Lucie

The day went by quicker than it should have. I got around three hours of sleep after getting home late, then was forced to get up again to work my shift at Wal-Mart. Exhausted from too many phony smiles, Jiya took me out shopping, a trip that proved to be unproductive. I only got one pair of shoes, which I realized when I got home were actually two different sizes.

Oh, how I despised department stores.

Worst of all, I couldn't seem to keep my mind off the Hornes. They were an unstoppable virus eating at my brain, a thought I just kept coming back to. Cian, and his futile attempts to protect me. Vinny, and his dwindling health. Their father, and the secret he seemed so busy burying. What was I supposed to do?

I was in my bedroom, splayed across my bed. I watched the blades of the fan spin, listened to the warbled voices of my parents, downstairs. Why I was hearing voices, I didn't understand, as it was supposed to be their movie night. Then again, my parents couldn't shut up for even five seconds.

I had to think. Was I going to call Cian? No. I was supposed to be mad at him; I couldn't give in too quickly.

But I had nothing else to do. My shift was done, Jiya had left for a trip after I'd seen her, and I was running low on reading material. Normally when I was bored, calling Cian was what I did, but I couldn't. Not this time, no matter how tantalizing the thought was.

I had just sat up with a new resolve to go find something to do downstairs—perhaps even join in on whatever crappy movie my parents had picked out--when the doorbell rang. Startled, I called down to my mother that I would get the door and padded gently down the steps. I hesitated in the foyer, scrutinizing the deep mahogany of the door. Something pulsed uncomfortably in my throat. Somehow, even before I opened it, I already knew who it was.

"Cian, you can't be here right now," I muttered, folding my arms. He was standing outside on the front porch, the night inky around him, his hands behind his back. "I told you, I don't want--"

"Lucie," he responded, pleading with me. "Please. I just...Look, I know you're upset with me, but I need to talk to you. You've got to let me try."

I stared at him for a moment longer, trying to ignore the subtle acceleration of my heartbeat that his presence always seemed to cause. I remembered the hoarseness of my voice as I'd raised it at him last night, the plaintive gleam in the sapphire blue of his eyes. He was hopeless, and so was I, as I couldn't stand the bitterness between us. If he was going to try, I thought, then I was obligated to as well. After all, he'd gone as far as to randomly show up at my house; sending him away seemed like it would be harsh.

I leaned against the doorjamb, unable to fight back a little smile. I hadn't noticed it before, but he looked neat: clothed in khaki pants and one of his favorite graphic T-shirts, sans his typical dark hoodie. His gold hair had been obviously trimmed, the strands no longer nipping at his ears or hanging in his eyes, but rather just barely brushing his eyebrows. "You clean up nicely," I said, trying to get used to the layout of his face, which was now unobstructed.

He smirked. "When I try. Now can I take you somewhere? Somewhere quiet."

Not giving him an answer, I pointed to distinguish his hands, which he continued to hide behind him. "What are you hiding there?"

"Oh," he stammered, then pulled them out from behind his back to reveal a colorful bouquet of flowers. He was holding them awkwardly, his hands trembling a little, and there was a blush high on his cheeks. "Well. Vinny told me to get you flowers, so. Look. Flowers."

Unable to hold back a laugh, I accepted the bouquet, examining it further. There were pink azaleas and deep violet flowers, roses of the deepest crimson. When I held it to my nose, the floral scent reminded me of spring. Shaking my head, I held the flowers to my chest and stepped out onto the porch, pulling the door shut behind me. Turning my face up towards Cian's, I asked, "Where are we going?"

Cian sputtered, blushing further. "So, it's a yes? Yes, I can take you somewhere?"

I shrugged, walking past him. His princely Escalade was parked in my driveway, glittering underneath the stars. Over my shoulder, I told Cian, "You're annoying, but you're cute. Let's just go already."

He snuck up behind me, weaving his arms underneath my own, wrapping them around my waist. I chuckled as he pulled me to him, planting a light kiss to my temple. This was why. This was why I'd gotten angry at him—because when he risked his life for the unintelligent reason of saving mine, he threatened to make me lose this, to make me lose him. That was not something I'd ever be ready for. "Cute is a word you call a teddy bear, or a toddler. I'm not cute."

I turned in his grasp, flicking him on the forehead. As he winced, I muttered, "Start the car already. Take me away."

For the longest time, I couldn't seem to decipher where we going. My original thought was a restaurant of some sort, but considering neither of us were dressed up, I ruled that out, which proved to be correct when Cian took a turn that led us away from the inner city. Even a nightclub passed my mind, but then again, neither Cian nor I enjoyed dancing or were good at it. Finally, I gave up, let the feel of the sea breezes through my open car window enchant me as the city lights faded away.

We didn't say much during the car ride, which lasted around thirty minutes, ending when Cian took a sharp turn and parked the car. As the oil in the engine settled, he withdrew the keys and leaned over, gripping my hand in his own.

I asked him, rubbing my thumb over his knuckles, "Where are we?"

"Close your eyes," he told me, and when I shot him a skeptical look, chuckled and asked again. "Come on, Lucie. Close them."

And I did, not because he told me to, but because I was not going to spark another argument over something so trivial. I hated the feeling, but it was as if we were a rope stretched thin. Anything, even the smallest of tugs, would snap us in two. I heard the click as he exited, the shuffle of his footsteps as he came around the passenger side door and opened it for me. Sliding his hands into mine, he said, "Okay, now take your shoes off and step down. Careful."

Squeezing my eyes shut, I obliged, albeit warily. "What is this?"

"A surprise," he told me. "Just do it."

I hesitated once more, but came down from the seat. To my—admitted—surprise, my feet came down on cottony grains of sand, cool without the sun's rays beating down on it. My eyes flew open, and a calm reassurance enveloped me. Before me was the Pacific, black-blue in the dark, lit only by the reflection of the nearly full moon. The moonlight scattered across the ripples on the surface of the water, like white ribbons undulating with the tides. Around me was the serene crash of the waves, the night calls of seagulls, the scent of saltwater and trust.

Best of all, we were alone, no human voices to join in the song of tonight's nature. None except ours.

My hand was still in Cian's. "The beach?"

"Yeah," he said, and tugged me from the Escalade, starting to walk down the path of the coastline. "All to ourselves. I needed somewhere quiet, where I could talk to you. Do you like it?"

"Cian, I..." I looked at him, his face hidden in shadows and yet still bright with joy. The wind tossed at his freshly cut hair, made a sail of his T-shirt. "Yes. I love it. I like quiet."

He smirked. "I figured you would," he told me, then motioned toward the ocean, a few feet from us. "You know, it's sad to think sometimes. How I grew up on the water and all, was basically obsessed with the stuff, and then it took my brother from me. Took my humanity from me. Now I can never look at it the same way."

Another breeze blew by; I pressed a few curls back behind my ear. "About that. Your humanity, so to speak. How much progress have you made on that decision?"

"I thought you said you didn't want to talk about that."

"I said that yesterday, which is not today."

Cian pulled his hand from mine, let out a breath as if he'd experienced pain. Shoving them in his pockets, he looked away from the waves and toward his feet instead, gnawing gently at his lip. "No, no I haven't. I like being with you, Lucie. If being human makes it...make us...easier, then so be it. Then again, it's been so long—"

"That you don't know if you could go back," I finished for him, and he looked up at me with a gingerly nod. I averted my gaze. "Right. That's what you told me, you know, when you'd just lost your wings. That you didn't know how be who you were before."

"Maybe it's not that I don't know. Maybe it's that I don't want to be him," Cian responded, then paused, ceasing his steps. He went still next to me, turning to face me. His expression was suddenly serious, little flecks of starlight caught in his pensive eyes, his eyebrows knit. "Whatever. I don't care. What I care about is that you're satisfied—so I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not telling you everything; I just...I just can't lose anyone else."

His voice, soft and sorrowful, cracked a little as he said it, as if he was on the verge on the tears. I did the opposite of judge him for it—Cian Horne was far from the average nineteen-year-old. He'd seen a lot, lost a lot, learned a lot, and even if I hadn't known him all his life, it was not hard to tell he'd been different once. Before the accident, he'd been the picture of the American dream. His path was set in stone. He'd go to a good college, graduate, get a high-paying job and earn himself a trophy wife.

At least, that's what was supposed to have happened.

It's amazing, actually, how quickly fate could jerk you from everything comfortable. Both of us knew that fact all too well.

I stepped forward, leaning my head against his chest. I listened to the swell of his heartbeat beneath his breastbone, let it twine in with the ocean sounds and the night and my own breath. Here, alone with him, I finally understood. "I know," I murmured. "I know, Cian. Don't get yourself in trouble, alright?"

I felt him sigh underneath my ear; his hand came up, toying with the hairs at the nape of my neck. He let out a short laugh, his lips just nipping at the top of my head. "Lulu," he exhaled. "I can tell you. I can tell you everything. If that's what you want—"

"But it isn't what you want," I stopped him, "and I trust you enough to believe it's better if I don't know. That's what you're saying, isn't it? That's what you were trying to tell me last night. That Vinny and I would be safest if we were kept in the dark."

He stepped back, watching me with wide, innocent eyes. A wave crashed beyond him, the water rushing to meet our feet. As the water cleansed the gritty sand from between our toes, Cian shivered. I wondered distantly what he saw when he looked at the water. Was it a constant reminder of that night before his seventeenth birthday; did all that the waves bring memories of were the shards of metal that had left those scars on his face? If that was the case, then why had he taken me here?

I'd always thought Vinny was the one who was gripped by the fear of water; I hadn't noticed Cian suffered in the same way, though subtle.

He mopped his hair back from his forehead with a sigh. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "I wish this could all be easier. I wish there was nothing to protect you from."

"I'm sorry, too," I offered, looking over his shoulder towards the Cadillac, a glimmering silver jewel in the distance. I couldn't stand to make eye contact with him, not when the memories of the words I'd said to him last night still burned in my throat like stomach acid. "I shouldn't have said all that last night. You're not doing anything wrong—I'm just scared for you. I'm always scared for you."

For a moment, he said nothing, but then he grinned. It was so sudden, as Cian's smiles often were—one moment his face was still, and in the next his eyes squinted and a dimple punctured his cheek, his lips pulled up in the purest of smiles. It was as if the gesture had snuck up on him, and for that reason it made these smiles that more precious. "What did I tell you? You don't have to worry about me so much, muffin."

He took a step forward, and another, until he was so close to me that he stole my breath away. It was just him, just that priceless smile and those pure eyes and the serenity of the shore around us. Then, as simply as if he were taking something back that was his, he slipped his arms around my waist and pressed his mouth to mine. I melted against him; everything I'd been bottling up—my anger, my frustration, my pain—released when he held me, when he kissed me. All that was there to think about was the slide of his lips over my own and his fingers as they caressed the skin at the small of my back, of the strands of his hair that brushed against my forehead like silk. We each slipped into a blissful haze that the other created.

His mouth slid off mine, went lower to graze my neck. There, he stopped, leaning against me. "Lucie," he breathed. "Oh G—goodness, Lucie..."

The weight of him in my arms was comfortable, as if it were another part of me. I said, "I love you, Cian. I love you, need you, trust you, and when it comes down to it, all I need to know is that you feel the same way."

He lifted his head, grinned at me again. Taking my hand, he pulled me to a seat beside him on the sand, where we sat and watched and listened for a while. The waves went in, and they went out, and the seagulls came and went, but we stayed there, the only still things in the constantly mobile world. "Always, Miss Monteith," he finally said, a chuckle at the end of his breath. "I'll feel for you always."

"Then do what you said you're going to," I ordered. "Don't let a thing happen to Vinny, or me, or whatever...and not to yourself, either, alright? Promise me you'll always be here?"

He looked at me, his hair made wild by the wind, cheeks made bright red by the moment we'd shared only moments before. His face was twisted a little, as if he didn't know what to say. After a bit of hesitation, he nodded. "I promise you, Lucie. I'm not going anywhere."

And when he kissed me again, sand in our clothes and our skin and hair damp from the tides, I believed him.