Halfling (Black Petals Book 1) (7 page)

“What?” I crunch my nose in confusion. Like I can afford a new TV!

He points down the road to my house. On my doorstep is a huge new TV. I scowl at him.

“Don’t be mad. If you want, it can be an early birthday present.”

We argue for a few moments about how ridiculous it was for him to buy me a TV, when I have a perfectly fine one already. Apparently he dislikes it because it’s too small. I don’t see a problem with it. It works fine. What is it with men and electronics?

Just like he promised, he sets up my TV and binge watches some new crime show while I shower and do my hair and makeup. I struggle picking out an outfit, because I haven’t gone out in ages. I don’t know what the appropriate attire is for this occasion.

Eventually, I settle on one of my only dresses. It’s a knee-length, blue get-up. I pair it with some black boots that I love but never have the chance to wear. If these boots don’t help regain muscle in my leg, nothing will. I’m nervous to go downstairs and reveal myself to Crispen, because for the last six weeks, since I met him, I have been dressing like a complete slob and letting myself go out of worry, fret, anxiety, and my casted leg didn’t help either.

I descend the stairs slowly, monitoring my leg muscles in the boots to see if they’re too much. Crispen’s head turns from the TV as if he can merely sense my presence, and a brilliant smile emerges on his face.

“You look…
ravishing
,” he says softly and stands from his spot on the couch. I see now that he’s fixed his blonde hair and taken it from perfection to beyond perfection. He has also changed into a dress shirt and pants.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Crispen,” I acknowledge. I quickly grab a drink of water from the kitchen, then we’re out the door walking towards the lounge.

“I can drive if it’s too cold,” he offers, removing his jacket and draping it around my shoulders.

“No, I’ll be fine. Thanks. It’s really not that far.”

While we walk, the silence gives me a chance to evaluate the day’s events. I’m not sure it’s such a good thing, because I find myself continuing to think of alternative reasons for Crispen’s behavior. Megan, can’t you just trust one person?
One?!

When we make it to the lounge and find a seat, I immediately order a plate of fries. I’m starving.

“You look stressed out,” Crispen notes finally. “Are you worrying about finding a job?”

“I’m fine. I’ll go hand out resumes tomorrow now that I can walk.”

“No, you’re not fine. I haven’t known you long, but I know you like the back of my hand. Something is bothering you.” Crispen takes a slow sip of his beer and snatches a fry from my plate.

I shake my head, but then I answer, “I just have trouble trusting people. I thought I finally was able to trust someone, then today I went off the rails and accused you of things you didn’t do and…”

“Megan, you questioned my actions and rightfully so. If I were in your shoes today, I would’ve done the same thing. It looked pretty suspicious.” He straightens the collar of his black dress shirt and adjusts the cuff links.

I take a deep breath and shove some fries into my mouth to shut me up.

“You look amazing tonight,” he adds, taking me in.

I can’t help the smile that plays at the edge of my lips.

“You do too,” I agree. “Then again you always look good,” I mutter under my breath. Somehow he hears me and chuckles. I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“So do you.”

A few minutes later, a strange feeling arises in my stomach. “Excuse me,” I plead and decide to get some fresh air. A wave of anxiety hits me. Out of nowhere, I’m struggling to hold back tears. Why am I so upset? Is it the whole thing with Crispen today? Not having a job? The episode a few weeks ago with Landon and Blayk? Hormones? Maybe it’s everything put together in one huge, disastrous mess. I just don’t know, but now is not the time for me to be doing this whole flip out thing. This is supposed to be a fun night out. What’s my deal? “Stinking mother trucking donut holes,” I mutter to myself, shaking my head and blinking away the tears.

Crispen isn’t far behind me. He follows me out into the parking lot, where I stand leaning against the stucco wall of the lounge.

“Megan? Are you alright?” he asks gently and grabs my hand in his. “I’m sorry. This was a terrible idea.”

“No it wasn’t,” I say and push back my tears again. It’s time to grow up and deal with life, no matter how shitty it is.

Crispen takes a step closer to me, standing in front of me and blocking my vision.

“Tell me what’s bothering you,” he begs, sounding hurt. “By the way, what is a stinking mother trucking donut hole?”

I clench my teeth. Of course he heard that. “I don’t know. I just spit out random words when I’m upset,” I admit sheepishly. Usually I do it inside my head to avoid embossing questions and confrontations like this one.

He chuckles deeply for longer than necessary.

I close my eyes and swallow hard. Where do I begin? Before I know it, I’m stretching up onto my tip toes and kissing him softly on the lips. I have no idea why. I’m not the type of person to randomly kiss someone, especially someone I don’t even have feelings for. He seems surprised at first, he even kisses me back for a mere moment before pulling away. Then he steps back and closes his eyes.

“Megan, trust me when I say that you don’t want to get involved with me like that,” he breathes as if struggling to contain himself. “I’m no good for you that way.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and opens his eyes.

I look in every direction but his, not wanting to risk making eye contact. Why did I just do that?
How embarrassing.
My cheeks flush with heat. Why am I so stinking dumb? I’ve just ruined what was supposed to be a fun night and made things completely awkward.

“Let me try again. It’s not that I don’t want you that way, okay? Because I most definitely do. I have since I saw you get out of your car that first day I laid eyes on you, but there are things about me that you can’t even
begin
to understand. Things that I won’t drag you into. I can’t risk hurting you. A part of me has been hoping that you didn’t feel the same way about me as I do about you,” Crispen carries on.

I’m shocked by what he says. Crispen has actual feelings for me? No. No way. Oh god, Megan, what have you done? His speech confuses me, because I don’t get what he’s trying to say. Why does everything have to be some sort of puzzle? So he feels that way for me, but he thinks I’m no good for him? Huh. Is he just trying to let me down easy, even though, I’m not actually even interested in him that way?

“We’re better off just as friends. I’m too busy with work to be much of anything else to you anyways,” he mutters sadly. I don’t get why
he
is sad. He is the one who just rejected me, not vice versa. As far as he knows, I have feelings for him in a more-than-friends way.

“Okay,” I muster, taking long, deep breaths. How do I tell him that I don’t actually have those feelings for him? How do I tell him that I don’t even know why I kissed him? Why did I kiss him? Emotions. Hormones. Both. No. Neither. No. I don’t know!

Crispen looks at me apologetically and clenches his jaw for a moment before pulling me into a tight hug. Oh god, he pities me. He rejected me, and now he thinks I’m upset and hurt. I
am
kind of hurt but not because I’m let down. I’m a little hurt that he thinks I’m not good enough for him or something.

“You have no idea how much I wish it didn’t have to be this way,” he continues on. I should’ve stopped him sentences ago. Now I’m in way over my head, and I have no idea what to say.

I don’t get what he means by saying that I don’t want to get involved with him like I do, because even though he’s right, and I don’t, what if I did? It doesn’t make sense. How would he know what I wanted?

“I don’t understand,” I tell him honestly into his shoulder. What is he actually trying to say? This is so freaking awkward. At least if my face is in his shoulder, then I don’t have to look at him right now.

“You’ve only known me for just over a month. You have no idea about some parts of my life, and I wish I could share them with you, but I can’t,” he tries to explain again.

I give up. His expansion hasn’t helped any further.

“I think I’d like to go home and rest if that’s alright,” I admit, taking a ten dollar bill from my pocket and handing it to him. Is he saying that he has deep dark secrets that I don’t know about? Now I’m curious.

As usual, he doesn’t accept my money. I’m not surprised.

“I’ve already paid the bill. I had a feeling we wouldn’t be returning to the table. I will walk you back.” He runs his hand through his thick hair and sighs. The air is chilly, and I can see our breath in the air.

So much for a fun night out.

Three days roll by, and I don’t hear from Crispen. The awkwardness between us is more than apparent. Usually he’s over here nearly constantly and texting me when he’s not. It’s awkward for me, because I just found out he might have feelings for me, and it’s awkward for him, because I kissed him, then he had to reject me, pretending he had feelings for me to not embarrass me. To top it off, he now thinks I’m like in love with him or something. Does he regret what he said, or is he just giving me the space he thinks I need? I mean, he can’t actually have feeling for me,
can he?
If he does have feelings for me, then why hasn’t he been over? The fact that he’s avoiding me leads me to believe that he lied about his feelings for me, and it’s now awkward, because he doesn’t know that I don’t actually have feelings for him.

What are we supposed to say to each other now? Where do we go from here? Do we pretend like nothing has happened and go on like we were before? Somehow I can’t see that working. We’ll have to at least talk about this. Even if we go on like nothing happened, it won’t be the same. Have I really just ruined my one and only relationship? Lost my one and only friend?

I spend the day cleaning to take my mind off of things. On the plus side, staying in my house alone at night has proven to be less scary than anticipated. I expected to be flinching at every sound like I was right after my run in with Landon and Blayk. I think I have Crispen to thank for my calmness. I can’t believe that he’s stayed with me every night since then, just to make sure I’m okay. He probably knew how silly my fears were, and
still,
he stayed with me just to reassure me. It all kind of seems silly now. I mean, I obviously over reacted about the whole getting stalked and killed thing. Blayk and Landon seem like nothing more than a dream these days, a terrible dream. It almost feels as if my mind came up with the whole thing. I mean honesty, interconnecting houses? That’s nuts!

My cleaning and thoughts are interrupted when the doorbell rings. I check the peephole. It’s about the time for the girl scouts to be coming around with cookies, and I’m a little excited to get my hands on a few boxes. After all, they only come around once a year. Unfortunately, there are no girl guides at my door, instead, Crispen stands on my doorstep.

I hesitate before opening the door slowly and pasting a smile on my face. “Hello,” I greet him. I’m more than excited to see him, but I just don’t know what to say. It’s seriously all so awkward now.

“Hey,” he replies, equally as awkward and hesitant. “I wanted to apologize for the other night.” He scratches his head just above his left ear nervously. Why is
he
apologizing? I’m the one who basically raped him in the bar parking lot with kisses! Thinking about my action brings on a whole new wave of embarrassment.
Why
did I have to do that? Do I crave a relationship that badly? No, and that’s the thing. I have no reason or excuse for what I did. Who just randomly kisses their guy best friend?

“I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m sorry for being such an idiot. I’ve been all doom and gloom lately, and I think that having you around so much helping me and stuff just…”

He cuts me off, as I’m about tell him that he’s right, and we shouldn’t be together that way, because we hardly know each other. He’ll still think I’m into him, and I’ll still think he’s into me, but at least then he doesn’t think he’s hurt my feelings or something by rejecting me. “Are you about to blame my helping you on making you attracted to me? If you are, that’s pretty rude,” he jokes, but I see sadness in his eyes. Why is he so confusing? Are all men like this?

“No, I just think that I got wrapped up in everything. I’ve only known you for a few weeks. It’s not like I can feel anything more for you than friendship,” I ramble on nervously. I’m only making things worse, and I know it.

“You don’t think so? We’ve spent almost five weeks straight together. I think that’s more than enough time to decide if you like someone as more than a friend. Of course, I don’t think it’s enough time to fall
in love
with someone, but I think it’s enough time to decide whether or not you want to see someone. See someone as in
date
someone.” Suddenly he looks deep in thought. He takes a deep breath and then continues. Have I hurt his feelings by blaming the kiss on something other than true feelings? “I really like you, Megan, I do, don’t get me wrong. It’s just that, you’ve been really open and straight forward with me, and I haven’t been the same with you. In fact, you know next to nothing about me.”

“I know that you love pizza, you’re a doctor, your uncle sells houses, you love watching TV, and you recently moved here…” I list off. He knows next to everything about me. I’ve spent hours and hours telling him about me and my life, but it was always one way. He’s right, I hardly know anything about him. Anytime I try to get something out of him, he changes the subject.

“Yeah, and that’s all you know about me basically. Thing is, you ask about me all the time, and I find a way to evade your questions, because I can’t answer them truthfully without putting you in danger,” he mutters. Then he digs into his pocket. He pulls out something silver and green. It’s my father’s ring.

I gape. Where the hell did he get that?

“It’s not your father’s. It’s
mine
,” he explains to my confusion. He turns the ring, so I can read what is scrolled on the interior. In the same font as my father’s ring, ‘Crispen Ranchiller’ is written on this piece of jewelry. Crispen told me once that his last name was Desmond. Ranchiller is the last name of the guy on the inside of my father’s ring. Are they related or something?

It doesn’t take long for my mind to throw together the pieces. This
gang
or whatever my father was somehow involved with, Crispen must also be involved in. Those guys that kidnapped me, he must be one of them or wanted by them. What if Crispen is the guy who they sent to kill me? If so, why hasn’t he yet?

He watches me carefully and takes a step back, letting me breathe. I’m tempted to throw the door in his face, but I don’t. Obviously he’s come here to explain something, and quite frankly, I’m desperate for answers.

“I have to be careful with what I tell you because too much information can be dangerous for you, but I hate lying to you. First of all, Megan, it’s not a gang. It’s a….
family business
so to speak,” he offers, still watching me intently. “It is for this reason, this ring and this business that we cannot be more than friends. I’ve done some research on your father and this
Darius Ranchiller
. Darius was a distant
cousin
of mine sort of. Your father killed him. Your father made it his duty to kill anyone wearing a ring like this one here. He collected the rings afterwards as some sort of trophy. He must’ve forgotten to take my cousins when he ran from you and your mother.”

I have to physically refrain from letting my jaw drop. He can’t be serious. How would he find out this information anyway?

“You expect me to believe this?” my mouth speaks without consulting my brain.

“Believe whatever you want, but I assure you that this is the truth,” he attempts with a soft, cautious smile. “I mean it’s as truthful information as I can give you without putting you in danger. What I’m saying, Megan, is that we can’t be more than friends, because our families have hated each other for a
very
long time. You and I were born to be enemies. You and I even being friends is a pretty far stretch, but I like you. I like you an awful lot,” he sums up quickly. “I want to be friends with you, even if it’s wrong.”

How is it wrong? If what he says is true, then our
families
are enemies, and that doesn’t mean that we have to be. I look at him dubiously. Am I really to believe all of this? Has he lied to me yet? No, but he
has
refrained from telling me the whole truth. He’s sort of known what’s been going on from the beginning, and he’s kept it from me.

“Do you have proof?” I ask him, throwing my hand on my hip with sass. I know this is silly. The ring is enough proof.

He nods. “Proof that what? Proof I own this ring? It has my name on the inside of it, Megan.”

“Proof that you’re somehow coincidentally related to the guy my father killed in an entirely different province across the country twenty years ago? What are the chances?”

“Not really,” he admits, a frown creeping onto his face like he never thought I’d ask this.

“Well, I don’t believe you then. This is ridiculous.” I throw my hands up in the air in frustration. “What is this
family business
anyways? What do you guys do? Oh, and why do our families hate each other?”

“The family business is confidential. As for the reason we hate each other, it’s just how it is. I can’t explain it to you.”

I roll my eyes. So he came here to tell me what exactly? That he can’t tell me anything. “You act like you come here to give me all of this information. I think it’s just an excuse for you and me not to hang out anymore. I think you’re making all of this up, because I crossed a line the other night, and you just want to get as far from me as possible. Did you even mean what you said the other night? Do you even have feelings for me, or did you just say that to make me feel better? Because I honestly don’t even know why I kissed you. I don’t feel that way about you at all. I don’t know what happened.”

He tilts his head at me. “Megan.” Hurt fills his eyes, and I know he wasn’t lying. He has feelings for me, and I’ve just crushed his heart. Guilt becomes abundant in my heart. Oh, fuck, now I’ve done it.

“What, Crispen?!” this comes out far colder than I mean it to.

He shakes his head slowly as if in defeat. “You know how you were afraid of being followed home after you were kidnapped? Well, you were. Those men you got involved with, they have been following you since that day. The only reason that they, or one of their minions, haven’t killed you yet is that I’m always around to protect you. I don’t understand why they didn’t just get rid of you while they had you. They’re outside almost every night and sometimes even during the day.”

“What are you talking about? That’s impossible. I’m not stupid, you know. What about all those times you’re at work? Why couldn’t they come then, huh? How do you know that they were outside anyway? Do they call and tell you? Do you see through walls and see them watching us, because I’ve never seen them!”

“Because I
haven’t
been at work, Megan! I quit
weeks
ago! I pretend to go to work or get called into work, when I’m out tracking down those idiots with my sister or trying to knock their heads off! You called the hospital yourself! I’m not an employee there,” he shouts, obviously becoming frustrated too. I’ve never seen him lose his temper, not once.

“I still don’t believe you. That doesn’t make what you say any easier to believe you know.” I take a quick step backwards, and I’m about to slam the door in Crispen’s face when his hand shoots out and holds the door open.

“I was never your neighbor. Just like your kidnappers, I saw your father’s ring on your finger, and it made me curious. If you were wearing a ring like mine, that meant that you were like me, or so I thought. I quickly discovered that you were the opposite of me and upon hearing your story, I realized that you were tossed into a huge, centuries-long battle that you had no idea about,” Crispen rants, his face becoming red with…anger? Annoyance? Frustration?

His anger is almost
scary
. I don’t like that he’s upset.

When he sees the shock on my face, he stops, takes a step backwards, drops his gaze from mine, and turns to the left slightly. “I’m sorry. I’m just so
frustrated
that I can’t tell you
everything
. I don’t mean to scare you. That’s the last thing that I mean to do. I swear.” The colour begins leaving his face, but the damage has been done. I slam the door and hastily lock it.

I stick my back to the door and slide down it to the floor. I throw my face into my palms and let out the sobs that I’ve been holding in. I finally make a friend, and he turns out to be an absolute psycho, but then again, some of what he says must be true, because he has the ring. The ring which is nearly identical to my father’s, and Crispen has never seen my father’s before. Coincidence? I think not. I’m just so confused.

“Megan, you left the patio door unlocked. What did I tell you about leaving shit unlocked?!” Crispen’s voice bellows from the kitchen. I wipe my tears away with my sleeve. I feel like such a baby lately.

“Get out!” I shout loudly and bury my head into my knees.

“Okay, if you want me to leave, I will leave. I get that you’re upset, and you probably think I’m a complete jerk, but I really don’t mean to be an asshole, okay? I came here to try to make things better, not worse.” He pulls a chair from the kitchen table and places it across from me about ten feet away. He takes a seat. “Everything sounded way more rational in my head the last three days while I was reciting it over and over,” he says under his breath, like he doesn’t mean for me to hear.

I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything. I continue not making any sort of eye contact with him by looking down at my knees. We are quiet for far too long, then there is a knock at my front door.