Painting Flowers (A Jack Barakat fanfic)

Chapter 17

*Kathryn's POV*

Jack and I are comfortably seated in a cell in the police station. It looks a lot like the ones in television shows - Stone-cold grey interrior, iron bars and very little space. Jack sits cross-legged behind me on the uncomfortable bench, playing with my thick hair and gently threading little flowers into it. He picked a few from a small bush while we were at the park, waiting with the security guard for the police to come pick us up. He stands up and walks around the bench again, seating himself in front of me. "There. Perfect." He mumbles softly. "You almost look as attractive as my dick." he adds with a grin. I gasp and hit him, before pushing him off the bench and failing to hide a chuckle. "Jack!" I shriek. I knew there was no way he'd be able to go this long without cracking at least one. 

Jack climbs back onto the bench, still grinning proudly as he inches towards me slowly. I begin to lean back, smirking a little as he hovers above me. I'm now lying flat on the bench and Jack is straddling me. I try to tickle him but he quickly grabs my wrists and pins them down just as I begin to. I try to wriggle free, but he rests all his weight upon my body and although he might be lanky, I'm still not as strong as him. He continues to grin as he leans his forhead agains mine, our noses brushing against each other gently. He chuckles softly, his hot breath caressing my lips and sending chills down my spine. "Jack..." I squeak, my voice bearly audible. His lips come together again, hiding his teeth as he finally kisses me, his grip on my wrists loosening. I slide my hands from under his and tangle my fingers in his messy hair, messing it more that it already was obviously. It takes me a while to realize that he's grinding his hips against me slowly. And suddenly, I want it to be more than a make out session. I've never felt this way towards anyone.

Jack does things to me that I can't quite understand. I can't even begin to describe the way it feels when he kisses me, the fireworks that are set off in the pit of my stomach and quickly course all throughout my body. I hate to be cliche, like the cheesy girls in those awful chick flicks who claim that their trashy boyfriend was the best thing that ever happened to them, but I can finally relate to them. Because I've never felt this way so strongly about someone and I love the feeling. But am I in love with Jack or the feeling of being loved? This question is what's kept me up for nights on end and the guilt of not knowing how I feel eats me alive. 

Jack moans my name against my lips, as he slides one of his hands up my shirt and I feel like we're back in my room the night Jack and I made up after the beach incident. More like made out. But of course, he's caught with his hands in my shirt at the worst of times. Someone clears their throat and we suddenly break away and flick our heads towards the bars. Alex and his parents are standing there, an identical expression of surprise splattered upon all of their faces. The officer standing with them seems unphased, as though he's seen this before. Jack quickly throws himself off me and I bolt upright. We chuckle nervously and look around awkwardly. The officer unlocks the cell and slides the gate open. "Gaskarth?" He calls as if nothing awkward is going on at all. I look at him and stand up. "Uh, yeah..." I mumble awkwardly. He nods towards Alex and his parents. I look over at Jack and back at them. "But what about Jack?" I ask stupidly. Obviously not the best thing to ask at the moment, but me being me asked anyway. Isobel speaks up. "Jack's parents are on their way down here as we speak." she says and beckons for me to leave the cell. I look over my shoulder at Jack, who flashes me a grin and waves me off. "I'll be alright, Little Red." He reassures me. I hug Jack one last time quickly before hurrying out of the cell.

I walk beside Alex, afraid of what lectures I might recieve from Isobel and Peter if I give them the chance to speak to me right now. "Where'd you guys even go? And what did you do?" Alex asks me sleepily. They must've pulled him out of bed. I better make it sound like it was worth his time.

"We were eating sandwiches in the park and then a guard caught us and Jack jumped the fence but I couldn't and I got us caught and Jack put flowers in my hair."

Brilliant, Kathryn. Absolutely wonderful. Remind me never to cover for anyone ever.

Alex rolls his eyes and shakes his head at me as we finally reach the car. "You're an absolutely hopeless criminal, Kathryn. Just remember that." He tells me, chuckling lightly. I nudge him playfully and grin along. "Shut up, Alex. You're no super-sleuth either, I bet." I say, climbing in next to him. Isobel and Peter mumble a conversation under their breath as we drive. Something isn't right. I don't know what, but I feel strange. Alex has an arm wrapped around me and I'm hugging his waist. I grip him a little tighter, searching for that familiar comfort boost but it's nowhere to be found. His head rests on mine.

"Kathryn?" Alex says sleepily.

"Mm?" I moan in response.

"Who's Tate?" I freeze at his question. How does he know about Tate? He nudges me a little. "Kat?"

"How do you know about him?" I manage to croak out, in a hoarse whisper.

"You gave me this when we were kids... You told me about a kid named Tate and you said I was sitting on him. I've worn it since then." He pulls up the sleeve of his hoodies only to reveal a bracelet that looks all too familiar to me. If he's always worn it, why have I only noticed it now? Maybe because he's only just bought my focus upon it specifically, I have no idea. But I can't stop the painful yet somewhat comforting memories of an old friend flooding back into my head.

"Tate was my best friend... The kid next door..." I whisper finally. "He died a few days before I first met you... But I didn't believe it until I stopped... You know, seeing him around..." 

"What do you mean seeing him around?" he asks curiously.

I shrug further into the seat and mumble. "He was gone, but I could still see him... I'd still see him in his bedroom window and he'd still sit in my sandbox with me," My voice begins to break. I've never spoken about Tate. "We'd still talk and play for quite a bit before he stopped showing up after his funeral..." I explain to him.

"I'm sorry for bringing it up, Kathryn..." He hugs me closer in a more protective manner. I bury my head into his chest and shudder as I inhale deeply. "H-He wasn't supposed to go yet, Alex." I whimper. "The gate should've been locked, he shouldn't have fallen into the pool." I sob heavily into his chest, forgetting that Isobel and Peter are still present, less than a metre away from us. He rubs small reassuring circles into my back and I crip him tighter, continuing to cry. I had never cried this much about Tate. It took me a while to accept that he was gone, after I'd stopped seeing him. I didn't realize it all at once. Realization came gradually to my reality. Before I knew it, there was no longer time to weep. 

By the time we arrived home, it was 5 o'clock in the morning. Thank goodness for our suspension, otherwise we would've had a maximum of 3 hours sleep left, maybe less. Alex and I both flop back down in our beds and wrap ourselves in our bedsheets. Before I finally fall asleep, I hear Isobel and Peter exchange a few words.

"But what if it is them? How do we tell her?" Isobel's voice sounds fearful.

"I don't know. Let's just pray it isn't. Don't say anything until we know for sure. And don't tell Alex, especially. The last thing we need is for him to tell his friends or worse - Kathryn." Peter replies.

What are they keeping from us? I'm afraid but at the same time eager to know.

Then out of the blue, I remember what my father told me rhe last time we spoke.

"Kathryn," He spoke with a harsh tone. "If I find out you've gotten into more trouble, I will not hesitate to send you to a boarding school. All the way in London if I have to. Don't let this happen again, do you understand me?"

Suddenly, I feel very afraid. When my parents find out about this, I might never see Jack or Alex or Rian or Zack or anyone again. I might never see Cali again or any of my friends. I may never see Baltimore again, or not before I graduate at least. And the thought of it all makes my head begin to spin. I don't want to leave.