Kill Switch (Devil's Night 3)

“The fountain,” she said, moving around to my side of the car. “In the square. Can you take me to it?”

I listened, faintly hearing it, too. I’d forgotten about it. As a kid, I remembered I’d wanted to play in it, but of course, it wasn’t allowed.

Looking around, I noticed the village wasn’t that busy and the traffic was nearly dead. It had to be after midnight by now, and since everyone was saving their energy for tomorrow night, it was pretty quiet. Still, though, I had no idea where the guys were, and there was some noise coming from Sticks. I didn’t want anyone seeing me and calling my name or seeing her with me.

Fuck.

I pulled up my hood and took her hand, leading up the hill to where the small pond with a bridge sat, a large fountain in a garden, and a witch’s hat gazebo off to the right. It was a nice, elevated little oasis from the busy village center.

The water spilling into the fountain grew louder, and she let go of my hand, approaching it. She held out her palms, feeling the spray and smiling, and I wanted to take her and climb in with her right now.

Digging into the pocket of her jacket, she pulled something out, turned with her back to the fountain, closed her eyes, and then tossed the coin over her shoulder and into the water.

“Wanna do one?” she asked me, pulling another coin out of her pocket.

I walked up to her, taking in her little bow tie, her hair, almost white with strands of gold, parted and falling on one side, and her lips, the color of bubble gum. Unable to tear my eyes away, I took the coin and flung it over her shoulder and into the water, never taking my gaze off her face.

Using my shoulder to keep herself steady, she slipped off her flats and hopped up on the rim of the fountain and then let me go, having some fun doing ballet moves and balancing herself.

Her phone rang, though, and she stopped, pulling it out and turning it off without answering it.

“Parents calling?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

She must’ve had a particular ringtone to identify them.

Watching her move, twirl, bend, and dip, I followed her around the fountain as she pointed her toes and flexed the muscles in her legs.

What would happen when she grew up? Who would have her? Where would she move? How would this all change?

And all I knew in that moment was that I would fight for nothing more than to keep her like this. Innocent and happy and pure.

Dancing in fountains.

Wobbling, she suddenly reached out for me, and I stepped up to her, catching her before she fell.

She laughed, putting her hands on my shoulders.

“Training hard?” I asked, lifting up her foot to look at the bruises and redness from her toenails cutting into her skin.

“Always,” she replied.

These were a dancer’s feet.

> “Does it hurt?”

She shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

Then she wrapped her arms around me and jumped into my hold, forcing me to circle her waist to catch her. She smiled at me, and I held her like that, refusing to put her down as we just stayed there.

But then, tightening her hold, she slowly brought herself in and hugged me.

My chest swelled, aching like shit, and everything washed over me at once. Her smell, her warmth, her hair and body… My lungs caved, and I didn’t know why, but it felt so fucking good. I wrapped my arms around her like a steel band, almost feeling relief at holding something—or someone—for the first time in forever.

When was the last time this happened? I never gave fucking hugs, except when Banks needed to talk me down, and that was more like hanging on to something than…

Than actual affection. Than someone actually liking me.