flare | a sudden burst of intense emotion

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1/29/17

I AM WANDERING downtown alone as my headphones blast music in my ears. The alone time is nice. I love my mother and my best friend, but some days I just need to be by myself. Away from my mother and everything she wants me to achieve that she couldn't, and away from my best friend who I love but pushes me out of my comfort zone.

The door jingles as I push into the local market. A sweet elderly couple that produces some of the freshest fruits and vegetables in the area runs it. My mother, when she can, likes to shop local rather than at big name supermarkets.

"Hello Mae!" Mrs. Scott shouts at me from behind the counter. She's one of the owners along with her husband. Since my mother has been shopping here for years we've become pretty close with the owners who are beyond kind.

"Hi," I respond with a gentle smile. "How are you today?" I question as I begin to scope out the fruit isle in the mood for maybe an apple to snack on.

"Oh you know the usual," she sighs as she cleans up behind the counter.

"So that means busy day and lazy husband," I say with a teasing tone. For being a small market, the shop does fairly well with local families who grew up with the Scott's always being down the street. And while Mrs. Scott loves her husband dearly, they also bicker constantly. She says he's lazy, and he says she's stubborn. But even through all of that they always make sure to say they love each other after each quarrel. She says it's their one rule.

A bark of laughter breaks out on her humble face. "Oh Mae, men are just the worst," she tells me.

Suddenly the front door jingles and in walks Asher who's stormy eyes immediately meets mine.

"Yes," I agree at the appearance of the single man who exemplifies being the worst. "They are."

I turn my back and head towards the small bakery at the back of the store. I wanted an apple, but now I want something sweet. My weakness, and as my eyes flicker up to watch Asher step closer to me I realize I may have more than one.

Donuts. Sugar bagels. Circular fried pastries covered in pink frosting and a million colorful sprinkles. I love sweets, but to be more specific I love donuts.

I reach into the glass shelf that sits in the wall that holds daily made fresh pastries. I grab the pink one, my favorite, with the plastic bag and then tuck into the small brown bag beside the shelf.

"You like donuts?" I hear Asher's deep voice slide up from behind me.

I turn with the small crinkly bag in my hand. "Who doesn't?" I inquire with a raised eyebrow.

He shrugs without responding as if he can't think of a plausible answer or he doesn't care to. Either way I turn and make my way to Mrs. Scott at the checkout counter and hand her the single dollar bill for the pastry.

"Thank you," I tell her as she hands me my receipt.

"See you next week?" she plays knowing I tell her every week I'm going to stop buying donuts. And every week I come back for the deliciously sweet dessert that is my drug.

"You know I can't stay away," I tell her as a small giggle falls from my lips. I push the front door open and walk out into the sunshine when I hear footsteps following me.

"What do you want?" I ask as I pause next to a car and flip to face a smirking Asher.

"You're supposed to use that line on me," he says as his hands cross over his toned chest.

My nose scrunches in confusion. "What line?" I ask him.

"The you can't stay away line," he says, mimicking me from earlier in the store. "Just admit it, I know you've missed me," he teases as his dark eyes rake over my body in a slow perusal.

I roll my eyes, hating him knowing I've been avoiding him, and push down the flash of heat that wants to cover my body at the way his eyes take me in. I turn to leave when he opens up the passenger door of the car we are next to. I stop and narrow my eyes at him. "Is this even your car?" I ask sarcastically.

A chuckle falls from his perfect lips before he purses them at me, almost like he's holding in a comeback. Almost like he's trying to be nice. Operative word here being trying.

"Get in Maeleigh," he tells me. His words come out strong like an order, and my feathers ruffle at his words. For one I want to hate that he's telling me what to do, but the other part of me, the smaller part, likes it. I like his confidence because it's something I completely lack.

"Wow, a please would be nice to hear..." I trail off as I place a hand on my hip sassily acting as if his words put me off. Acting like I can have the poise that seems to easily fill him.

"Fine," he sighs with an annoyed look pasted to his handsome face. "Please," he sneers at me, and motions with his left hand for me to enter the black car.

"You're still an ass," I let him know for the only reason that he needs to be reminded he isn't a god. Though even a part of me questions it at times.

"I still know," he responds, tossing me a wink. "Now get in," he says with the tilt of his head.

I pause for a moment debating on what to do. I know if I want to I can leave. Asher may be an ass, but he knows his boundaries within reason. I know I shouldn't get in the car, and I shouldn't hang out with him in a setting that leaves us alone. I know a lot of things, and yet here I am still debating on whether or not to get in the car with my best friend's crush.

"Why?" I ask openly. Truthfully, I have no ulterior motives. I really just want to know why he wants to hang out with me. Someone who before this year I meant nothing to, and now he seems to be everywhere I turn.

A shrug touches his defined shoulders. "Why does there have to be a reason?" he counters my question.

"Because there always is," I let him know. "Especially with you Lawton," I say using his last name for the first time before I slide into his passenger seat.

The door crashes shut behind me with the small shove Asher gives it. I take a few seconds to take in his car. It smells like pine and I notice a freshener in the air vent, and as my eyes cast around the dark interior I take note of how clean it is unlike most guys cars our age. The black leather rubs against my bare thighs as my dress flutters around my legs. I rarely wear dresses but for January it's unusually hot outside and the idea of putting on pants sounded awful.

But now. Now the dress makes me feel nervous with Asher being around me in such close quarters.

The slam of his door brings my attention from my inner thoughts freaking out about the boy next to me, to me now staring at the boy next to me.

"You called me Lawton," he acknowledges as he revs the engine and begins to drive the car to god knows where.

"And?" I push not caring what I called him. I was playing around and it fell out without thought. Not something I am trying to analyze. Nothing about what we are is anything I want to think too much about.

"I call you Maeleigh," he states because it's a fact. He doesn't address me by my nickname like most people. He calls me by my full name as if he knows me, as if we're close, which we aren't. Though me sitting in his car begins to make me wonder what kind of relationship this is if not friendship. Acquaintances?

"Yes, you do," I reply agreeing with him as I push the small button on the door to lower my window and let the wind in.

"It's hot and I have AC on," he voices as he begins to push my window back up with his master set.

"Yes, but there is no better feeling than driving with the windows down," I say as I close my eyes and rest my head against the headrest.

He's silent. He doesn't say anything to respond or fight my words. But he does lower the window again, and when I tilt my head and open my eyes I see Asher looking at me. Confused, shocked, in awe, as if he's looking at me for the first time. As if everything I say and do surprises him in a way he never expects. As if he never saw me coming.

And I can't help the breath of a smile that slithers on my lips at the thought. Because I never saw him coming either, and I still don't know if that is a good or bad thing.

He focuses on the road once again and before I know it he's taking a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it. I hate when people smoke. Francesca occasionally does when she's drunk, and I always call her out for it. But she's my friend, Asher is not. So I don't say anything, and I let him light the cancer stick in between his lips.

"You call me Asher," he says, another order. Demand. Again my mind wants to tell him off, but my heart squeezes in the way his husky tone greats my ears and grazes my skin.

"Why?" I question not understanding why it really matters.

"Because I like it," he almost whispers.

I want to say something, anything to respond more to his statement. Because in another way it could mean he likes me. But I shove all of those thoughts and sudden burst of feelings away and let silence linger in the air between us. I let the soft music from the radio play and fill the space, while I let his soft admission weigh on me.

Knowing I can't act on anything, I push away everything and ask Asher a question instead. "So where are you taking me?" I ask completely moving away from the last few minutes of silence.

"I don't know," he answers truthfully as he tosses me a small but sincere smile. "What do you want to do?" he urges as if he willingly wants to do anything I want to do. "Where do you want to go?"

I want to tell him to drop me off at home, because I know he would. I also want to tell him to take me somewhere private so he could do everything I know he wants to my needy body.

But I don't do any of that. I say the first word that comes to mind, "Mall."

"Really? Shopping?" he asks as if he never expected me to say that. And a part of him is right; I don't really shop unless it's with Francesca. Or back to school shopping with my mother. But the mall is large and public, and just what I need if I'm going to hang out with Asher.

"You asked," I tell him with a shrug as I lean forward to turn the music up a tad.

"Fine to the mall we go," he agrees before flicking on his blinker and taking a U-turn to take us to my destination.

* * * * *

"Are you done yet?" Asher practically whines as I take my time picking through the sale shirts at the sixth shop we've stopped at.

"You're the one who forced me into your car," I tell him with a pointed look. But I can't lie that he's been kind of fun in a way. When Asher wants to be he can be really nice, which I've realized is a rare moment. He's funny in a way most people won't get with his dry humor and sarcastic quips. But he makes me laugh. A lot. More than I can remember in a long time, and it's been honestly refreshing to have someone like him by my side.

He challenges me in ways I never expected and makes me feel strong. I stand up to him, I sass him back, and I call him out. Things I never do, unless it's Francesca who I'm beyond comfortable with. But barely knowing Asher is what I like best. It's almost like I have a blank slate with him. We don't talk about our pasts; we live in our now and for the future.

"I didn't force you," he claims in defense as he follows me right out of the large messy store.

"Yeah, okay," I chuckle as my eyes dart around looking for the next store to go to, and most likely the last. While I want to torture Asher a little, I know watching me pick through clothes isn't the highlight of his day. But he let me choose, and I have to have a little fun with him.

"If you are going to keep shopping you can at least shop somewhere I like," he says suddenly as we walk down towards the end of the mall on the second level.

I nod with a small shrug not thinking much of his words. "Okay, where do you want to go?" I ask my eyes reading signs for sales in the windows of each store.

He stops walking I realize when I'm a few steps ahead of him, and I turn to face him when his head tilts to the left and a mischievous smile lifts up his pink lips.

I follow his gaze and my skin instantly cringes and flushes at the same time.

"No," I tell him pointedly.

"Why not?" he exasperates as his hands lift with his palms up in the air.

"No," I state again not even thinking twice about his request. It's insane, it can't happen, and yet why is my heart racing at the small part of me thinking about it?

"Please," he begs as his eyes widen and his plump lips pout, giving me his best puppy dog expression.

"No, Asher," I repeat once again, not budging on his one demand.

"Why?" he questions like his request isn't insane. And maybe it isn't, maybe if I was more like Francesca, or maybe if I was his girlfriend. But I will never be either, so I hold my ground. "I dare you to try on one thing," he adds next as his eyes narrow in on me almost like he knows these next words will break me. "For me," he all but whispers last, making my skin heat in a way I know he's all too aware of.

I pause. Everything pauses, because he knows he's got me. He knows I'll do it, and he knows the power he has. The power over the school, over this town, over women, and now over me, and I should be more worried then I am.

"One thing?" I say hesitantly as I naw on my bottom lip. Nerves begin to fester in me at the idea of what he wants, but I can't deny the warmth that fills me at the same time. And if I had to describe how Asher Lawton makes me feel, it's exactly this. On edge, questioning everything, but so on fire that every word that falls off his lips sounds deliciously perfect. Even when I know it isn't.

"Of your choosing," he tells me, like he's doing me a favor with a triumphant grin coating his face. He knows he's won, and he gladly stands in front of me like a king who always gets what he wants. Because he does.

"Fine," I mutter with a twist of my body and stalk towards the store. I've only been here a handful of times because of Francesca; otherwise I would never step into a store like this on my own.

I walk slowly into the expensive lingerie store with Asher hot on my heels with a goofy boy smile like he's won the lottery, and wide eyes like he's still slightly shocked I actually agreed to this. I think he knew I would cave for him, but I know a part of him is aware of how reserved I am and didn't think I would do this. No matter how much he wanted me to.

And if I'm being completely honest I don't know why I'm exactly doing it. Maybe it was the way his gray eyes turned as dark as the night sky when the thought of me in skimpy crazily priced underwear entered his mind. And the thought of someone like him, someone so perfectly attractive, finding me sexy even if for that moment made me want to do whatever he asked.

I can't deny that Asher makes me feel alive with his heated gazes and sinful smirks. My pulse beats through my whole body, and I hate the way my heart skips a beat at the idea of doing stupid and dirty things with this asshole.

I grab a handful of items in attempts to throw him off on what I'll try on. Because I know that more than anything Asher Lawton loves a good game. And I won't pretend that I don't know what I am to him. I'm a game in something I know won't last, something that I know can't last because of my best friend.

I won't overstep, I won't cross any line, or ruin my friendship with Francesca for this boy.

But I can live in the moment for the first time ever. I can feel alive, I can feel wanted and attractive, and not like I will forever be the awkward kid in the corner.

"Try on the blue bra set," he tells me, asking not being one of his strong suits. His words bring me back to the reality of what I'm doing and I can almost hear the blood rushing through my body.

"Why?" I ask without even looking at him as I make my way through the store. "Because it's the sheerest?" I test hating the way a small smirk touches my lips. Hating the way my breathing deepens at the idea, hating that I don't hate the idea at all.

"Duh," he nods as if it's obvious.

I hold in my eye roll too nervous to even attempt to sass or call his pig ass out. My feet lead me through the hall into the dressing rooms before I know it, and hang everything on the gold bar in the plush room. I turn around to draw the curtain shut when I find Asher right behind me. Well now in front of me. His body is brushing mine, and his face is filled with ideas that are too sinful to even speak.

"Get out," I say, my words coming out slightly breathless only making the grin on his lips grow.

"I thought I could watch," he reasons as if words make complete sense.

"No," I state firmly, knowing I won't budge on this one. That is a step even Asher's puppy dog eyes won't accomplish.

"What if you need help with—" he attempts to start, but I immediately cut him off not listening.

"Out," I direct as I give him a slight shove and yank the curtain shut without a second thought.

I can hear his deep laughter from this side of the curtain but choose to ignore him, and turn to face the mess of lingerie in front of me.

My eyes land on the two-piece light blue bra set that Asher had pointed out before. I can't lie that the delicate lace, and soft hue of the blue calls out to me. But the sheerness is something I know I'm not ready for, so I let my eyes run over the other pieces I grabbed.

I shake my head at the corset knowing I'm not adventurous enough for that, and instantly nix that one in my head. Then I stop at the silk nightie. It's a soft cream color, with lace around the bust and hem. My hand reaches out to touch the expensive silk, and it runs through my fingers like water. It's beautiful in its simplicity, and I know right then that this is what I'm going to try on. And it's me who wants to slide it over my bare skin, not Asher driving this decision and I love that.

The fabric on my skin feels like heaven, and as I look at myself in the mirror I can't lie I almost resemble an angel with my fair freckled skin. I bite my lip and my heart feels like it might beat out of my chest as I slowly turn to face the curtain. I want to believe that I won't care what Asher will think of me in the lingerie, but I know I do. I know I want him to think I'm sexy, like my best friend, I know I want him to think I'm as beautiful as I feel in this moment.

So my fingers clutch the curtain in my shaking hand and draw it open to reveal myself to Asher in a way I've never done with anyone else. When he hears the curtain move he steps over to stand in front of me. I'm thankful for the empty dressing room at the moment, knowing I would be even more anxious if other people were walking around us.

My hands form fists at my sides as jittery nerves flutter through my veins. "Do you like it?" I ask quietly, swallowing the bundle of worry that fills my throat.

His dark eyes rake over my tall, lanky body. And when his eyes meet mine embarrassment floods me. His face is emotionless, as if he's completely unimpressed with me. And of course he is, how could I think he would feel any other way. With my lack of curves, my gangly body, and flat chest, who would find that attractive let alone sexy? God, this was an utter mistake and my whole body flushes with shame. I'm not Francesca, and I will never be her, and I've always been fine with that. But in this moment tears prick my eyes in a feeling I've never felt towards my best friend, jealously, and I hate it.

I dart back into the dressing room and tear the curtain shut behind me. I rip the nightie from my body and quickly toss on my sundress. I fight back tears refusing to cry about someone as selfish and rude as Asher Lawton. He doesn't deserve my friendship from today, and he sure as hell doesn't deserve my tears. But that doesn't stop a few from falling. I hastily wipe at them and take a few deep breaths so when I reemerge from the dressing room I will appear unaffected.

Even though we both know it won't be true.

I run a hand through my long hair and quickly toss it in a ponytail before pushing the curtain open, and stepping back into the store that will forever have a bad taste on my tongue now. I make my way through the store but don't see Asher anywhere, my eyes cast over the entrance wondering if he's there. A small part of me hating the idea that I was so disgusting in that lingerie that he left the mall without me.

But my insecurities are pushed away, mostly, when he appears in front of me with a small bag in his hands. He strides up to me, as if he didn't just make me cry, and holds out the bag for me to take.

"What is that?" I ask though I have an obvious suspicion of what fills the bag.

"What do you think?" he responds sarcastically.

"I don't need you to buy me things," I tell him with a slight edge to my tone not wanting to feel like he owns me in any way. Though if I'm being honest he does in more ways than one, and that does scare me.

"Oh, just take it Mae," he counters with an annoyed look glazing over his handsome face.

I take the bag from his hand with a sigh. "You can be a real dick you know?" I tell him though I can't hide the small smile that lifts the corners of my lips. Asher might not have liked it, or a part of me wonders if he liked it too much, but I loved it on me. And maybe he saw that, maybe he saw the way I felt and that's why he purchased it for me. I loved the way it made me feel, obviously before I stood in front of the man who makes me feel too much.

We both head out of the store without another word, and I stop trying to reason Asher's actions knowing I will never find one for them. We exit the mall and head towards his car in the parking garage. "I changed it to black though," he tells me, suddenly filling the silence that had sat between us for the last few minutes.

"Why?" I question knowing he's talking about the nightie he bought me. I loved the white it made me feel ethereal.

"Because white's too innocent for you," he explains to me as if it is simple.

"Who says I'm not innocent?" I ask with a teasing tone. Asher may have seen me in lingerie, but that doesn't mean he knows anything about me truly.

"Cause you're hanging out with me," he rationalizes as we step closer to his black car.

"And what does that mean?" I test slowly, not understanding his point. We reach his car and he opens the passenger door for me. These small moments where he's a gentleman without a second thought makes me like him more than I should.

"That you're closer to hell than heaven," he states before pushing the door shut on me.