Nixon

••• Ten •••

Two full weeks have passed, two full weeks of agony as I can't stop thinking about Nixon, about what he's doing. So often I ponder if he's forgotten me, if he's decided to move on to the next girl, but by the words Emily and Oliver spoke, I doubt any of those actions by Nixon.

It's frightens me how almost half the school knows what was once a secret, how they see me not only as a figure head to them, but also as a whore.

I know before me, they respect, they protect, but when I turn my back, they shame me. And it's all because of his actions, all because he put a mark on my neck and claimed me.

Emily said the scent would soon wear away from sex, but from the mark, it will always be there.

Oliver keeps me updated on the latest, telling me the gossip Emily doesn't dare let me know. He lets me know that the people who are supposed to respect me call me a whore, a slut, a gold digger, and much worse. Words like those make me want to barge into his house and demand an explanation.

I've learned much from my friends, learning about their...kind. I've learned about the mark, how Nixon has claimed me as his mate, how he's claimed me as his and no one else's. Oliver tells me that Nixon is of high importance in their pack, a pack whose name I am not permitted to know. Emily says the less I know the less harm will come of me. But curiosity has always been my greatest weakness. The less I know, the more I thirst to know.
Everyday the mark upon my neck burns for his touch, for his lips, for his hands, for his words that he would whisper in my ear.

Emily tells me not to go back, that even though she respects Nixon, even though she sees him as her supreme authority, she has to warn me of him, saying there's a past to every man's story.

I guess that's why I stand here, at the end of the street, the snow falling down, my cheeks numb, and heart pounding within my chest.

I so badly want to climb up that hill, to go knocking upon that door and barge in, to find him and demand an explanation for his actions, for why he was the way he acted.

I call off those fantasies, deciding to go home to some Game of Thrones as I turn on my heel. Just as I take a step home, the honking of a horn throws me off. "Lily."

Brian Adams, the younger of the brother's and one of the few boys that Emily says still upholds his loyalty. "Brian," I greet as the window of his Porsche is rolled down.

"Hey, I was wondering, as I saw you walking, would you like to come over. My mother complains about how she hasn't seen you in a while."

I don't want to be rude.

I also know Mrs. Adams is somehow related to Nixon one way or another, somehow having a purpose to live next door. "Why not."

I climb on in, letting the warmth envelop me as Brain drives up the street. "You know, Lily, I don't find you-

"Save it, please," I interrupt, pleading as he nods his head. "I'm not so ignorant to what happens behind my back."

"It's weird that a human girl-

"Let's just drop it."

He does, allowing the silence to fill the car. Once before his house, I avert my eyes from Nixon's house as Brian helps me out, walking me straight up to the front door.

The two hours that I'm there seems like minutes as I sit across from Mrs. Adams on the couch as I drink some hot chocolate. The music in the background is jazz Christmas music as Zayne and Brian are away in another section of the house. She's showing me through photo albums, pointing out her life story as we look further on.