Page 23 of Crystal Iris #1

Nineteen

“Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.” – Thomas Merton

H e opens the hotel room door, and I walk straight to the balcony. It’s a beautiful night; the moon and stars shine above, while the city lights twinkle below. We haven’t said a word since the club. I guess, like me, Hoyt’s wondering: what now?

“Will you try something with me?” he asks.

“I’m not into drugs,” I answer.

He laughs, his voice low. “You’re enough to make me high.”

He steps back into the room.

“Get your prism,” he tells me, returning with a glass of water.

I reach for mine and slip it around my neck.

He pulls his out of his pocket and dips it into the water, then hands me the cup to do the same.

Then he steps closer. We let the prisms touch, and, like before, they attract like magnets.

He lifts his hand, and I mirror him.

“What if it burns?” I ask.

“I’m already hurting,” he says, his voice quieter. “Staying away isn’t easy either.”

I slowly move my hand toward his .

It takes only seconds for him to realize it doesn’t hurt and for him to grab my waist and kiss me.

His lips are taking mine like they need each other to survive. I bite his lips with my teeth pulling out slowly and he winces. He progresses to swirl his tongue on the top of my mouth and we can’t have enough of each other. His hand starts to move on my body when he pulls back in pain .

“Motherfucker!” He shakes his hand, bringing it up to his mouth.

“I’m sorry, Hoyt. Are you okay?”

He looks at me with pain in his eyes.

“Are you in pain?” I ask, my voice soft.

“All worth it,” he says slowly.

I watch him, still feeling the warmth of his hands on my skin. I want to throw my prism off the balcony. I’d do anything to feel him again. I look away, unable to hide the ache inside.

“Iris.” He steps closer.

“No, Hoyt! I can’t hurt you again.”

“Will you look at me?”

I turn to face him.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says, his voice steady.

“What if?—”

“Just don’t give up on me.”

If only he knew that I could never, not before, and especially not now that I know what his touch feels like.

Hoyt insists I take the bed. We’ve been simply talking since our kiss.

I can tell he’s tense about the meeting.

I hope Aaron and he can be civilized together.

But every time I try closing my eyes, I hear Aaron shattering the glass against his wall.

I think about his clenched fists from the night I met Hoyt at the party.

I’m also having a hard time forgetting about the way Hoyt kissed me.

Every time I think I’ve calmed down, it all rushes back in.

I roll over, trying to find a comfortable position, but the heat between us, even though we’re apart, is undeniable.

I can’t sleep here. It’s around three in the morning when I leave the hotel, leaving Hoyt resting on the couch.

I text him: I didn’t bring a toothbrush. Meet me after the meeting?

It’s Sunday, and I let myself stay in bed until mid-morning.

I took a shower after coming back from the hotel and I even slept for a bit.

But now, I’m awake, with a massive headache and feeling hungover.

I wish I could hear what’s going on in the meeting.

I keep checking my phone. They’re about to start any minute.

I’m too restless. I have to do this now , before I change my mind.

They’re seated in near silence. They’re waiting for someone.

I tell myself, I’m only staying for a minute.

I’m under the table. I wasn’t sure it would work, if I could get myself here.

I kept thinking about finding Hoyt as I lit the candle.

And I begged my prism to stay hidden. When I opened my eyes, I was here .

I try to make myself as small as possible; I’m not sure how much space I take up in this form. I’m not even sure they can see me. What if Hoyt was the only one capable of seeing the violet light? I can’t risk finding out.

I hear a door open, then close. A chair scrapes across the floor.

I recognize Aaron’s voice. I wish I could see their faces, but I know better than to move.

The lawyers begin. Hoyt’s attorneys state their reasons for wanting to get out of the deals.

I hear Aaron’s representatives fight them.

Apparently, they hadn’t explicitly named me as the reason for backing out—something to do with timing and location.

It’s just an excuse. Only Aaron’s attorneys know the real reason, and they press it .

“My client hasn’t given any reason not to be trusted, no misconduct,” an older man says.

“Not yet—a matter of time, perhaps,” I hear a younger man’s voice.

“You have no right to accuse him of anything,” the older man responds.

“We have every right,” another voice interrupts.

“You’ll need proof. And since you don’t have any, I guess we’re done here.”

I hear papers shuffling. I need to stay longer, but I’m starting to feel tired and dizzy. I focus on my breath, telling myself I can control it. I miss something they said.

People start moving. Someone stands up. Then I hear her voice. I turn around, careful not to touch anyone’s feet when I spot the only high heels in the room.

“We are committed to our clients. We will remain so.” I want to get closer to her, very close. I’m fantasizing about hearing her scream as I burn her feet when the door opens, and people begin walking out.

“How’s my fiancé doing?” Aaron asks, and I know Hoyt is still there.

Please don’t take the bait, I beg him in my mind, as if he can hear me.

“She isn’t your anything anymore,” Hoyt says, his voice calm.

“Because of you,” Aaron snaps.

“We both know that’s not true,” Hoyt replies.

“I can’t wait to ruin you,” Aaron sneers. “We’ll see if she sticks around once I leave you penniless.”

“You think very highly of yourself,” Hoyt says. “And very lowly of her, apparently.”

“No matter how much you think she is in love with you, it has always been me who she runs to, and once this fling gets boring…she will come home, to me.”

“Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better.”

I hear footsteps.

“Aaron, let’s go,” Lara calls.

Aaron moves, and I hear him say, just before leaving, “Everything she does in bed, I taught her.”

The door slams shut with force, and I black out.

I wake up to find my shirt soaked in blood. At least there’s no fire this time. I’d placed my candle in a tray with water, just in case. My head throbs when I try to sit up, and I can barely make it to the couch.

I lie down, my vision still blurry. I’m supposed to meet Hoyt soon—I don’t even know where.

I want to text him, but my phone’s in the bedroom.

Too far. I know I can’t walk that much yet, so I stay where I am, lying still.

How long did I stay there for? Definitely longer than the previous times.

It’s clear that each session is stretching my abilities, stretching the prism’s abilities .

I must have fallen asleep because Hoyt’s knock at the door jolts me awake. Slowly, I push myself toward it.

“What happened?” He moves closer, almost forgetting he can’t help me.

“Careful,” I warn, stepping back.

“Iris, what happened?” His voice is full of concern.

“I… needed to know what was going on.” I walk back to the couch, my head still spinning.

He glances around and notices the candle on the floor. “Did you?”

“I heard everything—well, most of it.”

“You were there?” His gaze sharpens.

I nod, sitting back down on the couch. My head is pounding.

“You don’t look well,” he says, kneeling by me .

“I think I stayed too long.”

“We should get you to a doctor.”

“No, I’m okay.”

“You’re covered in blood,” he insists.

“I just need a shower.” I stand up, holding onto the couch for support, and slowly walk toward the bathroom.

“Iris,” he calls after me.

“I’ll be right back,” I answer, trying to steady myself.

My vision is still spinning, but I push forward. I turn on the water and let it fall over my face, watching as the blood runs down the drain. I must look lovely. I’m rinsing out my shampoo when everything goes dark again.

When I open my eyes, someone’s lifting me up. By the time I realize it’s Hoyt, he’s already placing me gently in bed.

“How are you holding me?” I whisper, feeling completely weak.

“Turns out we just needed more water,” he says softly.

I try to sit up, but pain shoots through my arm. “My arm,” I tell him, wincing.

“Don’t get up. I think you hit your head.”

I look at him; he’s soaked.

“We’re going to the hospital,” he says, pulling clothes from my closet.

I’m still too weak to move; he helps me get dressed. I hate that this is how he’s seeing me naked for the first time. However, there’s no room for modesty. I’m too dizzy, too weak. Maybe I have a broken arm.

“The ambulance is almost here. I can’t… bring you downstairs.” I can see he’s upset.

The next time I wake up, I’m lying in a hospital bed. Hoyt sits in the nearby chair .

“Hey,” I say, and he lifts his head from his phone.

“You’re awake.”

“Thank you for bringing me here.”

“The paramedics did all the work.”

“Thank you for calling them.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I think I’m okay. My head hurts a little.” I look down at my wrapped arm. “Is it... broken?”

“No, sprained. You got lucky.”

A doctor comes in and talks me through everything they did and gave me.

“When can I go home?” I ask.

“We need you to stay overnight. You hit your head pretty hard,” says the nurse.

They bring me food, and I finally realize Hoyt is still wearing the same clothes from earlier.

“You can go,” I tell him. “I’ll be okay.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You need to change and eat. I don’t know, don’t you have places to be?”

“Are you kicking me out?”

“No, of course not. I just hate to be… a burden. I’m fine now.”

“I’m staying.”

“I’ll ask Akira to come babysit.”

I look around. I don’t have a phone.

“I’ll call her,” he says.

Akira arrives in half an hour.

“What happened?” she asks, though she’s not asking me.