Page 62 of Chaos

I might be Serenity’s very own antichrist, but I am, at the end of the day, just a girl.

And in my defense, it’s not like he’s a perfect gentleman as I shed my own clothing. His gaze burns so hot, I’m surprised it doesn’t leave marks where it lingers on the dangling diamonds decorating my bellybutton, the tattooed curve of my hip, the thin cotton that twin piercings peek through.

With a shake of his head, Finn throws himself in the creek like he really needs the icy cleanse.

And with a shake of my own—a futile effort to un-burn the fleeting glimpse of a round ass, toned back muscles, and thighs that look just as good from the back from my brain—I follow him in.

For a little while, only the gentle lap of water disturbs the silence. Water, the wind rustling the trees, and low, slow breaths. It’s peaceful—it’s the reason we’re here, I think. The calm before the storm. Pretty, tranquil procrastination.

I don’t dwell on why Finn knew to come here. On how often my family’s break from reality might’ve served as his. I don’t let myself get bitter about it. I just float on my back and stare at the clear, gray sky and let the cold seep beneath my skin and into my bones until my mind goes blank.

Or I try to, at least.

I try and I try and I try until inevitably, I accept failure. “Finn?”

From closer than I thought, a reply comes. “Yeah?”

My eyes drift shut. “What did you mean when you said you think I’m jealous?”

Finn doesn’t swear aloud, but I’m pretty sure I hear an internal curse rattle around his skull. I’m not sure if it’s reluctance or if he’s just trying to word it right, but it takes him a long, impatient minute to get out, “I think you're jealous that I was here and you weren’t. That you missed things I didn’t. I think—” He pauses, a splash coming from wherever he is, and in my mind’s eyes, I picture his pinched expression as he scrubs a hand down his face, the bulge of a bicep as he scratches the back of his neck. “I think you think they like me more than they like you.”

My breath catches sharply.

“Which is bullshit, by the way.”

My chest constricts, making it hard to get out a quiet, “Is it?”

Water sloshes over my chest as Finn drifts closer, fingers just barely grazing my shoulder. “Yes, Lottie. It is.”

I find that hard to believe; I make their life hell, he makes their life easier. I do nothing but the wrong thing, and I don’t think Finn’s ever done anything wrong in his entire life. He is a good person and I am an exceptionally shitty one, made even shittier by the fact that I know it. That I do nothing to change it.

“Hey.” A tug on my hair has me opening my eyes, has me staring up at the man looming over me. “You weren’t here. You didn’t see them. They more than like you, Lottie. They missed the fuck out of you.”

Something old and bitter pulses behind my ribcage. “I was five hours away, Finn. If they missed me that bad, they could’ve come and seen me.”

Finn nods. Not in acknowledgement, but… like he agrees. And not that they could’ve, but that they should’ve.

I shiver, and it has nothing to do with the cold.

“When I first got here,” he starts, and I hold my breath. “I thought you were dead. I knew you existed because of your room and the photos everywhere, but no one talked about you so I figured something had happened. And then a few months go by, and Lux gets this phone call and she just… collapses. Never seen her like that. She was crying, everyone was crying, and I didn't really get what was happening, but I gathered it was about you, whoever you were, wherever you were. I asked Eliza and she told me you left. That you didn’t talk to anyone anymore, that they hadn’t heard from you since you disappeared. And I remember thinking what the fuck is wrong with this girl? Who wouldn't wanna be here, who would treat these people, these good people, like that? Whenever I thought about you, when I saw you, I saw them being crushed.”

With such a heavy weight sitting on my chest, I’m surprised I don’t sink right to the bottom of the creek. “And that’s why you don’t like me.”

“I didn’t like the idea I had of you,” he corrects, and it’s ridiculous, it’s so fucking pointless, to focus on his use of paste tense. To hone in on it.

To ask in a quiet voice that’s so timid it makes me want to hurl, “And now?”

“Now I get that things are complicated. That I don’t know shit. But I do know that the way Lux yelled at you today was really shitty, Lottie. You didn’t deserve that.”

And there it is. Suspicions confirmed—that’s why we’re here. That’s what today has been all about. He feels bad for me. He saw me get yelled at, he saw me get hurt, and now I’m his pity project.

I hate that. I hate that so fucking much. More than I hated him not liking me because I thought my family held weekly gatherings where they dissected each and every one of my shortcomings.

I don’t like being pitied. It makes my skin scrawl, makes my stomach hurt, makes me lash out. I need him to stop, and I think that’s why I feel compelled to really let him know how shitty I am. To tell him, “I got a DUI. That was the phone call, I think.”

A long, loaded pause. A carefully blank face. An even, “What happened?”

I shift in the water, my feet brushing a slippery muddle of stones and silt as I slip beneath the surface, submerging everything below my mouth. “I didn't hurt anyone or anything, but I was really drunk and driving like an asshole, and I got pulled over. I knew it was a bad idea, but the guy whose car it was, he was so fucking high and he wanted to drive and everyone else but me was high too. None of us had any service to call a car or any money so I took his keys and… yeah.”

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