I was really harping on this, wasn’t I? Sue me. This was fucking life-altering shit here. I reserved the right to harp.
So caught up in my internal battle was I that I didn’t notice Rick and Molly shove past some low-hanging branches. Branches that swung back and lashed me directly in the face. The sting of it brought a tear to my eye, the shock of it stealing my breath.
Kieran jerked to a halt beside me, his cool hands suddenly gripping my chin, tilting my face up to him. His aquamarine eyes, always so carefully devoid of emotion, were radiating worry and concern for me now as he inspected my face. It was touching, really. His thumb brushed along a sensitive spot on my cheek and I winced despite myself.
“Just a scratch,” he murmured, but his thumb was still feathering caresses along my cheek.
Why hadn’t he moved back yet? Was he leaning closer? His chest brushed against mine and my skin tingled beneath the thin material of my t-shirt, my breath catching at that electric contact. Apparently, it didn’t even need to be skin to skin for me to get zapped, and I wasn’t sure really how I felt about that.
My brain was a little muddled at the moment.
His icy eyes, hooded and shadowed now, dipped down to my lips for a fraction of a second. Not even a fraction, more like a fraction of a fraction of a second. But it was long enough for me to realize that he was debating kissing me. Or was he? I couldn’t really tell anymore and his close proximity was stealing all my thinking processes.
He leaned closer… closer…
My breathing quickened, my eyes shuttering, pressing closer…
And closer…
“Kieran! Ethan! Hurry your asses up!” Molly shouted.
Mood effectively ruined.
Our eyes met for just an instant, and I gasped, shocked to see his hadn’t completely iced over. Quite the contrary. Those aquamarines burned bright and jewel-like, smoldering with a molten heat, before he quickly snuffed out the flames.
I watched him turn tail and flee, his head bowing, hand rising to massage the nape of his neck. My fingers clenched into fists, grinding my molars together. I shook my head, hanging it in shame, despondently stomping after them.
I was not a happy camper.
I was even less of a happy camper half an hour later, precariously balanced on a cropping of jagged rocks, yanking on my fishing pole and watching the bobber bob along. I tugged on the line, reeling it in a little, trying to tempt the rainbow trout into biting. It wasn’t working. This was the most boring and tedious sport ever.
Sighing, I tipped my head back, gazing around. The jutting mountains were a breathtaking backdrop, trees crowding close on either side, towering, soaring into the sky, the water rippling and sparkling in the sun. The surface of the water reflected back the image of nature at its most beautiful but I couldn’t find it in myself to admire it.
No, I was too busy admiring Kieran, fool that I was.
Aviator shades protecting my eyes from the glaring sun, I watched him through the tinted glass, his wrist flicking forward and releasing his line into the water. He was standing right at the shore, his jeans cuffed up to his knees, legs submerged in the water to mid-calf. His face was still so neutral but he seemed at peace, tension leeching out of him the longer he was here.
I glanced away, disgusted with myself, wishing it was that easy for me.
But, no. I was tensed, wound taut to the breaking point. And I couldn’t say it was anxiety about being here that had me this way, or even fear that I’d topple off my precarious perch and belly flop into the water, or nerves about upcoming finals back at school.
No, it was all Kieran, damn him.
Kieran, Kieran, Kieran. Someone hand me a noose now so I could fucking hang myself. I couldn’t keep up with this obsession.
Something had to be done here.
******
Something wasn’t done.
We pissed away the rest of the day fishing. Or, in my case, amusing the fish with my inept skills with a rod — har, har. Between Molly, Rick and Kieran, the accumulated fish caught reached into the dozens, but I hid my envy well. If some of Rick’s fish ended up being liberated and set back into their aquatic home, well, that was just an accident.
Back at the cabin, Molly assigned the task of cleaning and gutting the poor, deceased fish to me and Kieran. I thought about protesting but, really, what was the point? Molly always got her way.
On the back deck, there was a nice wooden surface that looked as if it had been used for just this purpose before, with plenty of nicks and stains I didn’t want identified. It was clean, though, so I slapped the rainbow trout down and watched Kieran for instruction.
“What do we do?” I asked him.
In answer, he whipped out a wicked butcher knife and chopped the head clean off one.
“Holy shit!” I exclaimed.
I gagged, watching the head tumble off the table, bouncing several times before finally coming to a stop. Head up, beady black eyes round and protuberant, and staring right at me. I left the rest of the head chopping for him.
He gave an uncharacteristic grimace. “I don’t like doing this,” he admitted.
Accepting a fillet knife from him, I followed his lead by taking one of the decapitated fish, turning it belly up and eviscerating the son of a bitch. From asshole toward where his head used to be, I sliced him open, triggering my gag reflex when I reached inside the poor bastard for his entrails. After repeating that process way too many times for my peace of mind, I took the old toothbrush Kieran handed me, cleaning the blood vein that ran along the spine.
After rinsing the disemboweled, decapitated fish, I gladly handed them off to Molly for cooking. Although, honestly, after seeing and participating in the grisly details of its preparation, I wasn’t so sure I could eat it.
I scrubbed my hands raw, using a nail brush to get into every crease, scalding hot water melting off a layer of my skin. If it got the blood and gore off, I didn’t care. If only I could scrub my brain just as thoroughly to remove the memory of that particular experience. I had a feeling it would haunt me for the rest of my days.
Retreating outside with Kieran afterwards, leaving Molly and Rick to their cooking duties, I settled in one of the lounge chairs on the deck. The waning sunlight cast shadows up here but the sky was tinged crimson, tapering off into striations of pretty pinks and purples. It lit the whole area on fire, the grass tipped in a burnished gold, the trees and shrubbery tinged an orangish-gold. It was gorgeous.
And I just consigned another slice of my masculinity to hell for that thought.
I tipped my head back, glancing over at Kieran. His face had an odd flush to it, courtesy of the blazing sunset, his black hair reflecting a reddish tint. Now, he was gorgeous, but I’d never voice that thought aloud. Not ever. “I’ve noticed something about you,” I murmured.
His eyes flicked over. “And what’s that?” he asked, taking my hand and examining the raw skin of my knuckles. That movement disproved what I was about to say to him but I said it, anyway.