Show & Tell
Mrs. Handler crashes through the door wearing a bright yellow nightie, her chestnut-colored hair spilling down her shoulders, and a sea green mask paste smeared all over her face in some kind of nightly facial. Her phone is plastered to her ear. Once she assesses the situation, she sighs in relief, placing a dramatic hand on her heaving chest. Her concerned eyes shift to Lark. “Christ, I thought someone was dying.”
He shrugs, nonchalantly. “Isabel hurt her hand. The cut is kinda deep.” I’m so thankful that he’s covering for me.
I’m such an idiot.
Her panicked brown eyes flicker to me. “Are you okay, darling? Do you need a ride to the hospital?”
“N-n-no,” I stammer. “I’m okay, thanks to Lark.” I lift my bandaged hand to show her his handiwork.
She nods, then mutters into her cell. “Listen, Gina, I have to go. Isabel hurt her hand. I have to make sure she’s alright.” A short pause and then, “Yes, that Isabel. Isabel Waters.”
I can’t help but think of what they’re referencing me to.
The mentally unstable Isabel Waters?
The suicidal Isabel Waters?
The strange and odd Isabel Waters?
Lark shakes his head muttering something too low to hear. He moves towards me, placing a hand on my lower back. I take this as a clue and jump down off the sink counter.
“Mom, I got this. I’m going to walk her to Rex’s house.”
Mrs. Handler frowns with her phone still glued to her ear. “Are you sure?”
Lark steadies me as I sway a little. “Yes, Mrs. Handler. Thank you for offering to help.” I grip Lark’s hand, interlocking our fingers. He glances down at our entwined hands but says nothing as we wander to the door.
“Wait!” Mrs. Handler yells after us.
We both pause on our heels.
“What mom?”
I hear her rip a few pieces of tissue from the roll. She strolls in our direction and steps around us, patting my tear-stained face dry. “You look so pretty tonight. Just a little fix up is all you need.” She smiles and wipes under my eyes. Her movements are soft and gentle and familiar—a mother’s touch. Closing my eyes, I allow myself to feel the warmth of her touch and smell the refreshing scent of her sea green mask. If my mother was still alive, she would wipe my face lovingly like this and tell me that I looked pretty. “There. Perfection.” She drops her hands and I open my eyes.
Lark squeezes my hand for assurance.
“Thank you, Mrs. Handler.”
She nods, still smiling a kind smile. But before we exit out the door, she calls my name.
I turn my head back to look at her.
“I’m so sorry about Tyler. He was such a bright and loving kid. Everyone knew it.”
My heart feels like it’s been sucker punched. I need to get out of here; the pity in her sunken expression is making me sick. “Thank you, Mrs. Handler, but I have to go now.”
Lark and I remain silent, still holding hands as we amble about in the frosty night air. The dark sky is obscured with thick smoky grey storm clouds that blanket everything above. The wind is picking up, swaying the street signs and the branches of the trees. The moisture and the scent of rain are very heavy in the air. It looks bad. We pass stretches of suburbia, the brick houses are getting larger and the cars more expensive as we tread up hill. “How did you know I was going to Rex’s party?”
He shrugs, looking straight ahead. “You’re dressed like a beauty queen.”
“Why aren’t you there?”
He dips his head down to look at me. “Seriously?” He sounds offended.
“Yeah.”
“Me and Tyler and Hero are outsiders, or were like outsiders. It was the three of us against the world. We were all ostracized through no fault of our own. Tyler because of his sexuality. Hero because of his affiliation with Tyler and me because of Falcon. Rex is the head honcho around here, just like Max was. Things never change in Cherry Creek; the cycle repeats itself over and over again. This town is full of ignorant and intolerant people. As soon as I graduate, I’m headin’ up north. New York.”
“Yeah? What’s your goal?”
“I don’t know yet. Maybe start a rock band and get famous. Or fall back on my genetic gifts and model. I’ll let you know once I do.” He laughs a sad, humorless laugh. “Why are you going to Rex’s party?”
“I want to see what partying with a bunch of minors is like.”
He grins. “You’re still a minor yourself.”
My face scrunches up as I tip my head back to stare at him. “I’m twenty.”
His grin broadens. “Exactly. So no alcohol for you, little one.”
I bat my lashes purposely. “Yes, Daddy.”
Lark growls, guttural and primal. “You have a daddy complex. I can work with that.”
Laughing, I playfully nudge his shoulder with mine. “I thought we were past this?”
He grips my hand tighter as we approach Rex’s house that glows a cool shade of arctic blue from the flashing lights that sit in the front yard. Obstreperously drunken people are still scattered among the vast lawn and they all seem to watch us with morbid curiosity. Harmony isn’t anywhere in sight and my car is gone. I left my cell in the front seat. She must be looking for me.
“Just so you know, I would’ve given it to you in the worst possible way, and I mean that in a good way. I used to fantasize about you a lot before Tyler…” He trails off unsure or refusing to finish his sentence. “You’re just really, extremely sexy.”
Smiling, I lift my free hand and run my fingers through his soft dark hair. “Thank you.”
His eyes crinkle at the sides and then they drift to my lips. He tilts his head to the side, as if considering something. “I say we give them something to talk about?”
I glance at the gathering crowd and look back to Lark, who is grinning from ear to ear, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Like what?”
“A kiss?”
My fingers spasms in his hair. “Yeah?”
He nods, lowering his head. “Yeah. But you have to kiss me like you love me. Like you never want to let me go.”
“Tongues and all?”
“Tongues and all,” he confirms.
I lean forward, our lips inches apart. “You’re twisted,” I tease, but I’m excited to get a little action from him, even if it’s just a pretend I-love-you kiss.
“In the worst way,” Lark agrees, hazel eyes darkening into something dangerous and unexplored. The tip of his pink tongue skates over his lips, making my stomach flutter.
I bite down on mine.
He moves closer, slanting his head at the perfect angle, the heat of his breath washing over my face.
My lips part on their own freewill.
He presses his firm but supple lips against mine and kisses me, gentle and controlled at first but as the kiss deepens so does the intensity. His sweet-tasting tongue delves into my mouth and a small cold metal ball skillfully flicks against my tongue. I groan from the unfamiliar pleasure and Lark’s arms come around my waist, scooping me into his hard chest. Both of my hands tug at his hair now, urging him closer. Our lips desperately seek each other’s. My tongue tentatively meets his in a slow, assured dance. Lark’s hands reach down, cupping my ass and pressing me into his hard-on. A shiver ripples down my neck. I trap his bottom lip between my teeth and softly bite down and then suck on his lip ring. Lark shuts his eyes and moans, squeezing my butt at the same time.
“Oh, God,” he grunts, “I think I’m going to come.”
I break the kiss and lean back, looking into murky eyes that stare back at me. “You have a tongue piercing?”
He pokes the slim barbell out with a tiny ball at both ends, gripping one end between his teeth.
“That’s hot. I love you, baby.” I say it loud enough for others to hear.
He smiles, shaking his head, letting his tongue settle back in his mouth. “Daddy loves you, too.” His fingers dig into my backside, and I shudder. He inclines forward, placing his lips to the shell of my ear. “Damn, Isabel, you can kiss. I’m sort of rethinking what I said about that quick fuck in my bathroom.”
Placing my hands on his shoulder, I push him back. “Sorry. You already turned down the offer.” I lick his nose and start to stride towards the house with everyone’s mouth gaping open and their wide eyes on me.
I’d rather be a whore than a suicidal freak, so eat up folks.