Keep My Secrets by Elena Wilkes (management books to read .txt) 📕

his fingers like a blind man: reading her. ‘That was the feeling I’ve been looking for, Frankie. That was the connection that people search their whole lives for. You know that, don’t you? We became the same person… Or maybe we became another person. Did you feel that? Does that sound weird?’

‘I felt it.’ She put her hand on his chest and felt the thud of his heart beneath her palm: so visceral, so alive.

‘I don’t want us to move – not an inch.’ She could hear the urgency in him. ‘I don’t want the real world to ever find us. I want us to disappear to another place: a better one.’ His voice sounded disembodied in the blackness. It felt like he was all around and yet so close.

The drum beneath her fingers grew stronger.

‘I don’t want us to be like other people. I don’t want us to be ordinary. I want this to be special: extraordinary. Different. I want us to be vulnerable and’ – he let his fingers travel down her neck to the mound of her breast, her nipple tightening under his touch – ‘completely as one.’

His hand landed on her thigh. She closed her eyes; she thought she might die right that moment. She leaned in to rest her forehead against his. He kissed both her eyes, the bridge of her nose, her top lip. When she opened them again all she could see was the glitter of his eyes: so close. He had a strange look on his face.

‘What?’ she smiled slowly.

‘This is more than love.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I know.’

‘No boundaries… No going back… That’s what we said, wasn’t it?’

‘That’s what we said.’

‘Will you come with me then, if I asked you?’ he murmured. ‘Somewhere very special?’

‘Anywhere. I’d go with you anywhere.’

He reached back for his jacket, finding the pocket and bringing out a little bag. The whiteness of the pills gleamed in the strange light. She looked at them and then at him.

She shivered although she didn’t feel cold.

‘Come here then. Open your mouth.’

She did as he asked. She felt him reach out again and then there was the soft give of the plastic cup against her fingers. She lifted the rim to her lips and took a hard gulp, feeling the tablet sticking to her tongue for a moment and then she swallowed with a gasp as the liquid burned. He took the cup from her and did the same before slipping his arm around her back, pulling her to him to lie on his chest. She listened to the steadiness of his breathing, feeling his heat against her face, her lips almost tasting the scent of his skin.

She began to feel the first shiver of magic, because it was magic. He’d conjured it. The dry leaves beneath them made a carpet, lifting them up, carrying them both, weightless, to a place away from everywhere. She felt herself slipping in between the layers of dimension: not outside anymore, not inside, just surrounded by air that was thick and soft, slow and pillowy, where no one could reach them. She felt warmth: perfect like the skin of a peach, its velvety softness stroking her face. A flash of singular perfection; this was the one moment where everything was pure and right and entirely good, and she was soaring.

She opened her eyes.

She was lying with her belly against his back. Her arms were wrapped tightly around him and she lifted her head to nose the hair behind his ear. He grumbled and moaned in his sleep, his eyes flickered, but he didn’t wake.

Her mouth felt as though it was full of cotton wool. All she could think, right that moment, was that she needed water – and lots of it.

Casting about for her clothes, she found them, pausing for a moment, before bending forward to kiss him, gently. ‘I adore you too, you know,’ she whispered, pulling the scraps of clothing to cover him. ‘I won’t be long.’

Crawling from the bushes, she made an attempt to stand, but then staggered and nearly fell. The ground beneath her feet was heaving unpleasantly and her stomach automatically rebelled. She glanced up. The lights from the house blurred and focussed. Swallowing, she chose her route, not daring to look down, but managing one foot in front of the other until the French doors loomed up. Her hands grasped the frame and she hauled herself inside.

The air was thick with sweat, the dancing bodies pushed closer and closer until she thought she might suffocate. Blinking painfully into the flashing lights, she fought her way through, concentrating hard on the square of doorway, aware that her nausea was rising steadily. She paused at the kitchen, fearful that she’d pass out or throw up and cause some terrible scene.

Her tongue drifted stickily. She was desperate now, really desperate. The stairs were no longer packed with party-goers and she scrambled her way up on all fours, reaching the top and looking frantically for the bathroom. Two girls with glittery stars on their faces glared down at her, their arms folded.

‘There’s a queue,’ the first one said.

Frankie had to clutch onto the wall to get herself upright. She attempted to waver a smile, but they didn’t smile back.

‘Is there any chance…?’ Her voice didn’t sound as it used to. She gestured weakly at the door. ‘Like, I really have to get in there.’

‘No,’ said the first girl.

‘Yeah,’ said the second. ‘You look like you do.’ They exchanged glances and second girl shrugged. ‘We don’t want her puking on our shoes though, do we?’ She unfolded an arm and thumbed at the door. ‘Go for it.’

There was the click of the catch shunting back and Frankie winced at the sudden dazzle of white light. It opened wider and she felt her entire body shrink back as Charlotte stepped past her in a wash of musky perfume. There was a moment when their eyes locked, before Frankie managed to stumble over the threshold