Spring Without You- Book 2

Anaïs

The door slams behind us onto the cold street. Furious, I storm out of the building, flanked by two stone-faced bouncers who are escorting us rather than accompanying us. Beside me, Cheryl is boiling over, screaming at the guy who just kicked us out of his own venue.

“Fuck, I can’t believe it!” she yells, shaking her phone, its screen cracked.

She tries to turn it on. The screen stays black. With a sharp, almost theatrical gesture, she rips out the SIM card and hurls the rest of the phone onto the sidewalk. The object shatters with a dry crack. She fixes her hair with a quick flick of her wrist, slips on her neon pink faux fur coat, and rummages through her black handbag. She pulls out two cigarettes and a flask lined with rhinestones that sparkles under the neon lights.

After taking a long swig, she hands it to me. I mimic her gesture, letting the liquid warm me, bringing a fake but welcome heat. I take the cigarette already lit between her lips and take a drag, pulling my bare arms against myself to try and warm up.

“So, what do we do?” I ask, teeth chattering slightly.

Cheryl observes the nightclub lights, then slips her arm around my shoulders to tuck me under her coat, which smells of flowery perfume and smoke.

“The night is still young, babe,” she says with that smirk that never leaves her face. She raises her hand to hail the first taxi that passes.

Barely settled on the worn leather seats, Cheryl frantically rummages through her bag. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the driver’s lingering gaze on her cleavage through the rearview mirror. It’s been a year since she’s been attracting every gaze without trying, eclipsing me at every outing, without even realizing it. I am the shadow to her light, and tonight, the shadow is particularly cold.

She pulls a new phone from her bag, presses it to her ear, and gives me a complicit wink.

“James, it’s me,” she says, playing with a strand of her long black hair. “We’ll be there in ten minutes.”

She rattles off the address to the driver with confidence, then turns to me, eyes shining with excitement.

“Where are we going?”

“James is hosting a private party. Sounds ten times better than that club full of stuck-up pretenders.”

I let out a nervous laugh and rest my head against the cold window. The city lights scroll by, turned into blurry streaks by the speed. Cheryl has slipped a bill to the driver along the way, and we arrive faster than expected.

When I step out of the vehicle, I freeze. Before us stands a huge gray metal gate, impersonal, almost threatening. With the tip of her manicured nails, Cheryl taps a code into the intercom, and the gate swings open immediately.

Impatient, she grabs my hand and drags me inside. Here, the bass isn’t just sound, it’s a physical vibration that shakes the walls and resonates right into my chest, replacing my heartbeat. The crowd is dense, an ocean of unknown faces writhing in suffocating heat.

I let myself be pulled through the packed hallways to the upper floor. The atmosphere changes as we advance, becoming heavier, more intimate. At the end of a long corridor, we pass through a door that opens into a room filled with thick white smoke, veiling every silhouette.

Cheryl waves to a man a bit further away, busy exchanging something I can’t distinguish in the dim light. As soon as he spots us, he steps forward and hugs my friend, shooting me a curious look in passing.

“James, this is Anaïs.”

“Welcome to my place,” he says. His voice is calm, contrasting with the surrounding chaos.

Cheryl grabs my arm and drags me onto one of the sofas in the huge room, already invaded by strangers sprawled among the cushions. The smoke stings my eyes, but I finally relax when Cheryl hands me a glass, which I down in one go.

It doesn’t take long for my friend to find herself sitting in the center of the sofa, legs crossed, chest out, surrounded by several people ready to catch her every word. I get up, leaving her to her suitors, and weave my way through bodies until I spot a half-empty bottle on the floor. I pick it up and drink straight from it without thinking, trying to fill a void that the alcohol only widens.

“You want some?”

James’s voice surfaces behind me. Turning around, I jump slightly and clumsily spill liquid onto my white dress. The stain spreads, and I wipe it shamefully with the back of my hand, aware that I look even less attractive like this.

He sketches an amused smile, waving a small transparent vial between his fingers. My gaze instinctively lands on Cheryl, far away, laughing out loud. As long as she’s here, I’m safe. It’s my rule, my only line of defense. So I grab the vial and let a drop fall on my tongue. The taste is almost non-existent, barely metallic, but already, my heart accelerates, hammering against my ribs.

I lift my eyes to James, who is still watching me, an enigmatic smile on his lips.

The music gets louder, heavier. Or maybe it’s just me. Everything seems to vibrate to a new, syncopated rhythm.

Hours dissolve into a succession of emptied glasses, too-loud laughter, and bass that shakes the floor under my feet. Everything vibrates and sparkles at once. The smoke clings to my hair like a gray veil, the lights become blurry, almost liquid, flowing down the walls.

Cheryl disappears at times, swallowed by other groups, then always returns more cheerful, louder, recharged by an invisible energy. Everything is light. Too light. My hands barely tremble when I take a new glass or when I dance clumsily between silhouettes. The world has lost its sharp edges, angles have become curves, but I feel good. Lighter. Freer.

James comes back into my field of vision, a glass in hand.

“You okay?” he asks. His voice seems to come from far away.

I nod, unable to tear my eyes from his. The rest of the room keeps spinning, blurry and indistinct, but right there, rightthere, it’s as if everything has frozen. Time has stopped. Guided by an impulse I can no longer control, I step forward and kiss him.

His lips are warm, confident. He doesn’t take long to respond, his hand sliding onto my hip with a gentle possessiveness. The alcohol, the deafening music, the stifling heat... everything disappears at once. There is only this, this kiss that sweeps me away and this vertigo that makes me forget my past.

When I finally pull back, my heart is beating too fast, ready to explode. James stares at me, as if waiting for me to start again.

Which I do.

His hands tighten on my waist, our kisses become more pressing, more messy, desperate. He finally pulls away, breathless, grabs my hand, and drags me through the hallway.

Doors line up, some ajar on blurry shadows, muffled laughter, entwined bodies... But when we enter the last room, the noise of the party is immediately muffled, replaced by a heavy silence as he closes the door.

In the dim light, I vaguely distinguish a messy bed in a corner, crumpled sheets testifying to other passages.

James approaches and towers over me, his intense gaze still locked on mine. The effect of the drops taken earlier still pulses in my veins. He brings the vial to his lips in turn, without looking away.

His mouth finds mine again, and his hands slide under my dress. Every caress is amplified by the drug blurring my senses, erasing pain, erasing reason. It’s as if my skin vibrates under his fingers, every shiver multiplied by a hundred. His scent, his breath, his gestures, everything is too close, too intense, invasive.

I let myself fall back, lose myself in this stifling, comforting heat that envelops me. The contours of reality dissolve. Everything becomes blurry, except him. His hands glide over my skin, and I feel like they leave a burning trail behind them.

His mouth travels down my neck, and I am unable to control my reactions, my sighs, my movements. My fingers trace his chest, his hands hold me, his lips possess me, and every movement is stronger, more urgent than the last.

Time becomes an abstract notion. At moments, everything slows down, at others, everything accelerates. My moans are muffled by his kisses, my fingers clinging to him as if I could anchor myself to avoid sinking into the void. When he merges with me, it’s like a huge wave submerging me, a vertigo that cuts my breath, preventing me from thinking.

When it finally subsides, I remain lying against him, panting, still trembling, eyes closed, anchored only in the present moment.

My alarm rings, strident, brutally tearing me from my sleep. I reach out a heavy arm, grab my phone, and turn off the alarm. Sitting up in bed, a throbbing pain drills into my temples. I hold my head in my hands, groaning. Beside me, James turns, looking just as tired, features drawn by the night.

I get up, staggering slightly under my own weight, and start getting dressed, gathering my scattered clothes. He gets up, naked, without the slightest shame, and rummages in a wardrobe full of impeccable shirts. He pulls out a wad of bills and hands it to me, the gesture nonchalant.

I look at him, shocked, breathless.

“Are you serious?” I snap, voice aggressive.

He laughs, a short, amused sound.

“It’s for Cheryl... For the vial...?”

I take the wad of bills, torn between embarrassment and cynical relief. Finally, I shake my head, handing the money back with a sharp gesture.

“We don’t need your money.”

He shrugs.

“Maybe not, but I always pay for what I consume.”

I stare at the envelope for a moment before resigning myself to keeping it, slipping it into my bag. My gaze then slides to my phone screen.

9:00 AM.

“Shit!” I breathe.

“A problem?” James asks, putting on a fresh white shirt.

“Are we far from downtown?”

He grabs pants lying on a chair and gets dressed without rushing.

“Forty minutes, max.”

I sigh, panic rising in me, and launch my ride-share app, but the screen displays :No drivers available in the area.

“You’ve got to be kidding me...” I breathe, annoyed.

He looks at me, intrigued, as if trying to understand if it’s really serious or if I’m dramatizing.

“Do you have an important appointment?”

“My sister’s baptism starts in thirty minutes, and my mom will tear my head off if I’m late.”

“I can always drive you, if you want.”

I lift my head to him, wary.

“Why would you do that?”

His smile returns, that same enigmatic smile from last night.

“I don’t know. Out of kindness.”

I stay a moment staring at him, perplexed, looking for an ulterior motive that might not be there, and lower my eyes to my screen. Still no drivers.

“Okay.”

I step forward and place my hand on the door handle, ready to rush out, when he stops me with a calm gesture.

“However, you might want to take a shower first.”

I catch my reflection in a mirror hanging on the wall. The shock is violent. My pale pink hair is matted, tangled, my white dress is wrinkled and stained, and above all... my eyes. Dark-circled, red. I look scary.

“You have ten minutes,” he adds. “I’ll wait in front of the gate.”

He points to the adjoining bathroom with a nod of his head, and I rush in.

Ten minutes later, not a second more, I burst out at full speed, hair still wet dripping down my back, my dress arranged as best as possible to hide the damage.

James is finishing a cigarette, leaning against the window of a car that seems straight out of a luxury magazine, black and shiny. As soon as I settle into the passenger seat, the engine roars immediately, the car speeds off, and I grip my seatbelt as if my life depends on it.

Fields scroll by, becoming a green blur, then the first streets appear. Turns follow one another at a crazy speed, pinning me to the seat with every acceleration. But James keeps a firm hand on the wheel, in absolute control. I close my eyes, convinced we’re going to end up in a wall, but when I open them, he remains calm, focused, almost amused by my panic.

“Relax,” he breathes, a smirk on his lips.

“You drive like a maniac!” I scream, voice strangled.

“No. I drive like someone who knows what they’re doing.”

When the downtown steeples finally appear in the distance, my phone displays 9:28. Just enough time to arrive on schedule.

He brakes hard. The car comes to a halt with a screech of tires right in front of the church. The noise immediately attracts the gazes of people already gathered on the porch. Whispers rise.

“Right on time!” James says with a satisfied smile, as if he just won a race.

I exhale deeply, more to try and calm the stress twisting my stomach than to regain my senses. My heart is pounding too fast, my hands are still trembling, and in a few seconds, I’ll have to face my mother.

Without waiting, he gets out of the car and walks around to open my door. His hand reaches for mine to help me out, perched on my unstable heels. As soon as I straighten up, I feel the distant gazes weighing on us.

“Thanks,” I say, embarrassed.

“My pleasure,” he replies with a satisfied smile.

Before I can find anything to say, he gently closes the door and is already back behind the wheel. The car speeds away, leaving me alone on the sidewalk, in the middle of the crowd.

I take a deep breath, straighten my shoulders in a final effort of dignity, and advance toward the church steps. My mother is waiting, standing near the entrance, arms crossed over her chest, her smile tight and that look that pierces me, judging me from head to toe as soon as her eyes land on me.

“I’m not in the mood for your reproaches,” I announce, trying to head her off.

“Who was that?” she asks, ignoring my remark.

“No one,” I breathe, avoiding her gaze.

She says nothing, but her look speaks for her, filled with disappointment and suspicion. She takes her sunglasses off the top of her head and hands them to me.

“Put these on,” she snaps.

I take them reluctantly, perfectly aware of the state of my bloodshot eyes, and slip them on with a quick gesture.

“Happy?” I ask, sharply.

I watch her contain herself, lips pressed tight. At that moment, Grace appears in my field of vision. She’s wearing her little white dress floating awkwardly around her chubby legs, a small pink bow tied tight in her blonde hair.

She advances toward me with a still hesitant step, arms raised in my direction, a sharp, joyful laugh escaping her. I immediately bend down to catch her before she loses her balance and hug her tight, covering her round cheeks with kisses. She giggles, and that pure sound warms my heart for an instant.

“I missed you,” I murmur against her hair.

Jacob steps forward too, a sincere smile on his lips, and takes me in his arms.

“I’m glad you could make it.”

I return his smile, but the moment shatters abruptly when Leo appears. Of course he would be here. I knew it. I just hadn’t thought about it until now.

It’s been over a year since I’ve seen him or heard from him. And it hurts more than I would have thought. On his arm, an elegant girl in a pastel dress, hair loose falling perfectly on her shoulders. She advances with a confidence I cruelly lack and holds out her hand.

“Amy, nice to meet you. You must be Mary’s daughter?”

I just nod, carefully avoiding any eye contact with Leo. I feel his gaze on me, but I refuse to meet it.

Grace, however, has no such reservations. She immediately reaches her arms out to him, impatient, a big smile on her lips. I gently deposit her in his arms. He hugs her tight, and I turn abruptly, entering the church with a hurried step, ready to get this over with as quickly as possible.