Gods & Monsters(18)

“Listen to me, Pixie, and listen closely.” His whip-like voice brings me out of my anger. Keeping me flush with his body, he brings up his hand and wipes my tears gently, totally the opposite of the cadence of his voice, rough and raw. “When I first came here, I fucking hated this place. I was all ready to run away the next day until Mr. B found me on the street and brought me to church. Said he wanted me to find peace in God.” He scoffs. “Fuck God. Fuck Him and all His power. He took my parents. He orphaned me. He took my control. I don’t need God. I’ll be my own God. I’ll make my own rules. But then I saw you.”

His voice drops to a whisper, words so thin and air-like that I have to press my palm to where his heart lies, so I can feel that he’s real. That what he’s saying is real. That it belongs in this world and not in a dreamland.

“You were arguing about something. Your voice was so fucking sweet. I knew you were pretty when I first saw you but in church, under those stained-glass windows… Jesus Christ, you looked like a goddess. The entire time I was there my hand was itching. I had to scratch it against my jeans. I wanted to touch you and then draw your face and then touch you again.” He licks his lips and I feel the throb in mine. “That was the first time in days I hadn’t thought of that phone call I got about my parents. I was thinking about something else. About you.”

His hand creeps up and fists my loose hair, pulling at the strands. It stings and I hiss but he doesn’t give me relief. I have a feeling that he can’t. I don’t know how I know this, but I do. He’s feeling too much and his emotions are leaching into his actions. I’ve never seen him like this, or anybody else, for that matter. So agitated and… and aggressive.

“I want you, Pixie. I want you in my life and if I have to sell everything I own, even my soul, I’ll do it. My mom used to say people with no souls are monsters. I don’t mind being one if I get to keep you. And I’m keeping you, Evie.” A current runs through me when he says my real name. “I’m fucking keeping you. Even God can’t snatch you away from me.”

Oh.

Okay.

So many things are happening right now. So. Many. Things.

I can’t make sense of all of them. The pain in my scalp. The zing in my blood. The pounding of my heart. And there’s a thrill. It scares me how thrilling this sounds. It’s so confusing. It’s messing with my head. But I know one thing for sure. I know that I want him to kiss me, and I won’t mind if he does that lip-suck thing again.

But first I need to tell him something. Something that’s important. “I don’t hate you.”

Our chests are colliding like we’re stars in the sky. I was wrong before. This is the big bang. This is crashing. This is how our love story is born.

“Yeah.” His fingers twitch in my hair.

“I-I think I… love you.”

This time his yeah comes out as a breath of relief. Sweet, sweet relief.

“But isn’t love like a… like a grown-up thing? I mean, aren’t we… aren’t we too young to feel this way?”

I don’t know if this is normal. He’s pulling my hair until it hurts. How can that be normal? How can I want him to do more of that? Besides, I’m only thirteen and he’s fifteen. Isn’t love too big a thing for people our age?

“Says who? God?” he mocks.

“And people,” I squeak.

“Fuck God, Pixie. Fuck the world. We’ll be our own gods. You be mine and I’ll be yours.”

I feel dizzy. I literally feel faint right now. My vision is blurring. All I can see is him. His golden hair, his honey-brown eyes and those red-as-apples lips. Is that what Adam and Eve felt when they wanted to bite into that fruit? Is that what Delilah felt when David asked her to be his, against all men and nature?

I wish I knew. I wish I knew if this is what they all felt because then, I’d be able to say no. I’d be able to tell what this is. I think this is a sin. I mean, didn’t he just bad-mouth God? I don’t believe in that. I don’t believe in screwing off God or bad-mouthing Him. I’m a believer, aren’t I?

But still, I nod because it feels so right. “Yes.”

His smile is super close to my own mouth that I feel his lips stretching. And then, I don’t care about anything else. “Will you kiss me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you did before. With that lip-suck thingy.”

He chuckles softly. “I love you, Pixie.”

With that, he kisses me like I asked him to. It’s wet and piercing. Sharp and soft. It tilts my world and makes sparks run under my skin, and I never want him to stop.

***

Later at home, I sit at the dining table with my new phone in the pocket of my dress. I join my hands in front of me while Mom says grace and I think about that kiss. I thumb my tingling lips and realize now I am a believer. Now, with the sparks still running under my skin and stars shooting in my lips, I finally have the proof of His existence.





“You taste like sugar,” Abel whispers against my lips, making me blush.

“You taste like apples,” I whisper back.

“Yeah?” He nuzzles his nose below my ear, tickling me.

“Abel, stop,” I say, giggling. “We can’t be loud.”

“In a second.”