Flock

A flutter zigzags across my chest. He’s trying, for me. “Are you ever going to tell me why you didn’t like me at first?”

“Who says I like you now?”

I press into his side with my toes and earn a stink eye when some weed falls from his lap.

“If I say I like you, do I have to take you to prom?”

“I’m not that young.”

“You’re a baby.”

“You aren’t that much older.” He’s just had his twenty-sixth birthday, and I woke him up in a way I hope he’ll never forget.

“I’m old enough to know better.”

“Yet, you got really stupid with me.”

“Yeah,” he says thoughtfully, “I did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t take offense,” he cuts in, apparently rethinking his word choice.

“Color me offended,” I dig my toes in, hoping it’s painful.

“Drama,” he chuckles, licking the blunt and sealing it. “Don’t be such a girl.”

“Sorry, I’ve been missing you.”

He frowns, and I laugh because I know it’s not the fact that he doesn’t want me saying those things, it’s that he feels like an asshole when he’s not in the mood to return the sentiment, and that mood comes more rarely than his smiles. There’s so much about him I can anticipate now, and I pride myself in getting close enough to understand him. Sean tried to tell me there was far more to him, but I didn’t truly recognize it until I got close enough to see, to experience it, for myself.

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened to your parents?”

I immediately regret my question because his eyes dim, his focus shifting past his windshield into the woods. We’re at the meetup spot, where he takes me often to work on his laptop when he wants to get out of the house before storms hit. I now consider it more our spot, though technically Tyler owns it. He bought it before joining the Marines.

“They died in an accident.”

“How old were you?”

“Six.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Joint in his lips, he tilts his head and lights it, his reply coming out on an exhale.

“Yeah, me too.” The now-familiar smell is a comfort as it clouds around me.

“I don’t remember a lot, images here and there of a smile. Of her cleaning up my knee after a bad bike ride, the color of her hair, like mine. The way she laughed hysterically. Little things, small pieces of her I keep locked up. But mostly, I remember the music she listened to because she played it all the time.” He swallows, his confession taking me by surprise.

“What we listen to? This is all her tastes?”

He nods. “Most of it, yeah.” He turns to me, his eyes shimmering with a rare vulnerability. “When I listen to it, I feel like I know her. The older I get, the better I understand the lyrics and understand her, you know what I mean?”

My heart melts with his confession, and I nod, wanting so much to pull him to me, but now’s not the time.

“And your father?”

He grimaces. “The same. A flash here and there.” He chuckles. “He had red hair.”

“No way.”

“Yeah, his father was Scottish, that’s where my namesake comes from, and his mother was French, so he was a half Scottish, half French mutt, raised in France.”

“You must not look a thing like him.”

“I don’t.”

“How did they meet?”

He takes another tug on the joint and exhales before passing it to me. “Different story for a different day.”

I don’t press my luck and inhale deep. “Do you have pictures of them?”

“A few, but they died before the digital revolution.” He pulls a piece of loose weed from his tongue. “Tatie has some photos locked away in her attic somewhere, but we weren’t much for family photos anyway.”

“Why is that? Because of The Ravenhood?”

He grins over at me, his brow lifting, an incredulous laugh in his question. “The Ravenhood?”

I shrug. “I mean, essentially that’s what you are. Don’t tell me you’ve never thought of it that way. Tyler is nicknamed the Friar.”

“It’s a lot less storybook to me.”

“Because you’re living it.”

“Get dressed. Let’s finish smoking this up top.”

“Up top? Something wrong with your current view?” I glance down and back.

“Yeah,” his eyes slide down my body with clear intent. “I’m out of condoms.”

“Isn’t going topless zee French way?”

His returning look is laced with a hint of possession and has me smiling as I pull on my dress.

Blissed out, I rest in the crook of Dominic’s arm atop his hood as we gaze up at the night sky. I sink into the feel of him, his crisp, sea scent filling my nose. I’m fully lit inside and out with the buzz of the joint we smoked and the feel of his lips, his skin.

Smiling, I turn to him just as he glances down at me, his eyes filled with mirth.

“What?”

“Who the hell are you, and what have you done with my motherfucker?”

He grazes his hand over my nipple before tweaking it painfully. I screech and then burst into laughter.

“There you are.” I settle back in and we bask in the breeze. I swear if there’s a heaven, it’s here with him. “Dom?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you want, you know, for the future?”

He’s silent for long seconds, and I assume he won’t answer.

“It’s not a stupid question.”

Another beat of silence.

“Nothing.”

I sigh. “I guess it’s a good thing you won’t be disappointed.”

His chest bounces. “Am I supposed to ask you what you want now?”

“Not if you don’t care.”

“I’m not future centered. Plans don’t make the man.”

“I know. I know. Live in the now, take each day as it comes. I get it, but isn’t there something you want?”

“No, but it’s obvious there’s something you do.”

More. More of him. More of Sean. More of this endless summer. But I keep my hopes to myself. Because I’m sure this can’t go on forever. That fear is starting to eat at me more and more. And aside from their ambitions, I do have my own and know one day I’ll demand more for myself. One day, maybe, I’ll choose a life or a path that neither will be able to go on with me. The thought of losing either of them, of that sort of progression is crippling. I’ve never been this happy. Not ever. My only saving grace is I’m not leaving Triple Falls anytime soon.

“What?” He gently nudges me from where he rests.

“I don’t like putting a voice to my fears. Because then, I can only expect them to come true.”

“That’s bleak.”

“It’s better than not wanting anything in the future.”

“I already know what happens,” he whispers with surety.

“What do you mean? You can predict the future?”

“I can predict mine because I make shit happen.”

“What is it?”

“Whatever I decide.”

I lift from him, and he lets me. “Just for once, can you give me a straight answer?”

“What’s the question?”

I switch gears. “Do you ever get jealous?”

He keeps my eyes, his voice even. “No.”

“Why?”

“Because he can give you the things I can’t.”

“I’m not complaining, please don’t think that. But why can’t you?”

“Because I’m not like him. I’m a lot simpler.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“It’s true.”

I trace the line of his jaw. “You are anything but simple.”

“My needs are. I don’t want things like other people.”

“Why? Why train yourself for such simplicity when you are worth so much…” I dig in and let myself reveal what I’m feeling. “You are so much more than what you let people see, than what you give yourself credit for.”