chapter 14: reluctance

The sound of the girl softly speaking her name made her task even harder.

Her gun was aimed right at the back of the girl's head. If fired, the bullet would tear through her light brown hair and into her skull, forever depleting her brain that seemed to be a machine, always thinking up smart responses and insults that the woman had grown to be amused by.

Maybe that's all it was—amusement. Maybe Willow found some sort of companionship in her usually lonely life, apart from the people in her gang that were only nice to her because she could and would kill them. The girl crouching down in front of her and waving her hand through the water also knew Willow could kill her, but she still retorted at every comment. This was maybe the incentive for the somewhat infatuation that Willow felt growing inside her for August. She pushed the boundaries and relentlessly angered the woman, regardless of the fact that her life was in her hands, to be decided as over at any given moment.

Willow's reluctance burgeoned when that dainty voice sounded out, "Why did you take me here? To Utah?"

She couldn't do it. She visibly winced at the delicateness of the girl's voice, lowering her gun and quietly putting it back into her belt. She didn't know when she would do it, or if she even would, but she couldn't in that very moment; and it angered her as to why she couldn't complete the task she had completed so many times before. What was it that was shielding this girl from feeling her wrath? What was so important about this particular life that prevented Willow from taking it away?

She took a few steps forward, swallowing all the feelings inside of her to regain her aplomb composure. Crouching down beside August and gazing at the ripples of water and the pale hand that disrupted its flow, Willow gave her an answer. "To protect you."

It was as if her words had preceded her own realization of the fact. She had plucked August from her own little life and brought her into her world for a reason that was completely unknown. She had to either kill the girl or just keep her away from the strife that was slowly boiling to fruition in New York. Her motives at first were ones that were for the protection of herself and her gang, because that was the job of a gang leader—to do all things necessary to keep your people safe. But now her motives were unclear.

Willow was terrified, petrified at the idea of any sort of unclarity in her life, but smoke filled her mirrors when it came to August. She felt a need to protect the girl's innocence and to even protect her life. She knew this from the anger that shook her when one of her men laid his finger amongst August's brown curls in the elevator last night. When she had watched from the corner of her eyes as the man had leaned closer, it was like a million alarms went off in her mind. She didn't know why, but she just knew that she had to protect the girl.

"Protect me?" August's eyes startled Willow. They were such a deep, cobalt blue that felt icier than the winter air surrounding them.

Willow simply nodded, looking back down at the water to avoid the girl's stare that penetrated any sense of togetherness she felt. She ran a hand through her black hair as if that would run away the chaos erupting inside her.

August didn't know what to think of the woman. She had kidnapped her, taken her across the country, threw her to the floor in anger the previous night, and now here she was, her eyes softer than she had ever seen them, fiddling with her hair as if she was nervous, telling her that she was protecting her.

Her point of view of the whole situation shifted as she saw the woman in a new light. Sure, the woman had gone about it a bit wrong, but maybe she could form some sense of the fact that she was, indeed, protecting her. If August had still been in Ithaca, whatever rival gang the woman had mentioned would have probably been the ones in her dorm, except they wouldn't have given her the mercy that Willow had given her. She probably wouldn't have even been alive.

They both sat in silence, just staring into the water as if it were telling them a story. Lord knows, Willow thought, that the water was much clearer than any part of her mind was.

♠

It was late in the afternoon by the time they decided to head back to the hotel—well, Willow was the one doing the deciding. She had spent all day just watching August as she walked along the spring, picking up rocks and looking at them, picking a leaf from a half-dead shrub every now and then and twiddling it between her fingers. They didn't really talk. The older woman simply stayed a few feet behind her and watched her enjoy herself in the outdoors. But as 5 o'clock rolled around, she figured it was time to head back to the hotel for dinner since they had skipped lunch.

The short drive back to the hotel consisted of Willow sipping on a cherry Coke and listening to Wild Thing, much to August's audible dismay. She didn't mind that every time the song would restart the girl would let out a long, "Strike me dead right now, God." It just made her chuckle and turn her favorite song up even louder.

Back in the hotel room after they got through the sea of men and women who each greeted Willow and leered at August, the hotel much more lively during that time of day, Willow locked the six locks as August plopped down on the couch.

"We will be going to dinner shortly," Willow spoke, letting her leather jacket slide off her shoulders and placing it on the table.

August, exhausted from just having to dodge all the people who made jokes about her looking so young and so innocent compared to all the rather rough people, sighed heavily. "Can I stay here?"

"No, unless you want to be handcuffed again," the woman's voice tilted as she sat down in a chair at the table, texting somebody on her phone.

August looked down at her right wrist that was still red from the night before. She didn't want her skin to eventually just burn off from having to rub against metal so much, so she just shook her head and began fiddling with a string coming from the trim of the couch cushion.

After an hour of August dozing on the couch and Willow taking care of business on her phone, the older woman notified the girl that it was dinner time. They headed out, Willow taking a deep breath as she would have to face all the people in the dining room who would probably try to get at the girl who walked close behind her, as if the woman was her shield.

"Roasted Cornish game hens with green beans and mashed potatoes," Cornelia spoke as Patrick asked her what was on the menu for the night, right as Willow and August sat down side-by-side at the same table they sat at for breakfast.

"Look who survived the Miss's little adventure," Ronnie joked, smacking on his gum as he stared at the girl in front of him.

Cornelia, who sat on the other side of Willow, leaned forward to look at the girl. "Sure did," she added.

"Not many survive Willow's adventures," Patrick spoke, taking a drink of his mug of beer that left white foam around his lips as he gulped it down. "Consider yourself lucky." August could smell the beer from where she sat.

"Enough with that shit," Willow spoke, scooting her chair closer to the table. "You guys make me look like a murderer or something."

The whole table chuckled, all except August. She only looked to her left and up at Willow, who looked back down at her. Through the woman's vivacious smile, she could see something in her eyes that seemed to tell her that it was okay, that she was safe and they were only joking. She held onto that fleeting look as the woman's head again turned away from her.

The screeching of a chair being pulled out beside her made August jump. It was the Irish man from earlier that morning; she remembered his green bandana.

"Well, hello, little girl," he spoke with a cigar between his lips as he sat down in the chair, a few other men coming around and filling up the rest of the empty seats at the table. Taking the cigar out of his mouth, his gruff voice cheerily spoke, "I believe we didn't properly meet, August. Name's Darragh." He held out his large hand which August shook, remembering the coarse feeling of his skin from when he shook her hand earlier. His blue eyes glinted at the woman who keenly watched every movement of his. "Miss scurried you away this mornin' before I could tell yee me name."

"If you hadn't eaten almost every last egg in the damn kitchen this morning, we wouldn't have been in such a rush to scrape some breakfast, you cheeky bastard," Willow joked across August, the two laughing heartily as the sweet odor of the man's cigar drifted into August's nostrils.

"More like fat bastard," Patrick chimed in. "Look like you've gained fifty pounds since yesterday!" The whole table laughed at his comment. August had been nervous it would anger the large man sitting next to her, but the two men clinked their beer mugs together, beer spilling over the table as Darragh spoke through his cigar, "Oy, good eatin' makes for a good man."

"Oy, wouldn't be a-hangin' onto that sentiment, lad," Ronnie mocked his Irish accent.

August couldn't help but chuckle a little bit. Usually shying away from social groups, she somewhat enjoyed the good spirits in the air. Everyone harshly poked at each other but laughed afterwards every time. The thing she enjoyed most, though, was watching Willow genuinely laugh. It wasn't a fake laugh or a sarcastic one; it was one brought out when one is surrounded by their buds, drinking and laughing like there's no tomorrow.

♠

Her belly was full of the delicious food they were served for dinner. She had to admit that Willow did have it fairly good around there, being served gourmet food three meals a day by a world-renowned chef. She felt bad for the chef, though, with his little chef's hat and his orange mustache curled upwards at the end, for at the end of the night, the bigger men of the party had him lifted up in the air on their shoulders, singing about how he's a "jolly good fellow," clinking their beers and spilling it all over the frightened chef who had lost his hat in the crowd of drunks. Willow had stayed sat at the table right beside August, simply watching with a wide smile and clapping along to the song that the men loudly sang.

Now they were walking together through the lobby as people left the dining room and went to their rooms or wherever else they were going. It was loud, everyone talking with one another and laughs echoing throughout the space.

"See you tomorrow, boss," Ronnie said to Willow as he got out of the elevator and onto the 3rd floor, giving the woman a nod which was returned and walking away down the hall. The elevator door closed, leaving August and Willow alone in the elevator.

The girl had finally felt somewhat comfortable in Willow's presence, especially after the events at the spring. Knowing Willow's intentions, she felt safer and as if the woman was her protector or bodyguard of some sort. But she still had caution; she didn't want to get too comfortable and then something go fatefully awry.

She entered the hotel room that had started to feel somewhat like home. Not home, she corrected herself, but more like a base. It was where her one suitcase of her belongings was and the bed she slept on. It was the only sense of home she could make in her world that had been turned upside down.

"I'm gonna take a shower," August spoke, walking into the bedroom as Willow set her gun down on the table, feeling a freedom by parting from the object that caused her so much distress earlier that day. "Is that okay or do you have to stand outside the door like a creep?" she smirked, staring at the woman with her eyes that sparkled with the reflection of the lamplight.

Willow breathily chuckled, setting her phone down on the table. "No, I'll give you ten minutes of peace, I suppose."

"Gee, thanks," August giggled, walking over to her suitcase to get her soap and some pajamas.

Willow had caught sight of the way the lamplight sparkled in the girl's deep blue orbs. She caught herself standing frozen still, watching the girl rummaging through her suitcase that sat on top of the bed as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. She tore her eyes away, sighing deeply as she sat on the couch and turned on the flatscreen TV, listening to the shower be turned on.

When August stepped out of the bathroom, feeling refreshed and comfortable in her pajamas, she noticed that all the lights in the hotel had been turned off except for the lamp on Willow's side of the bed. The woman was sitting on the side of the bed, her back facing her, flipping through some book.

August noticed that her suitcase had been taken off the bed and was sitting against the foot of the bed. She placed her old clothes back into the suitcase and walked over to the bed, about to get in but stopping, her eyes meeting the back of the woman's black hair.

"I-I'm going to sleep now..." she stuttered, unsure if the woman was planning on handcuffing her to the bed again.

Willow turned her head over her shoulder to look at her with a raised brow. "Okay..."

August held her wrists up and raised her eyebrows questioningly.

Chuckling, the woman closed her book and stood up, August eyes scanning up the tall woman's grey pajama bottoms and black, silky tank top. "I've decided I won't cuff you tonight. As long as you promise to keep your hands to yourself in your sleep." Her eyes impishly looked up to August's as she set the book down on the nightstand.

Blushing lightly, August nodded. "Promise." She was happy that she could sleep without being constrained.

Climbing onto the tall bed, August dipped her legs under the silky blankets and turned onto her right side away from Willow, not wanting to awkwardly face the woman all night. She patted the pillow a few times before laying her head down on it.

The lamp clicked as Willow turned it off, the room now completely dark. She laid down on the bed, slipping under the covers and shifting around until she was comfortable.

"Please don't shift around like you did last night. It was very frustrating," August spoke without turning around.

The woman turned to look at the girl's brown curls that laid across her pillow. "Now that you said that I will probably subconsciously do it in my sleep just to annoy you."

She heard the girl scoff. "Whatever. Goodnight."

She paused, feeling a warmth in her chest. Was her shirt too thick? No, she was wearing a tank top so there's no way she could've been overheating. She knew, without admitting it to herself, that the sound of the girl telling her goodnight was what brought about that warmth inside of her. August's soft voice, along with her small body laying snuggled up against the covers of Willow's bed, her body's outline visible above the sheets, was what caused that comfortable feeling in Willow. The woman thought to herself that maybe it was just the feeling of not sleeping alone.

"Goodnight," she returned, turning her head to stare up at the wall as she laid flat on her back. As she closed her eyes, her nose caught the French vanilla scent of the girl's soap.

The feeling inside of herwas no longer simply comfort. No, it was something much stronger, somethingthat would trouble her for the entirety of the night and prevent her fromgetting any sleep.