“Come on, it’ll be fun!” She sits across from me, hands face down on the dining table, head tilted to the side, shoulders raised with that silly smile I can never say no to.

“Fine.” I surrender and she claps, “Great, let’s go!”

“Now?!”

She looks sheepish, “I already made us an appointment.”

“Willa!” I give her the look. “How did you even know I would say yes?”

She grins, “I just knew.”

——–

We stand at a glass door with a large pyramid and the all seeing eye painted on the front, “Zoe Sanders: Psychic” is scrawled underneath.

I start to back pedal, “You know, I’m not feeling that well…”

“Lisa, come ON!” She pulls me by the wrist through the threshold and advises the receptionist we’re arrived for our appointment. She makes a joke about psychics needing receptionists and I give a small obliging smile.

“Lisa?” A voice escapes from behind beaded curtains hanging in the doorway to another room.

I get up and wait for Willa to join me, she looks at me weirdly, “They’re separate readings.”

“What?!” I huff and when she doesn’t go to move I part the beads and step through in to another small room with purple shades, casting coloured sunlight in to the corners of the walls.

“Have a seat.” Zoe tells me and I do, dropping my handbag next the leg of the chair.

She looks like any other normal person – I’m not sure why I expected differently.

“So, do you have anything specific you want to ask before I start?” She is shuffling a deck of tarot cards, but her eyes are focused on me.

I shake my head no.

“Well, there are only a few people here to see you.”

I glance around, then remember myself and feel inwardly stupid.

“My Nanna, is she here?”

She looks behind me, “No, not today.”

I bite my lip and feel my shoulders drop.

“Firstly, I have to tell you that, someone you value above all else is not what you think they are, and will not be what you want to make of them.” I immediately think of her. But, but, but; my mind fills with arguments.

“And your lies will soon be found out.” My thought process switches direction, to him. I watch it all come crumbling down in my mind.

“You will live your life out in the same place, you will not move forward, you will not succeed in anything you want to, you will never meet her, and this one is most true: you’ll become everything you worked so hard not to be. This is the price you must pay.” She doesn’t even notice that in the 5 minutes I’ve been here she has unraveled the last 26 years of my life.

I feel like all the blood in my veins has drained and pooled at my feet. Every word she says is another grenade in my chest.

I stop listening after a while, I let myself go numb.

This is the price you must pay.

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“Where were you?” Her eyes avoid him; she tries as best she can not to sound invested in his answer.

“Out.” He swings his jacket over the back of a chair and leans in to his forearms as they rest on the kitchen counter.

“How is she?” He glances at her then sighs.

“Uh,” Shifting uncomfortably, he shrugs and starts to pick at the skin around his fingernails, “She looks happy.”

“You didn’t talk to her?” She’s not surprised at this. He has gone to see her at least 10 times in the past 2 months, and all he’s done is watch her from afar.

“I don’t want to.” They both know this is a lie.

She moves closer to him and rests a flat palm in the space between his shoulder blades. She can feel a faint heart beat.

He looks to her, a pleading ache leaving it’s mark across his features, she tilts her head to the side, frowning in return.

“She’s ruining you, you know.”

He knows.

“I’m sorry.” She’s not sure why he’s remorseful; there is both nothing and everything she could expect an apology for.

She thinks he means the way he and his problems have taken up residence in her life; not leaving room for much else. But he never forced that upon her; she accepted it as part of knowing him.

“We all love people we’re not supposed to.” She takes her hand from his back, scared the connection might betray her; afraid he might feel how much she really understands.

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I met Isaac at a music festival.

He was dressed well, wearing sunglasses and a genuine smile, looking relaxed as he leaned back on a barricade drinking his beer and I won’t lie – my eyes traveled the length of him – but I didn’t look twice.

I was chatting with friends when he stepped between two men who’d made the ill fated decision to drink all day in the hot sun and start a fight over one stumbling in to the other by accident. Before a crowd could gather he had managed to subdue the both of them somehow and walk away unscathed. That was when I really noticed him.

Standing at the bar, I was giving a wave to the bartender when he approached me; “Can I buy you a drink?”

He seemed nice enough, but I had seen devils wrapped in darling disguises too many times before. “Thank you,” I smiled, honestly appreciating the compliment, “But I’m fine.”

“A lady has the right to decline a drink… But,” He raised a finger, “Can I still ask for your number?” He had such an unassuming way about him that I felt myself give in a little.

“We just met, you don’t even know my name… How can you be sure you want my number?” I raise an eyebrow at him.

“You’re right, I got ahead of myself,” He holds out his hand, “I’m Isaac.”
I take it a little reluctantly and we share one firm shake. “Anna.”

He grins, “So, how about now?”

I still smile like I’ve got a secret every time I remember how persistent he was. Looking back now though, it was that first connection of skin, something about the way our hands fit together, that made me realise I might leave that day with more than I expected to.

And the more time I spent around Isaac the more I got to know he doesn’t let up on what he wants, he is so determined and passionate that he constantly skips ahead, but it has come to be one of the things I adore about him – wanting something so much you would clamour over yourself just to secure it. Mostly I loved that I could count myself amoung the things that brought that out in him.

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My voice raises, “Don’t you remember?? Don’t you remember the way you touched me?” I get closer to him without meaning to, “You put your hands on my hips, both of them,” Recounting it out loud brings a fever to my cheeks; I’ve made myself a fool. But the way he moved around me; so simple yet completely unnerving. I touch my chest, over my heart, trying to make him understand. “I felt your fingertips on my skin.”

“I just I wanted to be near you, talk to you, have you see me, and then I just, I got carried away.” He runs a hand through his hair.

“You got carried away? That was my life, this, this, is my life… With your brother, no less!” My eyes plead with him, “How am I supposed to forget the way that felt? You set fire to me.”

Looking up suddenly, his gaze locks on mine, and I think for the first time he realises what I am saying. Time is both a fleeting euphoria and a slow ache; my heart is in a vice, each time he inhales the jaws inch closer and closer together. Zac searches my face, looking for a rejection I do not have the self-control to give.

He moves to put a palm to my jaw, my breath catches and holds as soon as I feel his touch. I reach up to wrap my fingers around his wrist, my eyes closing when he hesitantly leans in to press his mouth to mine. His lips are chapped and dry, I wet them with my tongue and that is all it takes to ignite him – he crushes my waist to his, pushing my back up against the wall.

"You will be the end of me.” I hear him groan, and the dam inside me breaks it’s banks – kissing him feels like drowning; I claw for the surface, gasping for breath, but nothing has ever made me feel more alive.

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I want to know what keeps her eyes open at night, what makes it hard for her to sleep, I want to know the places to touch that quicken her heartbeat. I want to see her at her worst and find that I still love her to her core, I want to know what she smells like when she steps out of the shower, when she is at her most raw. 

I want so many things for her and from her that I feel it bubbling up inside me at times, and I have to leave the room if she’s in it, for fear of it spilling out. 

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I step in to the shower and let the warm water pound against my sullied skin, it doesn’t make me feel clean, it doesn’t wash anything away like I’d hoped.

Standing there, the world stops being so loud and I am finally alone. Last night comes back to me in flashes – the way his hands moved over me, pressing on my collarbone, tightening at my neck; his lips at my ear, just begging me to say his name.

He played me like an instrument and I can still feel the vibrations; an ache he has left me with.

My throat constricts in an unbearable knot and the pressure releases in a sob. I crush my hand against my mouth and curl over in to myself, letting the guilt pour out of me.

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The kitchen is a mess.

I am baking us cupcakes. Red velvet with cream cheese frosting – probably my all time favourite. Maybe it’s the name.

I am covered in ingredients, I smell of vanilla.

I frown when the butter does not mix smoothly with the rest, and I know I have not let it sit out for long enough.

You are quick, and I am distracted. It is a moment before I realise you have planted a kiss on my cheek.

I spin on my heels to look for you. You are no where to be found.

I press my fingers to the spot your lips touched my skin. I blush and hide a smile. I look for you again.

I leave a trail of cupcakes for you, like breadcrumbs for a sparrow, hoping you’ll return on the breeze.

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I study her back as she sleeps, it’s smooth and dotted with freckles. It reminds me of sex scenes in movies – the ones you’re not supposed to watch when you’re younger, but you can’t tear your eyes away.

I wait for the guilt to come. I brace for the weight in the pit of my stomach – but all I can do is look at her and hold a smile in my mouth; scared to let it escape and solidify in to hope.

She stretches and her bones creak, I turn away as she maneuvers herself to sit up against the headboard, holding the sheet to her chest.

We don’t speak; the silence makes my insides churn.

She slides her legs over the edge of the bed and sits for a moment. My eyes follow the trail of her spine and I swallow loudly. I reach for her, but my hand falls short as she stands up and pulls the sheet around her, “Can I use your shower?”

I nod and grab my boxers from the floor, slipping them on under the bed cover. “I’ll get you a towel.”

Handing it to her our fingers brush by accident and I meet her eyes with mine; I want to apologise and tell her I’m not sorry all at once. But she takes the fabric from me and enters the bathroom, shutting the door behind her as I stand there with my hands open, offering her nothing.

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I found them out laying on the grass the sun kissing their skin.

Alex sat, legs extended, leaning back on her hands – face towards the blinding light.

Sarah laid, left hip pressed to the earth, cheek resting on Alex’s thigh – eyes closed.

It was almost a crime to encroach upon their stillness, but whether you were interrupting or not, they never seemed unhappy to have company.

I sit down next to them, staring out in to the fields.

Alex greets me with a smile and slides the sunglasses from her hair to rest on the bridge of her nose.

“Nice day.” I comment. The weather, how original.

She nods, “Beautiful day.”

I look at them, I wish I had my camera. Something to hide behind, something to put in front of me, something to stand between this purity and my tainted heart.

Alex hums a tune and Sarah sighs. Constant contentment.

“How do you know?”

How do you know it’s her? How do you know this is where you’re meant to be? How do you know she won’t hurt you? How do you know to give in to her completely? How do you know this is for you? How do you know this love can last a lifetime, maybe longer?

She looks down at Sarah, “There are lots of reasons, millions even… But none more prevalent than ‘I just do’.”

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Let me tell you a few things about my older brother.

He is handsome. Not sexy. Handsome.
He is smart. Not nerdy. Smart.
He is witty. Not sarcastic. Witty.
He is charming. Not sleazy. Charming.
He is gracious. Not egotistical. Gracious.

He hasn’t always been this way. He was a total loser when he was my age; never had a girlfriend, rarely left the house, all his friends were glasses wearing folk who hung out at the library. They were good guys – just not so high up in the social food chain.

I guess you can gather from this that I never idolised my older brother like most do, actually I’m not sure any of the men born after him in my family did either. Weirdly, he was the runt of the litter – even though he was born first. He was the butt of every joke, the reason for every eye roll shared between siblings, the cause of every sigh my mother gave when my other older brother and I would gang up on him… Until now.

When he walked in the door I hardly recognised him; he was dressed in a sharp suit, hair styled perfectly, standing confidently broad shouldered in the hallway, grinning at me with his perfectly straight white sparkling teeth – “Zac!!”

He wraps me in a bear hug which I try to return with equal force, but find myself lacking – I stagger back; “Isaac, you…”

“My boy!” A shriek comes from behind me and I see my mother rush toward us with open arms, her eyes light up as she holds his biceps with her tiny hands and stands him back to take him in completely. “So handsome.”

She looks so proud. My shoulders drop and suddenly, for the first time in my life, I am inadequate.

“Come, come,” She takes his wrist and pulls him towards the kitchen, “Catch me up.”

I walk through to the adjacent dining room eavesdropping on their chatter, “Well that’s a lovely story, is that how you snagged her?”

He laughs and it takes up the entire room, “No Mom, she took a lot more work than that.”

I watch my mother smile at him, “The good ones always do.” She catches my eye and shakes her head, “Zachary,” My full name. It always means trouble. “Stop hiding and come and talk to your brother.”

I open my mouth to respond but Taylor steps in through the back door, stealing their attention, and I take my chance to slip away.

Grabbing my snow jacket I head outside; this home no longer feels big enough for the both us and it’s become clear now that I am the one who doesn’t fit.

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