blaze | burn fiercely or brightly

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2/5/17

SOMEHOW ASHER CONVINCES me to not only let him drop me off but also to come inside.

I make him park down the street to not attract any attention to my house, or to his extremely nice car. I then quietly snuck him in; making it the first time I've ever snuck a boy into my house. Or anyone for that matter.

We make our way into my small room, and as soon as the door shuts behind us he pushes me up against it. The click of my door echoes through the heady air that hangs between us. My back is against the hardwood door, and his lean body lightly brushes against mine.

Asher's dark eyes rake over me as if he can't figure me out. A smile tugs at my lips because I feel it also. I wonder where this came from, where he came from. Because I didn't think twice about him before that fateful party, and now he invades my every waking thought.

He lowers his head until his lips brush against mine. The small action awakens the hungry beast within me making my hands fall to his waist to pull him forward. To have more of him, to have more of everything he can give me.

But as that thought of more fills my bones, I pull away from his grasp needing to set boundaries. "I'm not sleeping with you," I tell him clumsily as the words fall from my lips, and my neck flushes with embarrassment. He's Asher Lawton, which means he expects sex. Doesn't he?

His hand snakes up to run through my tangled hair. His fingers tug ever so slightly, enough to make a small gasp fall from my lips without a second thought. A deep chuckle rips from his chest next as he watches me intensely. "I wasn't expecting you to," he replies simply as his fingers continue to play with my hair.

"You weren't?" I question suddenly confused by what he wants from me if not sex. What I want from him? What this all was?

"No, Maeleigh," he says. My name rolls off his perfect lips as a shudder slides down my spine. "You aren't that kind of girl," he tells me as if he knows me better than I know myself. And a small part of me fears he does.

"How do you know?" I question weakly. My voice goes quiet as he leans in so his nose brushes against mine. His dark eyes continue to follow my own, follow me. Watching. Waiting. Knowing.

"Because even though you're here with me," he begins as he plants a faint kiss on the corner of my lips causing my pulse to pound throughout my body. "In your room alone," he continues letting his lips press into my neck next making me tremble in response. A response I know he revels in as I feel his mouth turn up in the corners, a smile of a kiss being pressed into my heated skin.

"Yeah?" I breathe out deeply wanting to hear where he's going with this.

"You are a better person than anyone I know," he finishes as he lifts his face to press his forehead against mine so that his gaze is level with my own. His tone comes off soft in the dark and deadly silent room, and suddenly it's too much.

"I don't think I am," I reply gently as my eyes drop from his to the wood floors that surround us.

"Why?" he asks in disbelief. As if he's shocked I don't agree with him.

"Because I want you," I voice as my eyes slowly roll up his toned frame until they lock back on his lips. He has the mouth of a god and I know he knows it. Knows that every singular thought that enters my mind is about where he can kiss me next because I have to have those lips on me.

"You've tasted it, haven't you?" he asks as his body pushes into mine so that his thigh is now placed between my legs. His hands now grip my waist, and his lips hover above mine. His heated breath mingles with mine only making me ache more. He's not even kissing me, and I can taste the liquor he downed earlier, I can inhale the smoke of his cigarette, and none of it turns me off like it used to. No, it only makes me want him more. Crave him more.

"What?" I question confused as my head is only focused on one thing.

"The dark side," he says teasingly, though a sinful smirk spreads over his lips. His obscure eyes lighting up like the strike of a match. The heat, the power, and the need to burn everything in its path no matter the consequences. "The overwhelming feeling to say, fuck it, to anyone else's feelings that negate your own," he explains.

I don't want to agree with him. I care about my other people's feelings. I care about Brooklyn, but then again I also just left his show to be with someone who I know isn't right for me. I care about Francesca, and yet here I am hurting her in a way friends should never hurt one another. I say I care, but here I am doing the exact opposite of caring.

So I nod. Because I realize I'm doing exactly what he said. I'm saying, fuck it, and I'm chasing my own new high. Because I know when morning comes the buzz will be gone and I'll be left with the repercussions.

But for now, who cares.

"Do you want more?" he asks as his hands snake under my dress so his burning skin can touch my own.

"Yes," I whisper as his lips descend on mine.

And with that I let myself enjoy the flames of hell for a little bit longer.

My eyes flicker open at the bright light streaming in from my window. I stretch my body out and roll my head to the left to see emptiness.

He's gone. Only a small indent of a body is left of the night before.

Not as if I expected him to stay, but I can't deny the small burst of pain that fills my chest at the thought. I let my body sink into the bed as a small sigh flies from my parted lips. Part of me is relieved, while part of me is hurt that he's gone.

"He didn't even say goodbye," I murmur to myself. But I push that all away, because it doesn't matter, because it can't happen again. I sit up in my bed and run my fingers through my hair, shivering at the thought of Asher doing the same thing. My body tingles at the memory.

I never wanted him to notice me. The thought pops into my head and it's all I can focus on as it's true, I never wanted him.

I watched Asher Lawton from afar, and judged his actions in every way possible because I didn't care about him. I never wanted him to notice me.

His smile never made my legs weak, and his body never enticed me. He was just there, my best friend's crush and an asshole. Nothing more.

But then he looked at me. He noticed me, and suddenly he was everything. The flip switched and my heart now beats for him, my body aches for him, and my eyes only watch him. It only took one look, one single moment for his attention to be focused on me to draw me in. One taste of his signature smirk, his midnight eyes, and he had me lured me into his devilish grip.

I knew Asher Lawton wasn't a good person in the sense that mattered. He used women, he used his friends, he used because this town and his family gave him everything as if it were his kingdom. He smoked, not only cigarettes, and had the smell of liquor on his breath far too often for a teenager.

He wasn't safe. He was the asshole I always feared.

But he was also sweet, in the most backwards and awful way possible. His touch sparked a flame deep within my soul, and his lips made me want to sell it to him completely.

He is going to turn me into nothing more than a pile of ash, and I hate how willing I am to get burned. But here I am thinking of the next time I can be near his flame. The next time I can be burned.

I drag myself out of bed finally, and throw on some shorts to head downstairs. I want to shower off last night, in hopes of cleansing my body and mind of Asher, but I need coffee first. Waking up this early on a weekend has to be a sin of some kind. But I know even if I tried I wouldn't be able to force myself to fall asleep again, my mind is too busy analyzing my previous night with a boy who shouldn't have been in it.

As I make my way down the stairs a nervous wave creeps up on me with an irrational fear that my mother knows I snuck in a boy last night.

I expect to find her in the kitchen making coffee or sitting at the table reading her gossip magazines. Or even worse, standing in the doorway waiting for me to explain myself for sneaking a boy into her house.

But I find nothing. No coffee being made, not even her mug out, or any magazines spread across the table. Not even her standing with her arms crossed waiting for me to explain myself. Something was off, and I instantly stood straighter as confusion wound through me.

"Mom?" I call out, pausing for a response. But there's nothing, only the echo of my voice bouncing around the empty house.

Suddenly the click of the front door causes me to turn on my heels. I see my mother in her clothes from yesterday and her hair a bit of a tangled mess atop her head.

"Where were you?" I skip formalities and immediately question my mother. My face scrunches in uncertainty as to why she would be gone all night, gone and not tell me.

Her eyes meet mine, going round in surprise to find me awake. She quickly schools her face in my presence, and an easy smile spreads across her lips. "Oh, hi honey," she says calmly as if she can't see the worry coating my expression.

"Hi," I reply carefully. "Now where were you?" I ask once again.

"I went to Tracy's last night and had one too many glasses of wine," she explains with a laugh. "So I stayed the night," she says as if it's nothing, and it is nothing. Something she's actually done a couple times in the past, but she's always told me. Always made sure I know.

"Okay..." I trail. "Well let me know next time," I say casually, still finding the whole situation odd for my mother. But not pushing it since I don't have to worry now about her finding out about me sneaking in a boy last night.

My mother's kind eyes meet mine. "You worry too much for a teenager Maeleigh," she tells me. "Most teenagers would've thrown a party when finding out I wasn't home."

A dry chuckle leaves my lips. "Yeah, cause that's so me," I say sarcastically.

"I know you would never, you're too good," she comments before she starts to make her way upstairs. "I'm going to shower quickly, and can you make some coffee?" she pleads and it's then I notice the circles under her eyes. If she did sleep last night, she definitely didn't sleep well.

"Of course," I reply right away feeling bad she's tired, and she quickly disappears up the small staircase.

But my mother's words come back to haunt me as I make my way to the kitchen. You're too good. A bolt of guilt hits me, and begins to bleed through me, because little does she know I'm not as good as I once was.

I'm chasing someone who's as pretty as an angel but I know is the devil.

* * * * *

"Morning!" Francesca's cheery voice rings out before she barges into my room.

Her dark hair still curled from the night prior, and looking way too upbeat to have been drinking the night before. Her tan skin glows, and her eyes are wide and attentive as she grins at me. How can she be so perfect after drinking, and such little sleep? I hate the way I cringe internally knowing I'm a mess from the night before, and probably even smell a little.

I hate even more that I care, when I've never cared before. Never compared us before, and now here I am judging myself to her standards. I shake my head lightly to push all the negative thoughts away and attempt to focus on the conversation at hand.

"It's the afternoon," I finally say as a small teasing smile touches my chapped lips.

She shrugs before throwing herself on to the end of my bed. "Same thing," she replies.

"So how was the rest of your night?" I ask a bit hesitantly. I don't want her to be mad at me for leaving her, and of course shame washes through me at the reason I left only making me more anxious.

"Oh, it was so much fun! Mae seriously you should've stayed," she gushes. "I know you didn't feel well but we had such a good time!" she exclaims as her eyes go wide with excitement. "The band even had us come backstage," she adds with a smirk touching her lips.

"Oh, really?" I ask, because I know I should so she can tell me more about her night. But I realize I don't care, which makes me feel weird. I realize I don't want to hear about how amazing her night was when she wouldn't have even been there if it wasn't for me. I taste the bitterness coating my tongue and grab the water at my bedside to wash it away. This is my best friend, why am I acting this way?

"Yeah, and I even made-out with one of the members," she informs me as a wide, Cheshire like grin, covers her face.

My heart stops for a microsecond. "Which one?" I question. I keep my tone innocent, causal, almost like I don't care. Because I really don't, and yet the idea of Francesca making out with Brooklyn makes my stomach fill with an uneasy feeling. A feeling that makes me slightly nauseous.

But why should I care? They are both free to do whatever they want. I don't own them, especially not Brooklyn. We're just friends.

"The lead singer, duh," she tells me, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts.

"Oh, Landon," I say as an obvious sigh of relief escapes me, though Francesca doesn't notice. Or if she does she doesn't comment on it.

She snaps her fingers together. "Yes!" she shouts. "That's his name, thank you," she chuckles as she lets her head fall back onto my bed.

"You forgot his name?" I question, not knowing how she can kiss someone without not even getting their name. But it's not my place to judge, and I never have before. So why am I now?

"What? I had a few drinks," she says nonchalantly as if it's nothing, and for Francesca it really is nothing.

"So what about Asher then?" The words come out timidly almost as if I'm afraid to hear her answer. A part of me hoping that she is going to give up on him now.

"What about him?" she asks, puzzled by my question.

"Well you made out with someone else..." I say trailing off letting my words allude to what I'm too afraid to ask. If she's given up on him, does that mean he's fair game? Would I even actually have a shot with him? Or am I still just a game?

"And so did Asher," she says dryly as she pulls her phone out and begins to scroll through what I'm assuming is Instagram.

"Wait, what?" I ask loudly. I can feel the blood drain from my face and I'm scared she can hear the beating of my heart with how loud it's resounding through my ears. Does she know? How?

"Asher makes out with people all the time," she says with a single shrug, her eyes still on her phone. "We aren't exclusive and I know that, but that doesn't mean he isn't the end goal," she informs me with a pointed look.

"Oh," I breathe out not knowing how to respond truthfully. But definitely relieved she doesn't know about me kissing Asher.

"So last night was fun," she says sitting up on my bed and facing me. "But we need to get back into the action with Asher," she says as if she has a game plan, and knowing my best friend, she most likely does have one written out.

"We?" I push not wanting a huge part in her getting a man who just last night slept in my bed.

"Of course Mae," she states genuinely. "You are my wing-woman for life, my sister."

And with those words I feel like the shittiest friend in the world.