𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 | 𝟏𝟖+

| 𝟑.𝟐

—
"I didn't choose you, my heart did."
—

I swallow the mellow spicy flavor of the chilaquiles verdes and egg as I watch Abuelas back. She had spoken nothing but a few words to me all morning and the deafening silence was gaining on my consciousness. I stressed my thoughts to Creed last night, but he said to just give her time and space. Time and space? At this point, I feel as though I've broken up with the woman, and she's avoiding my little existence.

His hand caresses my thigh. "Can you pass me the pepper, baby?" He mumbles after swallowing some orange juice.

Upon passing it, I don't miss the curious look Riley gives us. I smile. "Are you excited for Mom to be back?"

Riley almost jumps in his seat from happiness. "Yeah! I miss Mama. And since she'll be living with us, hopefully, Grandma can teach her how to cook again."

"Me too," I say, my smile slightly dimming at the faint memories.

A firm squeeze catches my attention. Creed grins lowly at Riley. "Her cooking couldn't have been that terrible."

Rileys' tiny finger taps his lower lip. "If it wasn't burnt to a crisp—it had no flavor. Blah, it was yucky. Her cooking used to be good until she got married to Calvin." He sticks out his tongue to mimic the disgusting taste.

I slightly stiffen at the name of my mother's ex-husband. When we moved out to Arizona sometime after dads murder, she eventually got remarried and proceeded to build some bad habits. I don't understand why she chooses to have Riley in the first place. But I think the desperation of wanting another child despite her troubles with bearing and pleasing Calvin drove her to keep Riley. Abuela didn't tell me until I was older, but mother had struggled to bare kids for a long time, she thought something was wrong with her body and it made her depressed. The same thing happened before Riley was officially convinced. She started drinking while simultaneously trying for a child; a mixture that was bound for a world of pain and disappointment.

Once Riley turned five, things between Mother and Calvin grew bitter. The mixture of cheating, alcoholism, the church's demands, and Calvin's bribery drove their relationship into a spiral. The responsibility of caring for Riley and myself became almost a full-time job and I hated them for it—I was a child taking care of a child. Balancing my school life and home life was hell on top of already having a tight leash around my neck to join church activities and a forced decade-old bible in my hand. I remember the proverbs clearly; highlighted and underlined words of faith by mothers hand. Her favorite pens to use were a purple highlighter and a black pen. Sometimes parents aren't willing to take responsibility for what they've done to their children because they're scared of the consequences, so they use the title of being the superior in the relationship to inflict and project their insecurities onto their children to avoid further self-conflict and destruction. But I didn't need to do anything for that to happen. The dominos fell into place themselves the moment Mother would come home from church and chug down several beers on the ratty couch.

"Love?"

Without a word, I stand from the table and strutted to our room, abounding my food. My brain was pounding on my skull and a queasy feeling sought to make my food rise. I held it down, tossing my body towards the bed face down.

The door opens a moment later. "Jamie?" His earthy voice settled in my bones.

Sinking further into the pillow, my mind overtaking me. Why don't I become fossilized and creep further down the road of evolution? It seemed silly of me to think. Creed was my evolution and every day since I met him, I wondered who was the asteroid that hit Earth, his earth—colliding and rejuvenating his well-being for years to come. But it came with sacrifices, disheartening sacrifices.

Creed's presence grew stronger. "You're fucking freaking me out, Jamie,"

Slowly turning my head, I meet his sunken green eyes. How I've grown to love them. "Do you love me...Creed?"

His eyes widen, as if I had cursed his greatest treasure and titled it useless. I wanted to cry. "Jamie, what are you doing?"

I shrug and wait for his response. I watch silently as his lips thinned before opening, but his voice box seemed to be broken. Rolling over, I could feel my shoulders begin to shake. His hands find mine, pulling me to turn as I try to swallow the laughter. Creed's forehead creases in confusion before settling. "Jamie, this isn't funny."

My chest and ribs began to hurt at his confusion furthered until my rope snapped. Bubbles of laughter and sobs shake me down until I ended up curled in Creed's lap. I felt pathetic. I felt manic.

I've never felt so alive.

"I love you, Jamie," he exclaims, "I'm sorry for not saying it sooner—I...you caught me off guard."

I sniffle, using his shirt to wipe my tears away before another short laugh escapes my esophagus. "You know, you've been apologizing too much lately. It's starting to scare me."

"I have a lot to be sorry for," he says sincerely, chuckling. A comforting sound that I'd grown to admire. The raspiness wrapped around me like warm silk. I invited him closer and his grown arms enclose me tightly. "Don't be scared, Jamilyn."

"Please take your shirt off, Creed."

"Yes ma'am." He smirks, pulling it off swiftly before tugging me back in.

"It's already September," I mumble, nuzzling his chest and sinking in further, wanting to sleep all day.

"Mhm. Big plans coming up. The festival will be held and then we'll officially be Scott-free."

"My mother will be here soon, next weekend to be in fact," I inform. "Kinda cuts into our time..."

He didn't say anything but gave me a squeeze before standing from the bed. I keep my eyes close, praying for my mind to go elsewhere, why light trickles of music carried to empty space of the room. My eyes peek open and I see the large expansion of his back playing with a slightly busted vinyl record player I found at a garage sale one day. "Dance with me."

I gaze deep into his eyes, mentally remembering what they looked like above me moments ago. Slowly coming to a stand, I make my way toward the yellow box vinyl and trace my finger across the scratched texture.

"I don't dance," I mumble, clenching my hand into a fist behind my back.

His presence took up whatever space was left in my lungs, momentarily taking my breath away. His naked chest rested along my backside smoothly, comfortably, and all too familiar.

"Oh, come on, Jamie, you're breaking my heart here," he whispers.

My breath hitches, his trailing finger slid on my aching clit, and his other held my thigh open.

"Give me a chance."

I exhaled a moan into the dewy air; his long finger slipped past my underwear and rubbed me gently in torturous circles.

"Please?"

My head rested on his shoulder blade unable to handle standing on my own. I quiver, tingles shooting to my breasts like a magnet would metal. "Yes," I exhale, "since you asked so nicely."