Setting Fire to the Stars (a MM Sci-Fi Romance)

Chapter 2: Whispers

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Lauren
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A deafening blast of sound and air threw me backwards, my world tilting. Then pain, hard and raw, exploded from the back of my head as I collided with the sandstone floor. Fire laced down my spine, a scream tearing from my throat. Harsh breaths sawed in and out of my lungs while I blinked the dust from my eyes, coughing up grains of dust. A high-pitched tone built in my ears.

Blurs of fuzzy shadows pitched across the wide space, swarming in a river of black, formless shapes. Something warm seeped into my right eye and when I gingerly touched the area, my fingers came away red.

Fucking hell, what was that?

Pushing myself onto my elbows with a hoarse groan, the air was once again knocked from me when a heavy weight collapsed against my chest, forcibly pinning me to the floor. The action doubled the agony lacing through my head and I attempted to push whatever had fallen off of me.

My woozy vision slowly cleared, the darkness giving way to scrambling shadows clamoring for the door. The heady smoke clouded a large portion of my view. Rising with the cries, the haunting echoes of inhuman whispers rang in my ears like nails scraping on a chalkboard.

Candles flickered as the pillars shook, shadows dancing over the walls as the building itself groaned like a abyssal beast rousing from slumber. A resounding crash signaling the fall of the grand chandelier. Glistening crystals fractured across the tile in a shower of glitter.

Blinking a mix of dirt and sweat from my eyes, I realized the weight pinning me had a heartbeat. I craned my head to the side, black hair eclipsing my vision.

"Fuck."

A shudder plunged through my body, that throaty groan having been spoken directly in my ear. Hot breath caressed the side of my neck and I dared not move a muscle.

Almost against my will, my head turned to see the weight pinning me down. Grey collided with midnight blue and my whole world shook for a second time. Only one person on Earth had ocean eyes like those.

We were flush up against one another, our bodies aligned chest on chest, hip to hip, his forearms braced on either side of my head. I could feel his rapid heartbeat through his navy blue varsity jacket, the heat of him seeping into me like the summer sun.

Hovering over me was the star of my worst fucking nightmares, the god of football himself.

Surprise was frozen on Peter's face, those masculine edges shadowed by the warm fluttering of candlelight his hair. Strands of raven hair fell into his eyes, a thin coat of dust settling atop like flakes of frost.

He . . . protected me?

My heart seized up, body locking up and I dared not even breathe. I felt like a mouse caught in a trap, shoving down, down, down the galloping sensation dancing behind my sternum.

So, confession time.

Peter was my first crush. Yeah, I know it's cheesy as hell. The quiet gay kid falls for the insanely popular bad boy. But he wasn't always like this. An asshole, I mean. He used to be funny and cool and not a totally incorrigible douchebag. Growing up, we always stuck together, unconditionally having each other's backs in schoolyard fights and backyard brawls.

The Brains and the Brawn. Bet you can guess which one I was. We were practically inseparable all throughout elementary and middle school. Wherever we went, whatever we did, I was ever by his side. His betrayal left behind a world of hurt and bitterness in my soul.