I let Tia have a few days, and in fairness, I needed the time to get over my jet lag, but a whole week was crazy. I should’ve broken down the damn door on the third day and dragged her up to the Hall. I didn’t believe for a second she was sick, but there’s something going on, and I didn’t give up summer camp and come all the way home to be shut out.
She looked so pretty when she finally opened the door, and if her eyes hadn’t been so red and a little too swollen from recent tears, I would say she looked damn near perfect. Actually, she does look perfect; the sadness ghosting her complexion makes her all the more beautiful. Her hair has streaks lightened by the sunlight, and the deep chestnut colour is redder than the dark brown I remember. She has a few pimples, but somehow that just makes her look more perfect, her imperfections make her more. However, her deep emerald green eyes are going to be my downfall. The way she looks into my eyes, unwavering, soul-searching, as if reading my every thought and my darkest secrets, and I really can’t have that. I don’t want to scare her away.
She’s mine, always has been, always will be.
Still, refusing to see me for seven days is a new tactic I wasn’t anticipating, not from the weekly letters she wrote or the infrequent phone calls. Nevertheless, it seems that my most recent absence has let her forget us, and I need to remind her.
I pick up my rucksack with the day’s supplies, and we head down to the boathouse. The sun is reaching its highest point, but I know we have all day and into the evening to cross the lake and chill. It is one of the perks of living on such a vast estate: there’s always somewhere to go and get lost, and no one is going to worry, as apart from the odd insect bite, nothing bad happens here. We cut across the lawns at the back of the Hall, and I sprint off to get changed into some shorts and a t-shirt. It’s too hot already, and I know I will be doing the lion’s share of rowing. Tia has absolutely no co-ordination and as funny as it is spinning in circles and confusing the fish, I do actually have to check the island’s wildfowl shelter. The river runs for about a mile before it widens into the lake, and it’s a farther half-mile until you reach the island. It’s part nature reserve, and I offered to check for any repair work that might be due. Colin, our old gamekeeper, is never one to turn down an extra pair of hands, and it makes a change from schoolwork or TV.
I run back to Tia and notice she’s shed one more layer too. Her loose scoop-neck blouse is hanging off her shoulder, and her jeans shorts couldn’t be any shorter. Damn. I guess we’ve both grown a little since Christmas. I take her bag, too, and slip my hand into hers. It’s not the first time I’ve held her hand, yet it feels odd, natural and good, but strange at the same time. She seems happy enough, and even if she did try and tug it away, I have a pretty good grip. We fall into an easy silence, shoulders touching and perfectly in step, striding down the unmade part of the gravel drive that leads to the timber boarded boathouse.
We have a speed boat and some canoes, but I want to take my time, so I untie the two-man rowing boat, and Tia hands me our supplies before stepping on board and taking the seat nowhere near the oars. I cast off and start to row us up-steam, setting a good pace and quickly working up a sweat in the midday summer heat. We are nearing the mouth of the river when I pull the oars off the water a little and catch my breath. Tia hands me a bottle of water, and after downing half, I pour some over my face to try and cool down. Her pink cheeks darken, and she averts her eyes when I catch her starring.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s hot. I think I’m catching too much sun.” She rummages in her bag and pulls the sun block free. Smearing her face and any bare skin she can reach, she hands the tube of cream to me, but I shake my head.
“You wanna tell me what’s really up?” I rest my elbows on the oars, keeping the tip just dipping in the water, but I’m able to link my fingers into a bridge I can rest my head on and hold her gaze.
“Where do you want me to start?” She sighs heavily, quirking her lips with a sad resignation that I don’t quite understand.
“I want you to start with school, and then we can work our way to why this is all kinds of awkward between us now.” I address at least one issue I am certain is causing her concern. The other, I am just taking a wild guess at.
“Oh my god! Cass!” She buries her head in her hands. Yes! Nail on the head. I decide to take pity on her, chuckling lightly, and probe the easier of the two topics.
“So what’s so bad about school?”
“School’s just school. It’s fine.” She always avoids eye contact when she’s lying, that and she tucks her hands away, usually under her arm pits but this time under her bottom.
“Sure it is. Tell me another lie, Tia, and I’ll capsize us,” I state calmly, and her eyes widen with worry. Her hands quickly shift to grip the edge of the boat on both sides.
“You’d lose all the food.” She’s quick to argue, her eyes darting from the boat, over the distance to the riverbank, and back to me. My face is impassive, but she should know by now I don’t make idle threats. “Cass, we’d have to go all the way back and get changed. You’ve rowed for ages upstream… you’re not gonna capsize us. Stop being an arse.” She rushes her justifications and lets out a nervous laugh, her bravado wavering when she see my smile. I drop the oars and pitch all my weight heavily to one side and then the other, flipping me, the boat, and her into the river.
“Oh, my God, Cass!” She screams in a gasp of horror, her arms flailing as she surfaces in a spectacular splash of water. She reaches for the overturned boat with one hand while slicking back her river-matted hair out of her face. The water is crystal clear and icy cold. The gentle current has the two of us, the boat, and all its contents drifting back the way we came. I swim to each side of the riverbank, grabbing any debris from our ruined picnic, trying to contain the flotsam as we glide back to the boathouse. My hair is much longer than normal and is heavy with water, I flick it clear of my face with a swift jerk of my head and flash my widest smile at Tia, who is still spluttering, gasping, and looking very much like a drowned rat.
“When are you going to learn, Tia, I don’t take kindly to being told what I can and can’t do?” I pull through the water to get closer. There is a flash of fear in her eyes, and her voice is pitched with panic.
“I can’t touch the bottom, Cass!” she yells. Her arm is half on the belly of the boat but it’s too slimy for her to grip onto the wood. She loses what hold she has and slips right underneath the surface. The boat drifts off, but Tia is still struggling to keep her head above the water. I can’t see what the problem is, but from her impossibly wide eyes, I know there is a serious problem. The reeds must be wrapping around her legs. She hasn’t moved an inch since she let go of the boat, and I’m still not close enough to help.
“Swim, Tia, you do know how to swim, or have you forgotten that too?” I shout out, my attempt at humour sounds more angry than I hoped but at least it masks what I’m really feeling, fear.
“Fuck, I can’t… I can’t move my legs…my foot’s stuck, Cass!” she cries out, and then she’s gone.
I don’t know how we drifted so far apart, but with two long strokes through the water I am right where she is…was. All I can see is darkness below me. Sunlight bounces off the ripples as the surface settles where there’s no more splashing. I dive under. The river’s deep, thirty feet, maybe more, and swimming into the icy darkness, it feels much deeper, but it’s clear, and I can see her. Her hair fans out with the swirling water, her skin has an ethereal pallor; her eyes are pitch black and wide with terror. The moment feels surreal, almost magical, the way the particles of light dance in slow motion and at the same time cloaked in darkness, calm and silent; so close to death I can feel it at my fingertips.
I grab her hand and use it to pull myself down her body. My hands feel their way down the leg that isn’t moving. The other is still fruitlessly kicking. Her leg has a mass of reeds wrapping around her ankle and her foot seems to be wedged under something metal. I quickly pull the reeds free but her shoe is stuck. My fingers pull and tear at the laces, which just tighten. I yank the back of the trainer off her ankle, and her knee jolts past my head as she fights to get to the surface. I’m right with her, pushing her arse with the palm of my hand. We reach the surface, and I drag her to the riverbank. There’s a part where it’s not so high, and the edge has eroded to a dip low enough I can push her to safety. She flops down, not making a sound, and I am instantly on my hands and knees beside her. My lungs are burning, but the pain in my chest is fucking killing me. No!
I flip her on her back, she has mud from the bank smeared all over her face, down her arms, and her clothes are caked. She’s not breathing; she’s still not breathing. I clear her airway, tilt her head, and listen for any sign of breath escaping her mouth, nothing. She looks so damn pale. My hands are shaking when I place them on her chest, one over the other and pump. I can’t remember what else I’m supposed to do. Do I breathe in her mouth or is that just something in the movies, fuck, why don’t I know this? I pinch her nose and place my mouth over hers, blowing oxygen in three times, and when I release, she coughs. My head is so close I get a face full of river water, but that gut-wrenching, throat-clearing noise she’s making is music to my ears. I pull her tight against my chest, and I have no intention of ever letting go.
“I’m okay, Cass. You can let go now.” She lifts her head up and clears her throat, her mouth settling on a soft smile.
“Not likely, you scared the crap out of me. You stopped fucking breathing, Tia.” My grip tightens around her. It’s involuntary and entirely due to the fear still coursing through my bloodstream. I can feel her bones creak with the force of my hold.
“And I kinda can’t breathe now.” She groans and lets out a light mocking laugh.
“Oh, sorry.” I jerk my arms to momentarily snap away at the notion I might be hurting her, but I can see that’s not the case, so I quickly resume my position. Lifting my hand to lightly stroke her face, I close my eyes and relish the weight of her head when she leans into my touch, no longer a dead weight.
“So I really stopped breathing, hmm?” she whispers with a tremor in her voice.
“Yeah. I think your heart stopped for a moment too.”
“My throat feels like I’ve swallowed the riverbed.” She tries again to clear her throat, coughing from the bottom of her belly, purging whatever is left in her lungs. I gently rub her back until she finally draws in some clean, full breaths.
“You did,” I quip, scooping a handful of mud from her neck and slopping it to the ground to highlight her observation.
“And my chest, it feels like I’ve been hit with an anvil.” Her tiny fist clutches at her t-shirt, and she pulls at the material that’s now see-through and slick that is stuck to her body.
“Or my fists trying to get your heart to beat.” My jaw clenches, forcing the painful words through my teeth. It wasn’t just her heart that stopped beating.
“Shit!”
“Yeah.” I keep stroking her face, smoothing her soaked, matted hair out of the way. She’s covered in mud and couldn’t look more beautiful. “I’m so sorry, Tia.”
“Yeah, all that food.” She tries to joke, but I just can’t.
“Not what I meant Tia. Fuck the food, you…you—” I suck in a deep slow breath, trying to fight off the rising anger, fear, and unbearable sense of being so close to the end. I physically shake myself and swallow the bile in my mouth. “I couldn’t get your foot free.”
“But you did, and you saved me.” Her eyes bore into mine. They spring wet with tears, and she offers me the sweetest smile. She’s so grateful, and I can’t even look at her.
This is all my fault.
I close my eyes and drop my head. Her fingertips touch my cheek, and I squeeze my lids tighter. I can’t get the thought of what might’ve happened out of my head. What I was so close to losing: this right here, this touch, her light, Tia, my soulmate, gone, and the pain is ripping me apart.
“Don’t, Cass, I’m fine. You saved me.” She has both her hands on my face, holding me until I meet her perfect emerald green eyes.
“I nearly—” I choke on my words, but she shakes her head and interrupts before I break.
“You saved me, Cass. I think that means I owe you.” She tilts her head and quirks her lips into a teasing smile. I sniff and drop my head back, letting out a laugh filled with relief and more.
“What do you think you could possibly owe me?” I ask.
“My soul.” Her fingers entwine with mine, and she pulls both our hands to her chest. “You have my heart, Cass. You saved my life. It seems only right I give you my soul, too.” Her chest rises when she holds her breath, having laid herself bare before me. It’s a staggeringly beautiful gesture that brings a sad smile to my lips.
“Not sure you should offer me that, Tia.”
“Why not?” She exhales, her breath escaping in a sorrow-filled sound, her expression on the edge of breaking.
“Because I’m not the type of guy to decline such a gift.”
“I don’t want you to decline. I love you, Cass. Why would—” Her voice catches, high pitched and broken, but I stop her before she falls. I might be the devil my mother believes me to be, but I’m not a complete monster.
“Hey, hey, it’s all right, princess. I love you, too.” My words are an instant balm, and she physically softens against me, drawing into my lap and wrapping herself as tightly as she can around my body. Her little heart is hammering like caught prey.
Perfect, perhaps I am a monster after all.
We sit huddled together for endless minutes, but when she starts to shiver, I make to break the hold. Standing, I pull her to her feet. She rubs her arms, and her whole body is shaking.
“Come on, we better get home.”
“Before I freeze to death, you mean?” Her teeth are chattering, but I’m not sure if it’s residual adrenaline or the light breeze hitting her still-wet body.
“Don’t even joke about that, Tia, it’s too soon. That was fucking scary.”
“I’m not joking, I can’t stop shivering, and look, my t-shirt’s still completely soaked through.” She lifts the transparent material from her body, but she really didn’t need to point it out. It’s not like I hadn’t noticed.
“Yeah, I did get that.” I suppress my shit-eating grin and opt to look away from her cute bra. Tiny cartoon unicorns dance over the soft swell of her breasts and fail to hide her very perfect pointed nipples. Shit, when did that happen?
“Oh, my God, kill me now.” She quickly crosses her arms. The chill she was feeling is replaced by obvious burning embarrassment that creeps across her skin like an adorable crimson shadow. I take pity and swiftly change the conversation.
“Can you stop with the death references? I think I’ve aged ten years.” I nudge her but pull her back to my side, my arms hanging over her shoulders, as we start to walk back toward the house along the riverbank.
“That would make you like seventy then.” She grins impishly, either pleased with the change of topic or her cute attempt to sass me. I frown and wait for her to elaborate.
“You’re an old soul, Atticus Kruse. Some people have something about them that makes you think they’ve maybe been here before, you know, or at least their soul has, and I think you have an old soul. There’s no way you could know what you know in your fifteen years, not even with the amount of studying you do at that fancy American school. It’s not normal. So, yeah, I think you have an old soul, and if you’ve aged ten years today that would make you ancient.” She sniffs and shrugs off her explanation.
“An old soul, I like that, old and wicked,” I mutter.
“Hmm?”
“Nothing. Come on, let’s get you home.” I slip my hand into hers and pull her to keep up, but she stumbles. Her face loses all its colour, and a sheen of sweat covers her skin. I grab her arms to stop her from falling.
“Are you okay?”
“Just a little dizzy.”
“Maybe you stay here, and I’ll go and get the quad bike.”
“No, don’t leave me. I’ll be fine. Let’s walk slowly and maybe give me an arm to cling to?” She smiles shyly.
“I’ll do better than that.” I bend and lift her in my arms. Her legs dangle, and she rests her head against my chest. After a little way, I have to switch positions and carry her the rest of the way on my back. I’m uncharacteristically quiet, and after a little time, Tia decides to answer the question that nearly cost her life.
“I don’t fit in at school. I don’t have any friends. I thought secondary school would be more fun, but I’m not allowed anyone back here, and hanging out is kind of a reciprocal thing, and besides, I’m a bit odd.” She rushes her words, but much of what she says, I already knew. It’s very much a repeat of her primary school experience, just on a larger scale. I hate that that’s her life, but there’s nothing I can do and wound-licking isn’t my style.
“You’re very odd,” I retort, and she snorts out a throaty laugh.
“Cheers, asshat. If this is you making me smile, please don’t try and make me cry,” she quips, flicking my earlobe with her fingertip.
“Ow, I’ll never make you cry.” I flinch away in case she tries to do the same with the other ear.
“You make me cry all the time.” She says this softly and so quietly I know I wouldn’t have heard it if her mouth wasn’t so close to my ear. I shift her around to my front, and she slides down my body. The feel of her makes me forget what the hell she just said. However, the sadness in her eyes brings me back from my much more wayward thoughts.
“What? Tia, what are you talking about?”
“I’m sorry.” She drops her head to her chest and lets out a heavy sigh. I tip her chin and wait for her to speak. She holds my gaze and starts to shift from one foot to the next under the intensity of my stare. I haven’t said another word, and I won’t until she speaks. She sighs, and her shoulders drop in defeat. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I just miss you, and when you leave, I cry. I can’t help it, but be under no illusion, you do make me cry.” Her back straightens, and I can see she is trying to hold herself together. She’s exposed so much today, I can only imagine how raw she must be feeling. I need to ease her pain and not just because she eases mine, but because I know I can.
“I can’t help leaving, Tia. I have family obligations, but I promise I will never make you cry by my own hand.” My thumb brushes her bottom lip, and her tongue darts out in its wake. “I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.”
I don’t know when this thing between us changed exactly, but it has, and I have no intention of letting it change back. I dip enough so my mouth is a whisper from hers. Her body is trembling, and I hold my position to savour this moment. Her green eyes swirl with light and depths I can’t wait to explore. Her hands rest on my hips, her fingers pressing and kneading my flesh, pulling my body to hers. She closes her eyes, and my lips press to hers, sweet softness and so much more, I feel it in every nerve. My hand lies against her neck, my fingertips holding her jaw lightly at an angle, the other hand holding her waist. She opens her mouth, tentative and welcoming. I know she hasn’t done this before, and I wish I hadn’t, because this is so fucking perfect. I know now with single-minded clarity that I want her. I want all my firsts to be with her. If they feel a fraction of how this feels, I know in my soul this is my own personal heaven, and I’m never letting her go.
My tongue traces the seam of her lips. She tastes of strawberry, and inside she’s even sweeter. The way her tongue dances with mine, it’s like we are the counterparts of a perfect puzzle piece; we just fit together. I am rock-hard in my shorts, and given that I’m three years older and we’re both legally still too young for anything more, I break the kiss. I’m the old soul apparently, so I should at least act the part, even though it kills me. The smile on her face somewhat lessens the ache in my pants. She blows out a slow breath, her face on fire with heat and a lust, like me, she’s failing to hide.
“Wow,” she gasps.
“Told you I’d make you smile.”