Sixteen

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The sun's morning rays created a silhouette of the curtain. How August and I managed to get into the bed last night was beyond me. My nose was stuffed, my head felt congested, and dry tear stains marred my cheeks. Fatigue stiffened my joints and caused my muscles to ache. After everything that happened last night I expected a war zone to surround the bed, but everything remained intact.

Almost everything.

I furrowed deeper into August's arms, because with him was when I felt the most human, and tried to force the events of yesterday out of my head. I should feel guilt and shame at begging such a thing of him, but there was none. Because the fact remained that if I flew off the reservation, he needed to end the threat before I could do again what I did to my hometown all those years ago.

He stirred, and I held still as his arms released me and he sat up, the blanket pooling around his waist. He looked in just as rough shape as me.

"Jessica and Blake will be here soon," he muttered, shoving the heels of his palms into his eyes. So we were going to ignore everything that happened. Ignore it and let it scab over like a wound. And we wouldn't face it again until it started itching.

"Okay."

"We should get moving."

Except he didn't move. He just sat there, staring down at the blanket with vacant eyes. I pressed my palm against his bare back, feeling his skin stretch and the muscles flex beneath my touch as he moved. "There's something I need to tell everybody, anyway. The reason I ran off."

August nodded. He pushed away the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"August."

He moved to stand, but I rolled to my knees and clutched his elbow, preventing him from moving.

"August, please."

He tensed. "I hate anything that follows those words."

And I let him go, because I couldn't tether that pain. Not when I caused it.

August, please.

You have to do it.

You have to be the one to do it.

The one to kill me.

The one to kill the other half of your soul.

And I had really asked him to do it.

August pulled on his shirt and ruffled his hair with his fingers, and thrust aside the curtain partway to peer out. I straightened my wrinkled clothes, thinking we might need to go on a little shopping trip soon, even if just to have two pairs of good jeans instead of one.

The morning was spent, predictably, shuffling mindlessly around each other. I took a shower, and then he took his, and we pulled on our grubby clothes. Definitely needed some new ones. We finished off the gas station snacks for breakfast, and after watching thirty minutes of the news-of which there was nothing of grave importance, thank goodness-someone knocked sharply on the door. Repeatedly, incessantly, all the while demanding to be let in. When August pulled it open, Jessica barged through, like a hot burst of energy from the sun, and she was ready to burn.

"I should have brought my whooping shoes because I am ready to whoop some ass right now!"

Classic Jessica.

She smacked August upside the head on her way to me, and then grabbed my shoulders and administered a hard enough shake to knock my brain loose. "You. Are. So. Unbelievable!"

"Sorry-sorry, Jessica-can you please stop shaking me?"

My obvious distress was enough to halt her movements, but she stepped back with her hands on her hips and an unimpressed expression pinching her features. "We oughta smack the both of them, huh, Blake?"

"Yeah, we should."

"Like, so hard they need brain surgery afterward."

"Okay." August shut the motel door left gaping wide open and folded his arms across his chest. "Ellie has something she needs to tell all of us."

Wow, I was expecting at least another ten minutes of listening to Jessica's berating, but Augie seemed to be in no mood to play games. I swallowed hard, trying to shove down the twinge of discomfort knowing the pain I undoubtedly caused him, but it kept popping back up.

Jessica and Blake turned toward me. August stared hard at the floor, jaw tight. He didn't want to look at me. I didn't blame him.

"I went to see Rex, on my own," I began, forcing my attention anywhere but on August. "I . . . persuaded him to spill some information."

This piqued Jessica's attention. "Like what?" she asked.

"Like my father is in town at some convention with a lot of big-wig people, and I need to go there and try to find him."

Silence greeted my proposition. Blake rubbed his chin while Jessica scratched her arm. "Find him," she echoed. "You sure that's a good idea?"

I shrugged. "No, but I have to start somewhere, right?"

"Yeah, somewhere doesn't mean with the guy who's trying to take out an entire city."

"It's straight to the source. Simple and effective."

She snorted. "Who taught you that mentality?"

My insides frosted over. Lucille. Lucille taught me that. "I'm just ready to end this. I know it might be jumping the gun but, as I see it, I've been playing cautious for nineteen years."

"I don't know . . ."

"It seems risky," Blake added.

And then August: "I say let her do it."

Which, honestly, surprised everybody in the room.

"Do you realize what this could mean?" Jessica was the first to speak up, snapping out of her shocked haze. "I thought you would be the most adamant of all of us not to let her go. This puts her in direct danger."

"It seems that's her favorite place to be." He turned abruptly and shoved on his shoes, tucking a gun in the waistband of his pants. "I'll be back."

"Wait! Where are you-"

But the door shut before she could finish her sentence. Blake bounced on the balls of his feet for a moment before going after him. Jessica shook her head and released a long, exasperated sigh.

"What's up with him?"

I shrugged and lied, "I don't know."

"Hm." She flopped on the bed, blowing blonde tendrils of hair out of her face. "So, if you do go to this-this social gathering, or whatever, you can't wear that."

Made sense. I didn't think the dress code would allow for grubby jeans and a ripped t-shirt. "Okay."

"Which means a shopping trip."

"Right."

"Of epic proportions."

"That sounds a little frightening."

"And it's with me." A loopy smile curved her lips. "Oh, my God. Do you know how long it's been since I've seen a department store?"

"Uh-"

"Rhetorical question. Don't answer that. Yes, I'm so excited! OhmyGod, I know exactly where I want to take you!"

I'd seen a lot of terrifying things in my life, but nothing like Jessica no-relation-to-the-celebrity Simpson preparing what she called the, "Ultimate shopping spree to turn Ellie Armstrong into a hot piece of elegant ass." Her words exactly.

And for a legitimate second, I wondered if I was going to make it out of this alive.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"No. No, no, no. You're going for drop dead seductress, Ellie, not uptight businesswoman."

I frowned, looking at the simple black dress. "But I like it."

"Yes. The first problem. Your taste in clothes is-how should I put this?-lacking. Goodness, you're so lucky I'm here. Try this instead." A flourish of pink fabric materialized in my field of vision, and my stomach actually turned a little.

"I can't. I can't wear that."

"Why not?"

"Too-too much pink."

Jessica looked horrified. "On the contrary, one can never have too much pink, but I will try again. Go into the dressing room and change out of that funeral attire. I'll be back."

I was left with no choice but to do as she said, securing the door behind me as I shrugged out of the dress. The mall wasn't incredibly busy, thank goodness. We hadn't left until mid-afternoon, and it was now evening. Jessica knew how to shop, and she refused to stop until the perfect dress was uncovered.

Shopping was definitely not my thing.

Blake and August parted to track down a tux, which they had probably accomplished hours ago, and now it was just me and Jessica and her frightening obsession.

"I found it!" her voice carried over to me, and probably every other department store in the mall. "Ellie! This is it! This is flipping it!"

A shock of red fabric caught my attention before the entire dress flew over the top of the stall, hanging there, limp. I pulled it over, appreciating the length. All the rest were knee length, but this one . . .

Let's just say the more coverage, the better.

"You'll love it," Jessica continued to gush. "Seriously. Is it on yet?"

"Just give me a second." The silk material slipped easily off the hanger, and I dragged the zipper down the back half-way, just enough to step into it and tug it into a comfortable position.

And I would admit that, wow, Jessica finally found the one.

It hung all the way to the floor, covering my feet-Jessica kindly added on a side-note that I would need to wear heels-hugging my body, fitting like a glove. Thin red cap sleeves covered my arms, but that was it. Goosebumps covered the exposed flesh of my chest, shoulders, arms, and collarbone area, from a draft, and because I liked it. I liked looking nice. I liked feeling beautiful.

"Let me see!"

So I pushed open the dressing room door and stepped out. Jessica folded her hands into her chest, eyes glistening, and a woman waiting for her daughter with her phone in her hand did a double-take, a warm smile curving her lips.

"You're stunning, young lady," she said, and I blushed furiously, even as Jessica readily agreed, nodding so hard I feared she might give herself whiplash.

I stared down at my toes poking out from beneath the dress. "Thank you."

"You have to get this. We're getting this." Jessica adjusted the sleeves and ordered me to do a three-sixty. "It's beautiful. You know what red stands for? Love. And passion. And anger. And sex. God, Ellie, please wear this in front of August so you can both just do it already and he can stop looking so tense."

My eyes widened to the size of saucers. "Jessica!" I hissed, wishing I could melt into a puddle. The mother scrolling through her phone smiled timidly and pretended not to have heard the exchange.

I yanked my friend into the spacious dressing room with me, whipping the door closed. "Please," I began, "please abstain from talking about that in public!"

"What?"

"Jessica."

She laughed, twirling a thick lock of blonde hair around her finger. "Whatever you want to say, just say it, El. Life is too short to be a prude. And welcome to girl talk; where everything inappropriate is the only appropriate thing to say."

I frowned. "That sounds odd."

"Girls are odd."

Touché.

"Seriously, though," she continued, on a more somber note. "What's up with you guys? It was like you couldn't stand being in the same room together this morning."

If only she knew. I ran my hands along the smooth material, chewing on my lip, thoughts a jumbled mess. "It doesn't matter. I have the ball to focus on, and Angel-"

"Screw Angel and the ball." Jessica grabbed my hand and held it between hers, blue eyes open and honest. "Because you know why? After all the shit is over, you'll still be here-cross our fingers-and August-cross our fingers there, too-and to know there's some chance at a happy future after all this shit goes down. Better that than sorry, desolate loneliness, right?"

A defeated puff of air skidded past my lips. "I told him to promise to kill me if I turned into too much of a monster."

Jessica completely balked at my statement, which I sort of expected, but I at least thought she might see the rationale behind it.

"Say something, please," I mumbled when the prolonged silence became uncomfortable

Her head shook in a listless stupor. "What-what do you want me to say? That's-how could you ask him to do that? How could you ask anyone to do that?"

I plopped down on the wooden bench, doubling over with my face in my hands. "I don't even know anymore. Apparently I'm an unfeeling monster and I do everything wrong."

"Not wrong, Ellie. Just-misunderstood, I guess. Your heart is always in the right place."

Except for when I want to kill everybody. I don't even have a heart, then. "I just don't want to hurt anybody else. I was desperate. I'm so tired of this, Jessica. So tired."

"Me, too, El." She squeezed my hand. "Do you want to go pay for the dress?"

I nodded. "Sure."

"And get milkshakes?"

"Chocolate?"

"There is no other flavor."

I surprised her with a fierce hug. "I love you."

She returned the embrace. "Ditto. Even when you pretend to be dead and leave in the middle of the night and irritate me."

And I laughed, because this must have been what it was like to have family, and to know that kind of love. And the road to find it had been harrowing and awful.

But all that mattered was that I got there.

~*~*~*~*~*~

By the time we finally trudged into the motel room, I thought my feet just might fall off. I had never been so happy to see a disgusting, pay-by-the-hour room in all my life.

Jessica bestowed a quick makeup 101 tutorial to me, and hung up my dress in the narrow closet that was really nothing more than a random hole in the wall enclosed my a slanted door. She and Blake lingered around after that, talking and chatting and making enough noise to fill the space, considering both my and August's reluctance to speak. They started to leave, and then Jessica suggested ordering some Chinese takeout. We ate. They lingered. It must have been another couple of hours before they walked out the door and didn't return with another idea. Or, at least, when Jessica didn't return, because she was the one who lengthened the stay, obviously sensing the panic flurrying through my mind at the thought of being alone with August. Which was ridiculous, because he was the last one I should freak out about being in a room with. But my tactless plea remained, surging through my head, and no doubt his, and it just messed everything up worse.

You have a habit of doing that, huh?

Yeah. Yeah, I did.

And now we would see if I could be just as good at making it better.

August rubbed his face. "I'm going to take a shower."

"Okay."

Say something. Say something to him now, before you lose the nerve.

But my jaw locked up and everything in my throat jammed together. August disappeared into the bathroom, and then the sputtering sound of the shower filled the quiet.

Do it.

The shower curtain rings grated against the metal bar.

Do it now.

And so I did.

Before I even fully knew what I was doing-plans didn't seem to be my thing, anyway-I bolted into the bathroom, immediately becoming submersed in the thick steam. August whirled around, mouth falling open. His jeans slung low on his hips, but remained buttoned. Heat plastered my face.

And we just stared at each other.

There were a hundred right things to say in that situation. Eloquent phrases with all the right words and the right subtext. And then there was me. Me and my scattered head and my emotions.

"Ellie-"

"I'm sorry," I cut him off. Any and all potential for eloquence flew out the window. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have said any of that. Just please-please-don't hate me anymore."

His eyes softened. The shower continued to run.

"I'm still learning. People don't do that. They don't ask people they love to do something like that, and-and I was wrong. Wrong. I'm so sorry, August. It's that stupid, demented, malfunctioning part of my brain that I can't control."

He didn't say anything, and his expression was especially guarded. This frightened me. What was he thinking? Did he think I was insane? Crazy? Foolish? Hopeful?

I just needed something.

This whole thing was hard. Just hard. How something like love could be so simultaneously easy and difficult blew my mind.

August strode passed me and switched the shower off. And then he turned and he was right there, filling my entire line of sight, half his hair wet from leaning in the shower to turn it off. Droplets trickled down the hard planes of his chest, altogether derailing my thoughts.

"Ellie."

My head snapped up, cheeks reddening further (if that was even possible), and I swallowed hard, which proved nearly impossible, because my mouth was suddenly drier than a desert.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm sor-"

He ducked his head and pressed a hard kiss to my lips, stopping my words, fingers digging into my waist with desperate aggression.

"Sorry," he said eventually, pulling back. "So you said."

"I was stupid. I'm so stupid."

"You're not stupid."

"And I don't know why I act the way I act sometimes."

"You don't-"

"Really I shouldn't be asking for forgiveness, because what I did was unforgiveable, but I can't just not, because I can't stand the thought of you hating me, and-mmph!"

His hand clapped over my mouth, ending another meaningless tirade, and this time he backed me up against the cool tile of the wall. We stared into each other's eyes for a moment, a long moment, and I lost myself in his blue depths, and it would have been perfectly fine if I never found my way back.

"Just tell me . . ." he breathed deeply. "Just tell me, honestly, how you feel about me."

I skimmed my fingers along the back of his hand, and at the feel of my touch, he lowered it. It was good. It was so good, whatever this was between us, and to take it for granted or ruin it or forget it was the stupidest thing I could ever do.

"August."

"Ellie."

His cheeks radiated warmth against my palms. "I'm going to screw up a lot more."

He said nothing.

"And regress. I seem to take ten steps back for every step forward."

That time he offered a nod.

I dragged his face down to mine, digging my forehead into his. "Augie," I breathed, holding tight to him, clenching his hair in my fingers. "It scares me and makes no sense, but I'm so, so in love with you."

His mouth dropped to my ear. His voice was low and soft and enticing when he said, "That was all I wanted to hear."

And the floodgates opened, and the universe exploded, and the earth shattered.

Literally. That was how it felt, to be hoisted into the air and crushed between the wall and his chest. To feel his mouth attack mine with reckless abandon. To wrap my legs around his hips and my arms around his neck and never, never let go.

There was no such thing as too close. No such thing as too far. And everything just felt distinctly right; the sound of my t-shirt pooling to the floor, his large hands spanning my waist, the hot pressure of his lips on mine. Like it all made sense. It just made sense. He walked us out of the bathroom and onto the motel bed, and he kissed me everywhere, and I learned I should be thankful for this thing between us that was easier to understand than most everything

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