Scorpion (The Exodus)

by Avina St. Graves

Most boyfriends pick up their girls in a car or a motorcycle. Hell, I remember the days when he’d wait for me to sneak out while my parents weren’t home, then I’d sit on the handlebars of his bike and roll my eyes every time he rang that annoying bell. No, Mathijs Halenbeek is above all that now. He picks up his girlfriend in a $250K helicopter.

“If she finds out that I’m with you, she’s going to kill me—that’s not an understatement.” I run my hand down my face and grimace at the smell of horse manure, grapevines, and gunpowder—Mom would have a heart attack if she knew I spent all day shooting pegs and riding around on horseback with a boy.

With a WHITE boy……… O.o DO IT LADY!!

“It’s almost five o’clock now, so Mom’s soul will be crawling out of hell and back into her body right about now.

O

Mom’s options for us are either doctor, lawyer, engineer, or housewife. Her preference would be the latter. My brother, Gadin, however, can be whatever he wants. He could say that he wants to be a princess, and Mom would break her back sewing him the perfect gown.

The crescent moons I’ve dug into my palms do nothing to ground me to Earth. It’s like I’m walking to my slaughter.

Fuck. What’s the point of knowing where the exits are when I have no idea where the danger is?

It kills me to think how long she’s been alone for. Suffering in silence because she thinks no one would be there to listen. I would’ve been there even if I had to crawl to get to her.

The way he looks at me… like he’s seen every part of me and I really am exactly what he said. Beautiful. With my busted lip, swollen eyes, and broken soul.

I peer at the pliers in Greg’s hand when he steps back. Oh, he took Ofsoski’s nails. No wonder the man is slumped over like Satan’s paid him a visit. Sometimes nothing beats the basics.

The man is what would happen if a cockroach morphed with a leech.

but like every time I see her, I keep thinking that she could never be more stunning than she is in that moment. Whether she’s in the middle of the ring, knocking some guy’s lights out, or hobbling away with her loss, she’s still otherworldly.

I just want to lean over and kiss her. I think that would fix every bad thing that’s happened these last ten years.

“Mathijs.” My name escapes her lips on a breath, the lips I’ve been yearning for since I was old...

“You’re home.” ...

I want to tell her that the main building isn’t my home; it’s wherever sh...

“Do you mind if I join you for dinner?” “Are you asking me if you can, or are you telling me that you will?” she asks flatly.

The Zalak from back then would roll her eyes or make a comment about my arrogance. Then she’d look away to hide her blush. She used to smile all the time. She’d laugh, and my world would stop to hear the sound. She’d always direct her smile at me, and I’d remind myself that nothing else matters but her. Keeping that smile. Making her laugh. Helping her become the woman she’d be proud of.

And I lost all of that.

My heart doubles in size and I have to remind myself to eat as slow as humanly possible to stay in her company for longer.

We used to know each other like the back of our hands, and sitting here, watching her eat like the mere act of it seems foreign to her, it feels like I’m back to knowing nothing but arm’s-length relationships and hollow conversations.

I want to know everything there is about her. Is green her favorite color? Does she still like to play sad music while she showers? Is she still taking her coffee with milk, or has life made her take it black? Does she still want to get into journalism? Is she still a fire hazard who butters her bread before putting it in a toaster?

When her eyes meet mine, it’s an effort not to pull her into my arms.

“You kept my clothes.” “I did.” “For ten years.” “I would have held on to them for a lifetime.” Her eyes mist over. “You didn’t know if I’d come back.” “I knew we’d reunite eventually. In this life or the next.”

Little by little, I’ll get her back. Not the old Zalak, but the one who survived.

“Come with me.” I square my shoulders. “Is that an order?” “If that’s what you prefer.” He winks. “I recall you liked being told what to do.”

“You’ve dressed beautifully.” His lips quirk into a childish grin as my skin burns under the weight of his compliment. “Although, you would look better without all of it.” Lord, help me. High school pickup lines.

“Uh, am I riding with you?” His eyes brighten. “Take out the with and it’s an enthusiastic yes.” “What?” “Nothing.” Right.

“There’s more.” I pause just as I’m about to return the case into the bag. Sending him a questioning look, I inch the front zipper open. This motherfucker. I wave the Cheetos in the air and raise a questioning brow. He grins like this is his best work. “In case you get hungry.” The Capri Sun wobbles in my hand. “It’s important that my staff stays hydrated.” Fucking hell.

“Should I ask what Sergei has in his pack?” “Zalak, you should know better than to ask what’s in a man’s bag.”

Fake it until you make it. Except in this case, faking it could mean someone dies. No pressure.

If I had it my way, we would relocate or meet at a different time. But this is just how it’s going to be. And if Mathijs dies because he chose a shitty location, I’m going to kill him.

It feels wrong to do this without TJ. It feels wrong to do this alone in general, but especially without him. He had more experience than me, which made him the perfect spotter. The lack of shit talking makes this whole situation seem foreign. I say a silent prayer that his crazy ass is up there getting drunk and watching over me.

When we were kids, he wouldn’t hurt a fly but he wouldn’t think twice about laying it on someone else.

Live targets are always welcome.” “You murderous little thing. I like it.”

The heat from her body seeps into the small space between us, and I want nothing more than to drag her closer to me. I want her back.

She’s been closed off for so long, she needs to decide whether she’s going to open herself back up. Even if she doesn’t, I’ll find a way to get in so her space is less lonely. I’ll be the light in her dark corner whether she likes it or not.

Neither of us says a word, with her staring up at the sky, and me staring at her.

When was the last time I held her in my arms? When was the last time it didn’t feel so empty?

For the first time in years, it feels like everything is going to be okay. There are some things I’ll never get back: habits, people, personality traits. But ten years later, and she still feels like a sou...

She chuckles, leaning her head against my chest. In this moment, we’re untouchable. There’s no death, no war, no pit of despair waiting for us to drown in.

But there are two things I know to be true. She would kill for me, and I would do far worse for her.

I just need to follow my heart to get to you.” Always such a flirt.

After two and a half years, I have someone to watch my six, and that is the most priceless thing Mathijs could give me.

His side presses up to mine, and he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, lingering for a second too long, gliding his finger along the curve of my cheek like he’s hypnotized by the contact. Heat explodes across my skin and I fight to keep my eyes open.

*bites lip*

I’m a selfish, reckless woman. I don’t want it to stop. I’ve missed feeling a body against mine. Missed feeling like there are two people on this earth and not just me. I’ve missed him.

“Mathijs…” “Yes, Lieverd?” God. I don’t know? Stop touching me? Keep touching me? I can’t decide.

We’ll never be able to go back from whatever he’s planning on doing. Nothing about this feels like an innocent tease, something to get a reaction out of me. It’s not for thrills or out of boredom.

He wants whatever there is in the space between us. He’s dying for what we were before I left. And if I’m being honest with myself, so am I. God, I want everything he’s offering, and I’m selfish for it.

is it so wrong to want all of that? The taste of familiarity. To spend a couple minutes pretending like everything’s okay. Like there is no war. There is no death. Just us, the open fields, and the taste of freedom. Us. I want us to happen again.

I want late nights under the stars, spontaneous adventures, and stupid jokes that have me snorting a laugh while Mathijs is rolling on the floor in tears. I want him.