Jo
IF FLYNN IS surprised, he doesn't let it show but his eyes become a little bright. "Why?" He asks suspiciously.
I shrug and fold my arms. "I thought you wanted me to invite you to my room once. Now, it looks like you're fidgeting."
"I'm notâ" he pauses, like he can't find the right words to use and then he says, "I'm just curious. Anyone would be."
"You don't want to go to the hospital and it'd be difficult, not to talk of slightly reckless to drive with an arm you're not used to. I have a first aid box in my room," I shrug again. "I could take a look at it and then, you can sleep over and leave in the morning before my mum wakes up."
He stares as me as I speak and once I'm done, he says, "How do I know you won't try to break my entire arm in the process?"
I roll my eyes and poke his chest with every word. "I was in the junior Red Cross society for four years. Don't insult my intelligence. Now, are you going to come in or not? I don't usually invite boys to my room. Consider yourself lucky."
He opens the backseat door and grabs a sling and when he closes it, his lips curl at the corners. "Lead the way."
I turn around and head towards our porch, aware of his every step behind me. This is something I would never even dream of doing but ever since I've been hanging out with Flynn, I've been doing things I normally wouldn't do. Sneaking a boy to my room in the middle of the night sounds rebellious but I wouldn't deny the fact that it also sounds thrilling.
I get to the door and pull the net door silently before turning around to meet him. He's really close to me now and even though it's night, I can see his face and his silhouette from the light reflecting from the moon. It almost makes me wonder if Woody is seeing all of this from his house but his lights are also off. Like most of the houses in this neighborhood.
"Remember what I told you," I whisper. "Skip the fifth and the sixth steps. If my mum wakes up, we're both dead. Got it?"
"Sure," he says. "I'm way too young to die."
I turn around and breathe before gently pulling the door open. It's dark, as I expected it to be. The only source of light is the ray of moonlight pouring in from the kitchen window.
I shuffle into the living room and he follows right behind. When I lock the door behind him and discreetly look round, I find him staring at me with a small smirk at the corner of his mouth.
"What?" I whisper.
"You look like we're about to rob a bank."
I tuck my lips together and feign a glare. "Just shut up and follow me."
I move towards the stairs and find King sleeping peacefully next to the sofa with those ears of his twitching lightly as if he's trying to detect the smallest noise. Flynn gently follows me up the stairs and he's only a step behind so I can feel him looming behind me. I get distracted as we climb and then I hesitate and swiftly turn around.
He raises his brows and stops too, seconds away from colliding with me. He's too close so I blink when he mutters 'what'.
"Um," I clear my throat and look down at the number of steps behind him. "I wasn't counting."
His brows lift in amusement. "Oh? I thought you were used to this."
"Well, first of all, I live here so I don't bother counting when I'm going up. Plus, it's not everyday I sneak a boy into my room so excuse me for trying to be careful."
We're both whispering into each other's faces and he looks like he'll laugh any minute from now.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing."
"Don't you dare."
He opens his mouth and I quickly slap a hand over it. "Shut up."
He attempts to raise his hands in mock-surrender but pain spreads through his left arm and he groans low and deep and I feel the vibrations from his mouth in my palm and it travels all the way down to my toes.
My face is hot but luckily it's too dark for him to see that. So I say, "See? The next is the fifth. We could have been busted."
I take my hand away from his mouth and he sighs. I turn back around and skip two steps at a time before gently getting to the top floor. Flynn follows suit behind, much more confidently than me and he meets me at the door to my room. When I look down, King is still fast asleep so I breathe out a sigh of relief and open my door for Flynn to go in.
I go in after him and shut the door behind us. Mission accomplished. Now it's just me, Flynn and my racing heart in a small, dark room. Well, not so dark because the dull glow-in-the-dark stars on the popcorn ceiling are trying their best to illuminate the area. I turn on the table lamp and the dim glow spreads around the room. It's too late to turn on all the lights so I head towards the wall and turn on the fairy lights as well.
I turn around and see Flynn leaning on my reading table and holding a picture frame in his hands. He looks up and meets my gaze.
"I'm assuming this is your dad?" He asks, pointing at the man who has an arm around my six-year old figure while our pearly whites are on display.
"Yeah," I say, my voice strangely quiet. I walk towards him and take the picture from his hand. "He was teaching Drew and I how to ride a bike. I caught on faster than Drew did. This was our celebratory picture."
"Cute," he smiles but I don't know if he's talking about me or everything I just narrated. He confirms it when he takes it back from my hands and drops it back on the table. "You have the same smile."
"So do you." I say without thinking and he turns his head to me.
He regards me slowly like he's thinking and then he says, "Did you snoop around in my phone?"
I scoff but it comes out like I'm gasping for air. "No."
"You look like you're lying."
"Just take your shirt off and get your ass on the bed."
His smile broadens. "We're doing it now? Geez, you could have given me a heads up or something."
I roll my eyes and head towards the bathroom. "Sit and wait."
"Yes ma'am."
I shut the door and glance at myself in the mirror. My face looks flushed and my makeup is messed up from all the crying I did earlier. Mascara smeared across my cheeks and cheeks coated in caked foundation.
God. I grab a wipe from the cabinet and begin to wipe off every ounce of makeup from my face. Is this how I've been looking since we left the beach? I can't believe I've been imitating a clown ever since we left the beach and I can't believe Flynn has witnessed this atrocity. By the time I'm done cleaning, my face is makeup free and all the acne and freckles I usually try to hide are all on display.
I grab a bottle of moisturizer and swipe some across my face before patting my cheeks repeatedly and lifting my hair into a bun. He already saw me with that first look. Might as well see me in this too. I grab the small first aid box from the top of the cabinet and walk out of the bathroom to see him sitting on the side of the bed. He's unbuttoning his shirt with his good arm and looks up when he hears the bathroom door.
"Little help?"
I move closer to him and he spreads his legs so that I'm standing between them. I ignore the spark that ignites in my body when his bare thigh grazes mine and I drag the shirt away from his shoulder and gently take it off of him. The only thing present on his skin apart from his tattoos is his necklace and when I touch the sailor's pendant, his breath hitches.
"Nice necklace," I say, turning to the table to open the first aid box.
"Thanks." He responds and maybe I'm just imagining it or maybe my room is too quiet but his voice considerably drops an octave lower.
I dip the cotton-wool in a small amount of methylated spirit and lift it to his bruised nose. "You're welcome," I say and then I gently rub it around the injury. He winces a little but that's it. He doesn't make any reactions when I clean what's left of the blood, apply some ointment on his nose and the corner of his lip and place a band-aid across the bridge of his nose.
I place my hands on his shoulder and gently feel his skin until I feel a small portion slightly out of place. I run my thumb over it and step back.
"Be right back. I need to get an ice pack." I tell him and he nods before I turn around and quietly exit the room. Once I get downstairs, I grab two bottles of water and an ice pack from the freezer before heading back up. When I get back inside, he's looking through one of the textbooks on my bedside table.
"You have so many medical textbooks," he says, dropping the Clinically Oriented Anatomy textbook back in its place. "That's cool. When do you read them?"
"Whenever I'm free," I respond, walking closer to him and dropping the ice pack and bottles of water on the table. "Besides I didn't have to buy them. They're all my dad's. He wanted to be a doctor so he had a lot of textbooks like these. Saves me a lot compared to buying new ones."
"This is going to hurt," I tell him once I'm close enough while placing a hand on his shoulder. "And you can't scream cos you'll wake my mum. So you can just scream into your fist or something."
"I'm not going to scream," he smirks. "I've been through worse before."
I clear my throat and make a show of cracking my fingers. "Well, don't say I didn't warn you."
I gently take a hold of him and carefully pop it back in place, so I won't tear any tendons and make it worse. True to his words, he doesn't scream. But he grimaces and breathes heavily and by the time I'm done, he slowly relaxes and looks up at me.
"See?" He smiles. It's an adorable boyish smile and I don't like how my heart reacts to it. So I grab the ice pack and place it on his aching shoulder.
I click my tongue when he proceeds to hold it there himself. "You're just lucky."
"And you're just mean."
"I'm a witch. We aren't nice." I take out the bottle of ibuprofen from the box and hand him some pills alongside the bottle of water. "Take these. It should help with the pain."
"Thanks." He says and I nod before closing the box.
His hands grab my hips and hold me in place. "I mean it," he says very seriously. "Thank you."
I roll my lips together and swallow. "You're welcome. Just don't be an idiot next time."
"Eh," he grins. "It did feel good though. He was begging for it."
I grab the box and give him a smile of my own. I'm not going to lie and say, watching Craig getting punched didn't feel good. I just wished I had done it myself. "I guess he was."
His hands drop from my hips and I turn around and make a beeline for the bathroom. I release the breath I've been holding and splash some water on my face before checking my blood sugar. I slip out of my dress and toss it into the laundry basket. Fortunately and Unfortunately, a very familiar black Tee is sitting in a pristine fold on top of the basket and without overthinking it, I put it on and stare at the mirror. It's baggy and falls just some meters above my mid-thighs, so I exchange my underwear with a pair of thin short shortsâI'm going to bed after all, doesn't matter if there's a hot guy on my bedâ and since I'm feeling extremely bold for some reason, I exit the bathroom.
He's already wearing the shoulder sling he brought from his car so he's arranging some blankets on the floor and grabbing a pillow from my bed before turning around to look at me. Even though I feel him staring at me, I don't look back because my confidence just flew out the window so I walk towards him and grab the pillow from his hands before tossing it back on the bed.
"It's not advisable to sleep on hard surfaces while you're healing from a dislocation."
"I can manage."
I walk towards the bed and grab a stack of pillows beforeâvery maturelyâcreating a barricade in the middle with a line of pillows. I look up at him and see him doing that thing again where he pokes his cheek with his tongue as if he's trying not to smile.
I place my hands on my hips and stand at the other side. "Thou shall not cross to the other side of the bed."
He's standing at the other end and running a hand across his jaw while staring at the bed with amusement.
"Any questions?" I ask and he innocently lifts a hand. I nod.
"Sometimes, I'm a bit rough on the bed," he says. "What's going to happen if you wake up and see my foot in your mouth?"
I blush. "It's not going to get to that stage."
"How would you know?"
"I'm going to push you off the bed once I feel you break through this demarcation."
"Question 2."
"Yes?"
"What's going to happen when you do your thing?"
I raise a brow. "What thing?"
"Your thing. A work of art."
"Whatâ" Oh my god. I know what he's talking about. He's so lucky I don't have a spear or a gun since I'm dying of embarrassment here. "I don't fart in my sleep." I grit. "And even ifâ" My voice rises to a squeak and fold my arms and lower my voice. "And even if, that happens, it's completely natural. You know, metabolism and all of that. It's not like you don't do it too."
"I never said I don't," he chuckles. "You just kept denying it."
I walk around the bed and turn off my table lamp and then my fairy lights. It's dark now, except for the dull glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling.
"Goodnight," I say and then I climb into the bed and pull the covers up to my chest. Seconds later, I feel the bed dip beside me and suddenly I'm hyper aware of the fact that I'm not alone in my usually 'very-alone' room.
In the dark, Flynn shuffles slightly and I imagine him staring at the ceiling like I am, probably with his head resting over his arm on the pillow.
"Nice shirt," I hear him say beside me and I grin like a fool.
"Thanks."
"Where'd you get it?" He asks and I turn to my side and prop my elbow on the bed before leaning my head on it. I smile because I've had this conversation with him before but in that case, I was the one asking.
"I took it from a boy."
"Huh," He mutters. "Lucky champ."
"Why is he lucky?"
"Well," he explains. "Whoever he is, must be lucky because you're wearing his shirt. And you're beautiful. I'd want a pretty girl to wear my shirt. And I'm sure it looks better on you than it ever did on whoever this Mr is."
I lick my lips, happy that it's dark because he can't see that I look like a beetroot. "He's kind of weird though."
"How is that?"
"He talks about himself in the third person sometimes."
"Sounds like a smart guy," he clicks his tongue. "Einstein material."
My laughter is light and quiet but it spreads around the room because there's nothing smart about talking about yourself in third person. "I beg to differ." I say and then I realize he's laughing quietly too. The kind he did when I called him at one in the morning. The one that settles in my chest and repeats itself in my ears.
It gets quiets after that and I lay back properly and stare at the ceiling and the dark blue stars. Minutes later, he speaks again. "How long has Johnston bullied you?"
I chew on my lip and hug a pillow to my chest. "It started shortly after he dumped me. I stopped doing his homework for him because I was hurt and I think that's when it started. I didn't have any friends so most people had no idea about it," I mumble. It seems a lot easier to open up to him about Craig without looking him in the face. "He'd call me names. Sometimes it would be in public. He'd just shout 'slut' or 'stupid' or something whenever I was near. No one would know who he was talking about but I knew it was me anyway. Sometimes, it could be a note in my locker or a disgusting pair of socks or rotten food or anything really. For the first few months, he silently made my life a living hell and then it was summer and I didn't hear from him anymore. Until that day in the cafeteria."
"When I was still on the team, coach wouldn't let us do anything in the pool if we were slacking in school or if we had outstanding homework or anything that could lower our grades. He always threatened to kick us out but Johnston always had his done. Early and accurate. I thought he was really smart. All those times, you were the one doing all his homework?"
"Yes," I say, feeling stupid all over again. "When we were together, he made me do his homework. He said he was always busy at practice and didn't have time to choose between juggling school work and trying to be with me at the same time. He said it would make things easier if I just did it along with mine. It didn't matter to him that not all of our subjects were the same."
"That's why you were so pissed at the library when I asked if you could write both our essays," he says quietly but his voice is filled with regret.
"One of the reasons," I say. "I also thought you were trying to be a cocky asshole who couldn't resist flaunting his money in my face."
"I'm so sorry Jo," he apologizes and I feel a warmth growing in my chest at his voice.
"You didn't know. There's nothing to be sorry for," I say, hugging the pillow tighter to my chest.
"I shouldn't have spoken without thinking the other day. I should have, at the very least, broken Craig's arm tonight. There's a lot to be sorry for."
I smile a bit and then I frown when I remember what Craig did to me. "He wasn't an ass when I first met him. He was cool, shiny, confident, sweet talker, all of that athlete stuff. AP biology was becoming a bitch in junior year and he randomly offered to help me study for our exam. That's when I developed a crush on him. We started going out quietly because I didn't want to be in the spotlight. He was popular, I wasn't and I wanted to keep it that way. The secret make-outs under the bleachers, the ones in the gym room after everyone had gone, the visits to his house when no one was home was enough for me. It made me feel like I was in my own forbidden love story or something. It was thrilling and addictive.
"That was until he started to want sex. And I didn't want sex. I was scared because he'd get mad if I stopped him from going further. Sometimes he'd just ignore my existence. Other times, he'd say I was being unfair. I called Hana after that but I didn't tell her what was happening. Instead, I asked her what she felt about sex and she shrugged and told me it wasn't a big deal. She told me she'd lost her virginity to some jock shortly before she moved but didn't tell me cos she was shy about it. She told me it was cool and everyone was having it and then I started to feel like I was actually being unfair to Craig." I take a deep breath and close my eyes before reopening them.
"Jo, it's okay. You don't have to tell me everything at once," Flynn says firmly next to me and I grimace before smoothening my brows.
"No worries, I want to. I've kept it to myself for so long now that I feel like I'll explode if I don't tell anyone what happened between us." The star directly above me, twinkles and fades into nothing.
"Like I said, I saw myself as the person at fault and I accepted a lie that I was being unfair to him just because he wanted it and I didn't. So one day, we were at his house and we were making out and I just kind of told him that I was ready," I lick my lips and feel my breath puff out shakily, the memory as clear as day. "Deep inside of me, I knew I wasn't. But I wanted to make him happy and I wanted him to stay so I told him I was. Everyone was having sex anyway. Even my incredibly innocent friend had lost her virginity already. He didn't believe me at first so he accused me of lying. So I said 'Please. Believe me. I'm ready.' And then he smiled and that was it.
"I regret it every single day of my life because I didn't even enjoy it or anything. It was nothing like Hana described. It was painful, uncomfortable and I was bleeding and he didn't even give a shit." My voice breaks and my eyes glisten with tears and I start to feel pathetic all over again. "I ignored it anyway cos he was happy, even if I wasn't. That week, he stopped picking my calls. Stopped replying to my texts, stopped smiling at me in the hallway and stopped meeting up with me in the bleachers. I wasn't sure what was going on and why he was ignoring me so I went to one of these wild parties that I was sure he went to. I was led to a room upstairs and of course, I met him with another girl on the bed.
"He didn't feel sorry because he actually felt relieved when he saw that I'd caught him red-handed. Right there, he called me names, broke up with me and told me I was useless now since he'd already gotten what he wanted in the first place. And that was it."
I don't realize that I'm crying until I see Flynn sitting up and scattering the makeshift barricade between us. His good arm comes around my back and he drags me towards him.
"Forgive me," he says and gently runs his fingers down my scalp. "For I have crossed to the other side and there's no going back from whence I cometh."
I smile because I can't help it. "You're such a dork."
"You started speaking in King James first."
He doesn't stop running his fingers through my hair and I give up every second thought before closing my eyes and pressing my head to his chest.
"Craig Johnston is an asshole." He says, brushing whatever is left of my tears away from my cheeks. "And you didn't deserve any of those things he did to you. I should break his neck but he might die and I might land in jail and you won't be able to eat because you'll miss me too much."
I chuckle, every ounce of sadness gone as he strokes my arm and gently lulls me to sleep. "Yeah, right."
"You're beautiful, okay?" He whispers in my ear and presses his lips to my forehead. "Inside and out. And I'm sorry for what Craig did to you but we can't go back and change things. It happened and it's in the past and I know it's not easy to just move on from some certain things, but I'm not going to let anyone hurt you anymore and I'm going to be here with you if you need any help. Every step of the fucking way, okay?"
I don't open my eyes because if I do, I'll look at his mouth and I'll want to kiss him because it's the third time this night that he's called me beautiful and for the first time in a while, I feel it and I believe it. So I push this overwhelming urge to lean up and press my mouth to his away and mumble an 'Okay.'
"Good."
I wrap an arm around his waist and snuggle with him. The warning bells are ringing loudly in my head and telling me that I'm in deep shit if I keep this up and my heart is racing like a formula one race car, but I shut them out anyway and I allow his gentle fingers in my hair and his steady heartbeat in my ears lull me into a peaceful sleep.