A. Colucci - Seeders

Monica slid past him into the room and Luke caught a whiff of alcohol. He closed the door and sat with her on the edge of the bed, no longer needing the pillow.

She pulled out a vodka bottle hidden under her sweatshirt and unscrewed the cap.

Luke realized why her suitcase was so heavy. He noticed the bottle was nearly empty and wondered how long she’d been drinking.

“You want some?” she asked.

“Sure.” He took the bottle and chugged a mouthful. It burned down his throat and set off a hacking cough. Monica didn’t seem to notice, her eyes fixed blankly on the wall.

“I can’t stop thinking about that body.”

Luke cleared his throat and took a smaller sip, speaking in a deep voice. “It wasn’t so bad.”

Monica crawled backward on the bed and eased against the pillows, and Luke crept up beside her. They sat on the flowery bedspread like an old married couple, staring at their feet and passing the bottle back and forth, not speaking for a long moment.

“Damn thing has me freaked,” she uttered.

Luke thought this was his chance. Maybe if she felt really helpless, she’d need the comfort of a man. “Yeah, he was pretty creepy. And who knows if the killer is still out there.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed. “You think so?”

Luke sensed her fear. “No.”

She seemed relieved.

“But if he were out there, you can bet I wouldn’t hesitate to kill him.” He saw an expression of doubt on her face. “I would . I mean, if he tried to hurt you.”

Monica put the bottle on the nightstand and slid closer to him, so their hips were touching. She rolled onto her side and lightly touched his shoulders, staring at him drunkenly, while her fingers traced a line down his arm.

Luke felt his face pulse with heat. Chaos swirled in his brain, trying to process the sudden flood of information while struggling to ignore the sensations in his body so he could focus on what to do next. It wasn’t necessary because instinct took over. He rolled forward and pressed his mouth against her full lips. Instead of pushing him away, she kissed him back.

Oh God, he thought. After so much waiting and nearly giving up, suddenly it was happening. Bam!

Every part of his body was electrified. The urge was maddening and he grabbed a fistful of her hair and thrust his body against her. He thought he might explode.

Then Monica pulled away, leaving him weightless and tingling all over.

He stared at her lips and his cheeks flushed with desire. Her hair was disheveled and a glimpse of her tummy was exposed.

She reached for the bottle of vodka and took a long drink, passed it back to him.

Without moving his gaze from her face, he took only a sip. He didn’t want to numb the feeling of kissing her again.

But Monica looked like she was going to cry. “I don’t…”

“What?” Luke wondered if he was doing it wrong.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Oh.”

“Also, my mom’s a prostitute.”

“Oh.”

“ I’m not. You know that, right?”

Luke nodded. More than anything, he wanted to get back to kissing. “Of course you’re not. You’re like… a goddess.”

She took another chug. “Goddess. Right .”

Luke moved in closer but she turned away. “No one at your school likes me. No one talks to me.” Her expression hardened and she sniffed back tears. “I don’t care really, I’m used to it. Every school I’ve ever been to sucks.”

“I like you.”

“’Cause you’re a dork.”

It was like a dagger to his heart, but then she smiled warmly.

“Chill. You’re not really a dork. You’re just trying to impress your parents so you pretend to be this perfect son, all studious and sweet. Inside, you’re actually this very cool”—her face moved inches from him—“hot… brave kind of guy. Smart, but sexy smart.”

Luke tried to kiss her again, but she turned her head with an audible sigh. It seemed she still wanted to talk.

“I hate sponging off other people like I can’t take care of myself. I can, you know. As soon as we get back to Brooklyn I’m getting a job and an apartment. Save enough money to go to Paris.”

“Maybe I’ll come with you. I’ve got a couple thousand in the bank.”

“Really? You’d come with me?”

“Of course.”

She looked like she might start bawling again, but instead started chugging vodka like water. She wiped her mouth. “My shrink was right. Being tough is just a stupid act, keeping me from a normal life. Rick, that’s my shrink—at least he was before I keyed his car and stole his stupid ashtray. He said it was silver. Yeah, right. Anyway, he said I could turn my whole life around in a second. All it takes is a different way of thinking. Pretty much the opposite of how I think now. What’s good is bad, what’s bad is good. God, I want that kind of life. Like you have.”

Luke’s heart quickened. Seeing her so vulnerable was exciting and unbearable at the same time. He could feel it, they had a connection. She was an outcast and wanted to change her life, be more like him. He was an outcast who wanted to toughen up, like her. He couldn’t stand it any longer. He kissed her hard on the lips. His tongue found the inside of her mouth, causing a pang of pleasure that shot a lightning bolt from the back of his throat to his stomach and kept on going south. She didn’t resist when Luke reached inside the back of her sweatshirt. Her body felt so slight and smooth, and she wasn’t wearing a bra.

Please don’t stop me.

He opened his hand wide, sliding it around the block, and gently cupped her breast. It felt larger than expected, a handful, but soft as a cloud and he felt himself losing control. When his thumb rubbed across her nipple the dam burst open, an almost painful shot of pleasure. A tiny moan came from his mouth and he reached for his lap. He could already feel the dampness on his thigh against his pajama pants.

He sat up, flushed with embarrassment.

“Did you just…?”

His eyes closed.

“It’s okay.” She had a sly smile and climbed over him, slipping off the bed and adjusting her clothing. “I better go.”

Luke’s head fell back against the wall.

Monica turned from the door. “Hey, you’re a good kisser.”

His mouth wouldn’t work so he just gave a quick nod.

“Good night, Luke.”

She closed the door behind her and Luke decided right then, he was in love with Monica. No doubt about it, he would have to tell her.

Tomorrow for sure.

IT WAS A DREARY MORNING and cold drizzle pelted the windows. Isabelle awoke in the damp bedroom feeling shaken from a bad dream she couldn’t remember. She gazed over her childhood possessions, realizing the happy memories had vanished from this place. The death of her father overshadowed the house and every inch of the island.

With a sigh, she left the warmth of the bed and dressed in a white cable-knit sweater and wool trousers. She went downstairs to find the kitchen deserted, so she tried the radio for a while with no success. Then she made a pot of oatmeal and a pitcher of orange juice for the kids, and poured a steaming mug of coffee. She carried it to the laboratory, hoping to find Jules at work.

He was standing in front of a large bay window, staring toward the woods in a trancelike state. Isabelle approached him, and he seemed oblivious to her presence. She cleared her throat, placing the coffee mug on the desk beside him, and he turned around.

“Isabelle, I didn’t hear you.” His eyes were dark and bloodshot.

She glanced down at the desk full of scribbled papers, microscopes, and various tools of science. Plastic cups held a dozen plant species, all infected with the fungus. Their leaves were pinched with metal clips and wires that led to an oscilloscope.