#that's her tipoff that something is seriously and desperately wrong

[drbibliophile]

Sunday Romance 05-23-21

Prompt:  How could you betray me? 

Word count:  1310

Tagging:  @sunday-romance @sophiaroe @viawrites-andacts 

I’ve been working on this scene in my head for a really long time.  Here’s another attempt for me to write it (and in 1500 words or less).  Hopefully it makes sense.  

Jared stared at his phone.  The despair gnawed at his stomach, bringing bile to his throat.  He didn’t want to answer it.  He didn’t want to endure the next several minutes.  He’d rather be in a fire fight for his life instead… except this was a fight for his life.  Wasn’t it?  The phone went to voicemail.  Tristan pressed the gun harder against Chloe’s head.  

“Her blood on your hands.”  

Jared shot him a lethal glare.  “You wanted me to hurt her, right?”  

“Yes.”  

“Then I don’t answer the call.”  

His eyes narrowed.  “No funny business.”  

“No funny business,” he repeated.  He looked at Chloe.  She stared at him with wide-open eyes.  Fear made her whimper, but she otherwise didn’t speak.  They waited.  If he could keep his attention on Chloe, he could do this.  As he expected, his phone rang again.  This time he answered.  “Yes?”  

“Where in the hell are you?”  Kyra rushed.  “I’ve been calling.  Things are going to shit around here.  Where are you?”    

“Sorry, hon.  Just been busy.”  

“Too busy to answer your phone?”  

“Maybe.”  

“Well, stop what you’re doing and get down here.  We need you.”  

“I can’t do that.”  

There was a pause.  “What do you mean, you can’t do that?”  

“I mean, I’m out, honey.  I’m done.”  

“You’re done?  You’re done with us?  With Themis?  But…?”  She stopped.  The quiet grew long and dangerous.  “You bastard,” she hissed.  “You did this.”  

“Did what?”  

“Oh, don’t you fucking dare play dumb with me, Jared.  You know what.”  

“Do I?”  

“Yes.”  His chest clenched at her voice breaking in that word.  “You damn well know what.”  Her ragged breath lacerated his heart.  “How could you?  How could you betray me, betray us like this?”  

He snorted.  “Easier than you think, baby.”  

“Don’t call me that,” she snarled.  

“Just calling it like I see it.”  Bile rose in his throat, but he forced his voice to be disdainful.  

“Why?”  It wasn’t a wail, but Kyra didn’t wail.  It was enough to make him bite on his cheek to keep from responding how he wanted.  “Why are you doing this?”  

“Because.”  

“Not fucking good enough, Jared.”  

“Tough.”  He poured his anger towards 

“That’s it?  That’s all you’re going to give me?”  

“It’s more than you deserve.”  He needed to get off the phone.  

Her stifled sob made him close his eyes.  “Never thought you’d be so cruel.”  

“Then maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought.”  

There was a quiet moment before she sniffed.  “I think I deserve the truth.”  

“The truth?  You want the truth?”  He raised his voice, pouring his anger at Tristan into it.  “Fine.  The fucking truth is that I’m done.  Done with your family’s bullshit.  Done with your brothers’ shitting on me.  Done with your mother running my life and done, completely goddamn fucking done with you and being your perfect boyfriend.  Fuck, I am so done with you always trying to be in charge and directing everything and not leaving me the fuck alone.  I am done.”  

“Guess so.”  She swallowed hard.  “And Themis?”  

“You know me, baby girl, I always have a plan.”  

“Don’t fucking call me baby girl.”  

“I’ll call you whatever I want.  You aren’t in charge anymore.”  

“Maybe not, Seal boy, but neither are you.”  He imagined her wiping at her tears and straightening to her full height.  “Better hope I never find you or I swear on Gabe’s kids, I’m going to strangle you.”  

“Have to find me first.”  

“That shouldn’t be too hard.”  

“That’s what you think, babycakes.”  

“Fuck you.”  

“You already did that.”  

“Yeah, yeah, I did.  Definitely wasn’t worth it.”  

“Low blow, Cortland.”  

“Like I even give a fuck.  Rot in hell, Jared.”  

“Not if I see you there first.”  

Her answer was to hang up the phone.  He stared at the blank screen, struggling to breathe through the pain in his chest.  Christ, that sucked.  He dropped his phone and covered his face with his hands.  It was done.  Tears leaked from his eyes.  It was done and it hurt just as bad he thought it would.  He wiped the tears from his eyes and glared up at Tristan.  

“Happy?”  

Tristan sneered.  “For now, yes.”  He glanced at Chloe.  “Guess we won’t be needing you anymore.  Run along.”  He planted a kiss on her head.  She smiled up at him, all her fear gone.  It was an act.  Of course it was an act.  It didn’t surprise him.  She sauntered out of the room.  He looked at Jared.  “You didn’t think I’d actually hurt her.”  

Jared stood.  “Wouldn’t put it past you.”  

Tristan approached him before landing a hard punch into his guy.  “Well, we all can’t be a knight shining armor.”  

“Fuck you,” he managed.  

Tristan grabbed his hair and dragged him back to standing.  “Oh my dear boy, I’ve only begun to fuck with you.”  

Kyra slammed her phone down on the counter.  Her head joined her phone as tears streamed from her eyes.  Fuck, this was bad.  This was very bad.  It was not the worst she could imagine, but it was most definitely not good.  Very not good.  She had to act, do something.  Sitting here was time wasted.  She had to move.  She wiped her face off on her sleeves even as she grabbed her phone and hit the speed dial. 

“C’mon,” she muttered.  

Gina answered on the first ring.  “Oh my god, Kyra, this is all so incredibly fucked up.  I mean like I knew Beefcake had some skills, but like what he’s done?  It’s like he set off a nuclear bomb in here and like it’s a fucking mess and I can fix it, but the damage is done and…”  

“Gina,” she snapped.  “Shush.”  

That made her stop.  “What?”  

“Tell the mainframe to execute order 66.”  

“What?”  

Kyra growled low in her throat.  She didn’t have time for this.  “I said, tell the mainframe to execute order 66.”  

“But why am I telling the mainframe to do the clone order?”  

“Just fucking do it and then call me back in 30 minutes.”  She hung up and pressed another number.  “Roan,” she greeted.  

“What?”  he snapped back.  

“You at the office?”  

“Yes.  Where else would I be?  Fuck, Kyra, I think Jared did this.”  

“Yeah, he did.  Don’t worry about it.”  

“Wait… what?  He did?  But why?  Like…”  

“Shush.”  She didn’t want to shout, but she needed people to act, not question her.  “Go to Jared’s office and get into his computer.”  

“Why?”  

“Just do it.  When you’re in find his D&D folder then Greyhawk then spells then the file Bakluni Bash.  Execute it.”  

“What?”  

“D&D, Greyhawk, spells, then Bakluni Bash.  Got it?”  

“Yes, I’ve got it.  Headed over there now.”  He paused.  “Sure I should be doing anything with Jared’s computer?”  

“Yes.  Trust me.  Just do it.  His password is the first two lines from Dragostea Din Tei plus Abby’s birthday backwards.”  

“Seriously?”  

“Just do it then call me in 30 minutes.”  

She hung up and grabbed her keys and wallet.  She sent a quick text to her mother that she was headed there.  She needed to talk to her.  They needed to plan and quickly.  She fairly raced out of her house and towards her mother’s.  Good thing the traffic was light.  Good thing she knew where the police liked to hang out and she could avoid them.  Danielle opened the door even as she arrived.  

“Mom!”  She let go of the sob she’d been holding since she left her house.  

Danielle enfolded her into her arms.  “Oh, dearest.  I’m so sorry.”  She hugged her tightly.  “He had us all fooled, didn’t he?”  

“No.”  Kyra shook her head hard, straightening out of her mother’s hug.  “No, you have it all wrong.  Cap’s in trouble.  We have to save him.”  

[samwpmarleau]

#9 Arianne and Daemon for the ask meme please?

For this meme.

9. in public

She hadn’t particularly wanted to go to her ten-year reunion. Most of the people she liked from high school she still hangs out with, and the ones she didn’t like she doesn’t see why she should care what they’re up to. But ultimately she had been convinced.

And actually, it’s not that bad at first–even if she does think it started a bit silly:

Garlan Tyrell, class president, and Jynessa Blackmont, head of the alumni committee, had co-organized the event, and along with the requisite nametags had handed everyone a ballot asking who the reunion king and queen should be. She’d done as requested, but really? Electing a court at prom is one thing; but a decade later? Not that it would really matter who she personally writes down, because no doubt the crowns would go to the same pair who were named at prom.

She also enjoys looking at the then-and-now yearbook photos and accompanying bios. She will admit it is kind of novel to see the trajectories of everyone’s lives, whether that be as upper management in a major corporation or a burger-flipper at a fast-food joint.

The bios also make her feel better about her own single-ness that there are plenty of others without partners; some of them are very much a surprise. One that especially stands out is Daemon Sand, whom she’d dated for all of eighth grade–as much as you can “date” anyone when you’re thirteen–but had parted ways with that summer and thereafter had run in a different social circle.

He’d been exceptionally kind, she remembers, and now that he’s out of braces, has exited the gangly stage that had lasted six years, and figured out what to do with his hair, he’s…rather nice to look at. Yet there it is in the Now section: Single.

She’s not here for that, however, so she peruses the rest of her classmates’ information, then gets swept up in a conversation with a former chem lab partner. Her partner had stuck with science, going on to get a master’s in biochemistry, and as she’s in the middle of telling a story about a fellow researcher, there’s a tap on Arianne’s shoulder. It takes her a minute, and then with an internal groan, she recognizes the face. Her erstwhile lab partner clearly recognizes him, too, and politely excuses herself.

Arianne wishes she hadn’t.

“Hi, Arys,” she greets with an overlarge smile. “Long time no see.”

Her ex-boyfriend has not aged well. What had been undeniable attractiveness in high school has given way to a receding hairline and pudginess that looks out of place on his once-lean frame. His appearance isn’t important, but it’s hard not to notice that time has not been as kind to him as to others.

“How have you been?” he asks. “Is your job treating you well?”

“Yeah, it’s good. Can’t complain.” To be polite, she follows up, “And you?”

“I’m okay.” He shifts closer to her, which starts setting off warning bells in her head. “You know, I’ve thought about you a lot over the years. Especially recently.”

“Oh?”

Why me, she thinks. Why now. WHY.

“I saw in the yearbook display that you’re single,” he says. “I am, too. I think we should make a go of it.”

There’s almost nothing she’d like less, and frankly, being approached so suddenly and with such expectation is off-putting. “I’m, uh…I’m flattered, but I’m not interested. I’m sorry.”

“But why? You said you loved me.”

“When I was sixteen,” Arianne replies, stunned. She doesn’t add, Even then, only because you said it first and I’d have felt bad if I didn’t say it back.

He doesn’t look wounded; if anything, he looks more determined. “We’ve grown since then. We could make it work.”

“We don’t even know each other anymore, Arys.”

“But we could.”

He’s not going to give up, she realizes. At best, she’d spend the next half-hour continuously rejecting him until she’d have to completely leave the event or make a scene, which she doesn’t want to do. Instead, she resorts to the only thing she thinks would work: the threat of another man.

“It’s more than just not being interested,” she says. “I have a boyfriend, one whom I love very much.”

Regrettably, either she has a poor poker face, or else he’s simply that persistent, for he challenges, “Who?”

She doubts inventing some far-flung boyfriend would fly, so with no other option, she searches the gym. Most of her former classmates are married, engaged, or otherwise attached; of the ones who aren’t, most are men she’d never date or men who’d never date her. Except…perhaps…

“Daemon Sand,” she says. “It’s Daemon.”

“I don’t believe you.”

The level of sheer entitlement grates on her enough to piss her off. “Fine, I’ll prove it.”

She has no idea how exactly she’s supposed to silently communicate in a handful of seconds to Daemon–Daemon, whom she’s barely even friends with on Facebook–that she needs to use him and have him not call the police for harassment. But, desiring nothing more at the moment than to have Arys out of her hair, she meanders her way through the crowd.

Daemon is helping himself to a glass of punch that someone had predictably spiked when he sees them both approaching. Already perplexed, he starts, “Um, hi–”

“Babe,” she greets, praying her expression is desperate enough, “you remember Arys Oakheart, don’t you?”

She links her arm through his with a brief wince that she hopes conveys that she’s neither delusional nor hitting on him. He stares at her, mystified, but then looks over at Arys. “Uh, yeah. You were on the baseball team, right?”

“Yes.”

“I told Arys we’re dating, but he says I’m lying,” she exposits. “I guess he thinks you’re out of my league or something.”

“He thinks I’m–”

“That’s not why,” says Arys.

“You really think,” Arianne retorts, “that I’d just go up to some random guy, pretend he’s my boyfriend, and count on him going along with it? That’s not a thing.”

“Can confirm that’s not a thing,” says Daemon. There’s a faint edge in his voice that tells her, with no shortage of relief, that he’s cottoned on to why she’s carrying on with the charade. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d leave my girlfriend alone, batter. She’s taken.”

With that, Daemon extricates his arm, takes her hand, and leads her to the other end of the gym next to the yearbook display. “He was a pitcher,” Arianne mentions. “There was always a designated hitter.”

Daemon smiles, revealing a set of dimples she’d almost forgotten he had. “I know.”

It’s petty, getting his position wrong on purpose, but she’s not going to complain. “Thank you. Seriously. I can’t tell you how grateful I am for what you did.”

“Anytime. Babe.” After a moment, he gestures in Arys’s direction and asks, “How’d you get mixed up again with that guy?”

“Well, you know we dated in high school. I might have led him on, I don’t know. He thinks we should get back together. Evidently he still hasn’t accepted the reason I broke up with him.”

“Which was?”

“He was pushy. You got a glimpse of that,” she says. When Daemon’s inquisitive expression turns into alarm, she hastily clarifies, “Not that pushy. ‘Needy’ might be a better word. He wanted me to need him in return, and that’s just not me.”

“Good for you for getting out early.”

“I guess. Anyway, thanks again,” Arianne says, not sure where exactly to go with the conversation. “If you ever need me to repay the favor, let me know.”

“Sure.”

She feels his gaze on her as she leaves.

Daemon’s performance seems to have done the trick, for although she catches Arys eyeing her more than once over the next few hours, he doesn’t come up to her again. She manages to return to having a good time–some of that might have to do with imbibing the punch, admittedly–even to the point of having genuine conversations with people who’d never had a good word to say about her.

(To be fair, she’d never had a good word to say about them either.)

There are those who clearly are stuck in their teenage ways, but them she avoids as vehemently as she does Arys. She doesn’t reflect on Daemon much, primarily because she doesn’t find a point in it. She’d thanked him, he’d told her it wasn’t a problem, and that was the end of it.

Or that should have been the end of it.

Arys’s bullshit had made her forget all about that ballot she’d filled out at the beginning. Not so, unfortunately, for Garlan and Jynessa.

“If we could have everyone’s attention, please,” Garlan says into the microphone. “All the votes have been tallied for reunion king and queen, who will have the esteemed honor of crowns straight from Party City and a solo dance.”

Arianne so fully expects the prom royalty to get this dubious distinction, which means it takes her a full seven seconds for her to comprehend that they call out her name. Hers–and Daemon’s.

Of all people? she finds herself bemoaning as Jynessa guides her over to the tipoff circle where Garlan stands holding a set of crowns. She glances up at the ceiling beams where the school’s assortment of championship banners hang, as if expecting to see one of the gods sitting there cackling at her for orchestrating this turn of fate.

She’d been liked well enough in school, but had always been selective about who she was close with, rather than be unanimously gregarious, which left her outside of the popular crowd. And sure, Daemon had been on the soccer team, but she wouldn’t say he was popular either, having kept too much to himself for all that. So to have one, let alone both, of them recognized in this way feels like some cosmic joke.

Nevertheless, she lets Garlan place a tiara on her head and sees Jynessa place a complementary crown on Daemon’s. Arianne glances at the both of them, and Jynessa makes a shooing motion, clearly indicating she expects Arianne to dance in front of everyone.

“So, this is a surprise,” she tells Daemon, reluctantly acquiescing with Jynessa’s urging.

“To say the least. Um…just so you know, I’m no better at this than I was in eighth grade.”

“It’s just slow dancing,” Arianne laughs. “You can’t possibly be bad at it. Come on, we may as well get this over with.”

She puts her arms up on Daemon’s shoulders as he places his around her waist. He makes a face as soon as the song comes on, some throwback pop-ballad.

“Don’t tell me you’re some hipster music snob,” Arianne teases.

“No, it’s just–my last girlfriend broke up with me during this song.”

Oh. Yikes.

“Are you saying I remind you of your ex?” Arianne asks, trying for levity and hoping he doesn’t take it the wrong way.

“Definitely not,” he says quickly. “No, you’re…no.”

She kind of wants to press him on what exactly that means, or whether it’s a good or bad thing, but he plainly isn’t keen on revisiting the matter. “Well, hey, at least she’s not here. Though I suppose that if she were, we could have killed two birds with one stone.”

“I’m not sure she’d have believed it any more than Arys does,” he says. “He’s been glaring at me all night.”

Arianne follows his nod, and indeed there Arys stands, wearing the only glower amongst a crowd whose expressions range from boredom to merriment. She sighs. “I don’t remember him being quite this possessive in high school. Then again, I didn’t hang out with you or guys like you, so that might be why.”

“Guys like me?”

“Uh, yeah. There was hardly some swarm of attractive athletes knocking down my door. Rhae tells me I give off an intimidating vibe, but I don’t know if that’s it. Arys was the exception.”

“And I’m that?”

She can’t tell if he’s pulling her leg or truly doesn’t see it. She takes in the thick brown hair, the close-cropped beard, the sky-blue eyes, the height, the powerful build. The dimples. When she’d chosen him to be her pawn tonight, what he looked like didn’t factor in at all. But now that there’s just the two of them…

The boy I knew has become a handsome man.

It’s an uncomfortable realization that not only is he handsome, but he’s exactly her type.

She clears her throat. “Yeah, you’re that. Objectively speaking. And sweet enough to go along with a scheme for a girl you haven’t spoken with since middle school.”

He frowns slightly but doesn’t respond. He’s not nearly as bad a dancer as he claimed; in fact, it’s quite nice being in his arms. His hands are warm but not clammy, and there’s enough of a height difference between them that she can rest her head comfortably against his chest. She feels…safe.

She pulls away when the song begins to fade to a close, but Daemon doesn’t let her go. His eyes flit up to where she assumes Arys must be, then down to her. Somehow, she knows what he’s going to do, yet despite being in the center of a gym full of former classmates, cheap plastic crowns on their heads, when he kisses her she lets him.

She’s been kissed before, and plenty, but she can’t quite recall a time that left her heart pounding, let alone one as short as this one is. Her only consolation is that when they break apart, Daemon looks about as stunned as she is. More than anything else, their current location be damned, she just wants to kiss him again, to find out if it was simply a matter of nostalgia or whether it really was that phenomenal.

“Were you–was that–”

“Uh-huh.”

“You never, with Arys, or whoever–”

“No.” He’d been fine, so far as her sixteen-year-old self was concerned, but he’d never left her reeling. And her flings since then were just that–flings. Still, reality begins to set in, especially as the reunion resumes. “This is crazy. There’s nothing between us anymore. What’s the point of revisiting the past? I didn’t want to when Arys asked, and I don’t…”

Somehow, she can’t bring herself to finish the rebuke. She can’t recall a valid reason that they broke up, in all honesty. With Arys there was a reason; with Daemon, they’d just mutually decided they should have other experiences. Besides, whoever heard of a romance between thirteen-year-olds lasting?

Daemon takes the first step as he never had back then. “At risk of sounding like Arys…I haven’t stopped thinking about you either, Arianne. Not in high school, or college, or after. About what could have gone differently, or what I should have done differently. In fact, junior year I’d finally decided to ask you to winter formal, but you’d gotten with Arys by then.”

Arianne blinks. “What? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Would it have mattered?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” She’d been content enough with Arys, but he hadn’t been someone she envisioned a lifetime with.

“Well, regardless,” says Daemon, sounding a bit rattled, “I shouldn’t have brought this up. You said yourself, no exes. So.”

She’d be lying if she said she’d never thought about him in the years after they’d separated. Sometimes, when she and Arys were going through a rough patch, she would reflect on the simplicity of her previous relationship. There was something to be said about quiet companionship. Yes, they had been young, but all the same, she recalls wondering more than once how it’d have been if she’d stayed with Daemon.

In any event, even if she’d wanted to ignore him completely, she couldn’t–their soccer team was perpetually successful, and despite being a defenseman, Daemon’s name was bandied about as one of the better players. And no matter the circumstances, who forgets about their first boyfriend?

“Your crown is crooked,” she says, to buy herself time on how to respond. She adjusts it. “How about…dinner? It seems we have some unfinished business.”

“Wouldn’t that be a date?”

“No. A casual meal between former classmates, to catch up.” She shrugs. “If we happen to hook up afterwards, so be it.”

“All right,” he smiles. “Dinner then.”