The Eye Of The Ankh #Wattys2016

Chapter Nineteen

I woke up Saturday to a box of chocolates—expensive ones too—and a bouquet of beautiful white roses. There was no name attached to the vase or the chocolates so I assumed it was from Anna.

Downstairs, Anna had made pancakes. I stacked two on my plate and started to butter them. "Thanks for the flowers," I said, adding some sugar to the pancakes.

"Oh, don't thank me. They were sitting on the table this morning with this," Anna handed me an envelope. "I thought they were from Ethan."

I opened up the small envelope and pulled out a piece of plain paper, folded in three. In the center fold was written: Enjoy the flowers. Enjoy the chocolate. Enjoy Ethan. –Hugo.

I smiled and put the letter back in the envelope. I sprinkled some cinnamon on the pancakes and started to eat my breakfast.

I headed over to Ethan's around five-forty-five and was welcomed by the heavenly sent of bourbon chicken. Following the smell to the kitchen I saw Ethan, his mother—Emily, I believe—a man I had never seen before, and Tate. Emily and the man were dancing while Ethan cooked. Tate was laughing, shouting out how silly they were for dancing.

Ethan looked at me and smiled. "There she is!"

Emily turned and saw me. She started to blush, slowly taking her hands off of the man. "Well, I guess we'll go, then. Nice to see you again, Alice. Coming, Tate?" She grabbed her purse and the man grabbed a duffle bag. Tate gave me a hug before skipping off behind Emily, a Ninja Turtles backpack bouncing on his back.

I looked at Ethan. "Who was that?"

"Oh, that was Mitch, my mom's boyfriend. She's spending the night at his place tonight and they're dropping Tate off at a friend's."

I smiled. "All alone?"

Ethan took a sip of bourbon straight from the bottle. "All alone." He smiled. "Oh! I almost forgot. I got some beer for later. Sorry it's not that fancy, but hey, it's something."

I smiled. This will be the best Valentine's Day.

At this point in the night—sometime around one AM—we were both drunk off our asses. We were laying across his bed, both on our backs, the top of our heads barely touching. The warmth of alcohol sitting in my stomach. The first sip brought warmth to the back of my throat. The second brought warmth to my throat, and then to my stomach. But it disappeared quickly. By the sixth or seventh sip the warmth stayed.

"Why did you come to our school? Was it more than because of your parents or..." Ethan said, his words decently clear. He must be a stronger drinker than I am. Most people are. I'm an under amateur drinker.

I took a deep breath. "I got expelled from my old school. This girl had been bullying me for years, longer than I can remember. Just small stuff. Side comment, shoving me around, making fun of what I'm wearing just loud enough for me to hear. Teachers never did anything. One day, I just got sick of it and snapped. I pushed her head into a wall, fractured her skill. Kicked her stomach until she was coughing up blood. Broke her wrist and caused multiple other sprains and fractures. A few kids tried to pull me off of her and they were lucky to get away with bloody noses and bruises. I finally stopped when a few teachers pulled me off. Went straight into the principal's office and was told to explain what happened. I told them that it doesn't matter, they never listen to me. After that I quit talking. I was sent home with a slip that explained what happened and was told to show my parents.

"By the time I was taken home—escorted by a cop in front of my car and a teacher behind—I was cooled off and showed the paper to my mother. She turned to my father, showed him, then stormed up to my room and destroyed all of my art work. Years gone down the drain. Canvas two in the center, drawings ripped, paint brushes snapped in two. Everything I've spent the majority of my life on was gone in a matter of minutes.

"I screamed some choice words at my mother then grabbed my car keys and drove until I was calmed down again. Got a speeding ticket and another for tailgating a cop. When I got home, they were both dead, and I was an orphan."

Ethan was silent. He sat up slowly and I did too. He put his forehead to mine, his hot breath on my face. "I'm so sorry." He said the words slowly, emphasizing each one. He brought a finger to my cheek, wiping away a tear. "I'm so sorry." He kissed my lips lightly.

I grabbed his hair, turning the soft, gentle kiss into something so much more. Anger. Passion. Forgiveness.

"I love the buildup... When the touching turns into grabbing, soft lips into passionate tongues, your heart beat getting faster... and faster... --Unknown

And faster. And faster. And so fast I was worried it might stop from overwork. I was breathing hard and Ethan was breathing hard and we were moving as one, his shirt off then mine. Every worry and care in the world was gone, free from the minds of us—two teens in love. Nothing—pure nothingness—meant everything and everything meant nothing.

And it felt so good. Even in the drunken haze, beer cans littered around the room, I knew I'd remember everything in the morning.

I started to lose track of the time, my eyes floating over to the clock, surprised at what it read each time I looked. I felt as if we were stuck in slow motion but we were moving so fast at the same time. My fingers were numb, but I still felt his hard chest, my fingers tugging at his hair. I felt his hands at my hips, nails slightly digging into my bare skin. All Over I felt incredulously warm. From the inside to the out.

And when it was all over, he wrapped his armsaround me, and I curled into him. And we slept.