Page 81 of Haunt Me

“Do what?” she whispers, sounding as out of breath as me. I can’t wait to get a proper look at her, to see how she’s changed, how she’s stayed the same. But I can’t tear myself away from kissing her neck, her cheek, her lips. “I didn’t do anything to you, Isaiah.”

The minute she says my name, I fall apart in her hands.

“I was away from you,” I choke. “Away from this. I won’t survive it another time. Don’t… Don’t ever let go again. Ok?”

“Ok.”

Her lips start smiling, and I fit mine over them, capturing that smile.

“Ok,” I repeat.

We try to calm our breaths together.

It feels like I haven’t been breathing for the entire summer, and now my lungs are finally filling with sweet, blessed air. Breathing her in is intoxicating, addicting. My body is a live wire, buzzing, shaking, shattered with the need of her.

You’re ok, I try to calm myself down.You’re ok now. Eden is here. She is safe, and you’re holding her in your arms. As long as you don’t let go, you’ll never have to suffer again like you did this summer.

“Is it the same for you?” I ask her hungrily, without stopping our kiss.

“It’s stronger,” she replies into my lips and I smile.

It’s worse, I think, but I don’t say it out loud.

And then my hands are on her hips, tugging her against me as I deepen the kiss. I want to pull her into my chest, feral need making me want to keep her there, safe from the world, safe from whatever demons are pulling us apart.

“Did you come straight here?” she murmurs, breathless.

“I didn’t even stop to change my clothes,” I reply.

“Of course you did, you idiot,” she smiles. “You are such a drama queen.”

“Always.”

And just like that, we’re us again.

It is as if no time at all has passed since the last time I saw her. I laugh and then the air whooshes out of my chest, as I press her into me, my arms tightening around her back, her waist, her neck.

We lower ourselves to the grass, bodies tangled up as one, and I close my eyes against the sun.

Eden is here.My paradise.


Little do I know.

Little do I know what’s about to happen to us.

Eden’s Poetry

THE ONLY THING MY FATHER EVER TAUGHT ME

The only thing my father ever taught me was how to lie.

twenty-two

“Why are all your bones sticking out?”

That’s the first thing I tell her when I’m finally able to detangle my lips from hers and my hands from her hair.