Implode

Open up, Alan, I know you're in there!"


Chris banged the door as hard as he could, ignoring the pain in his hand from the coat of arms.

He had come over here twice before, but nobody had answered the door. Now he was determined to fucking camp out on the doorstep until someone arrived or someone left, Florida heat be damned.

To his surprise, the door opened almost immediately. The maid that had answered the door on his first time to the Crane residence stood there, her eyes wide with shock.
Chris racked his brain desperately for the right words. Languages went right out of his head; the only way he remembered them was to sing them, and he had a sneaking suspicion the maid would be confused if he started shouting "This I Promise You" at her.

"Um, shit…how do you say it…¿dónde está Nyx? ¿Dónde está ella? ¿Dónde está Alan?" He asked desperately, hoping those were the right words. The maid shook her head.
"Ella no está aquí, señor!"

Shit, what the hell did that mean? Chris gave up, shook his head, then mimed entering the house. She immediately swung open the door to let him in, and without even looking
back at her, Chris hurried up the steps, ignoring her yelling after him in Spanish.

He flew into Nyx's room, almost knocking down the door in his haste.

The room was immaculate, and so was her adjoining bathroom, which he checked quickly. Her toothbrush wasn't even there. He sagged and sat down on her bed, breathing hard from running up the steps. He heard feet pounding up the stairs and he closed his eyes. Let them come. He wasn't leaving until she came home.
"Chris?" Alan hurried into the room, then stopped, his eyes wide as he took in Chris on Nyx's bed, glaring at him.

"Where is she?" Chris barked.

Alan threw up his hands in desperation. "Chris, your guess is as good as mine. The last time I saw her was when she came home from your place. She had her suitcase, and then she went to work."

"What did you say to her to make her leave?" Chris demanded, and Alan looked at him like he had lost his mind. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"She came to my house, packed her shit, and after awhile of us hanging out, she came back here. She told me she wasn't going to leave me, and she did. And she was perfectly fine before she came over here. What the hell did you tell her?" Chris had never felt so angry in his life, with the exception of Lou's betrayal.
Alan sighed and sat down in a chair next to the door. "I didn't say anything to her, Chris."

Chris snorted harshly. "I'm famous, not stupid, Crane. You had to say something."

Alan sent a dark look at him. "Chris, trust me. There's a lot you don't know about Nyx."

"Yeah, no fucking kidding." Chris shook his head, huffing in exasperation.

"There is nothing between Nyx and I." said Alan, calmly, and he ignored Chris's massive eye roll. "I thought there was, but…well, like I said, there's a lot you don't know."

"Well, why don't you tell me? God, is this a Louisiana thing, not ever talking about things? All these secrets. It's fucking ridiculous." Chris ranted, and Alan sighed and rose from his chair. He sat next to Chris on the bed and seemed to pause before he spoke.

"Chris, how good are you at keeping secrets?"

Chris looked at him in hard disbelief. "I spent most of my adult life hiding mine from the public. What do you think?"

Alan looked down at the floor, heaved a deep breath. "If you ever repeat what I'm about to tell you, I'll sue you blind, do you hear me, Kirkpatrick?" His look was so fierce that Chris was taken aback, and could only nod. Alan reached into his pocket, withdrew a piece of paper, and handed it to Chris, who took it. He squinted at the numbers and letters, and at first they didn't make any sense, but as they unscrambled, Chris' eyes grew wide.

"This is Lance's number. Why do you have Lance's number?"

"I've been carrying it around since your BBQ like an idiot." Alan admitted, and Chris looked up at him, his mouth dragging the ground.
"Yeah." Alan amended sadly, and Chris, his hands numb, handed the piece of paper back to Alan, who pocketed it immediately.

"Why are you telling ME this?" Chris wanted to know, thoroughly confused.

"Because I figure you've got too much to lose, and I needed to tell somebody else. I'm sorry if I dumped on you. I just," Alan sighed. "needed to get it out of me."
"I understand." Chris said slowly, but he wasn't sure he did. "But if you're...you know…why do you seem like you're in love with my girlfriend?"

Alan looked down at his hands. "I was at one point. Hell, I'll always love Nyx. She's easy to love, despite being a complete pain in the ass. How can any guy NOT love her? But I realized recently, very recently, that it's a different sort of love, and I was only fooling myself. You ever had that happen to you?"

Chris nodded absentlyf, Dani's sad face flashing across the front of his brain.

They sat there in the quiet room, not talking for what seemed like ages. Chris's brain was whirring. Alan was gay. Alan was carrying Lance's number around. Lance, Chris's brother. The two ideas were repelling magnets, they would not stick.

"Chris?" Alan's voice cut through his thoughts.

"What?" Chris asked a little irritably, he didn't like being confused.

"Did she say she'd come back?" Alan sounded sad. Chris looked at him.

"Yes."

The other man spread his hands. "Then she will."

I parked my car against Alan’s curb and cut the engine, leaning my forehead on the steering wheel.

I wanted to go back to sleep, but I couldn’t. I had been sleeping for the past four or five days, if you could call ‘passing out’ sleep. I had things to do, lies to tell, and promises to keep, but I felt as if I were running a rat race. I had to find Chris, assuming he still wanted me. I had to apologize to Alan, if he’d ever forgive me. I had to stop by my work, even though it was probably no longer work anymore. I had to wash my hair and get the gunk off of my body and the funky old sock taste out of my mouth. And maybe for fifteen minutes, God willing, get a little sleep.

The thought of climbing up the sloping green lawn almost made me consider passing out in my car, but the heat was unforgiveable and I stumbled out of my car. Birds chirped. People were mowing their grass, or at least having other people mow their grass. They were having fun and enjoying the summer, but me, I had shit to do, none of it pleasant.

I made it up to the front door, restraining the urge to carry on my tradition of puking in the garden, and banged on the door weakly. Fuck my key.

Amparo opened the door, and when she saw me, she just stared, but I pushed past her, not bothering to say hello or goodbye, just dragging myself up the stairs. One by one, the entire staff ventured into the foyer to watch me climb. Let them watch the freak show. Who gives a shit?

My door was open and I stopped in my tracks when I heard movement inside. Alan, waiting for me. Christ, the man had his own room. I wasn’t in the mood, and I let him know as I rounded the corner.

“Alan, get a life, will you, I-…”

Chris Kirkpatrick and Alan were sitting on my bed.

I halted so suddenly that my feet probably left skid marks in the carpet. They both straightened to their feet the second they saw me. Two pairs of eyes looked me up and down with horror, and they both took steps towards me at the same time.

I felt like I was going to faint. My throat went bone dry. This was not happening. This was not happening. This was not happening.

“Nyx, what the hell have you been doing?” Chris whispered loudly, his eyes taking in the blood on my collar, and I swallowed, hard, my eyes flickering between them. Alan didn’t have to ask. His eyes were searching mine quickly. Chris took a few more steps towards me, but I held out my hand to halt him.

“I’m fine.”

“The fuck you are!” Chris exclaimed, and I winced from the loud noise. “Chris, please.”

“Chris please nothing! You look like you’ve been in a riot!”

My eyes met Alan’s, and he looked hard back at me, no sympathy for the devil there. I dug my own grave and he was letting me lie in it. Who could blame him?”

I looked at my feet. “Alan, please excuse us.”

“I think I’d like to know exactly what Chris wants to know, Nyx.” Alan crossed his arms, and I raised my head to send a look of supreme loathing his way.

“I have no reason to explain myself to you, Alan Crane.”

“Oh, really? I’ll just call your mother then, you can explain yourself to her.” Alan threatened, and I felt my face drain of color, what was left of it, anyway. I made myself control my temper, though, and I bit my lower lip.

“Alan, we will talk later. Please leave Chris and I alone.”

Evidently he didn’t want to make a stink in front of our guest, because Alan wavered under the look I gave him and walked out of my room, closing the door behind him.

Chris tried once more to approach me, but I shook my head. “Don’t. I don’t smell so great.”

“Like I care about that.” He muttered, pushing my hand out of the way and grabbing me in a hug. My whole body went lax against his, immediately, relieved to lean against something. I closed my eyes and inhaled the smell of his neck-he hadn’t shaved and it felt strangely comforting to have his stubble rubbing my face. I hesitated, but snaked my arms around him and hugged him weakly against me.

Despite my smell, which was probably reaching epic proportions, Chris didn’t let go of me for a few minutes, which felt unbearably good. During those four days, I had missed him to the point of insanity, even going as far as to cry out his name a few times. It no longer scared me, I felt bulletproof now.

“Where have you been, Nyx?” Chris whispered into my hair.

“Does that matter? I came back.” I pulled away to gaze at his face, those brown eyes achingly confused and angry and frustrated. He exhaled. “That’s not the point, Nyx.” His arms withdrew from around me, and I felt cold, like someone had tossed me into ice water. Chris turned and walked to sit on my bed, and I followed. We didn’t speak, I was afraid to trigger anything. What if all my efforts had been for nothing? I cursed myself for not thinking of the consequences, as always. What if he gave up?

The tension between us was unbearable, but I could not speak. I hadn’t thought of a good excuse for my whereabouts. I thought I’d get to see him after I had cleaned up; I thought I’d have time to concoct a story. Just goes to show you that God laughs at plans.

Chris looked at me, and I resisted the urge to return the look for a few seconds, but his gaze was too strong and I looked back at him, my chin held high. If he was going to dump me, I wasn’t going to falter.

“I don’t know what to do, Nyx. I’m at a loss here. You say you’re not going to disappear, and then you do. No calls. I almost called the cops-I called a few hospitals, but no one had any record of you. Then you show up after four days of nothing looking like someone beat the living crap out of you. What the hell is going on?”

I exhaled. Here goes everything. When the words came out, it was like a dam had broken. “Chris, I had to go away. I had to get over some stuff. More importantly, I had to get over my fear of being with you. It was a really selfish and dick move on my part, and sorry isn’t good enough, so I won’t insult you with it. I wish I had a good excuse. I wish I had some answers for you. If you want to walk away, by all means, I would think the better of you for it. God knows, I’d love to walk away from myself sometimes.”

Chris punched the comforter of my bed in exasperation, making me jump. “God, Nyx, what the living hell are you talking about, walking away? Should I? Probably. Will I? No. Probably not. But the next time you go running off like this, I will. I’m not a masochist, Nyx. Don’t play with me.”

I swallowed hard, taking his threat to heart. Chris, like me, was not a bluffer. I had not expected this from him, though, this sudden leniency. I had expected him to glare at me and leave me, tell me this was way too much for him to handle, even though he didn’t know the half of it. Now I know, much later down the line, that Chris has always been a sucker for a lost cause, because he thought he used to be one. But I didn’t know this at the time, so I was at his mercy.

“I don’t plan on playing with you.” I whispered. My voice sounded like it had been rolled in wet cement.

“Well, can I ask why the hell you look so messed up, or is that overstepping the boundaries of what I need to know?” Chris asked snidely, and I couldn’t exactly jump his ass for his flippancy. I would have asked the same question to myself.

“I got sick again.” I said, in a very small voice.

“So you disappear somewhere and don’t let anyone know where you are? Nyx, that’s fucking crazy. I mean, I KNOW you have better sense then that.” Chris scowled at me.

“Evidently not.” I muttered, looking down at the floor.

“I mean, are you like, terminally ill or something? Cancer? Eating disorder? What? And don’t insult me by telling me it’s the flu.” Chris warned, and I snorted, despite myself.

“Chris, do I honestly look like the type to have an eating disorder?”

“It takes all kinds. Believe me, I know. I’ve seen it.” He said shortly.

I let out a deep breath. “I don’t have an eating disorder, I sure as fuck hope I don’t have cancer, and I don’t have a brain tumor or a patristic twin growing out of me somewhere. Lots of people get chronic nosebleeds. Maybe I have an ulcer. I don’t know, I’m not a doctor. I just know that I’m tired of getting that way, and if settles your nerves, I’ll go see one.”

Chris’s eyebrows shot into his skull. “Oh, there’s no doubt about that. I’ll drag you myself.”

I scoffed. “I’d like to see you try, Kirkpatrick.”

He gave me one of those patented Christopher Kirkpatrick Looks that made me shut my trap. I hated those things. They made me feel like a child, which I probably deserved, come to think of it now. He took a long sideways look at me, then groaned into his hands.

“I swear, you drive me fucking nuts, Nyx.”

“I’m sorry?” I whispered, not able to meet his eyes. He exhaled slowly, then reached over and squeezed my knee. The sudden contact made my chest contract.

“At least you keep me on my toes.” He gruffly amended, and I tried a smile.

“Somebody’s got to, Kirkpatrick. Who’s going to kick your ass when you get on your late night Bruce Lee marathons? You almost kicked a hole into your living room wall.”

“Hey, give me any shit you want, just not about the man.” Chris threatened, fighting back a reluctant smile. But I was on a roll.

“Or when you ate a whole pack of Pixie Stix and prank called everybody in your phone? Not to mention the one time you and Dave farted over speakerphone for an hour, trying to recreate some sort of football cheer? I keep YOU on YOUR toes? Pfft.” I mock scowled at him, and by now, he was laughing into his hands, unable to help himself. This encouraged me, I was relieved to get off the subject of the last four days. If it there one thing I was good at, it was making Chris laugh. Even though I pretty much sucked at everything else.

“By the way, your living room will never smell the same. I’m surprised that you didn’t call someone to fumigate.” I teased, and Chris waved me away, still chuckling.

“Okay, okay, don’t pick on the gassy old guy. Consider me called on my bullshit.”

We just sat there and looked at each other, trying not to smile.

“Forgive me?” I whispered hopefully, and he reached over and took my hand, shaking his head.

“I shouldn’t, and you should be ashamed of yourself, trying to change the subject and making me laugh like that, but I can’t resist you, you pain in the ass.” He said wryly, trying to be stern, but Chris sucks at staying mad, so I knew I was in the green.

“Duly noted. Feelings of shame are washing over me.” I held up my hand. “Catholic school girl’s honor.”

Chris groaned. “I’ll pretend I never heard that you were a Catholic schoolgirl.”

I made a face and looked down at myself. “Can’t really blame you when I smell like this.”

He leaned in and sniffed my shoulder, then crinkled up his nose. “You smell like…metal. Definitely not as good as your satsuma stuff.”

I didn’t bother informing him that the reason I smelled metallic is because I basically laid in my own blood and sweat for four days. I stood up, affectionately mussing up his hair. “I’m going to go jump in the shower. I shall emerge smelling of satsumas, as apology for the last four days.”

Chris snorted. “Sister, what you put me through these past four days goes beyond smelling like satsumas. No, I think you owe me big time.”

I widened my eyes. “Christ, I said I was sorry! Don’t make me wear your leather pants again! It’s just not right!”

Chris tapped the side of his cheek in exaggeration, pointedly ignoring me. “Let’s see-first thing, you’re going to sleep at my house tonight. Second, you’re going to tell me more about that Catholic schoolgirl thing, and I’ll probably have you send off for it. Third, you’ll make me tacos-and enjoy it.”

“Is there a fourth, you diva?” I asked acidly, but I was willing to do all that, and more, if he wanted to forgive me.

“Don’t tempt me. Joey once made a sex tape while he and Kelly house-sat for me. It’s probably still there and I’m not afraid to dig for it.”

I made a yuck face and Chris laughed, rising to his feet. “Go take a shower. I’ll be at my house. Door will be open.” He kissed my forehead, and I nearly fainted with relief.

“You have to stop leaving your door open. One day a fan’s going to come in while you’re sleeping and rape you, and I’ll have to cut a bitch.” I complained, heading into the bathroom.

“Does that mean you’re jealous?” Chris called after me, grinning like an idiot. I turned and fixed him with a evil smile.

“Immensely. And I enjoy playing with my food before I eat it.”

I’m not prone to being egotistical, but really, a girl has to pat herself on the back when she smells like Bourbon Street and still manages to make her boyfriend’s jaw drop. I closed the door on Chris’s wide eyes and awestruck expression and leaned against it, taking a deep breath.

So far, so good.
***************************
Four or five days were not enough for Nyx to completely detox. In reality, it takes weeks, sometimes even months, maybe even years, depending on the severity of the addiction. As far as hers, well, she had a long way to go before she’d be free. Nyx began to try and repair herself, staying away from liquor the best she could, skirting from situations from which she could acquire cocaine or Ecstasy. It wasn’t easy, and a few times she almost gave in, but always stopped before the buy, the transfer, the snort, the sip.

She wanted drugs and liquor, sure, but she had wanted Chris more.
*************************

“So, what’s the word, Doc? How am I looking? Dead yet?” I teased, yanking down my shirt.

Dr. Triche, Alan’s physician, sighed and tucked his stethoscope back into his lab coat pocket. “Your lab tests came back, they look much better.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” I forced myself not to look at the clock. Chris was picking me up from Alan’s in an hour to go to another paintball tournament, and I still had to run and grab my stuff.

“You’re gaining weight back, slowly, but you’re much better then you were when I last saw you.” He reported, studying the folder in front of him. My face flushed. Last time Dr. Triche had seen me, I had been comatose, and probably topless.
“And my nose?” I asked hopefully, but Dr. Triche shook his head. “Your nose shows significant damage, Nyx. If you are using, I’d try to seek help, especially since your nosebleeds are only going to increase. Plus, you have had a recent break.”

“I’m not using at the moment.” I said slowly, trying to process his words.

“Well, while we’re on the subject…” Dr. Triche rolled across the room in his chair and closed the door to the examination room. Fear was slick in my throat.

He looked down at my tests again, then up at me. When he spoke, his words were gentle, but their effect was no less crippling. “If you start using cocaine again, it’s unlikely you’ll make it to the end of the year without hospitalization. Your condition is so severe that I am having a hard time not admitting you to the hospital right now- your liver shows signs of deterioration. For your size, you’ve done an incredible amount of damage. There are programs…-“

I held up my hand, my head spinning. “Do you have a bathroom?”

The doctor paused, his eyes sad and knowing. “Hallway.”

I immediately jumped off of the table and flung myself into the hall, groped for the door handle, slammed the door behind me, and promptly puked.

Everywhere.
****************************
Chris stopped his Harley in front of Alan’s house, killing the motor. He yanked off his helmet and grabbed Nyx’s purple one, then hurried up the front walk.
The door opened before he even reached it, and Nyx stepped out onto the porch, holding her backpack, and her face was so devoid of color that Chris thought at first that she had just witnessed a double beheading. He rushed up to her.

“Babe, what’s the matter?” He grabbed her hand, it was ice cold.

She looked up at him in dull surprise, as if she had just realized his presence.

“What?”

“You look sick.” Chris peered into her eyes, anxious.

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t insult my intelligence. What’s the matter?” Chris asked impatiently, dropping the helmets into the deep grass behind him.

“They took blood at the doctor’s office. It always flushes me out, and I hate needles.” Nyx waved away his concern, but she seemed to be looking straight through him, and Chris, not buying it, gave her a sharp little shake.

“What?” She snapped, her eyes finally focusing, and then she winced. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to jump at you.”

“It’s alright. Are you sure it’s only the needles? Do you need me to get a cookie or something?” Chris asked lamely, hating that he didn’t know how to help her.

“Why, you have some?” Nyx joked, poking his side. This sudden glimpse of his girlfriend made Chris sigh in half exasperation, half relief.

“Not on me, but we could stop at Starbucks. You can buy a six dollar coffee and throw it at some pretentious hipster’s face.” Chris suggested, and Nyx roared with laughter. “We can’t stop there, it’s bat country.” She grabbed his hand and bent down to grab her helmet, which Chris had gotten custom made for her a few weeks ago. It had a huge Jolly Roger on the top, and he had never forgotten how she had tackled him into the sofa for it. Mostly because they had almost fallen off, and she had still been wearing it.

“Ready to kick Mike and Ernie’s ass?” She winked at him and started pulling him down the driveway, Chris following with an amused smile.

As they reached the bike, Chris stopped her. “Are you going to be able to hold a gun and roll around? Don’t your arms hurt?”

Nyx sniggered at him. “Chris, when did you become a mother hen?”

“Be serious. Show me your arms.” Chris glared down at her, not really angry, but the look always worked, and Nyx, with an impatient sigh, dropped her helmet and yanked up the sleeves of the motorcycle jacket she wore.

The crooks of her pale arms were riddled with red marks. Chris goggled at them. “What the fuck, were they shooting you up?!

Nyx scowled and tried to pull them down. “My veins suck.”

Chris reached out and took her wrist, not allowing her to hide them. “Whether your veins suck or not, those nurses are vampires; this is ridiculous.” He exclaimed, drawing her arm closer to his eyes, but not daring to touch them.

“Oh, will you stop fussing, you ass. See, I’m fine?” Nyx pulled her arm out of his grip and bent it back and forth to show him that she could still move it. Chris winced. “If you say so.”

“I do say so. Let’s get going, I’m ready to kick some ass.” She grabbed her helmet and moved to stand expectantly in front of his Harley, which Chris had unearthed a few weeks back from the depths of his garage. Since then, they had abandoned the Suzaki.

Chris could do nothing but pull his helmet on and straddle the bike, but he could not get those damn red marks out of his eyes. What kind of doctor was Alan sending her to? He made a memo to have a personal talk with the man when they returned. He felt Nyx slide on behind him, and he tried not to think about how badly her arms must have stung when they wrapped around his middle.

“Thundercats are go!” He heard her yell as they took off, and even Chris had to smile. You had to hand it to her-nothing ever kept her down.
**********************
After the paintball tournament, Chris and I returned to his house, sweaty, paint streaked, and laughing our asses off.

“Did you see the way I landed Joey with that one to the back of the helmet? Big boy went down like a champ!” I crowed as they stepped into the kitchen, and Chris snickered. “I wish I would have had a camera. Joe’s face was priceless.”

“It was like watching a building fall in slow motion.” I countered, and Chris laughed as he rooted in his fridge, handing me an ice cold water.

“You are, by far, the most ruthless girl I have ever known.” He commented wryly, withdrawing a beer for himself. My eyes landed on it and could not look away, my mouth went dry. The sound of cicadas echoed loudly in my ears, they always came when I was withdrawing from alcohol. My skin felt prickly. I swallowed, hard.

Your liver is deteriorating.

“Nyx? Hello?” Chris waved his hand in front of my face, and the sudden movement made me jump out of my trance.

“Yeah, sorry, it’s the heat. Went space cadet.” I laughed weakly, then closed my eyes and started gulping the water, anything to keep my eyes off of that damn green bottle.

Chris set it down on the counter, thankfully, and waited until I had stopped drinking to step forward and pull me close. The feeling of his hands, even through his paintball gloves, made me close my eyes. He gently took the water bottle out of my hand and set it behind me. He smelled like grass and sweat and that great woodsy Chris smell that made every gland in my abused nose twitch.

“Hey.” He murmured, rubbing his blue flecked nose against mine.

“Hi.” I whispered back, and he kissed the corner of my mouth, once, twice, three times, then went for my lips, much rougher then usual. I slid my arms around his neck and took control of the kiss, pushing him back and pulling him in again. I felt his tongue run along my bottom lip and reciprocated with a moan, even though I was surprised by his forward manner. Ever since my disappearing weeks ago, Chris was careful not to do anything to encourage me, and so we hadn’t had sex again. Now I not only feigned for coke and liquor, but I was obsessed with the thought of being with him again in that way.

Call me a tramp. The man was absolutely maddening.

I knew he was wary of sleeping with me because he didn’t want me to disappear again. I wish I could tell him that being with him was not what made me leave, it was, in fact, one of the big reasons I came back. But I couldn’t tell him that without telling him the rest, so I just plotted and schemed ways to drive him to insanity. The schemes usually worked, but Chris was holding out better then I had expected. My obsessive nature took over-when I wanted something, it was only a matter of time until I had it. Yeah, now you can see how I got the rest of my issues.

Chris broke away from me, breathing hard, his eyes glowering at me from under those goddamn lashes. “Stop trying to kill me, woman.” He scolded, but I just smiled, my eyes still closed. “Stop driving me that way.”

Chris shook his head and gently nipped at my lower lip. “You first.”

“Butthead.” I countered, and I felt him shake with repressed laughter. “You suck at pillow talk.”

“Oh, is that what this is? How gay.” I joked, poking him in the belly.

Chris sighed and wrapped his arms around me tightly. “You exhaust me sometimes.”

“That’s a feat in itself.” I remarked, and he gave me a half smile, kissing my forehead, but almost immediately making a face. “Yuck. Paint.”

I reached up and wiped a smudge of blue off of his forehead. “Speak for yourself. You look like a Smurf face raped you.” For some reason Chris found this extremely entertaining and buried his face in my shoulder, his body shuddering against mine.

“You are also the most politically incorrect person I’ve ever met.” He chuckled, kissing my neck affectionately.

I rolled my eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

“Anytime.” Chris pulled away from me with one last squeeze. “I need a shower. And so do you.”

I sniggered. “Yeah, I’d say so. Go wash the Smurf off your face.”

Chris, who had picked up his beer, almost spit it out as he laughed. “Stop saying crazy shit while I’m drinking!” He accused, and I threw up my hands. “I’m sorry! I can’t help it! I am what I am.” I did an almost perfect imitation of Popeye and Chris, his lips pinched in an effort to not laugh, took a big gulp of his beer, holding up a hand to stop me from saying any more. Watching the liquid leaving the bottle brought back the buzzing of the cicadas. I closed my eyes and forced myself to remember pictures from DARE class back in elementary school. Shriveled up livers. That’s what I had to look forward to, if the cicadas got too much to bear.

Chris tossed the now empty beer bottle in the trash and the sound brought me abruptly back to Earth. “I’m going to jump in the shower upstairs. You can use the one down here. Don’t worry about the hot water.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek, then turned and bustled out of the room, leaving his woodsy smell behind.
I just sat there, staring at the bottle, hearing him bound up the stairs.

Oh Chris, I thought. You’re so lucky you’re worth it.
******************************
Chris’ shower downstairs was only half as elaborate as the one in his bedroom, which meant that it was more then enough for a King or a Queen to enjoy. It was spacious enough for me to sleep in, enclosed by glass, the walls and floor a dark cobblestone. I had never used the shower before and had stuck to the huge bathtub instead, when I was sick and staying here. Back then I had locked the door, even though Chris would have never intruded. Now I left it slightly open, my heart beating as I stepped onto the cold stones, hating myself for being such a tramp. I knew in all probability that nothing would happen. As devious as he was with all his comments and touches, Chris was more a gentleman then anything. This used to reassure me. Now it just pissed me off.

I turned on the hot water, as hot as it could go, and grit my teeth as it burned my skin. I should have really gotten into a cold one, but as a Southerner I was generally opposed to anything cold. Besides, the hot water took my mind off wanting Chris and wanting the liquor and everything else. It numbed, it burned, it helped, if only a little. My skin was turning an angry red, but I didn’t care. I tilted my face to the spray, the sunburn on my face aching painfully. The glass around me immediately fogged up. I could see nothing outside of it, not even the floor. Not that it mattered. I had a thing about being in a shower naked, especially a glass one, and I was wearing a bra and boy shorts. Different colors of paint fell around my feet, dissolving instantly in the heat. I tried not to think of Chris upstairs.

“Nyx?”

I let out a terrified yelp and almost slipped. Chris’ voice was coming from right outside the shower stall. I squinted, but I couldn’t see anything but a vague form, and black shorts.

I gulped. “Yes?” I tried to make my voice sound normal.

“Is the water hot enough?”

I looked down at my bright red arms. “Yeah, you could say that. Is there something wrong?”

He didn’t answer. “Chris?” I whispered, but the water drowned me out.
“Can I…can I come in there?”

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holyshit holyshit.

“It’s your shower.” I said off-handedly, but my throat was very dry. Be careful of what you wish for, by the way, God always seems to give it to you and laugh at your reaction.

The glass door to the shower opened and Chris stepped through, wearing only a pair of black trunk shorts. When he saw me, he stopped and stared. I was suddenly aware of how grateful I was to have my little shower tick. If I would have been naked, I would have dissolved and gone right down the drain with the paint.
I could not joke. I could not tease. There was no room for that in here. All I could do is stand there in the hot water and watch him watching me, and he seemed to be unable to stop doing it.

“What are you doing?” I whispered, loudly enough to cut through the water.

Chris shook himself out of his trance and gave me one of those trademark

Kirkpatrick ‘Smartass’ grins. “Conserving water. Doing my part.”

I raised my eyebrows coolly. “Aren’t you just the celebrity environmentalist?”

The only thing between us was the hot spray and that didn’t stop him, not for a second. Three steps had me against the stony wall, and before I could even think of a comeback, Chris’s mouth was against mine, his tongue was in my mouth, and his arms were pulling me to him as if he was trying to stuff me inside himself. I moaned instantly, my self consciousness gone, my fear swirling down the drain, no pun intended. Chris’s hands were tangled in my wet hair and I grabbed his forearms, tasting the Heineken on his breath but no longer caring. The stones dug into my back but nothing could have pulled me away from that spot.

This Chris was not interested in being a gentleman. This Chris was grasping and desperate, and I could only mirror his vigor.

It was only until Chris broke away from me, finally, for air, that he felt the water on his back and he almost screeched. “Jesus Christ, why is the water so hot?”
“Is it?” I asked innocently, and Chris made a face and groped for the tap, sighing in relief when slightly cooler water rained down on us. Goosebumps burst out instantly on my skin, but I couldn’t care less as he turned his back on the water and slipped his arms around me again.

“What are you doing in here, Chris?” I murmured, not looking at him. I felt his fingers brushing aside my hair.

“Want me to leave?” He breathed, ensuring a big fat mental NO as I felt his fingers slip below the band of my boy shorts.

I shook my head. “Not on your life.”

Chris rubbed his nose on mine. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Took you long enough.” I barely managed to get the words out as the fingers traced an idle path on my hip.

I felt the vibrations from his soft laughter on my cheek. “I can’t be a saint all the time.” Lips pressed against my neck, once, twice, three times, and then a slight nip, making me jump, the stones against my back cutting deeply into my skin. I hardly noticed.

“Does this mean you’re finally taking advantage of me?” I could barely let myself hope.

“Nyx, by this point, I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t.” Chris murmured, his mouth on my collarbone now. I reached up and gently raised his face to mine, meeting his eyes, which were determined as they searched mine for things he’d be sure to find, provided he looked hard enough.

“Nyx, I…”

I put a finger to his mouth, almost drunk with terrified anticipation.
“Show me, then.” I said quietly.

Chris’ eyes darkened, those goddamn brown eyes were killing me. And as he obeyed my silent plea and leaned in to kiss me hard, his hand slipped lower until I rocked against him, unaware that the whispers of ‘yes’ were my own.

Again, I dodge a bullet.
**********************
Late at night, the air was cool
We snuck into the swimming pool
I went under and you followed
Let's not think about tomorrow

everything is perfect now

everything is perfect now - i held my breath
everything is perfect now - you held my hand
everything is perfect now - moving away
everything is perfect now - further from land
everything is perfect now - the stars were bright
everything is perfect now - the water clear
everything is perfect now - i felt your heat
everything is perfect now - as you swam near
everything is perfect now.