

So true. It makes me wish for a different set of parents right now, or at least for people who’d care whether I live or die. She glances at her wristwatch, an intricate golden band with sapphire dials.

“Oops,” she says. “You must be getting late.”

“What?”

I look at my phone, and gasp. A full hour flew by without me even realizing it.

“Time to go, dear,” she says and stands up. “You can ask me more if you feel something has been left out.”

“I don’t think anything has been left out,” I say happily. It’s more than I could ever ask for.

“Mike?” She turns towards him. He has been sitting silently all this while, a comatose Breanne draped over his legs.

“Can you hand Breanne over to Freya? I don’t want her to wake up now.”

“Sure,” he says. Lifting Breanne up as if she’s a feather, he stands up and slowly walks over to the area where the caretakers are assembling and doing a headcount. As soon as he’s out of earshot, she turns towards me.

“So, how long have you known Mike?”

The sudden change of topic takes me by surprise.

“We didn’t meet until we were paired up together for this project,” I say. “He doesn’t talk much.”

“How does he behave at school? Does he socialize now?”

She must really care about him.

“He sits with his cousin’s friends, but otherwise, he doesn’t do anything.”

She sighs out in relief. “God bless Warner,” she exclaims. “At least he’s doing something for his cousin.”

“If you don’t mind, can I ask something?”

“Shoot.”

“How did you two meet?”

“I knew his Mom. We were very good friends. Mike has worked with me for the last two years. I wanted to help him, but he ended up helping me instead.”

“What help?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

“He didn’t tell you?”

“Tell what?”

She shakes her head, refusing to answer anymore. “It’s up to Mike. You should ask him.”

Interesting.

I stand up, and help her up with me. We dust our backs, and head back towards where the children lined up. Mike is busy helping to contain the errant ones in the line.

“Are you done with your interview?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say happily. “Thank you so much.”

I give him a hug.

Not the awkward-cum-sideways hug, it’s a full-blown bear hug.

It’s not a show for Claudine or others around me, because I mean it. It’s my own way of saying thanks. His body scent — a light, tangy lemonade flavor — permeates my senses.

Then it hit my thoughts.

Given his…anti-social stance, he probably isn’t used to such closeness. I separate just as quickly, noticing his wise-eyed expression. My brain races to bring something out to make me look less stupid.

“Thanks,” I repeat in a small voice.

“Uh, it’s okay I figured out how much you’d like this so, uh, it wasn’t –”

I try hard not to guffaw at his flustered face. He looks adorable when he desperately tries to hide his insecurities.

“Thanks anyway,” I repeat. “I really appreciate it.”

“Okay.”

“Can we do a follow-up on today’s work?” I ask. “There’s still enough time for us to write an entire section based on today’s conversations.”

“Sure,” he says, “but the library is closed for renovation. We’ll have to do it somewhere else.”

“How about your place?” I ask. “I mean, if it isn’t a problem for you. My place is too far away from here.”

“No problem,” he says understandingly. “My house is a five minute walk from here.”

He gives me the directions.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” he says and walks back to help the wardens.

*

I hum a long forgotten song as I drive through the narrow road, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel with the beat in my head. There’s this big smile pasted on my lips that refuses to go away. I don’t know where all this happiness is bubbling from. I just know that I feel happy…and relaxed.

After three minutes, I reach an upper-middle class neighborhood. Driving through the rows and rows of beautifully made homes, I reach his supposed abode. Parking my car at a respectable distance, I climb up the small flight of stairs and press the doorbell.

No response.

After waiting for another minute, I ring the doorbell again.

“I hope you haven’t been waiting for too long,” he says from behind me.

I jump, but recover quickly.

“Sorry,” he mutters, and proceeds to open the door. Inserting a key into the hole, he unlocks it.

“It’s okay. I guess your parents are out on an errand.”

He turns around and looks at me, considering me for a few moments. His eyes aren’t clear, but I can sense his sadness. He wants to say something, but hesitates.

“They won’t be back for a long time,” he says and opens the door to his house.

Chapter 6

~ Company ~

I enter the house and drop the keys on a nearby table. With the flick of a switch, the warm lights bathe the entire house. That’s the least I can do to make this house look less creepy.

“Nice place,” she comments.

“Thank you.”

Snuffles is nowhere to be seen, so I’m hoping he’s out somewhere else causing trouble. I settle down my notebooks and files on the huge dining table as she puts down her bag on the opposite side. The dining room is an ideal place for us to work in. Definitely more spacious than my study desk. And besides, I don’t want her sneaking inside my room.

“So, where do we start from, Mike?” she asks. That’s the first time she has called me Mike, instead of Michael.

I like it.

“From the beginning,” I say, “the very beginning.”

My thoughts regarding Claire are…mixed.

My friends filled me in about her the same day we were assigned as partners. According to them, she’s a Grade A bitch, very goal-oriented and mean as hell. She wasn’t a person I would want to mess with.

“Never piss her off,” Dan whispered conspiratorially. “I say you should ask the Head to swap partners while you can.”

“She might be beautiful, but stare at her face and she’ll bite your head off,” Nathan joined in. I would’ve taken it seriously had he not been grinning like a maniac. The jolly fucker couldn’t stay serious for a minute.

I knew they were messing with me, but a part of my heart said it was true. I gauged a lot about her character when we met the first day. And I still remember that leer.

It still gives me the shivers of the wrong kind.

“I’ll be fine, guys,” I said with a shrug but apparently, it wasn’t convincing enough.

Nina remained silent throughout our chatter. She hadn’t said a single word since I announced the name of my would-be partner.

“What do you say, Nina?” I asked her, and took a sip from my bottle.

She shrugged and went back to poking her lunch with a fork. Dan quietly shook his head at me and I got the drift. After my friends were done hyping her bitchy status, Sam spoke for the first time in minutes. Like Nina, he had been quiet all this while.

“Do you think she’s hot?” he asked, without any sort of preamble.

I almost spat out the water.

“What?” I sputtered.

“Oh dear,” Nathan groaned in mock despair. “He likes her.”

“I never said that!”

“Denial isn’t the key to happiness, Mike,” Dan chipped in with a serious look.

“I know, Pope Pervert.”

While they laughed themselves silly, Sam was still waiting for my answer.

“I think she’s pretty,” I conceded. “But I don’t see her in that light.”

“We aren’t going to razz you up if you like her,” Sam said with a shake of his head. “We’re just asking you to be careful. Her ex-boyfriend was in hospital for a semi-fractured toe.”

Couldn’t blame her, really. I was guilty myself of busting someone’s knee cap.

“Especially stay clear of her friends and you won’t burn yourself. You can thank me later.”

Fast-forwarding to the present situation, I still don’t think she’s evil.

Grade A Bitch? Probably.

Goal oriented? Definitely.

But evil?

I don’t think so.

There’s a reason behind every thing we do. Every motive, every intention has a cause. I’m sure she has her own reasons, but I’m not too concerned about it.

I just don’t care.

Chances are we won’t speak after we finish this project from hell.

She’s diplomatic, though. She knew that I’d be pissed off at the sight of her, so the first thing she did was to break the ice. Admittedly, her sugar coated words and meekness got the best of me. Even though I could see right through it, I fell for it like a deluded sucker.

I think she dislikes me for some reason. She doesn’t know me. Judging by the way she looks at people — trying to figure them out and everything — I’m damn sure she’s pretty frustrated by me.

I caught her a few times staring at the back of my head. I found it a bit creepy — okay, a LOT creepy — to have someone looking at me like that, but I can live with it. As long as she doesn’t pester me about things, she can stare all she wants.

I’ll pretend not to notice.

As we sit on our seats doing our projects, I check her out on the pretext of thinking something through. She has a habit of chewing her lips lightly when she ponders over a difficult question. A pink tongue darts out to wet her lips as soon as she finishes a chewing session.

Cute.

“Should we include more about her childhood?” she asks. “I think it’s interesting.”

She knows the answer to this, probably asking me out of courtesy.

“Substantial materials are more important. We can use Claudine’s back story as good filler material once we finish the project.”

She smiles briefly and gets back to her scribbling.

Did I pass her test?

We work for an hour, debating on the procedures and passing around ideas until we settle on one. She’s really passionate about something once she sets her focus on it. She’s much better at it than me, so I let her do most of the visionary work.

“That’ll be enough for today,” she says after an hour and a half.

“Yes,” I agree. “We can finish it within a week if we keep up this pace.”

“That’ll be wonderful!”

She raises her arms above her head and then stretches some on her seat. Her pert breasts push out against her T-shirt, hinting at the shapes of two lovely globes of…damn, I shouldn’t have looked. I avert my eyes and focus on the mahogany in between us.

Too late. The damage was done. Mike Junior awakes from his slumber in my pants, wondering who the heck woke him up.

“We’ll continue tomorrow from where we left off. Same place, same time. Is that okay?”

“Uh…yeah, sure,” I say, concentrating on mental images of spider shit and dead monkeys.

Down boy!

Claire pushes back the chair and stands up. I follow suit after I’m sure that my semi-flaccid dick won’t be making an embarrassing tent in front of her. Opening the door for her, I let her outside. She turns around on my doorstep.

“Good night, Mike,” she says with a hint of a smile on her lips.

“Good night, Claire,” I reply.

As soon as she is out of sight, I slam the door shut and run to the bathroom as fast as I can. Unbuckling my belt and zipping down my pants, I push my jeans and underwear down in a single fluid motion.

My penis jumps out, hot and ready for some action. The picture of her luscious breasts pushing out against her tee pops into my head and my dick jumps up right on cue.

“I’m sorry, buddy,” I whisper, “I can’t do this.”

I take a deep breath and feel the knots in my groin loosen after a few moments. My cock finally goes down, figuring out that it won’t be the part of any action tonight.

I don’t masturbate that often, but the luscious sight of her breasts woke up my libido from its coma. The reaction took me completely by surprise. Thank God, I abstained. I would’ve felt guilty for giving in to my dick about…her.

Claire doesn’t come off as a sexual person. She doesn’t give the inviting looks, nor does she wear anything provocative. It’s always the right, proper clothes that any self-respecting teenager wears these days –designer form-fitting jeans with a complementary, usually dark, expensive T-Shirt.

Yes, she’s beautiful, but I have a feeling that she desperately tries to hide her sex appeal. That fact compounds the guilt when I think of her like that. It’s childish and juvenile and…hot.

I shake my head again to clear my thoughts. As I don my headphones, the doorbell rings.

Who could it be at this ungodly hour?

The peephole reveals Claire. An unsightly frown mars her beautiful face.

Did she somehow divine that I was about to sacrifice a few million sperms in her name? I’ve never had the opportunity of meeting people right after devoting dirty thoughts to them. It’s the weirdest feeling I’ve had in a while.

Taking a deep breath, I open the door.

“Claire?”

She has been crying, tearstains still visible on her cheeks. I open the door further and quickly usher her inside.

“What happened?” I ask as she sits down on the edge of sofa. She’s very tense.

“Can I bunk at your place for the night?” she asks. “Please?”

No way.

“Of course, you can,” I assure her. “But…what happened?”

“My parents are back,” she says, “and I don’t want to go back home.”

I would’ve given an arm and a leg to be with Mom and Dad right now, and here she is — running away from hers. Tomorrow is weekend, so I could easily host her until then.

“Okay,” I say and gear up mentally for the inevitable. “Just call your parents and say you’re staying at your friend’s house, or at least call someone who’ll inform them of your whereabouts. I don’t want to be booked for kidnapping.”

“I will.” She smiles. “Thank you.”

“I’ll see what I can do, okay?”

“I’ll call my people and let them know.”

I turn towards the kitchen, but she calls me again. “Mike?”

“What?”

“Thanks again.”

A smile finds its way on my face. It has been a long time since I was anything but alone in this house.

“Don’t mention it,” I say, and leave her for a bit of privacy. Despite the distance, I can hear her angry voice over the whirr of the kitchen chimney and the noise of chicken strips being fried to perfection.

“What do you mean I can’t stay out tonight? I’m not a little girl!”

My ears perk up against my own will.

Okay, sue me. I’m nosy, but I can’t help it if I can peek into someone else’s life.
“Tell them that their darling daughter is staying at a friend’s house for a school project. She’s perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Good BYE!”

Sarcasm drips from every word, and it is the first time I’ve seen Claire losing her cool. I make a quiet mental note to not piss her off in the future. I hear the chair being pulled as she sits down at the kitchen island behind me.

“Sorry for that,” she says quietly.

“It’s okay.”

She says nothing, until she notices the weird thing about my entire house for the first time.

“You cook?” she asks incredulously.

“Yep,” I say convincingly. “Chef Mike has an experience of more than two years.”

“Wow…that smells nice,” she says. “I couldn’t cook worth a damn even if my life depended on it.”

“It’s not that hard. You’re a fast learner, so you’ll have no problem,” I reply. “I hope you like this. You aren’t a vegetarian, are you?”

“No, I’m not.”

Thank God.

I pour the broth into a ceramic bowl, a new culinary piece I had taken out especially for her, and lump the vegetables and meat into it. I’m being careful not to add too much of anything, lest she feels sick later on.

“Tell me what you think about it,” I say, serving the bowl and spoon in front of her. A small smile plays on her lips as she takes a tentative sip. I sit down opposite to her and hold my breath in anticipation.

Please don’t puke, please don’t puke…

“You’re a really good cook!” she exclaims, and takes a larger sip.

“Really?” It feels good to have your cooking skills praised by someone other than your own taste buds, especially someone like Claire.

“It’s the best thing I’ve had in a while!”

“Thanks.”

My heart is busy doing summersaults of joy. I barely eat half of my portion, when she finishes and asks sheepishly for a second helping.

“I get hungry when I’m upset,” she says softly, as if she’s ashamed to admit it.

For the first time, it gives me a glimpse to the vulnerable girl inside her. The façade she keeps up slides away, showing me her natural, unprotected self. A stereotyped girl, so eager to prove her worth that she forgets what she wants for herself.

“Please, don’t be shy,” I urge her.

Chapter 7

~ A Lonely Night ~

“These are my sister’s pajamas,” Mike says, handing me over the light blue silk-cotton clothes. “It should fit you. You’ll find towels and her toiletries in her bathroom.”

I hate being a burden, but I had to bunk away from home at any cost, and Mike happened to be the only one who seemed reliable. I can’t even trust my own social circle at times like these.

“They’re great. Thank you so much.”

He shrugs it off nonchalantly. “And if there’s anything else you need, just let me know. I’m in the next bedroom.”

“I will, thanks again for putting me up.”

“No problem. Besides, you’re my partner now,” he says with a smile. “You change and go to sleep, while I take care of a few things.”

“Okay.” I nod. “Good night, Mike.”

“Good night, Claire.”

With that, he turns and heads down the stairs. I close the door behind me and breathe a sigh of relief.

Where would I be without him?

My parents pop out of nowhere and are back in their house after like three months.

I don’t know why they even bother with this town. After all the happy moments I spent with Claudine and Mike today, I’d be highly tempted to kill myself if I had to see them. I couldn’t face them today for the life of me.

I’m overreacting…but I can’t help it.

I drove half a mile or so, when Griffith, my caretaker, called and warned me of my parents’ arrival. Usually he warns me the day before their arrival, and I stay at the Griffiths’ cottage inside the mansion grounds. But there was no way my parents wouldn’t notice me entering the gates.

He sounded worried as I hadn’t called back in a while. Usually, I don’t venture outside the house, so I could understand his anxiety. I told Griffith I’d find a place to bunk for the night to allay his fears.

Truth was I didn’t know where to go.

Mike’s house was the only place I could think of at that moment. It was a split second decision. I trusted my instincts and turned back in the direction of his house.

I realized I was alone. There was not one single soul in the entire town that I could trust, except a mere acquaintance, whom I called partner. The truth stung, more than it should have. Tears welled up but I somehow steeled myself before I knocked his door.

I almost broke down with relief when he agreed. His eyes, they were sympathetic and kind, as if he understood what I was going through. He was more than just an understanding friend to me. He didn’t even bother telling his parents. Not a single phone call or anything. He let me in just like that.

At that moment, I just wanted him to hold me close to himself and tell me everything would be okay.

I just wish I had had the courage to ask.

I take in the room. It’s a little bit smaller than mine, but spacious nonetheless. Stripping down naked, I enter the adjoining bathroom. Adjusting the knobs, I enter the warm shower and let the powerful jets cleanse my body.

I can’t sleep at night. Too many things rattle around inside my head for me to relax. Everything – ranging from school politics to my more recent academic status – makes a guest appearance during those forlorn times.

I take a sleeping pill. No, not the entire tablet. Just a small part of its many pieces when it becomes impossible to close my eyes. Joyce threw out the entire stock the last time she was here. She knows that I still take it, but there’s nothing she can do about it.

I swear to get over it, but who am I kidding?

The cleansing shower helps to calm me down. Some breathing techniques calm me down by another notch, but I don’t know if I can make it through. I quickly discard the idea of calling my cousin. Disturbing her like this would leave a bad taste in my mouth.

Drying up myself, I quietly slip on the borrowed pajamas and lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering if sleep will take over.

*

The sound is faint, like a barely audible whisper far away, but it is enough to wake me up. I sit up and look around in panic.

No one.

It comes again, outside my door.

Thieves?

I certainly hope not.

I forgo the slippers and pad barefoot to the door, and listen carefully. Apart from the erratic pound of my beating heart, there is nothing.

It comes again, loud and clear.

Opening the door quickly, I peer outside. The dark, empty corridor stares back at me as I try to figure out what is happening. Apart from a single low-powered bulb lighting the hallway, there’s no one. It seems to be coming from the direction of his room.

Is Mike jacking off? The sounds are somewhere between a mumble and a loud moan, and I’m unsure of what to do. Something furry brushes past my feet and I’m barely able to hold back my abject scream of terror. I clamp my mouth shut and look down in panic.

It’s a dog, a golden retriever. I can barely make out its shape as he muzzles my feet and sits down in front of me. It’s big, brown eyes look hopefully at me, as if he’s asking me to do something for him. He pads up to Mike’s door and scratches the doorknob with his paws.

“I shouldn’t go in there,” I whisper. “It’s probably locked from the inside.”

He looks at me again and claws at the doorknob. Taking a hard swallow, I approach the dark mahogany door, and hold the doorknob.

“If anything goes wrong, it’s your fault,” I whisper, and he reassures me with a small woof. Taking a deep breath, I turn the knob and open the door.

Mike’s lying on his back half-naked, wearing only cotton pajama trousers. He twists and turns, and despite the cool temperature of the room, he’s sweating. I can’t help but notice his well-defined torso, lean muscles and yummy abs.

Okay, girl, you’re not here to check him out, I scold myself.

The dog nudges me with his nose, and I walk up to his bed. This feels like a suicide mission. What am I even doing here? Should I wake him up and request him to mumble quietly?

He moans something incoherent again, as if he’s in great pain. I sit down next to him and gently place a hand on his forehead. He visibly calms down as I stroke his forehead and after a few moments, he falls back into sleep. I can still see his eyes moving haphazardly underneath his eyelids.

I would’ve balked at the prospect of doing something this, but his light contented smile makes it worthwhile. I run my fingers through his hair until I’m sure he won’t wake up anytime soon. The dog leaps up onto the bed without making any noise, and lies down close to his feet.

Now what?

The bedside clock blinks 1:26 AM, and there’s no way I could get a wink of sleep after this drama. Should I go back to my room now?

I’ll be alone anyway.

I lie down on the bed beside him, making sure to keep a respectable distance between us. Slowly, I turn sideways, take his arm and hold on to it. I feel a better this way…with someone beside me, even though I barely know him.

After a few moments, he turns in his sleep. I watch with trepidation as he faces me. Still asleep, he gently drapes a protective arm over me. I take in the unconscious invitation and snuggle closer to him.

It has been a long time since I felt something like this.

Safe, warm…and loved.

*

The soft rays of early morning sun wake me up, their warmth lingering gently on my face. I smile contentedly, feeling unusually refreshed and rejuvenated. Taking in a deep breath, I exhale quietly.

I have never felt so good.

I slept like a baby. A night of sleep without those knockout pills is certainly a much better experience. The memory of last night feels like an ethereal dream, one that I would be hard-pressed to believe. Yet here I am.

My contented smile freezes when I realize that I’m in bed with someone else. He’s spooning me, his hands snug, yet firmly planted, on my boobs. His warm breath washes over my neck, making the tiny hairs stand with every breath he takes.

I feel an embarrassing blush creep onto my cheeks as my predicament dawns over me. His hands, one over me and one underneath, hold me firmly against his chest. His penis, that rock hard thing poking my ass is definitely his boner, is another distraction that rubs me the dirty way.

My traitorous nipples are straining to return his touch, eager for more stimulation. The sharp tingles go straight to my head, and I can barely muffle the subsequent moan. Every little move, every little twitch makes things worse.

I’m trapped.

My haywire thought finally poops out one ultimate solution – it’s impossible without waking him up. If he wakes up, he’ll definitely ask questions to which I have no answers.

And my wingman from last night, the dog, is now MIA.

He shifts. His palms graze against my sensitive nubs. I clasp my jaws shut and breathe hard as the small jolts of pleasure wrack me again.

Erotic torture at its best.

My relationship with Jim was limited to occasional blowjobs. I have masturbated in the privacy of my room before, so I’m not unfamiliar with these…feelings. But my body has never felt the touch of another man. This is an entirely new thing, like discovering new shortcuts to heaven.

I try hard to silence my lewd moans as he carries on his gentle rubbing and dry humping. My legs quiver, my stomach flutter and my insides shake as I feel an orgasm approaching.

Oh shit…

Just when I’m about to have a small, mind numbing, toe-curling orgasm, he wakes up.

My body stiffens up with shock as he takes a deep breath and snuggles up even closer, squeezing my tits and almost making me cry. After a few moments, he goes rigid as realization strikes his befuddled mind.

“Claire…?” he whispers.

It’s a moment of crystal clarity, a flash of brilliance that tells me what to do next.

I pretend to be unconscious, snapping my eyes shut, seemingly fast asleep. He takes an audible gulp as he analyzes his situation. His grip on my breasts slackens next as he realizes he is giving me an unintentional groping.

I can almost hear my nipples scream in protest.

“Oh shit!” he says, echoing my thoughts.

I had taken a few liberties with his hands, using my own on top of his to maximize the friction. I thought it would be better getting off and relieve the brewing tension by having an orgasm quickly.

It was a bad, bad idea.

He tries to get his hands out of my grip and not wake me up at the same time. I suppress a giggle as he swears under his breath.

Finally, he shakes me, whispering urgently, “Claire, for the love of God, wake up!”

I mumble an incoherent reply and snuggle back, grinding my ass to his boner in the process.

“Dammit…” he whispers and shakes me more urgently. “Claire, please wake up!”

It’s funny how he uses his arms and resists using his palms, knowing that he’d be doing nothing but fondling me.

Finally, my heart takes pity.

“What?” I mumble sleepily, and let go of his arms.

He grabs the chance and peels his arms off my body. I feel the bed shift as he gets up hastily, away from me, and lands on the floor on the other side with a dull thud.

I really miss his warmth.

“What are you doing here?” he asks from the floor, still whispering.

“You woke me up last night with your moaning,” I say, muffling my voice with the pillow, “so here I am.”

“Oh,” he says, as if he understands exactly what happened.

If I turn around to face him now, he’ll easily see how flushed I am. Slowly, I curl up into a fetal position, highly embarrassed at the situation I have created.

“Okay, uh…I’m going out for a run. I’ll be back in half-an-hour.”

I swear I saw a massive tent on his trousers as he stumbled out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. My insides throb with a dull ache as an impending orgasm reminds me to take care of something.

I turn to the other side, facing away from the door, and slip a hand inside my pajama. My clit is standing erect as I move my panties to the side and rub myself in earnest. I breathe in his scent from the pillow and feel his hot warmth that just had been there, imagining his hands instead of mine.

Three seconds is all it takes for the dam to break open.

I swamp my moans in the pillow as I ride the waves after waves of pleasure jolting me apart. I sneak my remaining hand under my top and tug my sensitive nipples, the rhythm in sync to the throb that now courses through me.

A second bolt of pleasure strikes me – unexpected…and hot.

I ride out on the waves of pleasure, hoping earnestly that Mike doesn’t barge in through that door and see me like this. It’s after a long time that the quakes subside and I’m able to gain a modicum of control. I lie quivering for several more minutes, waiting for the delicious aftershocks to fade away into nothingness.

Then, I laugh.

I laugh at the absurdity. The sudden exhilarating feeling takes even me by surprise. It’s joyous and content. The sound of my laugh is strange even to me, but it is mine. It subsides after a long time, only punctuated by fits of giggles and snorts.

It’s good to feel so alive.

Chapter 8

~ Weird Days ~

Have you ever jogged with a raging boner?

I tried…and failed miserably.

There’s an abnormal, indecent bulge in the front of my trousers that even a blind bat can see. Adjusting my cock this way and that, upside down and downside up…it just doesn’t want to be contained so I give up trying altogether.

I had a glorious dream this morning. There was cotton in my hand…soft fleshy cotton that molded to any shape I wanted. The feel, the touch was so exhilarating. I simply couldn’t get enough of it. When consciousness seeped in bit by bit, I realized I was actually holding them.

When I was fully awake, I realized they were Claire’s.

I was fondling her boobs. Her soft, perky boobs that had given me an unforgettable hard-on last time. Worse, she had my hands locked with her own, making it impossible for me to not notice her hard nipples that were poking through the satin-soft material.

I sit down on the front steps of my house and hang my head in shame.

What have I done?

She’ll wake up, recall the morning, and freak out.

She’ll never talk to me again.

After perhaps ten minutes, I feel Mike Junior calming down, grasping the fact that there will be no relief this time either. I’m too horny to run and too agitated to enjoy my daily dose of endomorphins. I decide it’ll be better to head back home quietly and resume my routine as usual.

I just hope she doesn’t call the police.

After the initial panic subsides, I realize it’s not completely my fault. She was in my bed, not the other way around.

But what the hell was she doing there?

‘You woke me up last night with your moaning…’

That could mean that she heard me talking in my sleep. God knows what she heard. If she tells it to her friends, it won’t take long for one of the bastards to descend with a pike to poke my ass.

I remember having a bad dream, but it had faded away, leaving me with a dreamless sleep.

Argh…I don’t know what to do. Too many things in my head doesn’t help much either.

One damn thing at a time, I say to myself and enter the house. I head upstairs to my room to see if she’s still there.

The unkempt bed is empty, the sheets ruffled as if trampled underneath wild horses. There’s a strange, musky scent…faint, but still there. I didn’t notice it in my hurry earlier. Without putting much thought into it, I quickly complete my morning routine and head downstairs to make breakfast.

I stop dead in my tracks.

Claire’s already there, sitting on a kitchen chair, doodling something on her mobile. She had changed her clothes from last night, which is now blue cotton, teamed with a loose top of the same color. She must have felt my presence, as she looks up at me.

“Good morning, Mike,” she says with a big smile, blowing me off kilter.

“Good morning,” I greet back. “You had a good sleep?”

“Yes, I did,” she replies. “It was the best I had in a while.”

Couldn’t smell any sarcasm, so I assume she must’ve meant what she said.

“So, about this morning,” I begin.

“What’s for today’s breakfast?” she cuts me halfway. “I’m really hungry.”

All right, then.

*

“Dude, what happened next?” Sam asks eagerly.

By now, my dolt of a cousin had accidentally spilled the news of Claire bunking the night at my house. He said it as an offhanded comment to an acquaintance, who said it to another acquaintance and pretty soon, the entire school knew about it.

Everyone’s giving me the looks and a sly grin, as if they know a very dirty secret about me.

“She thanked me and went away just before noon.”

“No…no sex?!” Nathan asks unbelievingly.

“Why the hell would we have sex?”

“It’s the law of nature, man!” he declares.

“Ignore that bastard,” Sam says. “On a serious note, word’s out that you two did it.”

“What?”

“I swear I never said that,” Dan says, hanging his head low in shame. “I just said that Mike hosted Claire for a night.”

I’m pissed off at my cousin, but part of it is my own fault because I was the one to tell him in the first place.

“Now what?” I ask.

“People are going to talk. It’s their business,” Sam says. “Act cool, just like the way you are right now, and the news will fade away.”

“And what if it doesn’t?”

“Just hope it does, otherwise you’ll be attracting trouble.”

Trouble came the same day in the form of our star quarterback.

It’s always the star quarterback.

I was taking out stuff from my locker when I felt a presence behind me. Closing it quietly, I turn around to face my newest “threat”. His name is Jim or something. I keep forgetting his name.
“I heard you slept with Claire,” he says, sheer disdain evident in his voice.

Is he Claire’s boyfriend? I heard she had ditched whoever-it-was.

“I didn’t,” I reply, leaning back against my locker.

“Don’t you fucking lie,” he seethes.

“If it helps you think clearly, go ahead,” I say calmly.

I sure look like an untouchable in his eyes. Leaning back against the locker and seemingly uncaring of his queries will have him thinking twice before laying a hand on me.

Even though my insides are squeezed in panic and screaming bloody murder, I maintain a calm, visible exterior. It’s one of my defense mechanisms against idiots like the one standing before me.

Someone clears her throat.

It’s Claire, her face neutral and devoid of any emotion.

“Claire! Please tell me you didn’t sleep with this retard.”

Claire steps forward, a hand’s distance away from him.

Then, she slaps him.

The sound is flinch worthy – a loud, resounding smack – that seems to stop time itself. Most people stop and watch the drama unfold.

“Whom I sleep with is none of your fucking business,” she seethes quietly.

Jaw, meet floor.

I really expected her to deny the fact. Jim’s face is a bright red color, even more so than a fully ripened cherry. He works his jaw to say something, but nothing comes out.

“Fuck off!” she screams. He looks between us, his face a mask of an angry scowl, and then he walks away, shoving people on his way out.

Well, that was unexpected.

Then, she faces me.

It’s deer-caught-by-the-headlights moment.

“I hope you didn’t freak out. He’s an asshole.”

“He,” I say, picking my bag off the floor, “isn’t the first numpty I’ve come across in my life.”

“I’m sorry. He shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s okay,” I shrug it off. “Although you should’ve told him that we didn’t, er, sleep together.”

“Didn’t we?” she asks, an amused smile playing on her lips.

She feels different. More amiable and less tense than our previous meeting. She’s like one of those secrets that are within reach, yet feels so far.

“Not exactly,” I reply with a grin. “So, are you coming over to work on the project today?”

“Yes, of course.”

I nod. “That’d be great.”

Sam approaches me from around the corner. He stops dead in his tracks. He eyes Claire, his expression best described as one of annoyance. Claire acknowledges him with the raise of a perfect eyebrow.

“Mike, time to go,” he says in a curt voice.

“Yeah, sure,” I acknowledge him, and then turn towards her. “See you later, Claire.”

“Of course.”

Once we are out of earshot, Sam jumps the question, “You two are doing it, aren’t you?”

I almost fall flat on my face.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“What makes you think that?”

“The way she looked at you,” Sam says quietly as we pass a bunch of kids, “all she needed was a drool.”

Claire seemed perfectly normal, although her cold attitude had changed substantially. This was a definite improvement.

“That’s an exaggeration, my friend,” I say and pull the door open for him.

“You’re blind even with your eyes wide open,” he says.

I know it can never happen. We are two different people, different personalities, different backgrounds and different mindsets. Like oil and water, that can exist together but can never mix.

We will be friends, at best, but nothing more.

*

“Do you have a dog?”

It’s the same as the previous day. Me and Claire sitting at the dining table, writing our shares of the project, me in my illegible scribbling and she in her cursive calligraphy. Add in an occasional glance to her stunning self, and you can sum up this wonderful evening for me.

So, you can see why that question about Snuffles feels unexpected.

“Yes, I do. What happened?”

“Nothing, I met him in the hallway last night.”

That’s interesting. I wonder what he must have done on their first meeting.

Scared her out of her mind, I imagine.

As much as I would have liked, she doesn’t stay like the last time. As she is about to walk down the steps, she turns around and looks at me.

“I am glad that you’re my partner,” she says sincerely. “I shouldn’t have underestimated you.”

“It’s okay, I guess.”

“Thank you for being so understanding,” she says, leaning over and placing a quick kiss on my cheek.

“See you tomorrow,” she says and walks down the steps, to her car.

She drives away, leaving me rooted to the spot. I stare at the street and wonder if she just did what I think she did. An embarrassing blush creeps up over my cheeks as the realization takes hold in my befuddled brains.

Damn.

*

She deliberately bumps into me at the cafeteria line the next day.

“Sit with me, please?” she wheedles.

My heart flutters with joy, there’s music and orchestra playing in the background, but then she says, “I have some important things to discuss.”

Bummer.

My eyes flick towards Dan who’s standing right behind her. He shrugs nonchalantly, and I take this as approval.

“Sure, why not?” I reply.

I give myself a mental kick a few moments later when I realize whom I’m going to sit with. Her friends, more like sharks to me, acknowledge me with varying degrees of amusement and sneers. She sits down with her girlfriends, motioning me to sit opposite to her.

“Mike, these are my friends,” she says, although not quite as happily as I expected. “Girls, meet Mike.”

An awkward silence permeates the table as her friends, all four of them, wonder what the fuck is going on. Finally, one of them breaks the ice.

“Hello Mike,” the stunning redhead greets me first with a legitimate smile, “I’m Missy.”

“Nice to meet you, Missy,” I acknowledge. “My cousin told me a lot about you.”

“Oh,” she says, somewhat surprised. “What did he say?”

“Almost everything there is to know,” I say. The grin accompanying my words isn’t intentional, but I can’t help it.

Her face reddens with embarrassment.

“I…about that…”

“Don’t worry about it,” I assure her. “I understand.”

“What is it, Missy?” another one of her girlfriends asks.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” I answer for her. “Just a private joke.”

“You are not as anti-social as I thought you’d be,” Claire admits.

It stings to have your personality judged like that in public, but I am no stranger to such comments. She realizes what she said a bit too late.

“Sorry,” she says sheepishly.

I shrug. “Nothing that I haven’t heard before. Anyway, tell me what you wanted to talk about?”

“There are a few things about Little Home that we should add. We have to adjust it somewhere in between the management part.”

“That can be done. We can stick a few pages in between. I’m an expert on that.”

A group sits down by the adjacent table. It’s like an informal congregation of the school football team.

“I hate the bloody coach,” one says, loud enough for the entire hall to hear.

Claire pointedly ignores him. “Do you think we can do overtime?”

“Yeah, me too,” pipes up a second one, intrusively. “Who the fuck appointed him? He selected Nathan over Kyle. What the fuck!”

“Sure,” I reply, trying my best to ignore them. I can’t help but feel defensive when one of my friends is mentioned like that.

“I hate these goddamn niggers,” the first one says. “I’ll tell the coach to suck Nate’s black cock and fuck off somewhere else.”

Those last words prick my ears with stunning accuracy, and something inside me just…snaps. It isn’t every day I encounter racist remarks. All my life, I was taught to stand up against bullshit. Dad in particular, took out the time to hammer it into my head. My hands start to shake as I feel the familiar black rage boiling over.

And Claire?

She heard it perfectly well. She looks at me wide-eyed, noticing for the first time that something is wrong.

How can she just sit and look as if nothing happened?

I can’t pick up a fight. I can’t do that to Aunt Sherry. Being expelled twice in the same year wouldn’t be good for my career either.

I stand up abruptly, breaking their chatter and walk towards the exit. My appetite is certainly ruined.

Thanks to her friends.

“Mike!” she calls.

Looks like she followed me outside, but I’m in no mood for her. I walk quickly to the corner of the building. As soon as I round it, I break into a full sprint. I run until I’m damn sure that I’ve lost her.

Good riddance.

Chapter 9

~ Regrets ~

Shit hit the fan.

Never thought I’d be using that phrase in my life, but today I did. Everything went from picture perfect to terribly awry in just a matter of a few seconds.

I never paid much attention to the happenings on my table. There were a few bigots, but with time, I had learnt to filter their comments. It wasn’t something I supported, just something that I never felt the need to rectify.

Until today.

He’s friends with Nathan. Of course, he would not want to hear a single word against him. How could I be so dumb? How could I not see it coming?

He just…ran away. I tried to follow him, but he disappeared.

I feel like crap.

By the time I’m home, I’m almost in tears. I ruined something, and I don’t know if I can fix it.

“Joyce?”

“Hey, Sweets. What’s up?”

“I need your help.”

“What happened?”

“I screwed something really bad.”

“Talking helps, you know?”

“I don’t know if he’s willing to talk.” The sheer disgust on his face goes through my head like painful reruns.

“You can always talk to me.”

I tell her everything. It’s hard to go through the exact details, but I force myself to tell everything there is to say.

“I don’t know why I didn’t say something,” I say, my voice breaking down, “I know I should’ve said something, but I couldn’t.”

“Oh dear,” she says.

“I’ve never felt so awful.”

She doesn’t say anything as I sniffle and blow my nose into the tissues.

“Claire, do you trust me?”

“I wouldn’t be telling you this if I didn’t.”

“Okay,” she says, stalling to think. Then she says, “Then answer me this, and answer it honestly: Why is this Mike so important to you?”

“I don’t know,” I say quietly, “He feels like a genuinely good person, like when I’m with you. I can trust him.”

“Do you think he’s more important that your friends?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes or no. Would you choose him over your friends? Is he that good?”

I remember his smile, the way he cares about those who mean something to him, the way he helped me when I needed help and never asked anything in return. I wonder if any of my friends would’ve done the same.

“Yes,” I answer this time.

“Okay, then,” she says, “You have a lot of things to do, things which you haven’t done before. If not for him, do it for yourself. Can you do it?”

“I will.”

“That’s my girl,” she says. I can almost see her encouraging smile. “So here’s what you have to do…”

*

Apologize.

A verb, meaning to express regret for something that one has done wrong.

It’s a completely foreign idea. Why should I apologize when I haven’t done anything wrong? All my life, I’ve gotten whatever I ever wanted. Who requires an apology when I can threaten them into submission? I have never apologized to anyone in my life. Ever.

That’s going to change.

“You have to apologize first, Claire,” Joyce had said. “If he means something, you will have to apologize.”

“What should I say?” I asked.

“You have to think that for yourself. Just mean what you say, okay?”

First step is to apologize.

But I have to get hold of him for that.

He arrives in class just before the bell rings and is out as soon as the recess begins. He never looks once in my direction.

How do I get hold of him?

*

“What are you doing here?” he snaps.

“I wanted to apologize,” I plead.

He’s at his home as I had expected, but really pissed off. His stare is condescending at best.

“I know you want to get on with your project, so don’t fake this apology thing. We can complete the work and go our different ways. You’ll never hear back again from me after that. For now, just leave.”

“Hear me out for once, please?” I insist.

“I don’t want to hear anything coming from you.”

I couldn’t sleep last night, thinking over my actions again and again. Like Joyce had said, it’s time for a change. I just need a chance.

“Please?” I asked softly.

He doesn’t say anything else, staring down at the patio’s wooden floor instead. I hate myself for putting him through such conflict.

“I…” he begins, still not looking at me, “I thought you were a great person, an intelligent girl who knows the difference between right and wrong.”

“I don’t support them, okay? I just ignore them.”

“Is that an excuse?” he asks.

“No,” I say. “They mean nothing to me.”

“They’re your friends, Claire,” he says sarcastically.

“Why are you being so hard?”

He just stares at me, saying nothing.

“You don’t know, do you?” he says after sometime. “Do you know how hard Nathan worked to get on the team? His family doesn’t have the money to spare for his football gear, so he works to pay for everything that your spoon-fed friends get just by clapping their hands. He barely sleeps four hours, slogs through the day and still keeps a smile plastered on his face at school, just because he doesn’t want to dump his problems on his friends.”

“You see, I was this close,” he says, raising his index finger and thumb with barely an inch separating them, “to losing my temper and beating the crap out of your sophisticated friends.

“Just go away,” he says tiredly, “I don’t want to talk or hear your apologies.”

“But –”

“The library will reopen in two days. We’ll continue our project from there. Goodbye.”

With that, he slams the door shut.

*

“You again?” he asks exasperatedly.

“I want to say something and I’m not going anywhere without saying it.”

I had composed myself for fifteen minutes before knocking on his door again. He hangs his head and sighs in defeat.

“Okay,” he agrees.

“Hear me out first, and then you can decide for yourself,” I plead softly. “I know it was wrong, but I had gotten used to it. It’s not an excuse; I’m trying to explain how things were.

“I’m sorry…I truly am,” I say sincerely. “I can’t take back my words or actions, but I swear I won’t ignore it or support it, ever. Can you please forgive me? I promise I’ll try to improve myself.”

A dry chuckle escapes him. “Why do I matter? Why, all of a sudden, do you want to change? I find that fucking hard to believe.”

“I didn’t realize how bad it was until I met you. You were different. Everything about you made me realize how mucked up my life had become. I felt like a disappointment that day you left, and I knew I had to make it right. Please believe me.”

I can feel tears on my cheeks, but I ignore them. A sad smile cracks his lips as he looks at me, gauging me, wondering if I am lying.

“You know, I hate to see girls crying like this,” he says, reaching forward and wiping my tears away with a gentle stroke. “I want to believe you, but it’ll take some time, okay? I’m too upset to make decisions right now.”

“Are we good?” I ask quietly.

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, we are almost good.”

It feels as if a great weight lifted off my chest, and I can breathe freely now. A sense of dread and misery that I never thought I had dissipates.

“Thanks for trusting me.”

“I trusted you. I just felt you were misguided in parts,” he says, smiling. “What made you apologize? I don’t think you made the decision all by yourself.”

“It was my cousin,” I say truthfully. “She’s like this completely opposite version of me.”

“Wow.”

“She is one of the kindest people you’d ever get to meet,” I say proudly, mentally thanking Joyce for her encouragement.

“She must be,” he says, “to make you do this.”

A sudden burst of dizziness makes me grab hold of the doorsill. He looks at me in alarm and put his hands on my shoulders for support.

“Are you okay?” he asks concernedly.

“I’m just feeling a bit woozy,” I manage to say. His entire house revolves in front of me, making me shake my head in disbelief. “It’s getting late. I should go.”

“Like this?” he asks, “Are you sure you can drive?”

“Yeah, positive,” I say, accompanying it with my brightest smile.

I wobble back to my car, holding its door to gain a modicum of control. I think I’ll rest for a little before I drive. He is by my side the next instant and opens the door for me.

“You can stay over, if you want,” he says. “You look very tired.”

“It’s okay,” I say as smoothly as I can and slip inside to my seat. “Goodnight, Mike.”

“Goodnight, Claire,” he replies but doesn’t go back, watching me fumble with my purse and pockets instead.

“Where are my keys?” I mumble under my breath.

“Looking for these?” he asks, jingling the keys in front of me.

“Thanks,” I exclaim happily and reach for them, but he pulls them away.

“You’re not driving, Claire. You’re ill.”

“Who are you to tell me?”

“Your partner.” He smiles, and with my car keys spinning on his little finger, he walks back into his house, whistling a tune.

I sigh in frustration and follow him.

*

“Thanks for letting me stay over.”

I feel even worse than a few minutes ago, with a splitting headache burning away my thoughts. I don’t think I could drive like this.

“It’s nothing.”

He pops a thermometer under my tongue and goes about making dinner.

“You’re running a fever,” he says, checking the thermometer, which reads slightly over a hundred degrees. “When was the last time you ate?”

“This morning, I think.”

“And the last time you slept?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yeah,” he says, raising a critical brow at me, “you look like a raccoon.”

“What?”

“Just kidding.” He laughs. “You have some serious dark shadows.”

“I didn’t sleep last night,” I say. “I tried hard but couldn’t.”

“You’re going straight to bed after dinner,” he says.

“I can’t really sleep without the pills,” I blurt.

His jaw hangs slightly as he processes what I just said. I do a face-palm, but the damage is done.

“Why?” he asks, completely shocked. “Why would you take sleeping pills?”

“Because I can’t sleep, genius,” I retort.

He shakes his head and goes back to chopping vegetables. I stare at the marble kitchen island, feeling ill, dead tired and wondering if I was repenting now for some sin in my past lives.

“Sometimes, I can’t sleep at night too,” he says.

“What do you do then?” I ask. Having seen a sample of his nightmare before, his self-admission has me genuinely intrigued.

“I try to recall happy things in my life,” he replies after some time, “things that make me laugh. Despite how sad I might be.”

“I don’t know if I have even one such memory,” I say glumly.

“There was this one time when Dad took us out golfing,” he begins. “I was young, perhaps six years old, so I was only allowed to watch. It was a first time for Mom, but she ignored the trainer’s instructions and went straight ahead to the hitting zone.”

I can feel his joy bubbling from this distance. More than his memory, it’s the way he reveals his past that catches my attention.

“Mom took the first swing, and the golf club went flying straight into the lake. The second swing landed on the golf buggy’s windshield, shattering it to pieces.”

He laughs softly as the memories burst forth.

“The trainer tried to stop her, but she took a third swing and hit that poor guy right on his head.”

We end up laughing together. I try to conjure the hilarious scene that it must’ve been.

“Dad teased her for an entire month, saying that he was traumatized by dreams of flying golf clubs.” His shoulders shake in mirth, but then, it stops. My laughter dies when I realize he’s not with me.

“Those were happy days,” he says softly. Going to the fridge on his left, Mike takes out the salad. I notice tears when he turns around.
“Are you okay?” I ask, unsure of myself.

“Oh, it’s just the onions,” he dismisses it.

He says nothing else.

*

“Here are Emma’s pajamas,” he says, handing me over a green cotton cloth, “let me know if these don’t fit you.”

It’s déjà vu, only this time, I really need the rest. After dinner, he gave me a pill to take my temperature down. I feel slightly better by the time I’m ready for bed, but I’m still unsure if I could get a wink of sleep.

“Claire?” he asks again.

“Huh?” I ask, wondering what he had said. “Did you say something?”

“I asked if you need anything else.”

“Oh no, I don’t think so.”

“Goodnight then,” he says. “If you need anything, I’m in the next bedroom. Don’t hesitate.”

“Thanks…and goodnight, Mike,” I say and close the door behind me.

Déjà vu it is.

Chapter 10

~ Mutual Happenings ~

I toss and turn, lie sideways and on my back, but sleep is an elusive fairy that evades me every time. I feel washed out and exhausted. The events from the last two days have drained me out. Emotional drama isn’t my cup of tea, but then, my life is full of it.

I was surprised to see Claire. She looked like hell. Hair askew, dark spots under her eyes and dead tired. I wanted to say it’ll be okay but I wanted her to torment her. Perhaps I was too angry at that time.

I don’t believe that a person can change overnight, but Claire seemed sincere about it. She’s a great person, but it’ll take some time for her to change. I just hope she doesn’t back out, or lose faith on the way.

I close my eyes and her face appears. She’s crying and begging for reasons unknown as I stand above her, emotionless and angry.

I sit up abruptly, wondering if I could ever sleep like this.

*

“Claire, I’m beginning to hate this sound.”

“Like this?” She reaches and knocks on my door again.

“Yes, like this,” I sigh. “What are you doing here?”

“I can’t sleep,” she says. Her eyes are wide open and she has a loony smile on her lips.

I bet she isn’t even thinking straight.

“You need to go to sleep.”

“I know, but I can’t. Can you sleep?”

“No.”

“We both can’t sleep!” she exclaims in a hushed voice, as if she just discovered my fourth wife in hiding.

I make a mental note to steal a prescription of sleeping pills.

“What do you want to do?” I ask, wracking my brain to come up with a solution.

“I say we wreck something.”

“No. That’s not gonna happen in my house.”

Just then, an idea strikes me out of the blue.

“Come with me,” I say, and grab her hand.

Until today, I’d never realized how much I’ve missed this. It was mostly Emma and me on weekends, while Mom and Dad preferred to spend some quality time together outside.

“Where are we going?” she asks as I lead her upstairs.

“You’ll see.”

I open the door adjoining the terrace. The night skies are clear, devoid of any clouds.

“Wait here,” I say and rush back to the supplies wardrobe just beside the door.

I rush back in record time, and lay the blankets on the terrace floor. I rush back again for the pillows and lay them on the blankets. There’s enough space on it for two people to lie side-by-side.

“We’re sleeping here?” she asks incredulously. “Out in the open?”

“No, we’ll just lie down for a while,” I reply nonchalantly.

“You’re nuts. What if it rains?”

“It won’t.” I arrange the thick blankets so that they don’t poke uncomfortably. With the deepest sigh I’ve taken in a while, I lie down on my back and stretch my legs.

I can barely make out her expression in this darkness, but she finally acquiesces and lies down beside me.

“Wow,” she says after a while.

The sky is littered with diamonds, each trying to outshine its counterpart against the velvet background. It’s rare to see a clear sky, and hardly a handful of people ever stop to look at the vista above their own heads. Thin cirrus clouds hang above, illuminated by the moon behind them, covering the sky like a gauzy curtain.

It’s a stunning view.

“There’s Aquarius,” I say, pointing the group to my right. “He’s faint, but he’ll be bright again in September.”

“I recognize that one. It’s the belt of Orion.” She points to three brighter groups amongst the countless ones.

“The two faint stars from the other side form Orion’s head and bow.”

“I never knew the dark could be so…captivating.” She studies the sky with eyes wide open like an innocent child. “How did I miss this?”

“You just had to take a look around.”

The cool summer breeze is soothing, strangely mesmerizing and wildly beautiful. She shifts closer, linking our arms and holding my hand. She feels good against me, comfortable and safe out in the open.

“Thanks,” she says softly.

“You’re welcome.”

I stare at the landscape above, watching the vivid patterns of light play their tricks. I didn’t even realize at first when Claire fell fast asleep. She snores prettily, a soft whistling that’s endearing at the same time. I decide against waking her up and relish the touch of her hands. It’s a foreign feeling that I’m getting accustomed to, but it sure feels good.

“Good night, Claire,” I say and kiss her forehead softly.

I hate myself for making her cry earlier today, but a part of me says I did right. She’d understand me, if she ever tries to.

For now, it’s back to stargazing.

*

I breathe in, but all I get in my lungs is water. I drown further into the depths of darkness with an elephant sitting on my chest. It blows warm bubbles on my face, asking me to relax as I sink down to my own death.

I wake up with a start.

I open my eyes, but can’t see anything. I realize it’s hair – hair on my face, eyes, my ears and inside my nose. Carefully extracting the silky tendrils, I take note of my latest situation.

That elephant turns out to be Claire. She’s completely and hopelessly lying on top of me, making breathing very difficult as the seconds pass. She has one arm draped around my neck and another over my chest with her face buried in the crook of my neck. As sleep takes flight from my muddy thoughts, I start feeling other things pressed against me.

Like her boobs squashed flat against my chest. And her nipples poking me through the nightshirt.

Not to forget her amazingly soft, incredibly warm body lying on top of me.

Wait. No, no…NO!

Ah, fuck.

Now my cock is hard, trying its best to tear free of my boxer and pajama. I’m sure she can feel something hard poking her thighs.

A mental face-palm follows next as I wonder what excuse I could give. The sun has already broken above the horizon and she’ll be awake any minute. Very slowly, I turn to my side, planning to put down Claire and then try to slip out of her grasp.

“Mike, stop moving,” she mumbles with her eyes closed.

I freeze.

“I need to go,” I whisper.

“Where?” she whispers back.

Crap, I hadn’t expected follow-up to my excuse.

“Please stay,” she pleads softly, “I like it this way.”

“I have an…emergency to take care of.”

“This?” She reaches below and pats my boner gently, almost making me squeal in shock. “I understand, and I don’t mind.”

Did she just –

“Are you scared?” she asks.

I gulp. “No.”

“Then what’s this?” she asks, placing a hand on my chest where my heart is busy trying to beat its way out.

“I’m afraid of…disgusting you.”

“Hey,” she says and looks up at me, her eyes bright and clear, “you’ll never disgust me.”

“You haven’t been sleeping, have you?”

“I had a great sleep, thank you,” she replies, stretching on top of me and rubbing oh-so-tenderly against my cock. I use the distraction to slip away, but she moves right along with me.

“Stay.” It’s a command.

“We have school.”

She giggles. “It’s Sunday, doofus.”

Didn’t see that coming.

She gets up and straddles me, placing her hands on my chest for support. Her raven hair, despite the tousled look, makes her look even more beautiful in this early dawn. The energy and happiness bubbling forth makes it clear that she’s not tired at all, unlike the previous day when she was ready to drop dead with exhaustion.

“I’ve thought about something you said last night.”

“Oh, what was it?” I ask. Half of my attention is on my groin where she was grinding against my cock absent-mindedly.

“That I just have to take a look around.”

“Okay…so what did you f-find?” I stammer as small jolts of pleasure shoot up from my groin.

“Something I was looking for,” she says, locking her eyes with mine, “and it was right in front of me all this time.”

She grinds her groin against mine again, this time in small circles. All illusion of her being unaware is out of the window. If she keeps it up, I’ll cum very hard in a matter of few seconds.

“Claire,” I begin shakily. “It’s…inappropriate.”

She laughs. “What is inappropriate?” A devilish glint creeps into her voice as she grinds harder.

I’m sure heaven is just a few strokes away.

“You grinding against me,” I say.

“Don’t you like it?”

“No,” I begin, but back peddle immediately at the raise of her eyebrow. I add hastily, “I mean yes, but this isn’t right.”

“How can something that feels so good be wrong?”

“Claire, stop. I’m going to –”

She shushes me with a finger on my lips. “Let me thank you.”

I feel my balls roiling. Me cumming in my pants seems imminent.

“Michael, is that you?” someone calls from my front porch.

It’s Aunt Sherry.

Shit.

Claire’s eyes widen in shock and she falls down flat on my chest immediately.

Our roof has no boundary walls, just a thin safety railing constructed to keep people from falling over. Someone standing at my porch a few moments ago could’ve seen the back of Claire’s head and, I pray, nothing else.

Claire’s initial shock is gone when she realizes that she wasn’t seen. An evil smile lights up her face and she grinds against me with renewed vigor.

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“It’s me, a-aunt Sherry,” I reply, holding her tight against me and hoping to slow her down somehow.

“What are you doing up there?” she asks.

“I was just…” My head spins as my orgasm threatens to burst again. “…staaaar gazing.”

Claire sniggers quietly and kisses my cheek, but doesn’t stop the humping. I place my hands on her hips and roll over on top of her, effectively ending her control. I hold her hands above her head with mine, to stop her from maneuvering again. With our faces just millimeters apart, our hot breaths wash over each other.

It’s bizarre, yet intimate in a way I can never fathom.

“Are you okay?” my Aunt asks suspiciously.

“I’m good,” I reply loudly.

Claire looks up at me, disappointment clouding her face as she struggles against my hold. She pouts prettily, but it’s not going to work.

“You can always talk to me, Michael,” Aunt Sherry says understandingly. She thinks I’m trying to evade her.

“I know. You’re the best!”

“Do you want me to call the cleaners today?”

If only Aunt Sherry knew my situation, cleaners would be the last thing on her lips. Despite being held down, Claire nudges her hips. I press my groin tight against hers, stopping her from doing even that. Her eyes widen all of a sudden.

“No!” I yell.

“Do you need anything else?” my aunt asks again, blissfully unaware of the rooftop conundrum.

“No, I’ve got my hands full today,” I say, “I’ll let you know.”

“Okay. I was going out for a walk. Would you like to come with me?”

“I’m kinda busy here. How about tomorrow?”

A soft blush creeps up on Claire’s cheeks. She’s no longer struggling, and I feel as if she’s no longer having fun with this. I’m still clueless as to what happened.

“Okay,” my aunt says. “See you later, Michael.”

I count ten seconds before I turn towards Claire.

“What’s up with you?” I ask.

She has her eyes shut, her cheeks reddened and her lips sealed. This close, she looks very kissable.

“Claire?” I ask again, softly this time.

“Please get off me,” she says in a small voice.

Our hips are mashed together, only a thin barrier of silky cotton separating our sexes. I scramble backwards away from her as quickly as I can.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize, “I’m so sorry.”

She sits up, wrapping her arms around herself. Her eyes are downcast.

“It’s not your fault,” she says miserably. “I panicked.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” she says, a sad smile finding its way on her lips. “You just brought up some bad memories.”

I feel like a piece of filth.

“I’m sorry that I freaked you out like this,” she apologizes. “I should be the one saying this.”

I don’t know what to say. One minute she’s an out of control nymphomaniac, and a scared victim in the next.

“I won’t do that again,” I say and stand up.

“Are we good?”

“Yes, we are,” I say, “But I think we need to work somewhere else until the project is over. We can’t work like this.”

She nods. “I understand.”

I turn towards the sun, now beating mercilessly over us. The morning is crisp and clear, just like it used to be.

Just the way I like it.

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes.”

“C’mon,” I say, “Let’s go out.”

Joan’s Café is a Sunday treat.

I usually go alone. If the mood strikes my cousin, he accompanies me, but it’s mostly me. I order the usual coffee, bread along with the house’s special jams, and biscuits. Claire orders a latte with an extra shot of espresso.

The owner, Joan Maitland, knows me very well and reserves a seat by the window just for me. She has a sly smirk the entire the time she is taking orders from Claire and me.

“Anything else for your copine?” she asks with a smile.

I roll my eyes. “She’s my project partner, Joan.”

We’re served breakfast in three minutes, I dig into my food while Claire sips her coffee.

“Can I say something?” Claire asks.

“Sure.”

“I like to figure out people,” she says. “You know…studying them and trying to know their traits.”

I grin. “I knew it.”

“Am I that obvious?” she asks, slightly shocked.

“Sometimes, yes, when you’re too engrossed to care about being seen,” I say, grinning. “Anyway, go ahead.”

“I have figured out almost everyone except you.”

I laugh. “Should I be flattered?”

“You’re hiding something,” she says seriously, looking into my eyes, “something that you don’t want to talk about.”

Well, she got that one.

“That is a talk for another day,” I say, ending the discussion.

“I’ll figure you out before that,” she says with a smile.

Coming from her, it sounds more like a challenge.

I love a challenge.

“Good luck.”

Chapter 11

~ A Farewell to the past ~

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know. What do you think?”

“I asked the question first.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

It’s nerve-wracking to have your career determined by grades, but it’s the sad truth. We’re sitting outside Miss Mahen’s room waiting to collect our sheets. Mike looks calm, as always, and doesn’t break a sweat.

“How can you be so relaxed?” I ask.

“Should I panic?” he asks, grinning.

“No,” I reply and go back to watching the door anxiously.

“We worked hard, so it shouldn’t be bad,” he says after some time.

He’s right. We worked hard. By mutual agreement, we decided it’d be best if we worked somewhere public. Things could’ve escalated in his house, in a way which we would’ve regretted later. Working in the library was in our best interests. It was hard not to talk about other…things, but somehow, I stayed focused throughout the ordeal. For five days, we talked about nothing but studies.

“Lehane, Michael,” the assistant calls out. “You may go inside.”

“Me?” he asks incredulously.

“Yes, you.” She adjusts her spectacles and goes back to reading her documents.

“Be confidant,” I encourage him as he stands up. He gives me a tight smile and goes to the door, waiting outside for a moment. He knocks twice and then goes inside.

I wish I had the ability to hear through closed walls. Panic creeps in when he doesn’t come out for fifteen minutes.

“Can I go inside?” I ask the assistant.

She fixes me with a stern glare.

“I think I’ll just wait here,” I say brightly.

After exactly one minute, he exits the door with a folder. He looks happy.

“What did we get?” I ask desperately.

He smiles. “We got a B minus.”

“What?” It feels as if someone dropped a ton of lead in the pit of my stomach.

“Isn’t it good?” he asks, surprised.

“But…but I thought we’d get at least an A.”

I feel like crying.

“She said it wasn’t that good, but was impressed by our efforts.”

I sit down heavily on my chair, wondering if I should screw myself to death. I hang my head, feeling the dawn of an impending headache. This came off much worse than I had thought.

The sound of sniggers makes me look up again. He has a huge smirk on his face.

“Gotcha,” he whispers.

“Huh?”

“We got an A plus,” he says happily, waving the folder in front of my face.

“Show it to me!” I snatch the folder out of his hands. Tearing its seal, I carefully extract the paper that holds the key to a lucrative scholarship. A letter comes out first.

It’s addressed to me.

Claire Bennet,

I’m impressed, especially at the subject that you chose to work upon. Having known Claudine Marie on a personal level, the in-depth detail of your biography, and discussion of her work, left me awed. Hardly any students have undertaken a project so ambitious in scale and managed to do it with finesse. You are truly an exception in the crowd.

Perhaps the highest grade available will motivate your academic endeavors to do more.

I wish all the best to you and your partner, Michael Lehane.

Signed,
Cate Mahen

Wow.

“So, this is it,” he says.

“What?” I’m too happy to even hear things right.

“This is where we say thank you to each other and part our ways.”

He couldn’t be saying that.

“I’ll go first,” he says and clears his throat. “Thank you, Claire, for sticking with me through thick and thin. I wasn’t expecting such a high grade but –”

I watch his lips move as he says something about me being such a nice person and that I will do very well in life. It feels as if the world is crashing down around me.

Mike hugs and smiles down at me. “It was a pleasure knowing you.”

I try to form words, but they don’t come out.

“Do you want to say something?” he asks.

“I…you’re nuts.”

“What?”

“You’re nuts!” I scream.

The assistant clears her throat. I look back, only to find him genuinely amused.

“Are you crazy?” I ask.

“Listen to me –”

“No, you listen to me!” I say, almost shouting, prompting the assistant to clear her throat again. “You said that everything –”

He silences me with a finger on my lips.

“Quiet,” he says, “I’m not done yet.”

He takes me outside the building. I think I have tears on my cheeks. I swear I haven’t cried so much since my first day in kindergarten.

“I want us to begin again,” he says. “You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. Can you do that?”

“Why?”

“I’m still pissed at you for that day. Nathan keeps asking why I’m being a pussy and apologizing to him all the time. I want to put that behind us. I want a fresh start. Do you understand?”

“Oh…”

He offers his hand. “Hi, I’m Michael Lehane.”

He smiles as I accept it shakily.

“I’m Claire Bennet.”

I barely stifle a sniff that follows.

“Why are you crying, Claire?”

“I thought you still hated me.”

“We’ve just met.” He grins. “How can I hate you without knowing you first?”

I wipe away my tears and meet his gaze. It’s kind, understanding and compassionate, just as I had thought it’d be.

“I’m sorry, Michael. I had dust in my eyes.”

“You’re lying.”

I smile. “Okay, I got emotional about…a thing from the past.”

He wipes my tears away, just like the first time a few days ago.
“There’s a saying. Would you like to hear it, Claire?”

“I’d love to,” my voice cracks.

“They say yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery but today…today is a gift,” he says and takes my hand smiling, encasing it gently with his own. “That’s why we call it the present.”

My chance of doing something right, of leaving all things behind in the past – this is it. He’s my chance.

“Thank you, Michael. I feel better.”

“Unless you’re my aunt, I’d like to be called Mike. That’s non-negotiable.”

I smile. “Okay then, Mike it is.”

“Now,” he says, glancing at his watch, “I was wondering if we could have something for lunch. I’m hungry…”

The first day Mike introduces me to his friends, their eyes bug out.

Moi, Claire Bennet, the pretentious bitch and rich snob would be sitting with them.

I try my best to hide behind Mike, but it’s impossible. I put on a brave face, but panic eats away at my insides. If they reject me, it’ll screw my reputation.

Mike looks anxiously at his friends. “We’re together now, so I was wondering if she could sit with us.”

Dead silence.

“I knew it,” Nathan finally blurts.

His cousin naturally nods his support while Nathan shrugs nonchalantly. Nina and Sam find something very interesting in their plates, perhaps a new engrossing species of spaghetti. They simply refuse to look at us.

“Well?” Mike asks again, wondering what their stony silence meant.

Sam and Nina whisper something urgent, almost as if it’s classified information. Finally, they turn towards us, their private chat having ended at an apparent stalemate.

“I’ll ask one question,” Nina says.

“What?”

“How long have you been having sex?”

That question wasn’t asked quietly either. Every ear present in the cafeteria swiveled towards us. I feel my cheeks warming up.

“N-no!” I insist when I realize that Mike is hopelessly tongue-tied. “We didn’t do any of that.”

“Ha!” Nina squeals in delight. Sam grumbles and puts a dollar on her outstretched palm.

“What was that?” Mike asks her.

“Go ahead, loser,” she nudges Sam. “You say it.”

“Uhhh…” Sam pauses, searching for the best way to put his thoughts, “I bet Nina that Mike and Claire were screwing each other.”

“What?” Mike yells, echoing my thought.

“Apparently, I was wrong,” he sighs.

The corner of Nina’s lips quirk up into a smile. “We wouldn’t mind at all if Claire sits with us.”

“Thanks guys,” he says and takes his seat.

I follow suit and sit close by his side. He takes my hand underneath the table and squeezes it encouragingly.

Nina whispers something to Sam again, but he shakes his head vigorously.

“I can’t,” Sam whines, almost pleading. “I don’t have the money.”

Nina grinned. “We’ll call it a deferred payment.”

“So,” she addresses us, this time beaming widely, “I was wondering if you two have at least kissed each other…?”

*

Leaving my old circle was hard.

Many times I wonder if I’ve made the right decision. It always felt good to be a part of the crowd that everyone knew, that everyone worshipped. It was like a self-appointed God-status in school. It’s hard to leave something that has been an integral part of your life for as long as you can remember. Admittedly, I had the hang of the childish politics, the gossips and yada-yada involved.

When I look at Mike, all of my doubt disappears like a wisp of smoke. I know I made the right choice.

“So, you’re sitting with them,” Missy says. It’s more of a statement than a remark.

“Yes.”

The hallway is bustling with people, and hardly any people notice us in this hubbub. She looks around herself, an unknown conflict evident in her eyes.

After I started sitting with Mike, the rumor mills began their activity. Some of my old “friends” tried to talk me out of it, while I nodded, as if I agreed with every single one of their stupid points.

“I wish I had the courage to do something like that,” she says sadly.

“Our table is just a short walk from yours.”

She smiles unhappily.

“I wish it were that easy.”

*

I don’t know what Mike thinks about me.

I know I like him. I trust him, and I want to be with him. He’s probably the only person about whom I’ve genuinely felt something. It’s not a crush. It’s a want.

He, on the other hand, keeps me at an arm’s distance. As if, he’s afraid.

Of what, I don’t know.

“That’s what dates are for!” Joyce hollers through the phone.

“Joyce, he won’t ask me out,” I reply miserably. “I just know.”

“You’ve told me that before, silly. You should ask him out.”

“Me?” I ask incredulously. “I’ve never been out to a real date; forget about me asking him to go out with me.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“I don’t know. Don’t want to push him, I guess.”

“Dearest cousin,” she says exasperatedly, “he won’t refuse you. You can take it in writing from me.”

“What if he does?”

“He has no reason to. Tell me one, and I won’t push this topic.”

“…”

“Thought so,” she continues. “Now, when would be the best time to ask him?”

“Umm…”

“You once said he stays inside his house during weekends,” she rattles on. “You will ask him out tomorrow morning.”

“But –”

“That’s my girl!” she chirps happily. “Call me tomorrow after you’ve asked him out. If he agrees, which I’m sure he will, we’ll chalk out the next phase of our plan.”

“What–”

“Bye, Sweets! Call you tomorrow,” she sings.

“Wait, Joyce, I still –”

She had already hung up on me.

This feels more like a tornado that leaves chaos behind. I hold my head in panic, wondering what to do.

I’ve never asked anyone out for a date. It’s always the other way around – guys asking me out and getting refused.

Mike, will you please go out on a date with me?

Too needy.

Mike, how about a date?

Too callous.

Mike, kiss me!

I can already see his eyes rolling out of their sockets.

Why am I so agitated? I’m a beautiful, confident girl.

I can do this.

I hope.

Chapter 12

~ Begin Again ~

The streets are empty. Only a few people waddle around with determined looks, desperate to lose a few pounds of fat.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my future these days.

Joining the Special Armed Force was my dream. I couldn’t join the elite Black Guard unit, as they were handpicked orphans, but I’m still eligible for the Special Land Forces Unit. If I somehow crack their tests and qualify for an overseas division, it’ll be the opportunity of a lifetime.

Discipline was never a problem. I’ve been living in self-imposed discipline for the last two years. I just have to break the news to my sister gently, because she will go ballistic if she hears this news.

And Claire?

I haven’t put much thought to it, but I guess she’ll be supportive.

With all my concentration on the few feet ahead and the thoughts circling my head, I barely notice the runner colliding head first into me. The person is lucky as he got me to cushion his fall.

I’m not.

I land hard on my back, knocking most of the air from my lungs. What little remains are forced out by his weight landing on top.

Cruel World one, Michael zero.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t even make an effort to get up.

The sonovabitch.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry!”

I don’t have air in my lungs. I can’t even see. My heart is beating like a psychotic drum. I try to gulp as much precious oxygen as I can before I pass out.

“Mike?”

There’s no way a guy could have a voice that soft.

“Come on. Get up!” She offers me her hand.

My vision has returned, somewhat. The early morning sky has an amazing shade of blue. It’s funny how I’ve never noticed such a stunning scenery before, obstructed somewhat by Claire’s worried face.

“The grass is way too cozy,” I whip out lazily.

Claire grins at me, blinding me momentarily with her dazzling white teeth. She ponders for a moment before plopping down on the grass beside me.

“Damn right it is.”

I lie there on the ground, admiring the scenery above, and beside me.

“So when did you start bumping into people?”

She punches my arm lightly. “That was an accident.” She pauses. “You look as if today were the end of the world.”

That gets a laugh. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“If you can’t see ahead, then I’d bet it was.”

“When did you start these morning runs?”

“About a year ago. A girl has to keep herself in shape, y’know.”

And it definitely shows.

I lie there for some more time admiring the early morning sky, the trees, the birds, the –

“Mike?”

“Hmm?”

“What are you doing this Friday?”

The question was so rapid that I have to re-run it in my head. Once realization dawns, an involuntary smile creeps onto my face.

“You’re asking me out?”

“Maaybeeee.”

Let’s see, I don’t have anything to do, except mope around the empty house, watch a movie, cook my dinner and maybe even polish up my boring homework. I rise first, help her up, and take some time dusting my pants to think about it. We have been friends for a while. Surely, a harmless date would be okay.

She’s looking at me expectantly, lips pursed. A few strands of her silky hair have gone astray, giving her a wanton look, and her normally pale skin is flushed from her recent exertions.

I’m certain.

Even wild horses can’t stop me from going out with her.

“We have a date.”

She brightens my day with another dazzling smile.

“Thanks!”

Before I can do anything, she stands up on her toes, kisses me on my cheek, turns around and jogs away. I’m left standing awkwardly caressing my cheek, which still burns after ten minutes.

On Friday, all hell breaks loose.

“Dump these black clothes. What are you, a Goth?” My cousin looks disapprovingly at the T-shirt I hold up for inspection. This is the fifth consecutive piece of clothing rejected without an iota of respect.

“Black is classic, bro. I wear it whenever I’m in doubt.”

He shakes his head in utter disgust.

“No wonder you were single,” he mutters, rummaging through my cupboard before coming out with an ancient piece of clothing I’ve never worn.

It’s a dark blue, button-down shirt, a gift from Mom on their anniversary.

“Will you look at this?” he says with some sort of smug satisfaction I can’t comprehend. “A treasure beneath all this junk.”

“Hey!”

A minute later,

“Momma would be so proud.”

“Shut up.”

I have to agree I’ve never looked better because the shirt fits my physique perfectly, unlike my preferred brand of baggy clothes.

“Alright I gotta go. Bye.”

“Don’t mess this up by trying to be someone else.”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, Dad. Lock my house on your way out.”

I run out of my house as fast as I can. The weather is clear and perfect for what I have planned so I take my car and set off towards our meeting point.

Claire told me to meet her at a café near her house. It’s a posh area, situated in the wealthy zone of our town. I told her that I could pick her up from her house, but she insisted otherwise. Part of me says that she’s embarrassed about something.

I just hope it isn’t me.

I park my car at a safe distance and get out. Although I wouldn’t touch Dad’s BMW on any given day, he isn’t here to stop me. I took the liberty of cleaning it inside out and use it for myself on special occasions, like this one.

I didn’t even recognize her at first glance.

A black one-piece dress adorns her body, the skirt barely reaching her knees. It leaves her toned legs open to my gaze. I realize it’s the first time I’ve seen her wearing something other than her skinny jeans.

A faint makeup highlights her features. The only outrageous difference is her lips, a sharp contrast to her fair skin, painted with a dark-red lipstick.

“Close your mouth.” She grins.

“You’re beautiful,” my voice is an obnoxious croak.

“Well, thank you!” she gushes and makes a little curtsy. “Shall we?”

She offers me her soft hand. I gladly accept it and lead her to my car.

I think I must be the happiest teenager alive.

I take her to the summer carnival that has just opened by the beach, filled with couples like us, out on a Friday night. Our conversation is more riveting than the attractions themselves. We talk about everything and still don’t run out of topics. Even the silence between us is comfortable.

I also learn she’s a very lousy shot.

“Oh, come on!” she cries desperately after her third and final attempt to hit the moving toy aliens. She really wants that fluffy white teddy, but with an aim of such rotten accuracy, it would be nigh impossible.

The game is predictable. On a closer look, the toy aliens followed a ‘P’, an ‘O’ and then finally a ‘Z’ pattern.

“This game is rigged!” she cries out indignantly.

“It ain’t, sweetcheeks,” the keeper shoots back, looking very happy with his little profit.

“Here, let me try.” I hand the smug keeper another two bucks.

I miss the first one.

“Warm-up,” I mutter to a sniggering Claire.

I knock the aliens off their hinges on the second and third try while the Carney still has the silly grin on his face.

I beam right back at him.

I pick up the pearl-blue teddy for Claire and the white unicorn for Breanne for my two successful shots.

“Thanks.” Her smile turns me into warm, gooey mush.

We walk out of the carnival into the beach with a vanilla snow cone in her hand. I decline the sugary goodness, feigning sensitivity to extreme cold dishes. I have to join a Boot Camp after a few months. Watching what I eat now will be a real help to me there.

“I don’t remember having so much fun,” she chirps in between licks. I’m fascinated by the sight of her pink tongue darting out to lick the snow cone.

“Me either,” I say, using what must’ve been the best one-liner to have existed for guys to say.

With our shoes slung by our fingers, we walk hand-in-hand down the beach. The sand is cool between my toes and the cool night air barely a caress to my skin. The gentle noise of the waves breaking on the shore adds a quiet serenity to the beautiful place. We walk away from the noise of the carnival, each absorbed in our own thoughts.

We approach a group of rocks amidst the waves, the jagged edges looking forlorn underneath the moonlight. Climbing the rocks, where they meet the sea, we sit down.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I reply, just as mesmerized. “I think I could stay here forever.”

Just then, a particularly strong wave crashes onto the rock, spraying our feet with warm seawater. As the water recedes, it leaves behind a faint ticklish sensation, making her laugh. The sound is beautiful, and carefree.

“Mike?”

“Hmm?”

“I want to say something.”

“Go on.”

She looks down at her feet, focusing, before she begins, “I have had a very rough childhood. Despite being born with a golden spoon, I never had the parents to love me. My brother, the only one who understood me, died a few years ago.”

I can feel the pain brimming over, but her voice is neutral. I know she’s not asking for sympathy. She just wants me to hear it out, to understand her, what she’s going through. I take her hand in mine and link my fingers in hers, encouraging her to go on.

“All of my friends try to use me. All of them are fakes. I even tried to commit suicide once.” Her grip on my hand tightens painfully as the memory rears its head. “But I got over it. My cousin, Joyce, saved me. I had grown cynical over the years, hating everyone and myself. I never believed that good could exist any more.”

She looks at me, a sad smile coloring her face. “Then you came along and proved me wrong. You’re the best guy in the world I could ever ask to be with.”

She rests her head on my shoulder, as I wrap a protective arm around her. This is probably the first time she has revealed so much about herself to anyone else besides her cousin.

I wonder how I can divert her thoughts.

“Do you remember your challenge?” I ask.

“Challenge?”

“That you’ll figure me out someday,” I say, “before the right time.”

She looks at me. “It’s hard to study a subject like you.”

I stare at the waves crashing over the shore. The scene hasn’t changed one bit, as if time had frozen it over.

“What do you see?”

“I see sadness,” she says slowly. “It’s something that still makes you sad, and I think it’s the same thing that has matured you ahead of your time.”

“My parents died two years ago,” I say.

“What?”

Disbelief, shock, sadness – it’s amazing how she combines all these emotions into a single word. I don’t say anything else, letting her digest the fact. It’s not every day that I reveal my past.

“But, the first day we met, you said that-”

“- that they’re not coming back anytime soon,” I complete her thoughts.

I’m sure her brain is doing overtime, matching the puzzle together and fitting in missing pieces of my character jigsaw.

Everything must fit perfectly now.

“I’m sorry. I could’ve never guessed that,” she says after a few moments, and holds me tight. It’s comforting that way, having someone to hold you while you confess your horrid past. No one ever did that for me, not even my sister.

“It’s okay. Aunt Sherry, Dan and Claudine kept me sane all this time.”

“How could you be so composed after all this?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Tell me.”

I take a deep breath. “My parents and I had a big fight. They wanted me to do something, and I wanted anything but that. We dragged it on for a week until the day of their wedding anniversary. All of us were in the car when the tanker hit us. In an instant, everything I knew just…went away. Forever.”

A hard swallow doesn’t help with the knot in my throat. She holds me tighter, saying nothing as I go on.

“We didn’t even talk much that week, apart from acknowledging each other’s existence. I even said that I hated them and wouldn’t see their faces ever after I graduated out of school…I just wish I could say that I loved them a lot one last time. When I awoke from the coma, I promised myself that I wouldn’t do anything again that I’d regret that much.

“It’s a strange feeling, this regret. Even when you think that you have gotten over it, it comes down on you with vengeance.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers.

“Don’t be.”

She doesn’t say anything else, but holds me as I pick up the scattered pieces of my thoughts.

“My sister…she doesn’t even want to see my face now.” A dry, humorless chuckle escapes my throat. “She says I’m a painful reminder of Dad.”

Memories like these have stopped causing pain. All that remains is a dull ache whenever I recall the events from two years ago. It’s hard to get over it, but I give it my best shot.

“I remember something that someone said,” she says. A faint smile plays on her lips. “You know, when I was feeling pathetic and the lowest I’ve ever felt in my life, this guy came up to me and told me a wonderful thing.

“What was it?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“Yesterday is history, and that we should live for today.”

That brings a smile. She remembers that.

“You need to let go of it, Mike,” she says quietly. “It’s for the best. Your parents wouldn’t want to see their son miserable like this. They knew you loved them despite what you said.”

“Probably,” I concede.

“Probably?”

“Okay…yeah, they knew and wouldn’t want to see me like this.”

She kisses my cheek softly. “Much better.”

I feel safe this way, comforted by someone who has been through a similar life. She understands me in a way that my own family can never do. We sit in the silence for some more time. As much as I would’ve liked to sleep on this spot, I have a responsibility to make sure that Claire is safe back in her house.

“C’mon, Claire,” I say reluctantly, “it’s time to go.”

She pouts, and I’m highly tempted to backtrack on my decision.

“It’s getting late,” I stress.
“We’ll come here some other time, then?” she asks innocently.

“That’s a great way to ask me out,” I say.

She laughs. “That’s because I know you’re not going to.”

“I’d love to ask you out.”

“Then ask.”

My throat runs dry in an instant.

She giggles. “See what I mean?”

We climb down from the rocks. As I help her down, a sudden impulse takes over. I clear my throat and face her. She looks up at me, waiting for me to go on.

“So, Claire…I was wondering if you’d like to, you know, go out on a…date?”

She bursts into another fit of giggles. I feel an embarrassing blush creep over my ears and cheeks.

“What are you so afraid of?” she asks. “You’re so confident, but balk at the prospect of asking a girl out on a date.”

“I guess I need some more practice,” I reply cheekily. “So?”

She steps closer, wraps her arm around my neck and pulls me until our faces are millimeters apart. Up this close in the dark, her soft grey eyes are spellbinding, determined, yet scared. As her lips inch close, the realization strikes.

She’s going to kiss me.

CLAIRE is going to kiss ME!

Before I know it, our lips meet, soft and hesitant. On an instinct, I pull her closer against me, mashing our lips together. I lose myself in that soft, warm feeling. Pulling gently at her lower lip, I suck on it. She moans, winding her fingers in my hair and pulling me in for a deeper kiss.

My hands, with a will of their own, roam over her back. I sigh contently as her body rubs gently against mine, her breasts soft against my chest and the warm scent of her perfume infusing my senses.

It feels so perfect, so beautiful, so…right.

Unfortunately, the kiss goes on for so long that I never notice my lungs begging for precious air. We part reluctantly, our lips producing a soft ‘pop’ as they separate. She buries her face in my chest.

“How’s that for a yes?” she asks.

“Wow.”

We just hold each other, basking in the warmth and quiet companionship.

“So, that’s what it’s like to kiss someone,” she says after some time.

“I…it was a first for me too.”

She looks up at me and smiles. “We’re on the same boat, then.”

Chapter 13

~ Harp Un-Strung ~

We kiss for a good fifteen minutes, each round growing more fierce and desperate than the last.

It’s good, but it’s not enough.

I want more.

“We’re getting late,” he whispers again reluctantly. “My aunt will raise hell if she finds about my nocturnal activities.”

“Let’s go to your house then.”

He gulps. “Are you sure?”

“Well, someone wants to play,” I tease, running a hand lightly over the obvious bulge in his jeans. He lurches back from the illicit contact.

“You’re such a doofus,” I laugh.

He regains his composure very quickly. “Okay, call someone from your house and say that you’re staying over and…whatever else you see fit.”

I’m already done texting a message before he can complete his words. I grab his hand and race towards his car.

“C’mon, I need a closer inspection of your goodies.”

The drive back to his house is full of anticipation. As if time has slowed down, making the short journey incredibly torturous. We kiss some more during the red signals, not even realizing when it turns green until a driver honks angrily behind us.

He opens his garage doors long before we’re in sight of the house and parks the car with squealing tires. I don’t know how we navigated through the house, but we somehow end up on his bed in a tangled heap of intertwined arms and legs. My hands are everywhere at once, as if it’s the end of the world with far too little time to spend.

“I have a crazy idea,” I say, pulling back from the kiss.

“What?”

“Let’s go to the roof.”

He grins.

“I like the way you think.”

We rush up the stairs, careful not to make much noise. He settles the blankets and pillows on the roof. I push him onto his back as soon as he’s done.

“Easy,” he says, but I swallow his next words with a kiss.

I’ve never felt so…wanton, so eager for someone’s touch. As if a dam broke somewhere inside me, carrying me away with its tide. It’s the one thing that I’ll never regret doing in my life.

He rolls over on top of me and holds my hands above my head, controlling me effectively. Just like last time.

“Slow down, we’re not going anywhere,” he says, grinning down at me. I try to think up an excuse, but I realize he’s right. We’re both panting like dogs in heat.

“Nice and slow,” he says and buries his head in the crook of my neck, sending tingles of shock as he nuzzles my skin.

His warm body is a comfortable weight atop mine. I wrap my legs around his hips and hold him closer to me, sighing in contentment as he kisses my neck and shoulders. My heart feels full, almost to the point of bursting out of my chest with sheer joy.

He kisses my cheek, my jaw and descends down to my throat. A startled gasp escapes me when he kisses a particularly sensitive region. His lips quirk into a devilish grin as he spends more time on that place, licking and nibbling and eliciting small gasps from me. He nibbles my neckline as his fingers search for the zip.

My heart jumps when he finds it, holds it and pulls it down slowly. The sound, instead of arousal, brings panic.

He stops.

Holding my chin, he makes me look up at him. His eyes are sincere, full of love and understanding.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, Claire,” he says simply, and just like that, a sense of peace and calm replaces the panic. He leans down and kisses me once more, our lips molding with each other’s.

“If anything makes you uncomfortable, tell me, and I’ll stop.”

I nod gratefully. He pulls the zip down to my waist. Threading a finger to each of the straps holding my dress, he pushes it aside and brings it down to my waist. His eyes remain glued to my skin, revealed inch by inch, as a piece of my dignity is carefully pried apart. I raise my hips as he pulls the material down to my legs. I’m out of it, finally, clad only in my bra and panties.

I wonder if anyone could see us on the roof, with me scantily clad in my underwear. Maybe doing it in such a romantic setting was a bad idea.

“No one can see us,” he says, reading my thoughts. “It’s just you and me.”

Just me and Mike.

It sounds like music to my ears.

He draws another lingering kiss from my lips and then kisses my sternum, down to my cleavage. I’m only a girl with a modest cup size, but his enthusiasm gives me a gigantic ego boost, elating my feelings to new heights.

He reaches behind my back and unhooks my bra…or tries his best to. I giggle uncontrollably as he fumbles with it and curses under his breath.

“I hate this thing,” he says, mock-anger in his voice.

“Maybe you need some more practice.” I smile and reach behind myself, unhooking the bra and holding the cups with one hand.

He watches me with barely contained lust. I feel like a virgin deflowered by the meanest wolf around. The panic begins to resurface, but a sudden kiss on my lips surprises me, making me open my eyes. I didn’t even realize that I had closed them out of fear.

“I wish I could tell you how beautiful you are to me, Claire,” he says, a faint smile on his lips. “You don’t have anything to hide.”

I smile. “You always know the right thing to say, don’t you?”

“Yes, I think…” he trails off as I let the bra fall.

My breasts, though not the biggest hooters around in school, are well-formed – teardrop shaped topped with light pink areolas and nipples. Many a day I stood in front of the mirror, wishing them to somehow grow bigger. Not today.

“Like what you see?” I ask, even though his expression of sheer awe says it all.

“Love it.”

His warm hands make my breath catch as they caress the sensitive underside, hefting my breasts and worshipping them slowly. My insides clench with pleasure as he rubs my hardened nubs, rubbing and rolling them over. His touch, so foreign, make my nerves tingle with an electric shock as he gently lowers his head and takes one of my pink nubs inside his hot mouth.

“Oh,” I gasp, as his wet tongue flicks over my flesh.

My eyelids shut down as I take in the sensory overload of two nipples being stimulated simultaneously. I never noticed his other hand moving down onto the crotch of my panties. I jerk as his tentative fingers rub my slit through my moist panties.

It’s only a matter of a few moments before a small wave of contractions grip my body in its throes of orgasm. Everything falls apart and I clamp my thighs close, nearly crushing his hand.

I barely hear his grunt of pain as I familiarize myself with the foreign feelings coursing through my veins, stimulating me to a limit far beyond my imagination. Slowly, the muscles of my legs relax and Mike pries his hands away.

He lies down beside me, draping an arm over me, embracing me sideways, as I thank the stars above.

I just don’t know what for.

“You look adorable with your eyes shut.”

“Really?” I ask. It feels like an out-of-the-body experience for me, as if someone else had asked it.

He laughs softly. “Having my hand crushed for that cute scrunched up face was definitely worth it.”

“I’m so sorry,” I apologize, reaching for his hand.

“It’s the other one,” he says, amused. I reach for it, but he holds it away. “It’s alright, Claire. You didn’t break any bones.”

As we lie there, doing nothing and basking in the comfortable silence of the twinkling stars, a realization hits me.

“Hey, how come I’m the only one naked?” I ask.

He grins as I get up and straddle him. I open his buttons one by one, following each with the softest kiss. After I throw the offending piece of clothing away, I start kissing back again from his neck, biting particularly hard at a spot near the junction where his throat met his chest.

“Ouch,” he yelps.

That bite will bruise proudly on his neck for everyone to see.

“I’ll have a hard time explaining that to people,” he says.

“I’m marking my territory,” I say a little more harshly than I had intended. I don’t know why, but something about this reminded me of that loser, Jim.

“Always yours, Ma’am,” he replies sincerely, taking my hand and kissing it softly.

The reply was a bit corny, but it’ll do nicely for me. I respond with a sweet kiss to his cheek.

I unbuckle the belt and pull his jeans and shorts down his legs at one go before he can protest. His cock jumps up, freed at last. I hold the warm throbbing flesh with my hand, marveling at its warmth and inherent pulsating beat.

Mike looks at me apprehensively. “Look, Claire, you don’t really have to…OH Sweet Jesus!”

The next few words are drowned by his moans of pleasure as I envelope the sensitive head with my mouth and lap it gently with my tongue. I’m no stranger to blowjobs, but I never thought that I’d actually enjoy giving one.

“You were saying?” I ask innocently.

He grunts his denial, and I happily go back to my mission of keeping him in touch with Lord Almighty. I take my time, marveling at the way his thick shaft hardens further inside my mouth. A strange taste invades my senses as his precum oozes out, lubricating him further. I pump him rhythmically, swirling my tongue and sucking over his glans.

“You know what?” he asks mirthfully.

“Hmm?” I hum, sending vibrations straight to his cock. He moans and clutches a handful of blankets as the pleasure scatters his train of thoughts.

I want to giggle, but it’d ruin the effect.

“Masturbating with my hands will never be the s-same.”

This time, I have to pause and laugh. The little remaining tension in my gut dissipates as we laugh together.

I dive straight back to my homework after that. His hands reach for my hair as his back arches off the makeshift bed. The head of his cock hits the back of my throat, and I gag. Thankfully, it doesn’t last long and he pulls back, letting me take control once more.

“Claire, I’m going to cum,” he gasps after a minute.

I look into his eyes and renew my efforts, watching his eyes lose focus and then roll back as he ejaculates inside my mouth. The first spurt hits the back of my throat, and I swallow it quickly, making sure not to let it leak over and make a mess.

Mike tastes somewhat like peach, a sweet-salty peach at that. My instant reflex was to spit it out, but I bear it quietly, knowing that I do this for him. He calms down after a few moments, and shudders sporadically as I lick him clean. His semi-limp manhood pops out of my mouth apparently satisfied for the moment.

He hooks his hands under my pits and drags me upward until I’m lying on top of him. I half-squeal in fear but calm down as my common sense takes over. He kisses me hard, possessiveness evident through the act, like never before.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“Thank you too,” I whisper back.

He catches his breath, while I acquaint myself with the turn of events. Never in my wildest dreams did I even think about having sex with Mike, on a rooftop at that. It seemed like such a foreign idea. Now?

Well, our compromising position speaks for itself.

The sensitivity has waned somewhat, renewed slightly by the friction as my nipples rub against his chest. I feel him with my hands, slowly this time, wondering if it’s a dream.

“I’m real, Claire,” he says, “Everything is happening for real.”

“Will you regret it in the morning?” I ask quietly.

I don’t know why, but my insecurities always crop up as mood spoilers just when I feel most vulnerable.

“Never,” he says without hesitating, “tomorrow morning or the next ones after that.”

I just hold him tight, afraid to think what would happen if he ever chose to leave me. It would be too much to bear.

Mike kisses me again, his touch gentle and reassuring. He rubs my nipple and pinches it, sending a sudden jolt to my senses. He leaves behind a trail of wet kisses as his lips trace a path from my lips to my shoulders and down to my breasts. Ample attention is given to my nipples again, this time more roughly. He suckles on one nipple, and then bites on the sensitive nub.

Me?

I’m just a wet, shivering mess. I’m damn sure that my panties are thoroughly soaked with my juices.

He kisses my stomach. More than a source of arousal, his tongue is ticklish on my skin. I end up serving him an accidental kick.

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’ll live,” he wheezes.

Carefully avoiding my tummy, Mike skips down towards my feet, planting soft smooches all the way. Lingering on my mound, he peels off the last remnant of my clothing, now I’m completely naked. I raise my hips and watch the soggy cloth being carefully ditched to the side with my dress.

Each kiss sends a thrill from my legs to my spine and straight to my head. I nearly faint as I feel his wet lips on my inner thighs. My scent must be overpowering him as he stops just short of my sex.

“Do you want me to kiss down there?”

I nod, afraid that my voice would be too weak for an answer.

“I can’t hear you,” he teases.

“Please kiss me down there,” I beg.

My legs part and I feel a gentle touch of his warm lips on my inner thigh, just an inch away from my pussy. A groan of frustration is all I can manage.

“Not there,” I say.

“Here?” he asks, placing another kiss on my outer lips, millimeters away from my throbbing clit.

“Please kiss it.”

“Kiss what?”

“My pussy,” I say exasperatedly.

He runs a slow tongue on my slit, from the perineum to my clit that’s aching to get out from underneath its hood. He wraps it up with his lips and sucks it gently. My back arches and my thighs close, but he holds them apart.

There’s no escape. The assault is slow but relentless. The pressure builds up as he licks my warm folds, almost exploding as he sucks on my clit like a mini-penis. My legs, held wantonly apart by him are of no use so I use my hands instead, clawing at the soft sheets and grabbing fistfuls of his hair.

I explode when he firmly wedges his tongue inside me and explores. Breathing is a foreign idea, as is seeing. It’s not a tidal wave, but a storm that sweeps away everything in its path. My cry is hoarse, deep throated and guttural as the joyous feelings course through my veins.

Another storm sweeps, unexpected and sudden, as he reaches up and pinches my nipples rhythmically, suckling on my clit hungrily at the same time.

My thighs clamp shut on his head, my hands on his trying to stop and augment his touch at the same time. I take a deep breath and cry out in joy, uncaring of the judgmental world that would hear me.

My vision darkens around the edges, and soon, I see nothing but blackness.

Chapter 14

~ Never Alone ~

I could stay here like this for the rest of my life – between her legs, tasting her sweet cream and hearing her sweet moans of pleasure.

I could go on forever.

My ears are shut out by her thighs, so all I can feel are the vibrations that travel from her chest. I close my mouth on her sex and suckle to my heart’s abandon, reveling in the touch of the silky smoothness of her nether lips and the sweet juice that flows through it. It is glorious.

Soon enough, her thighs lose their strength and they rest lazily on my shoulders. I lick some more, feeling her quiver with each stroke of my tongue.

“Stop,” she says.

“Don’t you like it?” I ask, sucking her clit to emphasize my point.

She groans and pulls away. “It gets sensitive.”

“Oh.”

I sit up, kneeling between her legs. With her hair askew and skin visibly flushed, she looks magnificent. Lying by her side again, I hold her close, feeling her breathing slow down to normalcy. I feel happy and proud of myself. I’m the one who did this to her, after all.

“Where did you learn to do this?” she asks, amazed.

I grin.

“Secrets.”

“Here!” Daniel said as he dumped a freakishly thick book on my desk.

“Master Daniel’s Guide to a Woman’s Body,” I read the title out loud, incredulous, then looked up at him. “Master Daniel? When did you get the time to print pieces of crap?”

“Oi! It’s not a piece of crap.” He held up the book with an expression of sheer reverence. “This is my gift, in advance, for your birthday.”

As I said, Dan is smart, but sometimes he takes it a bit too far.

“I don’t get it.”

He slapped his head in dismay.

“You are going out on a date with Claire.”

“Sooo…?”

“You are in the ‘Friends’ zone of her brain. Nothing more than a male acquaintance she can freely talk to without getting hit upon, you get my drift?” He starts pacing back and forth. “If SHE has asked you out for a date, then I believe the day is not far away when she wants to take things a step further. The last thing I want you to do is to perform a two-second squirt and go your different ways singing Sayonara.

I grudgingly admitted that he was absolutely right.

“Just read it. You won’t regret it, I promise.”

As I look down at Claire’s naked form I mentally thank my cousin for his far-sightedness. Her pale body is flushed pink from her exertions and she is stroking my shaft lazily. Mike Junior is quite the trooper, responding to the call of duty.

“Well?” I ask. “Now what?”

“That’s a rhetorical question.”

“I’m scared,” I admit.

She rolls over, on top of me. “Would you like to know a secret?”

“Gladly.”

“I’m scared too,” she whispers, her breath hot in my ear.

Slowly rising until she straddles me, Claire places her hands on my chest for support as she adjusts her position. She grinds on my cock slowly, just like the last time, lubricating with her juices, preparing it for the inevitable.

“I’m safe. You won’t make me pregnant,” she says, rising and positioning the mushroom tip to her opening, grazing the sensitive head along the entire length of her slit. “Let me do it.”

She doesn’t move as she prepares herself. Taking a deep breath, she plunges down on my length. A barrier resists as my cock pushes against it, and then it gives away. Barely half of my shaft is inside when she stops. Tears brim in her eyes.
“Fuck,” she mutters shakily, “that hurts.”

Holy. Shit.

Her hands tremble as she fights against the pain, trying her best to accommodate the intruder. Her slick wall pulsates around my cock’s head, making me want to push further inside and take her completely.

It’s a terrible way of testing one’s self control, but somehow I do it. I sit up and hold her tight against myself, running a gentle hand on her back, soothing her as she sniffles quietly against my chest. Ever so slowly, I feel her calm down and slide down along the rest of my shaft, feeling her walls stretch as she accommodates a cock inside for the first time in her life.

Our groins meet. We hold each other in an embrace, each of us trying our best not to lose control.

“It hurt, but not as much as I’d expected,” she admits.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“It’s not every day that a guy gets to make love to the most beautiful girl for the first time.”

She giggles softly. “Thank you too.”

“For what?”

“For being you.”

We stay like that for a few moments, just me and her in our own embrace. This is way more touchy-feely than I had expected. But I like it this way. I’ll never forget the intimacy.

Claire pushes me back again until I’m lying down on my back and starts moving tentatively. I gladly let her do the work as she grinds her hips in slow, tight circles, bouncing a little and trying to adjust to my size. Her insides are like a hot, velvety glove that wraps tightly around my shaft and milks it gently.

I’m having a hard time thinking straight, forget about doing anything else but trying to hold back myself.

“This is good.”

“From what I hear, it’s supposed to feel good,” I quip.

“Oh yeah?” She rises until my tip remains inside, and thrusts down forcefully. My insides clench as I hop dangerously close to the point of no return.

“Slowly,” I beg.

Her breathing gets faster and more ragged as she grinds against me. I trace a path from her thigh to her clit with my thumbs and rub it gently. Her eyes fly open and she humps faster as her own climax approaches.

I’m the first one to lose control.

My spurts of semen coat her insides as my control caves in. I squeeze the soft flesh of her breasts with my other hand as the pleasure mounts to dizzying heights. The pleasure rises as she keeps thrusting down on my length, just when I think I won’t be able to take any more, she stops.

She remains still, but her insides are a different matter altogether. She pulsates erratically, her slick channel’s warmth making me giddy with pleasure. She bites down on her lip and stifles her moans. Her nostrils flare. She breathes hard. Her nails dig into my chest, making me grit my teeth as the pain combines with pleasure.

As the tide fades, she lies down on top of me with her forehead resting on my chest. My dick slides out of her. Electric tingles shoot lazily from my over stimulated nerves as the head slides against her skin.

Michael Lehane loses his virginity.

Goodbye Saint Michael.

All I want to do right now is to shout my lungs out and let the world know that they couldn’t be any happier than me on this day, at this time.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she whispers. “Go on. Do it.”

“Really?” I ask, surprised.

She nods.

I fill my lungs, almost to the point of bursting, and yell to my heart’s abandon.

“Woooooooooohhoooooooooo!”

She giggles softly as I cry myself hoarse. We laugh, kiss and shout some more until we’re content.

“That’s for both of us,” she says.

We don’t talk. We don’t need to.

The easy silence speaks for us.

“Mike?” she asks after some time.

“Hmm?”

She traces a finger on my chest, drawing abstract patterns of circles and triangles. “Do you love me?”

I stare at the dotted heavens, wondering what she’s up to. “I think I do.”

“You think?” she laughs.

“I never knew what it’s like to be in love.”

“What about your family?”

“That’s a different kind of love. Certainly different than this,” I emphasize by copping a feel of her breast.

She smiles. “Sometimes I wish you’d stop making this much sense.”

“Me too.”

*

The first rays of the sun hit my face, waking me up. I swear I had closed my eyes to rest them for a while. I ended up sleeping the entire night.

Claire’s asleep too, this time to my side with an arm draped over me.

“Good Morning.”

She mumbles something back and scoots closer. My morning wood reminds me to take care of something, but I ignore it for the moment.

I contend myself by studying her. Her lipstick is smudged, no doubt half of it on my face and body. Her raven black hair is astray, and her face radiant. She looks peaceful, serene and ethereal.

And she’s mine.

I know I can’t live without her. When time comes for me to join the Academy, a part of me will hate myself for giving up Claire in favor of a profession that brings nothing but pain. The realization leaves a sinking feeling in my gut. I hold her, wishing the time to stop. I want to savor all of this…all of her.

I don’t want to let go.

“What are you thinking?” She’s barely awake, but alert enough to have sensed my inner turmoil.

“About you,” I say. “About us.”

“And?”

“I love you.”

She stares at me, the question evident her grey eyes. After all, I had claimed to be unaware about love just the night before.

“This is the most I’ve felt and cared about someone else,” I confess. “If this isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”

She kisses me, a soft lingering touch.

“I thought you’d never say that.”

“I know you’ve been hurt before,” I continue. “I’m not the perfect specimen of a man, but I’ll try my best to give you whatever I have.”

“Promise me that you’ll never leave. Ever.”

“I promise.”

She kisses me again. There’s no urgency to it, just a gentle reminder of what we were. It grows fierce, but she pulls back.

“I need you. On top.”

I roll over obediently until we’re face to face. She pumps my shaft until it’s rock hard and wraps her legs around my hips.

“Take me.”

I slide against her silken lips, find her opening and push inside. She groans as I sheath myself inside her slowly, inch by inch. I expected a bit of dryness as she had cleaned up last night, but to my surprise, I find her channel slick and ready. As our hips merge, I pump the last inch inside her quickly, mashing against her clit and taking her breath out.

There’s more control this time. I keep a steady rhythm of pumping inside and grinding against her clit at a few intervals. I wrap my lips around an erect nipple, suckling on it and making her gasp.

She shudders unexpectedly. I thrust harder as I feel my own orgasm approach. I bury myself to the hilt and let loose spurts of semen inside her. We mold into one. I stay there, taking my weight on my arms and knees instead of crushing her beneath. She has a big smile on her lips, one that needs no words.

“I love you too,” she whispers softly.

~* * *~