Knowing You (Cursed 2)

The sun is completely gone and the darkness has settled in around us when he turns down a narrow paved road, which is surprising because I was convinced every side road in this town was dirt. The road is lined by a dense forest without a property in sight. Grant pulls the car onto a dirt patch at a break in the trees. The headlights illuminate a clearing of some kind.

He gets out of the car and pops the trunk. I open the passenger door and get out, looking around to try to understand why we're here. Grant appears beside me with a blanket and a cooler. "C'mon." He offers me his hand and I let him guide me into the field, the overgrown grass tickling my bare legs. I have to wonder if this was meant to be our date.

Grant sets down the cooler and spreads out the blanket. He sits and I settle down next to him. He reaches into the cooler and pulls out an ice pack, handing it to me.

"I'm really okay," I assure him, because I know I'm fine.

"I'm not, so please ice it for me. It'll make me feel better."

Stunned by his genuine concern, I take the ice pack from him and rest it gently on my jaw, that only seems to hurt when touched.

"You came prepared," I note with a small smile.

"I came hopeful," he clarifies. "So you've been arrested ... for fighting." It isn't a question, more of a summation of the facts.

"Yeah," I answer barely audible.

"When you get into these fights, do you start them, or is it like tonight?"

"Well ... I technically started the fight tonight considering I hit him first."

The side of his mouth tilts up in amusement. "You were defending me. That guy was about to take me out, for whatever reason, and I never saw it coming. Essentially, you saved me."

"I guess I kinda did, huh?" I reply, unable to hide my cocky grin. He laughs. "So to answer your question, yes, it's usually like tonight. I don't go looking for fights, but if someone threatens me or someone I care about, then I have to protect them."

Grant cocks an eyebrow. "But does it always have to resort to violence?"

"I don't know," I answer honestly. "It's my first reaction." I cringe at the admission. "That's bad, isn't it?"

Grant reveals a small smile. "I wish I could say it isn't."

"I'm working on it," I say, my lips twisted in a guilty furl. "Have you ever been in a fight?"

"No," he answers without hesitation. "I've never felt compelled to punch anyone. It can get physical in some of the rivalry lacrosse games, but it's mostly shoving. And even when friends of mine get into fights, I'm usually breaking them up and talking everyone down. So, I was being honest earlier--you really do punch better than me."

I let out a breathy laugh.

"Are you serious about working on it? Your anger, or whatever it is that compels you to punch first?"

"Yeah, I am. And I guess it is anger, even though I may claim it's in defense, there's anger underneath it. But I've never really thought about it, I just ... react."

"Do you know what triggers it? I mean, beyond being protective of you and your friends?"

My heart is pounding and my palms are sweaty. I've never been this honest before, not even with myself, and it's making me anxious, like I'm on the verge of having a panic attack. I experience those when I'm in enclosed spaces for too long. So I'm familiar enough with the cues to sense one is about to take over. If I don't get control over it now, soon, I won't have control at all.

I close my eyes and focus on breathing, deep and slow.

"Lana? Hey, it's okay." His hand caresses my back in an attempt to soothe me. I nearly jump at his touch. "You don't have to tell me. I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's how I make sure I'm heard," I tell him in a whisper, my eyes still closed. "As a girl, especially my size, guys think they have a right to me. To touch. To degrade. To dismiss me. So I fight because that's my voice. That's how I say no. That's how I tell them to fuck off. That's how I make it clear that I'm not theirs. It's how I know they hear me." I open my eyes and stare directly into his.

"Is that why you don't date?"

I consider it a second. "Maybe." He intertwines his fingers with mine. "I don't want to belong to anyone. I'm not a possession. I'm not his. I've seen it so many times, becoming lost to another person. No longer identified as an individual, only as an us. Until one of them decides us isn't enough and leaves, because they always do. I won't lose myself to anyone. That way, they can't take me with them when they leave me."

Grant is silent. And I want to disappear. I just admitted something so honest and vulnerable, something I didn't know was true until I said it out loud. His presence in my life is dangerous to my curse. I have no way of protecting my honesty; my deepest hidden truths slip out so easily when I'm with him.

I'm fumbling for something to say to lighten the seriousness that's enveloped us when he leans forward. I barely have time to react before his mouth touches mine.