THE WILD YOUTH | P. LAHOTE

f i f t e e n

THE WEATHER WAS ABNORMALLY WARM for November, not that I was all too surprised. Paul had left about an hour ago with a searing hot kiss and one of my promises to visit the reservation later in the day. It was a strange feeling. Something that I had always thought to be out of reach was now easily within my grasp, and I had never felt so wanted and coveted before. I pulled myself into a pair of dark jeans and a white t-shirt before slipping on a pair of checked Vans. I held a rosy knit colored cardigan in my hands, sure that the cold weather would return at some point, but hardly caring about the fact.

"Someone is awfully cheery today," Dad comments, trotting down the stairs and settling into his chair.

"Morning," I grin, kissing him on the cheek and laying a mug in front of him.

"This is creepy," Dad notes quietly, though his words are clear as the sky outside to me. I had been noticing some odd changes, like my increased hearing, in the past few weeks. I ould run faster and long--all without losing my breath. I could lift things heavier than I would have imagined. I would need to write to Art about that, maybe he'd know. The sound of the omelets on the stove filled the room, taking control of the silence that fell between my father and I. "So what's up?"

"What do you mean?"

"What's got you so... well... happy?" I just shrugged, not really knowing how to breach the topic of a new boy in my life to my father. While Dad knew they trace amounts sI had told him about Paul, I had conveniently left out the fact that the two of us had seen each other in more ways than my father would have liked to know about. This was, predominantly, due to his reaction when I had told him Johnny had cheated on me. The old man had tried to convince me to swear off all boys until I was thirty-five. That f]phase lasted almost three weeks, and the only reason I stopped was that I went to live with Art, where boys "wouldn't be an issue".

"There's this thing with, uh, people like me," I start, keeping my eyes on him as I intuitively finish making his breakfast, and begin with Bella's smaller one. She hardly ate anymore, but there was still a part of me that begged for her to put a small bit of effort into her life, even though that good-for-nothing Cullen kid had ripped her heart out of her chest and put it on display for the world to see. "It's called an anchor. It helps me to keep my emotions in check--especially anger--and it helps me channel what I need. It keeps me grounded."

"Oh," Dad notes before grinning. "That's good Josie. That's really really good. Do you get to choose it?" At this, I blush. If given the opportunity, would I have still chosen Paul? Would I have been drawn to him even if none of this existed? The truth was; I had no fucking clue.

"No," I giggle quietly. "No, it's kinda, like, predetermined fate, or some shit like that." Dad bites his lip, nodding once.

"So what..."

"It's a who, actually."

"When who?" My dad asks, leaning forward apprehensively.

"Remember that guy who helped me when the Jeep broke down? Paul-"

"Lahote," Dad fills in with an apprehensive look on his face. "Yeah, I remember."

"Dad? What are you thinking?" I ask, watching as he lets out a heaving sigh.

"I just don't want something to happen," my father admits. "I don't want him to break your heart and not care about the aftermath. I don't want what happened to Bella to happen to you." I couldn't help frowning. There was a sadness that crept into his eye unexpectedly. There was a vulnerability, a worry, that both of his little girls would end up so broken they couldn't have dreamed of being fixed.

"We're not dating, Dad," I brush off. My father gives me a look. It's the kind of look that says: I'm not fucking stupid. "Okay, not yet at least." Dad gives a little chuckle at that. "But honestly, I don't even know what's going on yet, nor do I understand it in the slightest. But I need to have some faith. Just the thought of him can calm me down; it makes me feel like I'm stepping off the ledge of a cliff. I just need to believe that whatever stuck me with this--this weird, nature, voodoo-type-shit--was looking out for me and my best interests. I need to believe that whatever brought Paul into my life was looking out for me."

"Fine then," My father sighs. "But it doesn't mean that I'm not pulling out the shotgun every once in a while." I beamed at that.

"I would be incredibly offended if you didn't."

<>

The weather didn't disappear for three days. The sun darkened my skin even more as Rose, Casey, and I basked in the heat during our lunch breaks. The vivid tan lines from my summer away still remained painted on my skin, serving as a reminder of when and how I managed to find myself and the control I so desperately needed.

When it finally did rain, it happened in a flash. The sky opened from above, releasing heavy droplets of rain onto the ground as if it holds back for as long as it could. The sound of the rain and the smell of wet pavement caused a smile to slide across my face, and I opened up the window to my bedroom to let myself feel nature more. I found myself constantly needing to connect with the world around me, whether it be an open window or an hourly stroll through the woods. I simply needed a constant way to stay grounded in a world full of technology and distractions.

So on that dreary Sunday, with a full heart, a shit-eating grin, and Dermot Kennedy as my soundtrack, I found myself mindlessly painting the last few strokes of the mural on my wall.

<><><><><>

Heyo.

Done with my classes, my homies

AND I PASSED!!!

LFG!

Now, let's see if I can catch up on all these updates.

I know this one wasn't very Paul oriented, and while I want plenty of cute moments between Paul and Josie, I love me a strong, independent character who doesn't need to spend every moment with their SO.

But let's be honest... Josie and Paul are about to be nauseative AF and everyone is probably gonna hate them for it.

So much love, and let's get TO WORK!

xoxo.