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“Sneaking out?”
I think she’s up to something, which worries me, but I also don’t want to start questioning her if she’s getting herself back into the world. She’s been so afraid of connecting with people for so long. Could this finally be it? Could she be healing? Or is she continuing the legacy I was hoping she’d leave behind? “Yeah, she’s a hermit… she’s terrified of people.”
“Why?” he asks gently, giving my thigh a different kind of squeeze this time.
“Not today, Nok. I don’t want to ruin the day.”
“But you’ll tell me?”
I think about it for a moment, considering it. It’d be nice to speak to somebody about it, but then it’d lead to questions I can’t answer. Questions that could put my sister in danger.
“If I tell you,” I say, looking at him. “At any point… do I have your word, on your life, that you won’t ask me any questions.”
He frowns, his eyes ahead as he navigates the car with ease. I love driving with him. I just love being near him. He’s an anchor to my calm. He helps keep me grounded.
“Because if I don’t have your word, I won’t give you even one.”
“No questions? Not one?”
“No. Not one.”
“That’s going to be a hard promise to keep.”
I nod with understanding. “Trust me, I know.”
The beach is fucking cold, the water colder. I don’t get to surf but Nokosi does take me on a bit of a hike which I enjoy. We come to the top of a cliff and stand looking over the harsh waves hitting the face of it. I love standing on the edges of cliffs. It gives me a certain rush because of how dangerous yet beautiful it is. It’s deceptive.
I suppose it’s the closest thing I can think of to compare myself to.
“I am this cliff edge,” I say to Nokosi who just raises a brow. “I’m beautiful…”
“You are.”
“I’m dangerous.”
“You’re that too.”
“I’m deceptive.”
He hesitates. “Not with me, I hope?”
I look at him in the eyes and then spread my arms as the wind whips through my hair and caresses my body. Closing my eyes, I let my foot hang over the edge out in front of me. It would be so easy to die here today, to hit the water and drown, or to hit the rocky decline and break my neck, or perhaps it’ll be slow, and I will beg for death… or for life.
“What are you doing?” Nokosi snaps, grabbing the back of my shirt and yanking me back.
“Tempting fate,” I reply when my butt hits the grass as he falls to his knees in a bid to protect my body from my twisted soul.
“Why?” He’s seriously mad, his eyes are aflame with the anger coursing through him. “Do you want to die? Are you suicidal?”
“Suicidal is a subjective word.”
“It’s about as fucking subjective as a potato!”
My lips twitch into a smile. “A potato?”
He tightens his ponytail. “Nobody can say a potato isn’t a potato.”
“This is true, but suicidal is more of a condition of the brain, like depression, a chemical imbalance, your body warring against you. I don’t have that. I’m not suicidal. I don’t want to die. I just know that I’m going to and I’m ready for it.”
“So, what… you’re some raging adrenaline junkie?” Standing, he yanks me to my feet and watches me shrug my shoulders with dark eyes. “Can you maybe think of somebody else when you’re finding your stupid thrills by tempting death and testing your lifespan?”
“Like who? You?” I ask, raising a brow. “Are we at that part in our relationship? Do you care if I die, Nokosi?”
“Is that a serious question?”
I place my hand against his racing heart. I scared him. I kind of like that, as fucked up as that sounds. I like that I have the ability to terrify him, that he needs me in his life so desperately. “Deadly.” I play invisible drums with my hands. “Bad-um-tss.”
He turns away from me, but I see him trying to stifle his smile.
I wrap my arms around his waist and press my cheek against the space between his shoulder blades. “I’ll stay with you for as long as I can, Nok. I don’t want to be anywhere else. Dead or alive.”
“Your sister…”
“I’m starting to work her over I think, she’s starting to see things my way. If I can just get her to see that life here could be good.” I blow out a breath and he turns until both of his arms are around me too.
“Your mom?”
“My mom’s a cunt.” I can’t remember the last time I had a conversation with her. “She just looks at me with these judgy eyes and then fucks off to work, usually leaving me notes telling me how proud she isn’t of me.”
“She’s not proud of you?”
