Page 81 of Severance

Mikah tilts his head and stares at me for a while. “Seems like it would have been your type of book.”

“It was depressing,” I confess.

“Then why are you reading everything I tell you to read? It’s all depressing.”

“Why areyoureading depressing?”

Mikah looks up to the sky and pushes the smoke out. “Life is depressing.” His gaze darts back to me and he hands me the lighter. “People are shit, Alana.” His voice lacks its raw edge. It’s soft with a touch of sad. “They’re mean and judgmental.”

“Fuck them,” I say, my hands shaking when I try to light my cigarette.

“Look at you, church girl.” Mikah chuckles. He moves closer to me. “You’re evolving.” A sudden gust of wind rips the clouds of smoke that are floating between us apart, and the lack of a barrier causes my anxiety to kick up a notch.

“Shut up.” I roll my eyes and flick the stubborn lighter again and again, swallowing past the growing tightness in my throat. My thumb’s already sore and my brain is craving the nicotine fix badly.

Mikah takes the lighter from me.

“I always knew you had it in you,” he says in a ragged whisper. “I felt it the moment I saw you.” He puts his cigarette between his lips again and brings its tip to mine, the length of his body filling my view.

I close my eyes and inhale carefully until my cigarette is lit. The smoke does a wicked dance inside my lungs, soothing me with its magic power, taking all my worries away. It’s a strange kind of high. Dark and liberating. The kind of high people like my father don’t understand.

Mikah draws his cigarette from his mouth and drops his head to my ear. “You were a little rabbit tossed to a pack of wolves and you stood there and ate us up as if we were vanilla ice cream.” His lips, hot and disturbingly tempting, linger at my temple. “And you don’t fuck like a Virgin Mary.”

My heart does a double flip. I exhale the thick smoke through my nose and pull my cigarette away for a second to catch my breath. Then Mikah’s hand slips under my chin to lift it up and he covers my mouth with his. It’s a dirty and wet Marlboro kiss with a touch of starvation and shame. It makes my head spin and my knees weaken. His tongue strokes against mine slowly, each lick deliberate and breathtaking, as our lips move at a perfect pace.

Although I’m not ready for it to end, guilt drives me to break the kiss. I don’t want to scrap my memories of the places I’ve been to with Dakota by making new memories with his brother. It’s too much like betrayal.

Mikah takes a step back and slips his cigarette into his mouth, his green eyes never leaving mine.

“I don’t want to be a rabbit,” I rasp out, my voice shot from the lack of oxygen, as the Virgin Mary comment burns like a torch inside my head.

“You’re not.” Mikah shakes his head. “Not anymore.”

“Who am I then?”

“You tell me. I’m not a mind reader.”

I let his words settle in. He’s a fusion of hot and cold and I lose myself whenever I look at him.

“Life’s too fucking short, Alana,” Mikah mutters, smoke seeping from his nostrils. “Figure it out before it’s too late.” He turns around and starts walking toward his truck that’s parked on the opposite side of the lot.

I’m too confused to stop him. I just stand there and watch.

* * *

I sit in my Prius in our driveway and stare at the check engine light on the dashboard. It came on sometime today but didn’t really hit me until now.

My lips still burn from the kiss with Mikah, and the conversation we had earlier at Patty’s is on repeat in my mind. This thing between us hasn’t been resolved. On the contrary, it’s a lot more complicated after today.

There’s a light on in the garage and I’m surprised to see my father up this late, going through boxes he hasn’t touched in over a decade.

“What are you doing?” I ask, stepping inside.

“Just cleaning up,” my father says, not bothering to look at me.

We haven’t been on the best of terms lately. Not since the day I poured my speech full of fucks on him…and I’m starting to believe that he’s given up on the idea of trying to make me into someone I’m not.

“It’s midnight, Dad.” My eyes dart to the open boxes in the corner and I recognize some of my old toys.

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