Burning Moth

Chapter Seven, Part One - High Expectations

For two weeks, I kept Nicholias' demons at bay.

I wasn't his girlfriend, but I did everything she would–I fixed his meals, washed his clothes, kept his place together while he was busy falling apart, and most realistic of all–I didn't get any sex out of it. When I wasn't tending to his woefully dry needs, I was falling asleep in the back of my classes, and zoning out as I bagged groceries at work. Wide-awake, I dreamed of Nicholias and our nightmares–tiny, compiling secrets that would follow me to the grave.

One of these secrets was stuck in my head–my trust for him, budding and dying like an eternal rose. One minute, I believed everything Nicholias said. The next, we were on opposite sides of his bedroom, silent in the dark, with me hating myself for even giving him a chance.

While I skirted Nicholias' truth, I also ran from Finn and Troy. In class, their meaningful glares were as distracting as their pushy texts–but this time, I had nothing to give them. Troy needed his release from Keiko, and Finn expected the watch–and I couldn't come through on either. No matter which direction the two pulled me in, around every corner was Nicholias.

Fortunately for me, his company wasn't so terrible.

One night, I was sitting on the couch, doing homework in his living room, crunching the extra questions about civic rights and duties that Finn had bogged me with. Every few minutes I checked my phone, hoping Chloe would finally break her radio silence and forgive me enough to text me back. Fourteen days into his newfound sobriety, and Nicholias was finally out of the woods. The seizures had passed, and so had the flu-like symptoms. I now had enough free time on my hands to worry about outside problems–like Chloe, and what she planned on doing with Savannah's watch.

"Wow, she studies. Gotta admit, I didn't see that one coming." Nicholias took a seat beside me, grinning as he peeked over my shoulder, to the textbook spread over my lap.

"And why is that?" I said. "Because I told you what I do for a living? Look, just because I sling grades, that doesn't make me a cheater. In fact, I never have, and I never will. When I'm there, I work hard in school. I get good grades because I study--unlike the morons who come to me." I closed the book with a snap. "You don't know the first thing about me."

In the drug game, the smart dealers never used their own supply. I ruled with the same philosophy. If I was going to be judged, it would be for what I did, not just for what the world thought I was capable of doing.

Nick grabbed my arm before I could leave the couch. "You're wrong--as usual." He smiled. "I do know you. When you spend two weeks living with someone, you pick up on a few things. For example..." Nicholias slid closer, putting his arm around the seatback, leaning close. "I know you like to sing Maria Maria in the shower, but you're self-conscious when it comes to eating in front of me. You're allergic to anything that tastes healthy, and your favorite color is blue--because you eat those M&M's last." I chuckled, biting my lip at his accuracy. "You're headstrong, and you lash out--but it's only because you think no one cares. I also know that you worry about others more than you worry about yourself, and that the only time you're ever sad... is when you think no one's looking." He pushed the hair from my shoulders, running his hand down my arm, until my heart fluttered. "And I also know that you like it when I kiss you... here... and here... and especially here."

I watched his hand glide up my thigh–pleasure's serpent. My breath caught in my throat as all the nerves in my skin pulsed with longing. He had more power over me than I had ever given anyone. Either he would use that on me, or against me...

He had no other options.

I pushed Nicholias away, and jumped from the couch. He called after me, but I fled, making my way to his bedroom, where far too many of my things were mixed with his. I grabbed my bag and got to work, reversing the damage. Over time, Aidan had delivered more of my clothes and toiletries, and there was no way I'd get them all inside my backpack again. I would just have to take the most important things and leave the rest behind. When it came to collateral damage, I was smart. I always chose my life over fashion.

"Scarlet, what are you doing?" Nicholias hovered in the doorway, watching me pack.

"The worst part's over, you don't need me anymore," I said, thinking twice before tossing my perfume in the backpack. Last night, I had smelled it on his skin, and realized I was rubbing off on him. I paused in my work, tucking my hair behind my ear. "Um, you should go to AA. I know a really good program downtown. Your sponsor will probably be a hardass, but those are usually the best kinds. They'll keep you on the right track."

Nicholias took a careful step forward, hands in his pockets. "Well, why can't you be my sponsor?"

I laughed at him. "Are you kidding? I can't even keep my life straight. Another week with me and you'll be strung out again--"

"Quit it, Scar. I haven't relapsed once since you got here." He drew nearer, close enough for me to fold my arms over my chest and look pointedly away. "What's wrong?" he demanded. "Sometimes I think you trust me... and other times, you won't even look at me." I sighed. "Even if we had sex we wouldn't be close, you're still too stubborn to believe I won't hurt you--"

"I know you wouldn't--not on purpose." I brushed his hands away, stepping out of his reach. "But I think your family would, and it would be stupid to believe you'd choose me over them." My shrug was careless, the antonym of my heart. "I wouldn't ask you to."

"Well, I would--and I did. Scar, when I kissed you at the gala, I risked a lot more for you than you think--"

"So did I!"

"Then tell me why you're walking away."

He stared, waiting for the truth, and I knew that this was it.

I couldn't run from it any longer.

"I like you," I said, glaring at him. "You're condescending, and a smart-ass, and all hot and cold like Katy Perry. I also highly dislike the way you chew gum--but I like you. And even though I know it's crazy... lately, I only feel safe when I'm with you."

"Then trust me." Nicholias wrapped his fingers around mine and pressed them to his chest, until his heart was beating in my hands. "Tell me what's really bothering you."

I swallowed back my fear. "A girl was murdered...and I think your family is covering it up."

Nicholias dropped my hands, like they burned. "What girl?" Other than his quiet tone, he was impossible to read. "It's okay, Scar. You can tell me."

"Her name was Savannah. I didn't know her. I don't even know her last name."

"Then how do you know she's dead? Are you sure? I mean, she could still be alive--"

"I saw her Nick, she's gone... I'm sorry."

He turned away, rubbing his face as he exhaled between his fingers. "She lied to me..." Nicholias shook his head, speaking to vengeful ghosts unseen. "She said she left, but... she fucking lied to me..."

Nicholias was spiraling, I could see it in his face. He'd be using within the hour if I didn't find a way to reach him.

I grabbed his hand, and forced him to sit with me on the bed. "Who lied to you?" I said. He looked down, perplexed at my fingers entertained through his–a Yinyang of brown and white. "Nick..."

He looked up, and I saw the truth in his eyes–little stones of darkness, adrift in crashing seas of blue.

"Scar, she did it... my mother killed Savannah. And if she finds out you know... she'll come after you too."

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