We Are Tidal

Chapter Thirty - Politics of Family

Chapter Thirty

Politics of Family

I roll over in bed and stretch, groaning as several of my joints click and crunch as they only do in the mornings. A peep at the alarm clock on Art's bedside table tells me that it is a little after nine in the morning. 

"Mornin'," Art's morning voice is scratchy and close to my ear as he rolls over to wrap an arm around my waist and pull me back against him. I don't open my eyes as I feel him run a finger over the red lacy underwear, hitched high on my hipbones and poking out over the pair of boxer shorts I borrowed from him last night.

Last night, the night of the frat party. Remembering this, I am suddenly grateful that I turned my phone on airplane mode last night before going to sleep because I'm not ready to deal with the aftermath of my striptease, which is probably being shared far and wide. I push the thought from my mind and focus on the feel of Art's breath against my neck, his morning hardness against my thigh. I raise a hand to his arm, stroking the soft skin and humming lightly. 

"You smell like smoke," Art whispers, nuzzling his nose into my hair. I snort and open my eyes, seeing my silvery hair splayed out on the pillow before and after me. 

The silver hue is fading and at my roots, my blonde hair is beginning to show. I haven't decided yet what I want to do about it. In a lot of ways, it is the perfect summary of how I feel at the moment. All versions of me, blonde or silver, seem bound to the past and none to the future.

"Is that you talking sexy to me?" I ask, rolling over so that we are now lying face to face. Art has opened his eyes and though his sapphire eyes are full of the promise of more sleep, he is watching me closely, a crooked smile forming on his lips. 

"Do you want me to talk sexy to you?" He asks, his tongue flicking forward and tickling the tip of my nose. He laughs when I shrink away from his touch and rub my nose to get rid of the ticklish sensation his tongue left. 

"Not when you just told me I smell," I quip, gently flicking him on the forehead. He feigns hurt but is still smiling lazily at me. Art leans forward and sniffs my hair again. 

"I think there are subtle undertones of spilled beer, actually," Art adds, his nose traveling from my hair to my neck and lower again to the frilly edges of my red bra. Last night, I had worn a t-shirt to bed, but it hadn't lasted long around Art, who had trailed kisses along my spine as I fell asleep.

"You know what frat parties are like," I say idly, closing my eyes as Art's lips connect with my chest, his fingers slipping under the straps of my bra and sliding them off my shoulders and down my arms.

"I wish you'd let me go with you," Art says in a tone that I am sure he imagines is casual. I peep at him from under my eyelashes, unwilling to relinquish this moment of peace between us. 

"You know I wanted to do it alone." 

He places a kiss on the top of my right breast and another on the left. He is all but on top of me now, his lips earnest against my skin. Part of me feels like simply rolling my head back on the pillow and closing my eyes, letting him seduce me. 

"I do not trust Damien." Art's voice is firm. I sigh deeply before pushing Art's hands away and sitting upright, prepared to scrutinise him. Art immediately raises his hands in defense. "I do trust you, Dyl. Frat parties can be bad places is all." 

I feel a little bad for how quickly I was willing to rise to harshness when I see his eyes widening, imploring me to understand. For a moment we are again the boy and girl who have always pulled the other from drowning. Simply two people who love and care for each other. I reach out and take Art's hand, pulling him close to me. He rests his head on my lap, his breathing slow and steady against my stomach.

"I'm proud of you," He murmurs, and I stroke his hair, smiling with the joy of what it is to be in a healthy relationship. We both have flaws, but together, we would not make each other worse and that was enough.

Before I can thank him properly for his affection by taking my turn kissing him from the neck down, his bedroom door bursts open to reveal a disheveled looking Kit, complete with a crumpled sweats and bed hair. Immediately, I drag the duvet up to cover my chest, though it is nothing he or half of the college campus hasn't seen before thanks to Damien so willingly sharing photos he turn of me. Art rounds on the doorway, ready to bellow for Kit to get out, yet Kit is looking at me.

"Did you lose your fucking mind last night?" Kit asks me, his voice numb. Behind him, I spy a yawning Albert tugging on a t-shirt over his head. In the distance, I think I can hear Gabe shouting fuck, fuck, fuck over and over again. 

"No, I most certainly did not. Ask Willow, she'll back me up." I say, rolling my eyes at the horrified look that crosses Art's face when he finally gets a chance to look at his phone. 

"This video is everywhere, Dyl..." Art's voice trails off, unsure if this was the outcome I desired. 

"So are the photos. At least now there is evidence that I got to kick him in the balls." 

At this, Albert winks at me and gives me a sneaky thumbs up from behind his twin's shoulders. Gabe appears behind his brothers and shoves his way forward and into the bedroom, flopping down at the edge of the bed and crushing my ankles. 

"Are you sure this was a good idea, Dyl? Wouldn't the police have been a better call?"

We'd talked about it and I knew that if my parents had been alive, they would have called the police immediately upon hearing someone had taken semi-naked pictures of me without consent. I had little to no hope in the police. After all, Damien would have to lie and say I had consented and we would be at a stalemate. 

I reach forward and pull my t-shirt from the carpet, tugging it on over my head. 

"I appreciate the concern," I say seriously, not meeting any of their eyes as I pull my hair from its messy bun and begin running my fingers through it to separate the knots. "But I had to do this. For myself." 

At this, Kit's shoulders visibly relax and he nods, seeming to understand.

"I'm not sure that Damien will be able to have children after that," Gabe says, wincing as he watches the video of my striptease back. The sound of Damien's anguished cries filter out of Gabe's phone and I smile at the memory. 

"Then that is a gift to humanity," Art mutters, lying back down on his side of the bed and closing his eyes, a hand outstretched across the mattress to me. 

Albert shoves Kit out of the doorway, making off towards the bathroom. 

"Come on losers, we have to be at Dad's for noon." 

I turn to Art, a question already on my lips, but he is frowning. 

"Time to meet Dad's new lady friend," Gabe laughs bitterly and I freeze, wondering why Art never mentioned that his father was seeing someone new. Suddenly, the terse energy in the room makes sense. None of the brothers will be happy to see their mother, Maria Heaver, replaced. 

A/N:

Hello, friends,

In Ireland the COVID-19 restrictions are starting to ease ever so slightly. It's a strange time to be working and studying! I'm trying to stay as on-track as possible with my uploads. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter and are staying well and safe. 

Jens x