Counting Beats

1. Vivianne Mariette - Past

I whirled around at the sound of the warehouse door opening, eyes wide and shoulders squared as I ducked behind a roll of fabric taller than me and nearly as wide.

Light cascaded through the crack of the large door, dancing specks brought to light like living pixies, my lips parting in amazement at the sight. Then, the door opened further, revealing a silhouette I could recognize easily with a little imagination.

Nearly throwing myself to the floor from the loft, I tackled the figure roughly before they could react. A low grunt of force or surprise was plenty satisfying to me as we both hit the grassy ground. Tilting my head back to peer up at him, I found Mathias looking down at me with those blue eyes of his.

"Damn, you're fast as lightning!" Exclaimed the blond ecstatically, beaming at me as he rolled me off him with a groan. His thick English accent brought a smile to my face all on its own. I laughed, nudging him with my elbow as I propped myself up to look over at him.

"No way! I wasn't even trying that time," I protested half-heartedly with a cocky grin and a scoff, blowing a few stray strands of hair from my eyes. His hand moved in the corner of my eye, my reaction time a moment too slow as his fingers wrapped around my braid and tugged sharply, my eyes closing as I hissed softly. My free hand swatted his away in annoyance.

"Now is that the proper appearance for a businesswoman and future bride such as yourself?" He mocked, voice high and face pinched in an impression of my mother, looking like he'd smelled something foul on his way there. I snorted. "And your behavior-- My Lord, you might as well have been raised by wild boar!" He cried, still imitating my mother's voice. Laughter bubbled in my chest, bursting free from my lips in loud, obnoxious bursts.

"Hey, hey!" I tried to get my bearings before speaking, swallowing hard while biting the inside of my cheek to contain my laughter. "Shouldn't you be harder to knock over? You're the strong, studious son of a noble swordsman, after all! You come from a long line of manly warriors!" I cheered, raising a fist to the ceiling as emphasis, doing my best impression of his father's grouchy, low snarl of a voice. Mat chuckled as he rolled his eyes at me.

"Easy there, Vivs. I'd hate to see you hurt yourself being such a massive hypocrite!" He shot back, smirking as I scoffed in mock-offense, smacking his bicep once as I sat up in the grass. Cool, early spring air sent goosebumps sprawling across my skin. Looking upward, I suddenly remembered where we were with a jolt.

"Wait... Mat, come on!" I scrambled to my feet and ran for the warehouse door, grabbing his hand in a weak attempt at pulling him with me. He rose to his feet, confusion crossing his face before understanding struck him, the panic clear in his eyes as he rushed to join me on the other side of the door, though neither of us moved to shut it behind us.

"Jesus, you're quite the ball of panic, aren't you?" Mat breathed as he glanced at me. I chuckled airily, shrugging my shoulders as I struggled to relax again.

"I guess that's me, Ball of Panic Vivianne." I winked. He scoffed in disbelief at the lame reply, rolling his eyes once more. Smirking, I turned toward the room, then to the loft, plotting my next way of getting up there as gracefully or as extravagantly as possible.

My eyes found an empty rod, a short sheet of fabric hanging limp from the side, its colors faded and sad, but then I closed my eyes to imagine the path I'd take.

Moving without a thought before Mat could react, I launched myself at the spherical top of the rod, gripping it with my palm before throwing myself upward. Behind me, I could hear the blond's gasp and shout of my name over the clatter of the rod to the dirt floor.