Chapter 016: Lights out
1786 Words
~SAFFRON~
Everything keeps blurring—faces, lights, the floor itself. I’m wobbling, trying to plant my feet when Jason appears right in front of me after putting what looks like my phone in his pocket. I swear the corner of his mouth twitches, like he’s mocking me, but it’s gone so fast I might have imagined it.
“You need me to carry you?” he says, the corner of his mouth twitching again, fighting a smirk.
No,” I shove at his chest—it barely moves, and hear him chuckle under his breath. “I can’t believe you asked him to take me home,” I whine to my fairy godmother, snatching my heels back from her like they’re my last dignity. “I dooo not like him,” I tell her, dragging out the words while she stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “At all. But since I love you soooo much…” I clutch her shoulders dramatically, “I’ll go with him.” I hiccup. She wrinkles her nose and waves a hand in front of her face. “Rude,” I mutter, sucking my teeth.
“You’ll be safe with Jason,” she says, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. “I’ll see you at home, okay?”
“Swear it!” I demand, pointing a wobbly finger at her like I’m sealing a sacred pact.
She rolls her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose like I’m the most exhausting creature on earth. “Jason, please,” she says, already turning away from me.
“Come on,” Jason says, catching my hand and pulling me away from my sweet, sweet fairy godmother. I whimper pathetically when she blows me a kiss and disappears somewhere else. And that’s when I notice how his hand is warm against mine, too warm, and it feels… good. Really good. Wrong, but good. I yank my hand free and he turns sharply. When I finally focus on his face, I see it—the small cut on his bottom lip, the faint bruises blooming along his jaw. But God, even bruised, he’s devastating. Those bright blue eyes, the sharp cleft in his chin that makes his jaw look carved from stone, the way his dark hair falls just a little messy now… My stomach flips in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol. And my heels slip from my fingers and clatter to the floor.
“What is it?” he asks. “Saffron.” An audible breath escapes him when I grab his chin and twist it left so I can study his face—the bruises. He slowly turns back to me, eyes soft for half a second. Then he blinks and the brooding mask slams back into place as he pulls away. “What—what are you doing?” he stutters, scowling.
“Why?” I ask, swaying closer. “Why would you let this happen to your beautiful face?” His scowl deepens, but his cheeks flush red. Is he actually embarrassed? I reach up to touch the bruise anyway, but he catches my wrist. Suddenly it clicks—my new friend's words from outside slam back into my head. ‘Jason and I had a bit of a scrap.’ Wait…Jason beat him up? My brain feels too fuzzy to make sense of it, but the thought still stings.
I ran into a pole,” he mutters.
“You liar,” I shoot back, folding my arms. “That pole didn’t do nearly enough damage.”
He blinks, back, surprised.
“I don’t want to go with you anymore,” I announce, waving my hand dramatically. “Chao!” I spin on my feet—or try to—and the floor tilts.
I’m squinting at the floor, trying to concentrate hard so I don’t face-plant, when Jason suddenly scoops me up and slings me over his shoulder, my heels dangling from his hand.
“Jason!” I wriggle uselessly. “Put me down!”
He ignores me and carries me out like I weigh nothing. Every eye in the room suddenly feels glued to us. The realization hits me like a slap.
“Oh my God — you’re kidnapping me!” I yell, loud enough for everyone to hear. His grip on my legs tightens. “Everyone, he’s kidnapping me!”
~~~~~~~~
He practically bundled me into a car, muttering “this is the downside of hanging out with him,” one strong arm locked around my waist, ignoring every protest. No one stopped him. My rights? Gone.
“This is a violation of my rights,” I snap, jabbing a finger at him as he drives. “I will have you arrested.”
He laughs.
“You think it’s funny?” I snarl.
“No.” He stops, still grinning. “But I do think you are funny. Especially when you talk and act like this.”
I mimic him in the whiniest voice I can manage. His laughter only gets louder. “By all means, carry on.” he says.
I punch his thigh hard. Both his hands jerk off the wheel, but they come back quickly. “Ow—what the hell?” he hisses, grimacing. “That’s the second time you’ve tried to get us killed.”
“Sorry,” I mumble, guilt twisting in my gut. That punch must’ve hurt like hell, even if the memory of what he did to my new friend keeps flashing behind my eyes.
He doesn't even reply me or look at me. Not even a glance. I suck my teeth, sulking.
The engine rumbles to life beneath us, and every turn sends my stomach sloshing. I press my forehead to the cool glass, watching his hand on the steering wheel while the streetlights and city streak past the window in blurry gold ribbons. My whole body feels upside-down—nauseous, dizzy, like the car itself is spinning even though he’s driving straight.
After a while, he glances at me, sighs, and mutters something. The rest of the ride stays quiet. Just me quietly gazing at his side profile, the low hum of tires on asphalt and my own heartbeat thudding in my ears.
He finally pulls into a garage that looks familiar, kills the engine, and comes around to open my door. The sudden stillness makes the nausea worse. That’s when I grab his jacket lapel to steady myself.
“Promise me you won’t hit him again.” I tell him as soon as the thought crosses my mind.
He freezes, eyes bright and confused. “Who?”
“My new friend.” I try to remember his name. “Eliza?”
His head falls back with a groan.
“Promise me.” I squeeze the fabric tighter. Hurt flashes in his eyes, and his lips pressed thin.
“Saffron, he—” He swallows whatever he was going to say, then looks down at my hand on his jacket. “I pro—”
The words die because I just threw up on him.
“Oh no,” I say wearily, staring at the mess on his white sleeve and jacket. “I’m so sorry—”
He catches my wrist before I can try to wipe it. “Don’t worry about it,” he pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket, smiling and dabbing at the stain like it’s nothing.
This is not nothing, and he’s smiling. That can't be good. I get emotional, and tears prick my eyes. “I ruined your clothes. I’m so sorry—”
“Hey, it’s fine.” He tilts my chin until our eyes lock. His other hand lifts toward my hair like he wants to tuck a strand behind my ear, but he stops himself “I never liked this shirt anyway. It's okay.” I blink back the tears, my body freezing, head spinning worse.
“I’m cold. My head’s spinning,” I whisper, my body leaning towards him.
Worry crosses his face, and he steadies me, takes off his jacket quickly and wraps it around my shoulders. “Let’s get you in bed.”
He scoops me up bridal-style. My arms go around his neck on instinct. And it's amazing how I suddenly feel better—safe. I smile against his shoulder.
The next thing I know, he’s laying me on a soft bed, pulling a blanket over me. The lamp clicks on, bathing the room in warm light. I watch him, the careful way he smooths the blanket—his biceps bulging in his sleeves, the tight line of his jaw, the curve of his lips. My spinning brain suddenly screams one clear thought: I want to kiss him. I push up on my elbows, heart hammering like it’s trying to escape.
“Just one,” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can filter them—brave and reckless. My lips brush his cheek first, soft and grateful. He looks at me, his eyes widening in pure shock, his breath catching sharp. Before I can stop myself I’m leaning in again, aiming for his mouth. Our lips hover a breath apart, heat crackling between us, my whole body on fire—
But he drops his forehead to my shoulder, one hand coming up to rest against my collarbone. Not pushing me away, just holding me there, trembling. His chest rises and falls hard against mine.
“Saffron…” The word is half-warning, half-plea, voice wrecked. I shut my eyes, chest aching at the loss. “Sleep now,” he says, and gently guides my head back to the pillow.
He reaches for the lamp, and I grab his jacket before he can leave.
“Don’t leave me.” I find his hand and hold it. “Please… stay.”
He hesitates, then nods. “Okay.” He sits on the edge of the bed.
“Tell me a story,” I murmur. “It’ll help me sleep faster.”
He looks away. “I’m not good with stories… but I'll try” He exhales, looking up at the ceiling. “Years ago,” there's a long pause. “Years ago, a family of three lived happily together.” His eyes meet mine again, and I try to hold eye contact. But my eyelids are already fluttering, and I can't say a word. “Until the mother and her son discovered something,” he continues. “Something that got her…” He doesn't look at me anymore. “The mother discoverered…”
His voice fades into a low muffled sound. Darkness swallows me whole.
- Writer
