Page 97 of The Pact

I’ve never said that out loud. This is the effect Ausra has on me. I open up, with her I don’t feel the need to be anything but myself. With her being me is just enough. Maybe because she knows how it feels to be forced to wear a mask. Feeling like nobody sees the real you anyway. She still isn’t looking at me and a powerful feeling hits me like a punch in the face. I can’t lose her. What I was saying to her before is true. I care. This isn’t a game for me, not anymore.

I loosen my grip on her arms, aware that she could start running again and scared as shit about the fact that if she does, I need to accept it. I’ve always thought that the saying “If you love someone, set them free” was a whole heap of bullshit but I kinda understand it now. Don’t get me wrong it’s still bullshit but now that we’ve dropped all pretenses, if she stays it really means something.

“Ausra, I’m not perfect. I’ve never claimed I was. But when I care about someone, I do that with all my heart. Who you were or how you dressed doesn’t change shit.” There are three little words on the tip of my tongue but I swallow them back. It’s too soon and I don’t want to make things worse by scaring her. “I’m sorry, Ausra. Please forgive me for what I said that day at school.”

Her eyes finally meet mine. The sadness in them is clearly visible even in the dim lights of the end of my driveway. Her voice comes out in a whisper, so low that for a second I think I imagined it. “I forgive you, Ash. If you can forgive me for not trusting you enough to tell you.”

I nod. “You got it, cutie. Just do me a favor, will you? Please tell the others? I think it’ll go down better if they hear it from you.”

She exhales shakily. “Bode said the same thing. And I will, I promise.”

“Bode knew?” I know I have no right to feel hurt but I can’t help a pang of jealousy at the idea that she trusted Bode more than she did me.

“He figured it out. We bumped into someone from school who actually recognized me.”

Ok. That I can actually live with. But there’s something that’s still bothering me and I have to ask her. “We were a bunch of superficial assholes. What I don’t get is why you didn’t tell us to fuck off when you saw us again. And we tried to pick you up in that bar.”

Her voice trembles a little when she answers. “I swear I wanted to but I’ve always had a secret crush on all of you guys, it never went away, even when I thought I hated you. And when you helped me that night, I thought that you weren’t as bad as I thought. I still wanted you and I didn’t want you to stop looking at me that way you were. The way you are right now.”

Fuck.

I crush her lips with mine without even thinking about it. And she kisses me back, her hands fisting the expensive cotton of my tux shirt.

It’s a deep, intense kiss; it’s full of lust and need and I can taste a touch of the anger that Ausra must’ve still been holding onto at the memory of how we treated her back at school.

Our tongues are tangled, our lips fused together, our hands searching and grabbing. When her teeth sink into my bottom lip, grazing, I totally lose it. I scoop her up in my arms and start walking back toward the house without breaking the kiss.

I enter by the front door, literally tearing through the foyer. Everyone seems to be in the ballroom anyway but I don’t give a fuck if anyone sees us as I dash up the stairs.

My bedroom door slams shut behind me as I set Ausra down, back on her feet.

A giggle escapes her lips and I stop kissing her for a second, moving my head back just enough to look at her.

“It seems that all you do lately is carry me up into this room. I just remembered you did the other night too, when I was drunk.”

I smile, running gentle fingers down the perfect curve of her neck.

“I like carrying you. I like having my hands on you, Ausra. You have the most beautiful, perfect body and I’ll take any excuse I can find to touch it.”

She smiles but there’s no mirth in it. Her blue eyes are veiled with sadness. “That’s another reason why I wanted you guys and why I said yes to your game. You make me feel beautiful. You make me feel like my body isn’t something dirty, that I have to be ashamed of and hide.”

Fury mounts in my chest at her words. I guide her in front of the full-length mirror in the corner. “Was that what your dad said to you?”

She nods as I stand behind her and our eyes meet in the mirror. “He and Mom had always been strict. They always forbade us from wearing short skirts or anything remotely revealing but things got worse after Mc got pregnant. After Dad kicked her out, all my clothes were suddenly gone and I was forced to wear the stuff that earned me that fucking nickname, The Preacher’s Daughter. One morning I was getting ready to go to school and Dad lifted his eyes from the morning paper and looked at me. When he slapped me, I didn’t even know why. He’d never touched me before.”

I clench my fists, fighting the urge to run back downstairs and kill that motherfucker for touching my girl.

She continues, unaware of my murderous instincts. “I was wearing red lipgloss. He told me to go wash my face, that I looked like a slut. That he’d kill me rather than let me bring shame on him like my sister. I was scared, Ash. The look in his eyes was—he locked me in my room and took my phone away. I didn’t go to school and I spent the whole morning looking at myself in the mirror, staring at the red mark he left. A perfect print of his hand. I know I shouldn’t dwell on it but sometimes I can still feel it. It was that morning that I decided that I’d leave. I was planning to stick it out until I finished school. Then I’d leave for college and I’d never have to see him again.”

Her gaze is glazed over as if she’s gone back to her old room, to last year. “I thought I could keep my head down and let the whole shit storm with my sister blow over. But I guess I had underestimated him. Dad was always strict, we had very little freedom and way more rules than all the other kids our age but after Mc left, he spiraled fast. Later that day Mom came into my room. I thought she’d try to find some bullshit excuse for his behavior and try to comfort me, like she’d done countless times. But I was wrong. She took all my makeup away. She brought me some new clothes, the long skirts, the baggy blouses, the bonnets. A few nighties that were made of thick, scratchy cotton. They came down to my ankles and covered me up to my neck.” Her voice is gritty, scratchy, as if she were trying not to cry. I step closer, keeping my eyes fixed onto hers in the mirror and holding her back against my chest and let her continue. “She also got me new underwear. It was all beige. The panties were big and came up to my armpits. She didn’t buy me any bras. She gave me some thick bandages and made me strip. She showed me how to use them to hide and flatten my breasts. I asked her why she was doing that and she explained that I had to lead by example after what McKayla did to my family’s reputation. That the shame she brought on us could destroy Dad’s church. His livelihood. She said that she and Dad expected me to remain pure until marriage and that those clothes would help keep temptation away. She said that sex was dirty and weighed the soul down and that I should thank Dad for taking care of me that way, for protecting me.”

Fuck.

That’s scary and more than anyone should have to endure. I lean closer to her and she doesn’t shy away from my touch. My lips touch the soft skin behind her ear as I speak. “They were wrong, Ausra. There’s nothing dirty or wrong with sex, as long as it’s consensual and there’s some level of trust between the people involved. And they were wrong to make you hide your body if you didn’t want to. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

My hands skim over the line of her naked shoulders, tracing the fabric of her dress over the soft skin of the swell of her tits. “I love your tits, they’re soft and firm at the same time. They’re perfect. Like the rest of you.” I lower her dress, baring her tits. I go slow, to give her the chance to stop me if she doesn’t want to be touched.

She doesn’t say anything, looking at my hands but arching her back and leaning into my touch as my fingers reach her pebbled nipples.

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