Genevieve

I wake up to the sound of distant church bells, birds rustling in the branches of the trees outside the window, and as I squint my eyes in the glowing brightness of the room I can make out Holden’s face beside mine. He’s on his side facing me, one arm wrapped protectively around my waist, and in sleep he looks serene, almost content. The sunlight from the window casts a warm glow against the angles of his face, his slightly parted lips and messy, dark hair.

I keep perfectly still, hoping not to wake him as I study his features. I can feel the warmth of his body against mine, his fingers brushing the small of my back sending electric sparks through my veins, and at once I realize that I feel absolutely perfect. I’ve never felt this good in my life. And as I watch him breathing, his chest rising and falling, it suddenly occurs to me that I’ve fallen in love with him.

“God help me,” I think at once, and as Holden suddenly blinks awake I realize that I’ve said the words out loud.

“Hmm?” he grumbles sleepily, slightly confused, his eyes fluttering open before focusing on mine. “Oh… Hey Genevieve,” he mumbles, seemingly unfazed by our proximity. “How are you feeling?”

He opens his mouth to say something else, but before I realize what I’m doing I lean forward and press my lips softly against his. The kiss is brief and chaste, and his mouth tastes absolutely heavenly, but as I pull away my cheeks flush beet red from embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, I… I d-don’t know what that-” I manage to stammer, but I’m cut off as Holden pulls me back in. His mouth meets mine again with a sudden urgency, and I immediately lose my train of thought in the taste of his lips, the warmth of his touch, the feeling of his breath on my skin. The way he kisses me is positively otherworldly, but before I can gather my thoughts he suddenly recoils, getting to his feet and stepping away from the bed.

“Fuck,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair as he gazes out the window. “We can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

His words feel like a slap to the face. I stare at the back of his head, unsure whether I’m hurt, humiliated, or both. I’m still shell-shocked by our kiss, and as I shift into a seated position on the bed I can’t help but blurt out, “Why not?”

Holden pauses a beat before replying. “I’ll lose my job, Genevieve.” He turns to face me, his jaw clenched, and stares at me with those beautiful, green eyes. “It’s all I have. Your father would ruin me.”

“I don’t think he would.”

He scoffs. “You’ve known him for twelve hours, Genevieve. You don’t know what he knows about me, about what I’ve done.”

I watch the sunlight glowing off of his shoulders. He’s wearing the same white button-up from the night before, with dry blood splatters at the bottoms and my mascara tear-stains painted black across his chest. There’s a loaded gun in his right pocket.

“I’m not… I’m not good for you,” he says, somewhat bitterly. “I’m not a good person. Daniel knows this.”

I look at him and my chest aches. “You seem good.” I reply weakly.

Holden doesn’t say anything, he just stares at me with his lovely, tired eyes for what seems like hours. I look at his hands and see that they are bloodied at the knuckles, and I think of how his fingers felt against my lips and cheeks and spine. I love you, I think to myself, but I know he’s already slipping through my fingers.

“Your father should be home soon,” Holden finally says, his voice strained, and I immediately know that I’ve lost him. “You should get dressed.”

I look at him and I see teeth and bullets, a patchwork mess of blue-violet bruises and freshly scabbed blood, and I can’t help but long to map the flaws in his skin. I look at him and I hear gunshots, the loud slap of knuckles against flesh. I look at him, and I feel nothing but infinite tenderness.

From somewhere below the church bells begin again, their distant melody piercing the silence of dawn. A woman laughs, then sighs. Birds sing from the branches.