7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Lacey

Football stadiums are so romantic.

Sweeping my eyes along the painted turf, I let out a sigh as I picture the famous scene of Austin Ames running off the field to find his Cinderella. The wooden bleachers stand tall and proud along the edge, the massive scoreboard lying dormant under the dark sky.

Over the years, I've been to many stadiums to watch Wesley and Nico's lacrosse tournaments, but I've never had the chance to touch the field before.

"Is it everything you'd hoped it would be?"

The low pitch of Skylar's voice sends a shiver through me. I hug his sweater closer, trying to play off my body's response.

"Absolutely."

I sneak a glance in his direction and find both eyes trained on my face. The blue iris is easier to see in the dark, but the dark one draws me in more. His face is completely expressionless, but I can see the curiosity shining in his eyes.

"Remember when I said I was competing as a Saber? I lied." Hunching my shoulders, I pretend to prowl towards him, "I'm a tiger in disguise."

I leap forward and tag him before sprinting in the opposite direction.

"YOU'RE IT!"

Stealing a glance over my shoulder, I find Skylar staring after me as if he's not quite sure what to do. I throw my head back and laugh, feeling freer than I have in a long time.

"Come on, Skylar! Don't let the rival win."

He hesitates, looking around as if to see if I'd be playing with anyone else. I slow down, suddenly aware he might not know the rules of tag, when he breaks into a run. I wait until he's close enough to reach me before dodging and racing for the closest goal post. I'm just about to reach it when a gentle tap hits my shoulder.

"Too slow, Flower."

I whip around, trying to grab him but he jumps out of reach. Skylar turns, sprinting in the opposite direction and I go charging after him.

This man must have been lying about his sports history because he can run. My lungs are screaming by the time I make it halfway down the field and I have to hold up a hand in defeat.

"Time out!" Gasping for air, I bend over and brace my hands on my knees. Skylar jogs over, looking anything but winded .

"Had enough of the varsity status?"

I gulp down a breath and shake my head, "Not what it's cracked up to be."

Skylar huffs out a quiet laugh and I use the moment to my advantage. Lunging forward, I lean over and tap his leg. I pivot, about to make my great escape when my toe gets caught on the turf and I go crashing down.

Right on my face.

"Ow." I grumble the words into the fake grass and roll onto my back.

"Are you hurt?"

"Yes." Skylar steps into my line of sight and I pull a face, "My dignity is completely gone."

He tilts his head, "Your dignity is still intact, but this did confirm your coordination sucks."

I sigh, "Guess I won't be making the lacrosse team anytime soon."

Leaning my head back against the ground, I let my eyes drift up to the sky. Hundreds of stars shine back at me, their tiny dots a white splash against the dark blanket of the night.

"Wow."

Skylar clears his throat, "Is it okay if I join you?"

"Of course."

I move over and Skylar settles himself down beside me. He leaves enough space so that our shoulders aren't touching, but I can still feel the presence of his body. My heart starts to race and I can't tell if it's from fear or excitement .

"Tell me a secret."

He turns to look at me, our faces a couple of feet apart, "What do you want to know?"

I shrug, "Anything."

Skylar falls silent, his eyes tracing my face. He doesn't leer like most of the guys I know, he just looks at me. Studies me in a way that makes me feel seen.

Wanted.

The thought has a blush heating my cheeks. I haven't been with anyone since the incident, and honestly, I haven't felt the need to. My lips and body have been untouched for two years now and I didn't think that would ever change.

But now I'm starting to wonder what Skylar's lips feel like.

"I read your messages every night." He swallows and drops his gaze, "Since the first day you left me a response, I've read them every night."

My heart stills.

"You kept them all?"

He nods, "I like seeing your handwriting. Makes it feel more real."

A strand of white hair falls across his forehead, and without thinking, I reach out and brush it back.

We both freeze when my fingers touch his skin and I quickly snatch my hand away. I open my mouth to apologize, but Skylar breaks the silence first.

"Your turn. "

My breathing turns shallow, the possibilities running through my mind. There are so many things I want to tell him that I don't know where to start.

Skylar tilts his head back to study the stars twinkling above us, giving me the time to think it through. He does it casually, as if my prolonged silence is nothing unusual.

And suddenly I know my answer.

"You make me feel normal." I whisper, feeling a lump rising in my throat, "Even on my worst days, you make me feel like I'm not another broken anomaly."

Skylar turns and stares at me, silence falling between us once more. I can see countless emotions flickering through his eyes, the steady rise and fall of his chest.

"You make me feel normal too."

His face breaks into a smile and my world stops.

Lips tilted up at the corners, Skylar's face transforms in front of my eyes. His stoic features soften into a boyish grin, his mismatched eyes crinkling at the corners. The sharp definition of his cheekbones somehow become more prominent while the white hair falling in his eyes gives him an angelic glow.

In the blink of an eye, my new friend went from beautiful to devastating, and my heart is having a hard time comprehending.

I swallow, trying to tear my gaze away from the radiant boy beside me. I almost succeed when my eyes decide to do something stupid.

Stop and stare at his lips .

There's a shift in the air, or maybe I'm the one who shifted, because suddenly there's a lot less space between us than there was before. The warmth of Skylar's body is close enough to touch and the space between our faces has shrunk down to mere inches.

He sucks in a breath and it's drawn straight from my chest. Excitement and fear charge through my system, the heady combination of adrenalin and Skylar's proximity making my heart slam against my ribcage.

"Tell me another secret."

The tip of our noses brush and my stomach goes into a free fall.

The world falls away until all I can hear is the erratic beat of my heart. He shifts closer, nudging his nose against my own. My core clenches at the simple movement, a single trail of heat making its way down between my legs.

"I, uh…" My eyes dart between the two beautiful colours in front of me. One iris shines through the night while the other welcomes me in the dark.

"Flower?"

The weight of Skylar's stare caresses my cheek, his warm breath painting my lips. The nickname enfolds me like a blanket and it's all I can do not to burst into tears.

"You're more perfect than I could have possibly imagined." I breathe out the words and Skylar breathes them in, "In every way. "

I watch his eyes flutter down, the delicate lashes brushing his pale skin. Raising my hand, I stroke his cheek and whisper the rest of my secret.

"And I'd really like it if you would kiss me now."

Skylar

She thinks I'm perfect.

My chest feels hollow as I bring my eyes back to her face. The broken organ that should be beating inside is gone, stolen right in front of my eyes.

I come from a family of monsters and she thinks I'm perfect.

Before the doubt can start to creep in, I lean forward and press my lips against hers. Lacey lets out a gasp at the first contact, but it doesn't take long for her to welcome me home.

Tracing the seam of her lips with my tongue, she parts them eagerly, threading her fingers through my hair while I explore her mouth. She strokes my face as I kiss her, the gentle press of her fingers against my skin leaving me breathless.

My hands itch to slide over her warm body and discover every curve and dimple she has to offer, but I hold back. There's too many unknown variables about her past to let my hormones take over.

Lacey's fingernails glide down my neck and I shiver, fighting the urge to roll over and press into her. A breathless moan slips past her lips and I swallow it whole, drowning in the one person who helps me remember what it feels like to be alive .

Pressing my lips against hers for one last time, I leave a silent promise behind. No matter what happens after tonight, I will always take care of my flower.

Even if her future doesn't include me.

Opening my eyes, all I can see is Lacey's smiling face. Swollen lips, sparkling green eyes, and rosy cheeks stare back at me in the most beautiful combination of broken pieces.

"Maybe you were right about empty football stadiums." Slowly easing away, I give her a hesitant smile, "They're kind of awesome."

Lacey beams, her face lighting up like a Christmas tree, "I told you."

She sits up and pieces of artificial grass fall from her rumpled hair. I swallow, letting my eyes roam down the Saber sweater and the black skirt barely covering her thighs.

She looks like a dream, and for a moment, I want to fall back to sleep.

Her skirt rides up as she climbs to her feet and I quickly look away, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable with my wandering eyes.

Clearing my throat, I risk a glance over my shoulder, "Can I give you a ride home?"

"That would be lovely."

Lacey gives me another wide smile and my chest cracks wide open. She's so transparent with her emotions, so honest and trusting with every smile. It makes me wonder what happened in the days that led to her trying to take her own life .

What kind of monster tried to dull my flower's shine.

Rage, sharper than any knife, cuts through me so quickly my body starts to shake. My hands clench as violent thoughts flash through my mind, each one more horrible than the last. I grind my teeth, trying to tamper the fury exploding through my system.

I want to fucking kill him.

The person who did this to her. The person who almost stole her from me.

"I was wondering if maybe you'd want to exchange numbers or something." Lacey blushes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "So we could talk more often. Maybe hangout again."

The haze in my eyes is so thick I can barely see, the anger choking me until I can't breathe. My muscles tremble as I fight to keep the beast inside, the need to release the pressure overpowering me.

"Do you have a pen?" I choke out the words and Lacey nods.

"I think so… one second." She rummages in her purse, and I focus on bringing my heart rate down like Karen taught me.

"Here you go." Her smile slips into a frown, "Skylar, what's wrong?"

"I-I need to draw." I gulp down a breath, looking anywhere but her face. All night we've been trading secrets, but here I am, struggling to keep the biggest one at bay.

Dropping my gaze to the ground, I feel my shoulders hunch as I try to shield myself from Lacey's kind eyes.

I don't deserve her kindness .

I don't deserve her.

"Skylar, look at me." She lifts my chin until I have no choice but to look at her. Lacey stares at me, seeing the ugly side for the first time, but she doesn't turn away.

"You're safe here." She presses the pen into my hands, "I don't have any paper, but you can draw on me."

I freeze, my fingers clenching the pen painfully, "I can't draw on you."

"Yes, you can." She smiles, shrugging out of my sweater, "It will only take a shower or two to wash off."

I stare at her, thinking about the hideous pieces I have spent my life drawing. The kind of violence no one wants their children to see, let alone have traced onto their skin. If Lacey had any idea of the kind of art I create, she would run away screaming.

"Stop overthinking." Lacey holds out her bare arm with a fake pout, "I'm not leaving this stadium until you draw me something."

I swallow, reaching out to touch the soft texture of her skin. Goosebumps break out and Lacey bites her lip. My fingers tremble as I push aside the thin strap of her tank top and press the tip of the pen down.

"Ooh, that tickles." Lacey starts to giggle and the sound puts a dent in my rage.

Taking a deep breath, I trail the pen down over her shoulder, letting the steady glide of the ink lead the way. Losing myself in the artistic process, I let every stroke and dip of the pen loosen the clutches of my anger until I can slip away .

Feeling my control lock back in place, I blow out a breath and continue drawing, not wanting to leave Lacey with an unfinished piece.

"You're doing so good, Flower. Just a little longer." I murmur quietly, carefully rotating her hand so I can finish the last section.

"Don't forget to add your number."

She squirms slightly when I reach the sensitive underside of her wrist. I pause, leaning down to press a kiss against her skin.

"Okay. All done."

Stepping back, I hold my breath as she holds out her arm for assessment. It wouldn't take more than a good scrub to wash the ink off, but that doesn't change the fact I want her to like it.

"Are these bellflowers?"

She rotates her arm slowly, her eyes glistening as they soak in the consequence of my temper. I managed to keep the blood out of this one, but it's not a dainty piece by any means.

The flowers that grow along Karen's front garden now creep along Lacey's arm in a tornado of paper fragments and flowers, the twisted vines wrapping around her wrist while wilted petals float down from her shoulder.

I clear my throat with a nod, "It seemed like the most fitting."

"I love it." She looks at me with glassy eyes, "Thank you, Skylar"

Shame heats my cheeks and I drop my gaze to the ground.

"I'm sorry you had to see that. "

"What are you sorry for? You got to draw, and I got a beautiful memento." She tilts her head, "Have you ever thought about being a tattoo artist? You're really good."

"You don't think it's too dark?"

She shakes her head, "No way. The darkness helps make it seem real."

Warmth washes through me. Instead of being afraid of my darkness, Lacey matches it in every way possible.

Pulling out the sunshine tissue from my back pocket, I let the note unfold in front of me. My eyes skim the last couple of messages, pausing to reread our last exchange one more time.

I'm not a pretty person, Lacey. I come from a family of angry men and as much as I wish I could say it skipped a generation, I can't. That's the real reason I'm here every Friday, talking to Karen.

So, you're here for anger management and I'm here because of a suicide attempt. I guess we're both just a couple of ugly people.

Using the same pen I used on her arm, I jot down my phone number and a response.

If being ugly means I get to talk to you, then I don't ever want to be pretty.