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a charmed experiment; scene one
"We have to go. Go!"
"Did they see us?"
They couldn't have gotten a good look at us, but I'm not thinking about reassuring her. From the second her flashlight bounces off the water, there's only one thought on my mind: please, God, don't let her trip.
That's not completely true; there are others, like I knew this was a bad idea and I could outrun them if I were alone, but my primary concern is Bella Kirkwood's uncanny lack of self-preservation, something I'm swiftly becoming acquainted with. She's bound to find every rock and molehill between here and my car.
"Run faster, Bella!"
"I can't!" I knew that already. She's no athlete, and until they make shopping a sport, she won't be. But it's too easy to panic right now, and I can hear it in my voice. I hope she can't.
I take a tight, maybe painful grip on her hand and pray we'll get lucky as I'm dragging her down the trail and then out into the trees, keeping a mental lock on the direction we came from. If I let go of her now, she'll be hopelessly lost in a heartbeat, so I lock my fingers around hers. At least if she does trip, I'll have a head start on hauling her to her feet.
We cut through the woods, east and then west, but headed steadily south, back toward the clearing where we left the car. The sounds of our pursuers aren't close, but they're not far enough away for us to make a clean getaway, either. Time for a plan B.
"Bella, we've got some distance between us, but it won't be long," I say, weaving around a stand of sweetgum and making straight for the tree line. "Don't let up until you're in the car. You got that?"
She doesn't answer me, but I don't have time to wait. The clearing is a few strides ahead, and I've got maybe a second and a half to convince her to do what she's told for once in her life. Plan B's going to be messy.
"Bella, I'm going to need you to trust me to get us out of this. Can you do that?" We break out of the trees and into the moonlight, and I surrender her hand. "Go!"
I could beat her to the car, but I don't. If they catch someone, I want it to be me. The sight of the car seems to provide her with the motivation she needs, though, because she bolts for the passenger door faster than I thought she could. I'm just a split-second behind, and the instant I'm in the driver's seat, I'm jamming the key in the ignition and turning it.
As soon as the dash lights come on, I hit the door locks and then grab my iPod from its dock. Never in my life have I been more desperate for a country song. Toby Keith queues up, and it's slow, so I drop the iPod back where it belongs.
"What is that?" Bella has a hand plastered to her chest, gasping for breath. "Pick your music later. Let's get out of here. They're going to be here any minute."
It's not a bad instinct, putting as much distance as she can between herself and these boys - says something about her self-preservation, in fact, namely that it's not a totally lost cause - but it's the wrong one. I shake my head.
"No time. It's inevitable they'll see this vehicle. So they can't see it tearing out of here."
I can see them in the rearview: three of them, rushing through the tall grass, making good time. Bella's hand is on my arm, fingers tense, and I reach for her as her words tumble out in a panic. "Do something! What's your plan?"
"This," I answer, pulling her in close. As I close the gap between us, I remind her, "You said you'd trust me." She didn't, exactly, but I need her to go along with this. I'm hinging this plan on Bella not freaking out on me.
I catch her mouth as she's opening it on some word or sound, and her entire body tenses as my arms come around her. She's too rigid, shocked, so I tilt my head and open my mouth over hers. It seems to do the trick.
She relaxes slowly into me, kissing me back even as the voices and heavy footfalls outside draw closer. They'll be looking in the windows any second now. I slide my hands up her arms, over her throat to either side of her face and hold her there gently. The hair on the back of my neck is standing up; I can practically feel one of the boys behind me at the driver's side door. Bella breathes out softly as our lips part and rejoin, her nails raking lightly over my scalp, and I can't tell if the shiver down my spine is adrenaline or something else.
"It's just a couple making out," a voice says, muffled through the glass.
"Who is that?"
"Who knows. Let's go. Keep looking."
Their footsteps fade away again, across the clearing, but I keep my hands and mouth on Bella for a few seconds longer. Several seconds longer. There could be more of them coming.
When I finally pull back, it's with a long exhale, and I don't go far. My hands are still on her face, and our foreheads touch in the seconds following the kiss. "They're gone," I say lowly.
I expect her to pull away, but she doesn't. She opens her eyes slowly, darker than ever in the dim lights from the dash, and murmurs, "Hmm? Who?"
Something about her soft and leisurely tone prickles my skin. I drop my hands from her and lean away, goosebumps racing down my arms, and I can't take my eyes off her as I start the car. "Thanks for, um... playing along," I say, because 'playing along' sounds better than 'making out with me.' "It saved us."
"Right," she answers. She looks like she's coming back to herself as she drops her gaze. "Good plan."
"We should probably stay here just a few more minutes to throw them off." Toby's voice suddenly filters through the wreckage of my thoughts: you shouldn't kiss me like this unless you mean it like that, 'cause I'll just close my eyes and I won't know where I'm at.
That's enough of that. I lean forward a little quickly to hit 'next,' and Kenny Chesney starts in with 'She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy.' Blissfully less thematically appropriate, especially since I don't own a tractor. I sit back and rake my hands through my hair to try to forget the feeling of Bella's.
"So the Brotherhood has initiations," I say, as much to organize my thoughts as anything else. "We know these things happen at parties, when everyone else is occupied. What else?"
"Huh?" Bella's a second or two behind me. I can't help wondering if she's still lost in the kiss, or if she's just shaken by the close encounter. I can't help wondering which I want it to be, either. "Oh... um, we know that... these extreme sports feats probably had something to do with Zach Epps's injury and Carson Penturf's death." Whatever it is, she's coming out of it. "And there's a pressure to not only join and participate, but to keep your mouth shut. We've got to talk to Reggie Lee. We could have the power to clear his name."
She's on the right track. "You could. You're the one who overheard the conversation in the woods tonight."
With a final glance in the mirrors to see that we're alone, I put the car in gear and head for the path. The drive back to her place is conspicuously silent.
I can't quite shake the image of her dark eyes at half-mast or the glisten of her parted lips in the moments after we kissed. It's not that I regret it, exactly - I wasn't kidding when I said it saved us. Those football players were just unsuspecting enough to buy the young couple act. But I can't get it out of my head, either, and before long, the memories come with a flicker of guilt.
It's easy to picture Taylor the same way, dark lashes low over green eyes, a lazy smile on her lips. I've seen it before. But the hands in my hair are still Bella's, and the quiet, husky murmur is hers, too.
I'll call Taylor tomorrow, I decide as I put the car in park on the dirt road in front of Bella's house. She deserves to know what happened here tonight, even if it didn't mean anything.
And doesn't Bella deserve to know, too? I look her way, studying her in the dark. I've never mentioned Taylor to her, but now would be the time, wouldn't it? I'd hate for her to get the wrong idea.
"Bella, I...."
Wait, is that too presumptuous? I let the words die and hold her eyes for a few seconds more. She's probably not even interested. Sure, maybe she liked the kiss, but that doesn't mean she wants to date me. I'm still pretty sure she mostly hates me. Spitting out 'I have a girlfriend' now will just look pathetic.
But she's looking at me now, expression indecipherable in the dark. Say something, stupid.
"I'll, um... see you tomorrow."
"Right. Bye."
And like that, she's gone, sprinting for the porch. I exhale, change the song to something mellow and acoustic, and put the car in drive.
"Did they see us?"
They couldn't have gotten a good look at us, but I'm not thinking about reassuring her. From the second her flashlight bounces off the water, there's only one thought on my mind: please, God, don't let her trip.
That's not completely true; there are others, like I knew this was a bad idea and I could outrun them if I were alone, but my primary concern is Bella Kirkwood's uncanny lack of self-preservation, something I'm swiftly becoming acquainted with. She's bound to find every rock and molehill between here and my car.
"Run faster, Bella!"
"I can't!" I knew that already. She's no athlete, and until they make shopping a sport, she won't be. But it's too easy to panic right now, and I can hear it in my voice. I hope she can't.
I take a tight, maybe painful grip on her hand and pray we'll get lucky as I'm dragging her down the trail and then out into the trees, keeping a mental lock on the direction we came from. If I let go of her now, she'll be hopelessly lost in a heartbeat, so I lock my fingers around hers. At least if she does trip, I'll have a head start on hauling her to her feet.
We cut through the woods, east and then west, but headed steadily south, back toward the clearing where we left the car. The sounds of our pursuers aren't close, but they're not far enough away for us to make a clean getaway, either. Time for a plan B.
"Bella, we've got some distance between us, but it won't be long," I say, weaving around a stand of sweetgum and making straight for the tree line. "Don't let up until you're in the car. You got that?"
She doesn't answer me, but I don't have time to wait. The clearing is a few strides ahead, and I've got maybe a second and a half to convince her to do what she's told for once in her life. Plan B's going to be messy.
"Bella, I'm going to need you to trust me to get us out of this. Can you do that?" We break out of the trees and into the moonlight, and I surrender her hand. "Go!"
I could beat her to the car, but I don't. If they catch someone, I want it to be me. The sight of the car seems to provide her with the motivation she needs, though, because she bolts for the passenger door faster than I thought she could. I'm just a split-second behind, and the instant I'm in the driver's seat, I'm jamming the key in the ignition and turning it.
As soon as the dash lights come on, I hit the door locks and then grab my iPod from its dock. Never in my life have I been more desperate for a country song. Toby Keith queues up, and it's slow, so I drop the iPod back where it belongs.
"What is that?" Bella has a hand plastered to her chest, gasping for breath. "Pick your music later. Let's get out of here. They're going to be here any minute."
It's not a bad instinct, putting as much distance as she can between herself and these boys - says something about her self-preservation, in fact, namely that it's not a totally lost cause - but it's the wrong one. I shake my head.
"No time. It's inevitable they'll see this vehicle. So they can't see it tearing out of here."
I can see them in the rearview: three of them, rushing through the tall grass, making good time. Bella's hand is on my arm, fingers tense, and I reach for her as her words tumble out in a panic. "Do something! What's your plan?"
"This," I answer, pulling her in close. As I close the gap between us, I remind her, "You said you'd trust me." She didn't, exactly, but I need her to go along with this. I'm hinging this plan on Bella not freaking out on me.
I catch her mouth as she's opening it on some word or sound, and her entire body tenses as my arms come around her. She's too rigid, shocked, so I tilt my head and open my mouth over hers. It seems to do the trick.
She relaxes slowly into me, kissing me back even as the voices and heavy footfalls outside draw closer. They'll be looking in the windows any second now. I slide my hands up her arms, over her throat to either side of her face and hold her there gently. The hair on the back of my neck is standing up; I can practically feel one of the boys behind me at the driver's side door. Bella breathes out softly as our lips part and rejoin, her nails raking lightly over my scalp, and I can't tell if the shiver down my spine is adrenaline or something else.
"It's just a couple making out," a voice says, muffled through the glass.
"Who is that?"
"Who knows. Let's go. Keep looking."
Their footsteps fade away again, across the clearing, but I keep my hands and mouth on Bella for a few seconds longer. Several seconds longer. There could be more of them coming.
When I finally pull back, it's with a long exhale, and I don't go far. My hands are still on her face, and our foreheads touch in the seconds following the kiss. "They're gone," I say lowly.
I expect her to pull away, but she doesn't. She opens her eyes slowly, darker than ever in the dim lights from the dash, and murmurs, "Hmm? Who?"
Something about her soft and leisurely tone prickles my skin. I drop my hands from her and lean away, goosebumps racing down my arms, and I can't take my eyes off her as I start the car. "Thanks for, um... playing along," I say, because 'playing along' sounds better than 'making out with me.' "It saved us."
"Right," she answers. She looks like she's coming back to herself as she drops her gaze. "Good plan."
"We should probably stay here just a few more minutes to throw them off." Toby's voice suddenly filters through the wreckage of my thoughts: you shouldn't kiss me like this unless you mean it like that, 'cause I'll just close my eyes and I won't know where I'm at.
That's enough of that. I lean forward a little quickly to hit 'next,' and Kenny Chesney starts in with 'She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy.' Blissfully less thematically appropriate, especially since I don't own a tractor. I sit back and rake my hands through my hair to try to forget the feeling of Bella's.
"So the Brotherhood has initiations," I say, as much to organize my thoughts as anything else. "We know these things happen at parties, when everyone else is occupied. What else?"
"Huh?" Bella's a second or two behind me. I can't help wondering if she's still lost in the kiss, or if she's just shaken by the close encounter. I can't help wondering which I want it to be, either. "Oh... um, we know that... these extreme sports feats probably had something to do with Zach Epps's injury and Carson Penturf's death." Whatever it is, she's coming out of it. "And there's a pressure to not only join and participate, but to keep your mouth shut. We've got to talk to Reggie Lee. We could have the power to clear his name."
She's on the right track. "You could. You're the one who overheard the conversation in the woods tonight."
With a final glance in the mirrors to see that we're alone, I put the car in gear and head for the path. The drive back to her place is conspicuously silent.
I can't quite shake the image of her dark eyes at half-mast or the glisten of her parted lips in the moments after we kissed. It's not that I regret it, exactly - I wasn't kidding when I said it saved us. Those football players were just unsuspecting enough to buy the young couple act. But I can't get it out of my head, either, and before long, the memories come with a flicker of guilt.
It's easy to picture Taylor the same way, dark lashes low over green eyes, a lazy smile on her lips. I've seen it before. But the hands in my hair are still Bella's, and the quiet, husky murmur is hers, too.
I'll call Taylor tomorrow, I decide as I put the car in park on the dirt road in front of Bella's house. She deserves to know what happened here tonight, even if it didn't mean anything.
And doesn't Bella deserve to know, too? I look her way, studying her in the dark. I've never mentioned Taylor to her, but now would be the time, wouldn't it? I'd hate for her to get the wrong idea.
"Bella, I...."
Wait, is that too presumptuous? I let the words die and hold her eyes for a few seconds more. She's probably not even interested. Sure, maybe she liked the kiss, but that doesn't mean she wants to date me. I'm still pretty sure she mostly hates me. Spitting out 'I have a girlfriend' now will just look pathetic.
But she's looking at me now, expression indecipherable in the dark. Say something, stupid.
"I'll, um... see you tomorrow."
"Right. Bye."
And like that, she's gone, sprinting for the porch. I exhale, change the song to something mellow and acoustic, and put the car in drive.