After Curfew

Chapter 33 - Release

Chapter 33 - Release

"It doesn't work like that."

"That's bullshit," Slate said, grabbing his sweater that I'd borrowed a couple nights ago off the dresser and pulling it over my head. "Come on, pack a bag, we're leaving."

I sat on the king size bed, defeat and exhaustion pulling at my muscles but his sweater felt like protection, the hood a helmet, blocking out all the unwanted thoughts. And it smelled like him too; smoke and spice. I gave a weak shrug, uncaring as I fidgeted with the ties of the hood. "Where are we going?"

"I don't give a fück, but we're getting away from here." He crouched down in front of me, hand on my knee with his phone at his ear. I could hear it ringing as he waited for someone to pick up.

The line clicked and I could hear a soft female voice say 'This is South Sea Airport, I'm Amanda, how can I help you?' on the other end of the call.

"We have school tomorrow," I argued uselessly, like it'd make a difference. I knew what he was trying to do, he wanted to run away, hide me in some foreign country where the consequences of my actions couldn't get to me. And I'd probably let him.

He narrowed his eyes at me, "Were you planning on going?" I half-lifted one shoulder, a lame attempt at a response and got up from the bed just as he spoke into the phone. "When's the next direct flight you have leaving for somewhere in Europe? Paris? In 3 hours? Yeah I'll take it, Slate Carver and Willow Woods, first class..." I zoned out the rest of the details, wanting to be excited but it was all tainted now.

As soon as he hung up he came behind me, eyeing the mickey of vodka I was sipping out of. "Paris?" I asked, suddenly feeling exposed as he stepped into my space.

"Don't fight me baby," He begged, his eyes drilling into mine as he took the bottle out of my hand. I shook my head, wanting to laugh. Fight? I had no fight left in me.

"I'm done fighting." For myself, for others, for everything. He nodded his head in response, making me wonder if he thought maybe I meant I was finally giving in to him, but I wanted to make it clear I'd meant I was just giving up in general. The determined look in his eyes took me off guard as he cupped my face.

"Good. You don't need to fight anymore, I'm taking over now." I pushed at his chest, not liking what he was saying, but loving it all the same. Loving that he was willing to fight for me. But it wasn't his fùcking fight and it was too late because I'd already surrendered.

"Don't be stupid, don't do that." I chastised, but I might as well have spoken a foreign language because he was grabbing my adidas duffle bag and throwing all my clothes into it. My body defied my words, carrying me to the bathroom where I packed up my makeup and toothbrush and changed into leggings and his hoodie. His mouth formed into a victorious smile when I walked back into the room and threw my stuff into the bag.

I shook my head at his reaction. "I'm not going to fight you Slate, I'll go with you, I'll always go with you, but anywhere we go this stuff will follow me."

I sighed, realizing he was getting the worst end of things when I was the one who'd done everything wrong. Up until now I'd always thought it was everyone around me that was destructive, but I was starting to think I was the destructive one. My next words only confirmed it. "Don't you get it Slate? This isn't even about the guy who wants his revenge anymore, the guilt's going to kill me way before he does."

Slate pulled his hood up, matching mine, but I knew he was trying to hide his clenched jaw. He didn't answer but grabbed my hand all the same, pulling me out of the room with my bag over his opposite shoulder, his movements a little too harsh to support the unfazed expression he'd planted on his face. Neither of us talked on the drive to the airport, but his stiff movements spoke volumes about how he felt about our earlier conversation.