Perfectly Flawed (56 page)

“I thought only girls like things vibrating
between their legs,” I comment, catching the narrowing of his eyes
as he shoots me a glare. If he tells me,
Don’t talk like that
around my baby!
, I may punch him in the balls.

He leaves it alone.

“Want to go for a ride with me?” Zephyr asks
me, holding out a different helmet. This one is pink and
un-Zephyr-like that I know he bought it for me.

“Where did that come from?” I ask, puzzled,
my finger pointing to the helmet thrust in my direction. He didn’t
have it a moment ago…

“That’s avoiding the question,” he singsongs,
waggling his eyebrows.

“How many times have you driven this thing?”
I ask hesitantly. I didn’t plan on dying today.

“Enough.” Now
that
is avoiding the
question.

“Code for three times,” I mumble, turning my
attention to my boyfriend. He grins happily at me, the grin making
me shudder. “Maybe?”

“I drove it here from the lot,” he tries to
convince me. As if that could persuade me to risk my life or place
it within Mother Nature’s hands. Is he aware we live in Washington
and it’s December? “I got this helmet just for you,” Zephyr
singsongs while holding the helmet above my head.

The only appealing thing about this is the
fact I get to hold on to Zephyr. “Fine,” I mutter, grabbing the
helmet and clamping it onto my head. “Where are you going to take
me?” I ask.

“That’s a surprise, my dear.”

Goody, goody
.

He climbs onto the motorcycle and I climb on
behind him. I’m shaking like a leaf, but it isn’t me. It feels
awkward to straddle something big and vibrating.

[Face palm.]

Ignore the double meaning behind that.

He cranks the engine, places his hand on my
thigh and slides it forward to my knee, and squeezes. I wrap my
arms around his body to keep from flying off the back during high
speeds—and I know he’ll ignore the limits. As I guessed, he speeds
down the neighborhood and I’m certain he can hear me squeak with
every turn he makes. For some reason, I start counting in German,
don’t know why, but I get to
neunundfünfzig
before he
finally stops and parks.

I was counting slowly. Better to maintain my
breathing.

“Where are we?” I ask as I struggle from the
back of the motorcycle, falling on my ass when my legs fail to find
the ground. Zephyr immediately starts laughing. I didn’t know
injury was so funny to him. Still, I shoot him a glare, as you
should normally do in the situation.

“At a park,” Zephyr answers, stopping his
chuckles. He reaches his hands out for me to take, I do, and he
pulls me up from the ground before taking off my helmet for me.
Hey, at least I was safe when I fell.

“In the middle of December?” I ask,
dumbfounded. “We’ll freeze, Zephyr.”

He smiles at me, turns, and grabs something.
“I thought of that.” He drapes a flannel blanket over my shoulders,
rubbing his hands up and down my arms. “You’ll be nice and toasty
warm, now.”

Sometimes he’s just
so
sweet to
me.

But
where
did he get the blanket?

I think I’m dating a magician.

Zephyr leads me by the hand toward a patch of
dry grass beneath a large evergreen tree. It smells like winter,
piney with a hint of rain. He sits down and tugs me to sit between
his legs, wrapping his arms around my body to pull me closer and
nuzzle my neck. Letting his lips find the spot just below my right
ear.

“I can’t wait until summer so we can do this
on the beach in bathing suits,” he whispers into my ear.

“When have you ever seen me in a swim suit?”
I ask, rolling my eyes at the guy behind me. Is it too soon to tell
him that he’ll never see me in a bikini?

“Fair point.” He nods. I feel the movement
against my cheek. “Naked, then?” he presses.

“That’s pushing it, buddy,” I tell him,
laughing.

I lean my head back on to his shoulder,
feeling his heartbeat in his chest against my back. The few
remaining birds chirp in the trees above our heads. It really is a
beautiful day despite the large, gray clouds rolling in.

“It looks like rain,” Zephyr observes
quietly. It even smells like rain. The scent of moist grass, soaked
cement, and fallen leaves mixed together wafts through the air.

“It does,” I reply, hearing the first drops
subtly hit the leaves on the surrounding trees. Soon, we’ll be
soaked to the bone, but in this one moment, this one brief moment
when Zephyr and I connect, I don’t care. I just love the feel of
his arms around me, pulling me closer, because he loves me.

I look over at him, smile, and lean up to
press my lips against his, feeling the softness, like silk, of his
lips, as he invites me in his tongue meeting mine as the first rain
drop hits my neck.

***

I zip up my bag—after setting very heavy
objects on top of it to weigh it down—and set it next to the door.
There are only five more hours before I’m on a plane to Texas for
winter break. Just as we’ve done since I moved in with Hilary.
We’re going to fly down there to spend two weeks with my
grandparents for the holidays. They came up here for Thanksgiving;
we always go down there for Christmas.

I don’t want to leave Zephyr for two weeks, I
don’t even like the idea of it, but that’s the main reason Skype
was created. Not entirely true, but don’t rain on my parade.

“Are you ready?” Hilary asks, leaning against
the doorframe, crossing her arms, as she stares at me.

“Just zipped the suitcase,” I tell her,
pointing to the large pink-and-gray suitcase in front of her. She
looks down, scrunching her mouth to the side when she realizes she
could see it from the hallway.

She shrugs it off. “Cool, we’ll head out in
an hour or so,” she tells me. “Do whatever you need to do now,
okay.”

I fight the urge to salute, instead I smile,
and grab the large wrapped tube on my bed. I dart down the stairs,
passing Hilary as she steps into her room. I cross the yards,
sliding slightly on the wet grass, and knock on Zephyr’s front
door. Molly opens the door, gracing the world with beauty as she
stands before me in a gown—an actual ballroom gown.

Did I miss a gala?

“Well, hello,” Molly beams. She opens the
door wider.

“You look beautiful, Molly,” I tell her, in
awe of the gown. She looks stunning in red.

“Oh, this.” She looks down to the dress like
she forget she’s wearing it. “My friend designed it and she needed
a model.” You can’t go wrong with Molly Kalivas, former runway
model. “Are you ready for your trip to Texas?” she asks, inviting
me inside.

“I’m never ready for Texas,” I respond,
slightly bitter. “Is Zephyr here?” I ask, waving the wrapped gift
in my hands.

At school, I gave everyone gifts and watched
as Harley smiled over her new t-shirt and Kennie scoffed at the
bacon perfume. She still loved it, I know her, it will sit on her
vanity next to the other perfume bottles with pride. I just didn’t
give Zephyr his gift because I wanted it to be private. He, in
agreement, is waiting to give me mine.

So as I run up the stairs to his room, I try
and hide my excitement. It’s not easy. I knock on the door, hearing
something rustle behind the door, before it swings wide open,
displaying a shirtless Zephyr… my favorite kind.

“Ah, get in here.” Zephyr grabs my hand and
pulls me into his room. He closes the door and presses me against
it, firmly pressing his lips against mine. “I can’t do that for two
weeks, I need to kiss you as much as I can while you’re still in
this time zone.”

“It’s going to suck, I know,” I whine like a
toddler. I reach my hand up and cup his cheek, feeling the scruff
scratch against my palm. “But I got you this,” I say after a moment
of staring into his chocolate eyes. “I hold up the wrapped tube,
using it to playfully hit him in the head.

“And I got you that.” He points to a long box
on his bed wrapped in beautiful Christmas paper.

I press the tube into his hands and run to
his bed, snatching the box away from the top blanket.

“I can’t wait for you to open yours,” I tell
him, a large smile stuck on my face. He’ll love what I got him. I
know it.

For his birthday, with Christmas right around
the corner, I decided to combine his gifts. I also won’t be here
for his birthday, which makes me feel like one shitty girlfriend.
But to make up for it, I bought him two posters. One is a poster of
Alphonse Mucha’s
Les Saisons
. Alphonse Mucha isn’t Zephyr’s
favorite artist, but it ties in with the second poster. The other
is Jeph Jacques’ take on
Les Saisons
featuring characters
from his webcomic
Questionable Content
. I wrapped them both
in a tube covered in birthday wrapping paper. Just to make it more
holiday friendly, I wrote
Jesus
on it.

“You first,” he offers, using the box in his
hands to point at me.

“Okay.” I rip open the paper and find a
poster tube.
Maybe we think alike
. I pull off the top and
pull out two posters. One is a poster of Hannelore from
Questionable Content
sledding down a hill holding a cup of
beer in the air—which is spilling—while Marten, Dora, and Steve
watch from the top of the hill; drunken sledding or Speed Beer as
they call it on the strip.

The second poster is a black-and-white
silhouette of a giant wolf following a little girl wearing a cape
and hood. Obviously the story of Little Red Riding Hood but upon
closer inspection, I can see tiny words. After reading a few, I can
see that the picture is comprised of the
Grimm’s Fairy
Tales
. I saw one of these a while back, one of
Crime and
Punishment
.

“Do you like it?” Zephyr asks, smiling at me
from his chair.

I nod quickly, biting my lip as I stare at
the posters. They’re awesome.

“Now, you open yours.” I demand, setting my
gift aside.

He rips through the wrapping paper, pulling
out his own posters and holding them up to see them better.

I guess that we think alike, huh?” he asks,
grabbing the tape from his desk and taping them to the wall by his
bed. “I love them.” He sticks the final corner and leans down to
kiss me lightly. “Just like I love you.”

His words never fail to make me blush.

“I love you, too.” He crashes onto the bed. I
bounce up and down, not of my own volition. He grabs my shoulders
and presses his lips to mine. It’s shocking but sweet. He sucks my
bottom lip between his teeth, softly biting until, soon, his lips
my find my neck. “What are you doing?” I stammer out nervously
while my hands move on their own, snaking up his back. My fingers
thread into his hair, fisting the silky tendrils.

“Nothing,” he murmurs against my neck,
trailing soft, sweet kisses down my shoulder, tasting my skin as he
moves along. His hands grip my waist and pull me onto his lap. He
slides down the strap to my tank top and kisses down my arm.

“This doesn’t feel like
nothing
, come
on,” I beg quietly, wishing my mouth would stop talking, stop
forming words, because I now believe that heaven is Zephyr’s lips
on my skin. “Your parents are home.” Why won’t my mouth
stop
working? I don’t want him to stop. No, sirree.

“Only my mom,” Zephyr says. His eyes peek up
at me through his long lashes. His lips leave my arm and find mine
again, briefly before he says, “And that’s the joy of a door with a
lock.”

He flips me onto my back before I can
protest—not like I would. His lips find my neck again, trailing
lazily where they want to go, as he slowly tastes my neck. I let
out a low moan, my hands gripping, clutching, onto his bare back.
He feels like fire when I touch him but I don’t want to turn away
from him, I need him, here with me.

What am I saying? I’m not even sure
anymore.

His hands glide down my arms, leaving a trail
of electricity as they scour over my body, seeking new territory.
He groans as my nails claw down his back and I can’t describe what
that sound does to my body. Heat blossoms within me and spreads
faster than wildfire. I arch my back, feeling his body press
against mine.

Zephyr moves toward my mouth, my lips, and,
rather than push him away, like I know I should, I let him kiss me
again, his tongue diving into my mouth in search of mine. I know
he’s savoring me, devouring me, before I leave him for break.

“I am
so
about to be banned from your
house,” I mutter against his lips, feeling his smile against mine.
He laughs, back away to look in my eyes.

“Can’t happen,” he tells me, rolling away.
“You mean too much to me.” His hand reaches up and he runs a finger
gently down my cheek, lightly tickling me.

“I have a plane to catch,” I whisper when he
stops rubbing my cheek.

His hand reaches down my chest, tugging at
the long chain around my neck. He grabs the locket, holding it in
his hands and staring at the owl on the front of it. “If you miss
it, will you stay?” he asks me with his eyes fixed on the owl. His
thumb rubs over it lightly.

“You know I can’t do that, Zeph,” I murmur,
really wishing I could stay with him, just like this, forever.
There’s peace in his eyes when he looks at me, a quiet peace that
makes me feel at home. I don’t want to leave that, I just want to
stay in his arms where I belong.

“I’ll miss you, Jo,” he whispers quietly.

“I’m only going to Texas,” I tell him,
leaning up on my elbows to look him in his chocolate eyes. “I’ll be
back before New Year’s. It’s not that long. And we’ll start this
New Year off right.” Hopefully, with a lot of kissing.

Zephyr smiles, his happiness dwindling
slightly as he realizes I’m about to be across the country. He
leans forward until his forehead presses against mine. “I can’t
wait.” His hand pulls lightly on the chain until I move closer and
kiss him, teasing his bottom lip with my teeth.