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“Why was I looking for you, or why would I think you’re here?” He questions, his signature smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. I roll my eyes and shoot him a bored expression. Obviously, both.
“Jack told me about the day he found you here, and we had fun the other night so I thought we could get to know each other better. Afterall, it’s not like we’re not going to be around each other a lot, your friend is practically my family.”
I flinch at the word family and the recesses of my mind start to hurt as an image flashes so quickly across it. I try not to focus on the ache and prop myself up on my elbows, sighing. He has a point, and as much as I won’t admit it, I want to know more about him too, about all of them. I’m starting to think that I’m getting in too deep with these people. People I care about.
“Well, what do you want to know?”
“Everything”
I can’t stop the flutter in my chest at that one word.Everything. It’s such a simple, overused term, but in this instance it feels… more. A hesitant laugh leaves me as I try rake one of my hands through my hair without losing balance. I can feel the mess of crushed leaves and whatever else in there. Nash leans into me again, pulling one of the more intact leaves from the mess of curls, holding it in his hand.
“There’s not much to tell that everyone hasn’t summarized about me.” My voice is a whisper, but the words are barely out of my mouth when he starts shaking his head.
“No, not crap like that. I want to know you, not where you grew up.”
I’m silent. So much of my identity is wrapped up in my past, the gaps in my memory, the group home, my training, Darling Valley… Clarke. When I still say nothing, he asks me questions instead. I’ve learned that Nash has a sweet tooth that would give a dentist a stroke, he’s seriously obsessed with classic cars and is studying mechanical engineering. He hates seafood and is terrified of octopus. I laughed at him for it, but I totally get it.
He’s still chuckling out my outburst when he asks his next question. “Okay, here’s an easy one. What’s your favorite color?”
“My favorite color? Yellow, I guess. Well, it’s not really yellow.” I tilt my head up to look directly at the center of the sun, feeling the burn of light searing into my irises.
“You know when the sun is at its highest in the sky and when you stare into it, it’s the brightest white but the softest yellow? That. It looks how I imagine blinding hope and freedom, of possibility would, if we all lived without limitations and expectations.”
I close my eyes, delighting in how the color dances behind my eyelids. I dig my fingers into the soft grass and crunchy leaves beneath me, grounding myself so I don’t fly too high on my waxed wings. Like Icarus, I may have escaped my imprisonment, but it’s only a matter of time before my wings melt and I tumble into the torrential waters just beneath my feet; and being here with them has me soaring into the sun.
Opening my eyes, I look over at Nash who’s staring at me with an incredulous expression on his face, as if I’ve shocked him. Neither of us speaks and after a beat, I offer him a small smile. This seems to break whatever trance he was in, as he blinks a couple of times before moving to rest his arms atop his knees once more.
“You’re really something, Briar.” His voice is murmured like it was a thought he didn’t mean to voice, and if it weren’t for how close he is, I doubt I would have heard him at all.
I shrug my shoulders, deciding not to get into what he thinks of me. I’ve heard enough over the last couple of months that I hadn’t really questioned whether we’re friends or not until recently. I assumed he doesn’t really hate me, but more tolerates my presence for Peyton. Then last weekend… I don’t really know what to think about that so once again I shove it out of my mind. It bothers me more than I would care to admit, but I’ll unpack that later.
We don’t really talk after that, but it’s comfortable. There’s no awkwardness as we just take in enjoy basking in the sun together. My phone buzzes in my pocket and when I take it out I realise it’s the alarm I set for my computer science class, it doesn’t start for another half an hour, but I’ve started a new code that needs some work before winter break, besides class is on the other side of campus and I want to secure one of the newer computers at the back of the room.
Nash picks up my bag, slinging it over his shoulder before I can get it and I shoot him a questioning look. I thought we had made some progress today, so if he’s about to start playing more games, I’m going to throat punch him.
He rolls his eyes at my glare like he can hear my thoughts and grabs my hand, tugging me along behind him. “Come on, I’m walking you to class.”
He doesn’t drop my hand until we walk into the lecture hall.
“I’m going to skin you and feed you to the pigs! No one will find you.”
“Good! Use that, Briar. Give it all to me.”
I run at Milo, jumping, and latching to his back as he grabs my legs and flips me in front of him. It’s the hardest part in the whole routine and each night I’m debating whether to ice the bruises or put a heat pack on my sore muscles. It’s a conundrum, and I end up just crawling into a warm bath with some special scents in it that Peyton swears heals all. It’s yet to work, but I don’t tell her that.
We make it through the rest of the routine and Peyton is squealing, jumping up and down, gushing about how amazing it was. “You’re going to nail it! If everyone else’s performance is half as good as yours we really have a chance at the Universal Dance Association!” She hugs me tightly, running and doing the same to Milo. Milo catches her easily and squeezes her back. I see the moment she realises what she’s done, and the deep exhale from Milo tells me he realised the same. She pulls back from him, tucking hair behind her ear, her cheeks are bright red against her milky complexion, and she smiles at him a bit sheepishly.
I’m on the verge of sitting down and staging an intervention between these two. I’ve also started looking into Milo’s family and Juniper’s on the side to see if there isn’t something I can do. I may not be well connected, but Iamconnected to people who are.
I’m sweaty and sore, but I’m fucking elated that we aced that routine and praying to every holy deity that Milo let’s us call it a day. I whimper when Milo calls for one more run through but because Peyton is a fucking saint, she convinces him to call it a day, leading him out of the studio. I mouth out a thank you and she shoots me a conspirative wink before I crumble in a heap on the floor and start my stretches.
It's been a long time since my body has been pushed to it’s limits like this, and I’m teetering the line of nauseous, but the deeper I stretch, the better I feel. That is until my phone pings from my bag, pushing me right back over to nauseous. I swallow down the hot saliva that fills my mouth at what he could possibly have to say. He’s already checked in today so whatever it is, it’s not good.
I have a job for you. Be ready for pick up tonight at 7pm. All details will be explained then.
Any hopes I had of saving the high I felt after the routine dissipates like smoke and in it’s place is pure unadulterated panic. Pick up? Where am I going? I want more details now and it takes everything in me to not ask him more information. I won’t get it and he’ll take my plead as a sign of weakness. He’s been hinting at furthering mytrainingfor a while, I don’t want to give him reason to do exactly that. With shaky hands, I tap out a reply and send.
See you then.
