light | source of illumination

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3/10/17

"ARE YOU SURE you're okay?" Francesca asks me for the millionth time since my secret day with Asher.

No, my mind bursts from within as my nails sink into my palms trying to keep the word caged up inside. I'm not okay. It's been almost a week since the baking. A week since I named him. A week since we touched each other in ways that still has me short of breath and weak kneed.

But also two days since he last spoke to me, acknowledged me, or even looked at me. Two days of watching him flirt with my best friend in front of me. Two days of watching him rule the school and everyone bow down to him like the king he knows he is.

These two days shouldn't hurt like they do. They shouldn't slither into my heart and begin to strike with pain until all I can do is ache. Asher ignoring me shouldn't hurt. But two days ago I had all of his energy focused on me. His dark eyes watched me intently as we baked together, watched my hands stir and create a delicious cake, watched me strip him, and watched me fall apart in his arms. I had all of that just two days ago, and now I have nothing.

But I don't speak my thoughts aloud because my best friend doesn't know about my secret rendezvous with her crush. With the guy she's been on a date with. With the guy she thinks about and dreams about. The guy she's meant to be with. The guy I shouldn't be letting into my chest and burn into my heart.

"I'm fine Franny," I drone, hating that I'm annoyed at my best friend for caring about me, for being worried about me.

"You've just seemed different lately," she points out whilst eyeing me as we walk into school. Her long dark hair is curled into beach waves and her golden skin shines under the bright morning sun. She looks beautiful, like she always does. I tug at the bottom of my old sweater hating the feeling of doubt that weaves through me when I'm around her astounding perfection.

Obviously I compared us in the past. But it was never in the forefront of my mind because she was Francesca and I am Maeleigh. We are two separate people. People who want different things out of life but connect in a way that has bonded us in friendship since the day we met.

But now every time I see her, this ugly, dirty sensation winds through me like ivy. Wrapping around me, suffocating me with its thoughts and feelings that equate to pure green envy.

I am different, I want to admit. And not in a way I necessarily should be. I'm hardened. I'm shrouded in a darkness that heats me from within and completely engulfs me when Asher is around. The quiet and meek girl that once was has morphed into someone I never thought I was and it scares me. But not as much as it should.

I shrug letting my eyes follow the ground in front of me. "Graduation's approaching," I murmur the lame excuse. Of course I'm nervous about leaving home and moving hundreds of miles away to a new state and a new school. But slowly I'm beginning to realize that maybe I need this new start with new people. Because as my attachment to Asher grows so does the worry that leaving him will ruin me.

Francesca nods slowly as if she doesn't quite believe me but doesn't want to push the subject either and a new part of me flares with anger at that. That's her job. She always pushes me. She used to be the only one who could, but now someone else has taken over her role and pushed me into someone I barely recognize. And now my best friend is letting up and going easy on me. This isn't us, this isn't her.

"Yeah," she agrees quietly.

We walk through the halls and make our way to the lockers we usually stand by. All of Francesca's friends stand there waiting for her. Always waiting for her. Because the world seems to revolve around her, around her and Asher. Ice slides through my veins at the idea of them and the ivy I try to keep at bay once again springs to life inside of me.

We approach the group and my eyes instantly land on Asher. I don't want them to. I want to be able to assess everyone around me, but my eyes lock on him and only him. On the man who boils the blood under my skin, who's dark eyes burn a path when they land on my naked skin, who's hands create magic when they touch me and bring me to life all at once.

Asher rotates slightly so my best friend can slide up next to him. His arm causally slips over her shoulder as if it's where it belongs. A move he's pulled the last couple days, and a move that hasn't stopped the pulses of pain to echo throughout my body.

I stand behind them as I always do, and pretend not to watch. Not to care.

"I've missed you," Francesca purrs into Asher's ear. Her words hit my chest and cause a wave of nausea to roll through me.

He turns his head to look down at her and take in her gorgeous looks. "Missed you more babe," his deep voice rings out and pings against my heart to pull at the strings as if he controls it. Controls the beat, the pressure, everything.

I swallow the bile that threatens to rise in my throat at his term of endearment, babe. It isn't the first time he's called Francesca or anyone else that, but it's the first time I've cared.

The group begins to talk around me as I keep my gaze down and count the minutes until class starts. The moment I can escape this group of people who pretend I don't exist.

"Travis asked me to prom," I hear one of Francesca's cheerleader friends say. I flicker my gaze up to see it's Dalyn, the junior who helped me with my eye makeup at Francesca's house not too long ago. I take in her wide eyes as an excited grin spreads over her red lips at the proud news. And it is, anyone who isn't a senior but gets asked to the prom quickly rises on the social ladder. Francesca has had the privilege of attending every single year.

"OMG that's awesome," my best friend gushes. "He's so cute," she comments with a smile as the others follow suit and congratulate Dalyn on her date.

The topic of senior prom has been a hot discussion as it's quickly approaching. But a topic I've been trying to avoid as I don't want to go, but I also know Francesca won't let me stay home and wallow alone. She's a good friend, which means she will set me up with some random jock who thinks he will have a chance with my best friend if he takes me on a pity date.

Dalyn flips her dark hair over her shoulder. "He's definitely in the running for prom king," she announces proudly.

My best friend lets a slight smirk pull at her lips. "He can be in the running," Francesca teases as one arm winds around Asher's waist and the other lands on his toned chest. "We know who's going to win," she states with a small tilt of her head. Her words aren't rude, not even challenging, she's stating a plain and simple fact. And everyone knows it.

Asher's dark eyes fall to my beautiful best friend who's publically staking her claim on him. "If we win will you give me a lap dance?" he questions with a dark chuckle. His words are crude, annoying, and all Asher.

Francesca slaps her hand on his chest with a roll of her eyes. "Ugh, don't be gross," she tells him.

Asher's tongue swipes over her perfectly straight and white teeth. Teeth that I know too well. I know how they feel teasing my sensitive skin and sinking into my pale flesh. Teeth that wield pain and pleasure. "What?" he plays with a devilish grin spreading over his lips. "Not even a strip tease?" he pushes with a wink.

Asher's dark gaze turns to land on me. Letting me see exactly what dirty thoughts are running through his sinful mind. Thoughts I know mimic my own. My heart begins to race as we both remember the night in his bathroom, the first time he noticed me. The first night I let myself see who he really is. The way we knew nothing about each other, but the draw to one another was almost immediate. The way he teased me about me being a stripper, the same joke I teased him with when I ran into him in the locker room after school.

Those moments feel like a lifetime ago, when they are really not all that long. But we aren't the same people we were when this all started. The ice around Asher has begun to melt as he slowly lets me in, and the quiet girl who I once was has let my darker side out to play when he's around. We push, we pull, we fight, we hurt, and we will continue to burn until the fire consumes us completely.

"You can be such a tool," my best friend's airy words break the heated gaze between Asher and myself. My heart still hammers wildly in my chest and steals my breath. Why did we have to discover this connection? Why did I have to use his bathroom to clean my shirt? Why does one look from him completely undo me?

I can feel his gaze dragging down my body. I can feel him watching me, so I refuse to look back. I keep my eyes locked on my ratty old converse.

Asher clears his throat. "Most people just call me an ass," he tries to play off, but I know what he's doing. He's trying to lure me back in just like he did with that striping comment. Using words without anyone else knowing he's caught me. I took the bait easily, and now he's slowly reeling me in with his dark stormy eyes.

The dry chuckle bubbles out before I can stop it. Because he is an ass, and I'm the only person to constantly call him out on his behavior. Everyone simply bows down, ignores his actions and excuses his words because he's Asher Lawton. But he knows what he is, and he likes that I see him and call him out. I stand up to him, because with him I'm not afraid to speak the truth and hurt feelings. And I know with me he isn't afraid to step on toes either.

I can sense the change in air around me after my quiet laughter. I'm someone who's seen but rarely heard in this group. My gaze falls to Francesca to see her golden eyes narrow at me in confusion at my response to Asher's words.

"You're not an ass babe," she tells him as her eyes flick away from me and land on the boy who sets my skin aflame with a simple smirk. Her hands trail freely over his body, once again stating her ownership, and her arms wrap around him igniting the ivy inside me to fester and coil in response.

Asher doesn't respond but I can see the way his eyes crinkle at the edges that he's annoyed. He doesn't like that she's feeding his ego at this moment. He wants someone to fight him, to push him, to go against what everyone already freely gives him.

The morning bell rings loudly through the air quickly dispersing the group from our spot at the lockers. I pull the straps at my backpack and ignore the way Francesca goes in to kiss Asher. Ignore the growing wave of nausea and resentment that's filling my bones.

The only semblance of peace I gain is that when my eyes flick to meet the couple everyone is admiring, his dark eyes are locked on me before he hastily pulls out of my best friend's grasp and away from her lips.

With goodbyes they step away from each other and Francesca slips an arm through mine as we walk down the hall together towards the senior block of classes.

A few beats of silence surround us before she breaks it. "Why did you laugh at that?" she questions, her eyebrows furrowing together. Her tone isn't accusatory, though the obvious confusion does cause a wary look to fill her eyes.

I lift my shoulders trying to shrug off her words as if my reaction meant nothing. But it didn't mean anything. It meant everything, and she will never understand. Because the twisted relationship Asher and I have dives deeper than just some surface level fling, but that isn't something either of us are admitting to others let alone ourselves.

So I lie. Something that has become increasingly easy as time begins to pass and my interactions with Asher become greater.  "Because it was funny," I start. "He is an ass, but at least he's one who knows it," I say, trying to mirror the way I used to speak about Asher to my best friend. Trying to remember a time before he wasn't my favorite flavor, thought, and touch.

"Oh," she begins quietly as if she's trying to piece together her thoughts. Something she never does around me. We speak, unfiltered, and without second-guessing around each other. But for some reason, right now, she isn't. "Well I know you don't like him, but you don't see the guy I know. He can be really sweet when it's just us," she tells me with a big smile lifting her lips.

I nod in response hating the way my own lips purse, and my chest burns with a touch of unadulterated anger. Because I do know how sweet Asher can be, I do know how he can change a person's perception of himself in an instant with a single touch or glare. He's addicting and infuriating all at the same time. And I don't get to touch him in public, I don't get to laugh with him, and go to dances with him, or tell people how sweet he can be.

I get none of that because I will never be Francesca Dadario, which means I will never be endgame. I will always remain the toy, the piece of a game he plays with until he wants to settle for the real thing.

"So it's official he asked me out again," my best friend's words pull me out of my thoughts and back to the conversation at hand.

"Who, Ash?" I ask as my mind tries to keep up even though my racing mind and heart can only focus on the fact that they are going on another date. Will they sleep together this time? Will he fall for her and forget all about me? A part of me wants that to happen, because the way I feel now I know the deeper this goes the harder it will all end.

I should want him to let me go. But I don't, I hold on, I pull him closer, and let him use me in unrealistic hopes he will look at me and see what we could be together. That I will become endgame.

Francesca almost stops walking as shock courses through her at my words. "Ash?" she questions as if she doesn't like the name. Doesn't see the poetic beauty behind it like I can.

I swallow the rising burning lump in my throat that wants to jump out in fear that I've been caught. But I shove it all down and force myself to remain calm. "What it's his name," I state as casually as I can.

"Just didn't know you guys were that close," she trails almost awkwardly as if she could never see someone like Asher stepping off his throne to hang out with someone as lowly as me.

Maybe the tone of disbelief is all in my head, maybe it's not but the idea that my best friend is so shocked someone like Asher would even speak to me has me becoming defensive. "We have some classes together," I push a little harder than I meant slowly realizing my anger is unwarranted and my best friend is genuinely confused since I've only ever spoken bad about Asher to her.

"Have you hung out?" she pushes more as she watches me with inquisitive eyes.

"We ran into each other once at the mall, talked for a bit," I lie playing this all off. "We aren't friends Fran," I tell her, and those words are the complete truth.

We aren't friends. We aren't dating. We aren't anything. We sit in the in-between, in purgatory, where all relationships go to die.

Francesca while puzzled pushes away the moment I caused by using a name that is only meant for Asher. It's his. It's ours. It belongs to no one else.

She begins to tell me about their next date and how they are going to a nice restaurant downtown. She wants to go shopping with me this week to buy a new dress.

My best friend goes on and on about the guy she likes more than anything, about a guy she could easily fall for and love one day.

A guy that if I'm being honest, I'm falling for as well. And the realization that I like him more than I'm letting on burns my eyes with unwanted tears, and I know.

I have to end this.