combust | to be consumed by fire

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2/10/17

I FEEL AWKWARD in Francesca's slinky top. I couldn't do the dress, to her extreme dismay. I just didn't feel comfortable, but she did convince me to wear this top if I felt like wearing my "mom jeans" as she called them.

The top is silky, thin, and very little material as the back is completely open. Leaving barely anything to the imagination. Though paired with my high-waisted black jeans filled with tears and rips, it dilutes the overtly sexy making for a more casual look. One I'm more confident with. My hair flows over my shoulders in light natural waves, and the clink of my heeled booties echo in my ears as I enter the party with Francesca and her group of friends.

The music is loud. The air is warm from the body heat, and the floors slightly sticky from the booze. Francesca was right, it is bigger than anything Asher has ever thrown. It is epic, and something in the air tonight makes me excited, makes it feel heady with the idea that anything could happen.

"Drink?" Francesca suggests and everyone nods eagerly following her through the throng of people to the kitchen.

An eerie feeling fills my bones in realization that the last time I was in this house was the night I ended up half naked in Asher Lawton's bathroom. The night he decided to find me interesting enough to look at, the night my heart decided to notice him and beat wildly for only him.

My best friend gets to pouring shots and mixing drinks, quickly handing me a cup first before working on everyone else's drinks. I take a small sip of the fruity drink, tasting more mixer then actual alcohol making me smile inwardly. She knows I'm not one for strong when it comes to alcohol.

"Thanks Franny," I murmur to her appreciatively.

"Anytime," she says, throwing me a quick smile before working on the drinks before her. Francesca loves mixing drinks, and always says the day she graduates she's going to bartender school so she can work at a bar while in college.

Suddenly a warm hand touches my shoulder, and a rush of tingles races through me at the idea of who it could be. My body flips around to take in warm brown eyes, instead of the stark black ones I am expecting. A flash of disappointment hits me and I directly push it away hating the feeling.

What am I thinking? That Asher will walk right up to me and ask me to dance, kiss me, profess his feelings for me? I inwardly roll my eyes at my naïve thoughts that seem to consume me where he's concerned.

But Brooklyn isn't a disappointment. He never will be. He's too sweet, too perfect, too much of everything that's good.

"Hey," I smile at him recovering quickly from the mixture of feelings that flood my body.

"I can't believe you actually came," he comments with bright eyes and an even brighter smile. I love the way the tanned skin around his eyes crinkles when he smiles.

A chuckle falls from my parted lips. "Franny forced me," I tell him with a toss of my thumb over my shoulder.

"More like lawyered," she informs him as she hands out her drinks, or what looks more like drop shots to her circle of friends.

"Yeah," I shrug. "Lawyered," I tease with a roll of my eyes.

"Well I'm glad you're here," he says as his eyes flick over my outfit, more specifically my flimsy top. Or Francesca's flimsy top that she forced on me. A part of me wants to crawl inside myself because I'm not confident enough to wear clothes like this, clothes that girls like Dalyn and Francesca and Jaz can wear.

"I know," I tell him as my eyes focus on the drink in my hands.

"You know what?" he questions.

"That I look dumb," I shrug uneasily. "It's Franny's top and—"

Brooklyn places his hand once again on my shoulder, a calming heat spreading throughout my body at his innocent touch.

The small gesture cuts off my words instantly making my eyes lift to take in the wide boyish grin that tugs at his lips. "Mae," he says my name, forcing me to listen to his next words. "You look amazing," he states as if it's a fact, as if it's something I should know. "Better than half the girls here," he adds.

"But—" I attempt to fight.

"But nothing," he says once again, cutting off my words. "Amazing," he repeats soundlessly, his lips forming the words forcing me to watch them. Stare at them.

My eyes glance up to his, a new wave of something similar to confidence filling me slowly. "Amazing?" I question.

He nods with a small laugh, and I can't help but bite my lip at the melodious sound that escapes him and washes over me.

"Do you want to dance?" Brooklyn asks me suddenly, and the nervousness that fills his emotive eyes almost puts me at ease knowing I'm not the only one to feel so unsure in this life.

I almost say yes, I almost place my hand in his. But something stops me. Something holds me back. My eyes glance around the room waiting to see dark eyes, dark eyes that will tell me no. No, because I'm his and no one else's but his. But after finding no one, no one for my eyes to drink in, I realize how silly the hesitation within me is. I don't belong to Asher Lawton, far from actually. If anything he belongs to my best friend, though a part of me knows Asher will never truly belong to anyone but himself.

So I nod. I reach down and wrap my hand around Brooklyn's larger one and say, "Let's dance."

The middle of the living room is packed with dancing teenagers. Letting the alcohol fill their veins, and the music sway their hips. The bass is pulsing through the air, and the air is damp with sweaty bodies and greedy hands.

A part of me is nervous, as I don't really dance. I am severely uncoordinated, and paired with my lanky limbs and tall physique I rarely make for the best dancing partner. But Brooklyn's hands immediately find a home resting on my hips, and my entire body relaxes knowing he won't judge me. Knowing he will lead me, and not laugh at me.

The rhythmic bass sinks through us as we move slowly to the beat. My hands rest on his shoulders, and in my shoes given the slight heel we are exactly at the same height. His big brown eyes staring into my pale green ones. His soft pink lips pulling up into a small smirk, though it doesn't unsettle me like Asher's does, it doesn't promise devilish things. Instead it promises excitement, and happiness. It makes me smirk back, it makes my thumbs move slowly so they trace over the base of his throat.

Brooklyn's eyes narrow ever so slightly and his fingers grip my waist. Just a little tighter, and he lets his thumbs mimic my motion. My body sways into him at the small action and our bodies move together like nothing I've ever experienced. It's fun, it's exhilarating, it's just a little dirty and everything I didn't know I could feel.

His head dips just so his lips are at the crest of my ear. His hot breath fills me, making my nails dip into the dark skin of his neck.

"Having fun yet?" he asks with a teasing edge to his tone. The teasing edged with a hint of darkness that I can't lie makes my stomach flip with a feeling I don't expect to fill my bones.

He pulls back to look into my eyes and without me even answering he can read me. He knows I am, and I can't stop the smile that fills my entire face. I can't stop the feeling of happiness that whips through me. Everything Brooklyn is seeps into my bones as the songs fill the air around us slowly.

After a couple songs my eyes flicker around the room and I notice I can't see Francesca. My body pauses from the beat and my hands slide down Brooklyn's chest so I can push him away just an inch. I cast my gaze at the other side of the room.

"Have you seen Francesca?" I ask my dancing partner.

He shakes his head in response as his eyes now rake over the crowd.

My best friend always updates me on where she is at parties, as she knows I'm not good at crowds like these. I pull my phone out of my pocket and see no text from her. A touch of worry pulls at me and I step completely out of Brooklyn's arms.

"I'm going to go see if I can find her real quick," I tell him as my eyes continue to survey the crowded house.

"Okay," he nods at my words. "Do you need help?"

"No," I reply quickly, but my stark answer places a small frown on his lips. I don't want to make him sad, so I add, "Can you get me a drink?" I ask with what a small smile.

His face lights up and he smiles back. "Of course," he replies.

"I'll be right back," I let him know as I step away from the makeshift dance floor.

I push through the continuously growing crowd, beginning to wonder if Asher even knows this many people. I make my way through the typical halls, the kitchen, the patio and pool area, the usual hangout spots, but I find nothing. No Francesca. Would she really leave without telling me? A strange feeling fills the pit of my stomach as I begin to move my way through the swarm.

I venture upstairs though I don't know why she would be up here, as anyone can attest to it's hookup central up here and nothing else.

I almost turn a corner when I see her. When I see them.

My body jerks back at the sight, and pulls behind the edge of the wall as my eyes take in what's in front of me while my body remains hidden.

I see Asher and Francesca flirting. I see his body leaning over hers; similar to how his body was the night he kissed me at Brooklyn's gig. His hand lazily resting on her curvy hips, her manicured hands running up and down his chest. She looks at him with a heat that I know mimics the way I looked at him that night. Look at him every time he casts his dark eyes on me.

All of it is so similar, yet I'm not the one under his spell this time. I'm watching him wield his power over my best friend. I see his lips move as he says something to make her laugh, and my chest constricts in a sharp pain. The longer I watch, the larger the lump in my throat grows, and the more hot tears threaten to leak from their homes.

I pull myself away from the corner not able to watch. Not able to see Asher kiss someone else, even if it's my best friend. Because all I want is his lips back on mine, where they belong, where we burn.

My feet move me, though my mind is a complete and utter blur. Before I know it Brooklyn is in front of me asking me if I'm okay. My eyes glance around the room realizing I'm now back downstairs and in the kitchen as my eyes look at the large granite counter covered in bottles and red solo cups.

"Did you drink tonight?" I ask completely ignoring his question and taking in his wide brown eyes.

"I had a beer an hour ago," he replies confused by my random question.

I nod, good, I think my mind racing and my mouth not able to speak that simple word. "Can you take me home?" I ask right away as my chest aches deeply.

"Are you okay Mae?" he asks as worry coats his kind face.

"I'm fine," I say my words tight showing how I'm obviously not. "I just want to go home," I say as I let everything within me crawl further inside myself hating the passing bodies and the way people keep bumping into me. Not seeing me, never seeing me.

"Okay," he relents, though I can see questions dancing around in his eyes, and leads me out to his car.

Brooklyn even opens the car door for me, the simple gesture making me think of Asher and I hate it. I slide into the car and let my friend drive me away from the party as a mixture of sadness and bitterness bites at my tongue.

"Mae," Brooklyn trails trying to get answers out of me.

I shake my head. "I don't want to talk right now," I tell him knowing I'm coming off rude, and I'm probably hurting him in a way. But the way I feel right now, I don't even care. I've never felt this way, so confused, and so filled with uncontrollable emotions I feel on edge. I feel like a small thread being pulled on until I'm beginning to unravel. Fall apart.

"Okay," he agrees though I know he wants to know more, ask more questions.

The bright street lights flash across the window filling the small car with a hazy light. I don't have to tell Brooklyn where I live because he already knows, and a part of that calms me. He knows me, I don't have to pretend or act a certain way around him. He knows me.

He pulls up at my house and parks in the driveway, twisting the ignition off. "Do you want to talk?" he asks slowly knowing he may be pushing me in a way I don't want. But he tries, because he's sweet and friendly and everything I don't deserve right now.

"No," I state before climbing out of the car and slamming it shut behind me. This isn't me, this anger that fills me that edges with a touch of jealousy.

This isn't me, but this is what Asher has turned me in to, and as I shut the front door behind myself and lean back against it I realize I didn't tell Brooklyn thank you for the ride home. Or the dance.

Or for just being a friend.

* * * * *

The mixture of a loud click and a gust of cold wind that brushes against my bare arms startle me out of my deep sleep.

My eyes cast to my open window and fear strikes me as I lean over and grab the bat from under my bed ready to strike. The pads of my feet hit the floor and I stand slowly letting my muscles tense as panic whips through me. I wet my lips preparing to scream at the top of my lungs when a familiar face pops above the frame.

My shoulders sag in relief, but just as the fear of being murdered disperses, irritation bubbles from within just as swiftly.

"What are you doing here Asher?" I question harshly as I move from the bed and make my way over to the window dropping the bat. My house is on a small hill making it easy to use the small tree by my window to climb in and out with ease. Though usually it's Francesca sneaking in my window.

Never a boy. Never someone like Asher, and yet here he is stumbling into my room.

I quickly push the window close behind him hating the gooseflesh that covers me from the cool night air.

Asher stands up straight finally in front of me and I can smell the liquor and cigarettes on him. His black eyes are slightly bloodshot, illuminated by the full moon sneaking in from my window.

"You're drunk," I state as my arms cross over my chest.

"So what," he shrugs as if it's nothing. And he's right it is nothing. He's more often drunk than not. Far too drunk too often for an eighteen year old boy. Just a boy I remind myself, because when I'm around him I forget that. I let him rule me like the king this town thinks he is without a second thought. But he is just a boy.

"Just go home," I tell him, turning away from his tall frame.

A hand reaches out and grabs my arm stopping me. Stopping my heart. Causing my whole body to ignite as if he struck a match and the wispy smoke begins to curl around our bodies. "I don't want to," he tells me, his gravelly voice raking over me making me shiver.

But the way he makes my body feel doesn't completely haze over the way I felt when I saw him and Francesca all up close and personal tonight. "Boo-hoo," I say in a snarky tone.

I twist my head around to land my narrowed eyes in on him. "Don't be a bitch," he tells me as if it isn't becoming, as if I can't pull it off.

I tear my arm out of his grasp. "Don't be an asshole for once," I retort letting the heated words fly off my tongue.

He steps forward, out of the bright moonlight and into the darkness that fills my room. That fills his eyes. "I just wanted to see you," he whispers into the thick air, the smoky air that seems to always float around us.

I swallow the lump in my throat, knowing I have to ask. "Did you kiss her?" My words break off towards the end, hating the fact that I'm showing any weakness in front of him. But I am, he makes me weak.

"Did you kiss him?" he throws my question back at me.

My eyebrows rise in shock. "Who? Brooks?" I question puzzled that he thought I would kiss Brooklyn. He's just a friend.

He scoffs. "Yeah, you two looked pretty damn cozy dancing tonight," he says letting his tone turn coarse.

A part of me thrills at the fact that he saw me dancing with Brooklyn. Did he want to dance with me? Did he wish he were the one touching me, moving with me? A part of me is so ashamed that I want Asher to be envious of anything, when he doesn't have the right.

"We're just friends," I tell him truthfully letting my words wash over him, almost soothing the jealousy I see hiding in his eyes.

"So you didn't kiss?" he asks in attempts to clarify.

"Of course not!" I whisper-shout at him as my hand pushes at Asher's chest completely annoyed by his presence now.

He clears his throat awkwardly and lets his intense glare settle into me. "Well I shouldn't have kissed Francesca," he tells me, quietly, as if he's almost embarrassed he did it. As if he did it out of spite.

I bite the inside of my cheek. "Whatever," I ramble out uncomfortably. "We aren't anything anyways," I say, because we aren't. Asher means nothing to me, and I obviously mean nothing to him for him to kiss my best friend tonight.

But he surprises me by asking, "Do you want to be?" His question comes out soft, almost innocent like in this moment he is being vulnerable and showing me a side he never shows anyone. A side he only wants to show me, and a part of me melts. A part of me is still crazy mad he kissed my best friend.

Yes. "No," I say, contradicting my thoughts because I can't have him, and even he knows we won't work.

But maybe we can work for now, in the darkness that mimics his eyes. So I push everything away, every wild emotion and feeling besides the one I want to chase. Need to chase. Without a second thought, without a care in the world I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him until his body is flush against my own. His large hands resting on my waist loving the feel of his hands on me.

I'm wearing only a pair of boy shorts and a simple t-shirt, and as I press up against Asher's body I feel the dampness that coats him from the light rain that fills the night sky. I run my fingers through his hair, down his neck and dig them in slightly letting my body rub against his even more.

The rain outside picks up until a rumble of thunder shakes the earth under our feet, but it's as if we hear or feel nothing. It's only us in this room; we can be whatever we want in this here. So I hold onto that, I let the smoke wrap around us completely until anything beyond Asher doesn't matter. Not even my next breath if I can't share it with him.

I lower my hands until my fingertips tease the hem of his shirt. I slowly lift it up until Asher raises his arms allowing me to pull the shirt over his head to reveal his toned body. I press his warm, bare chest into mine and let my body sink even further into his. I feel hot, I feel needy, I feel achy in a way only he can illicit and it makes me want to crawl up him, into him, and never leave.

"What do you want Maeleigh?" he asks roughly, his words scratching against my skin making me feel feverish. His hands gripping the thin shirt that covers me as if he wants to rip it off me. Turn it to shreds.

"I don't want you," I blatantly lie because I can't tell him that I want everything. Everything I cannot have.

A dark chuckle escapes his lips and hits my face making my whole body heat from within. "Sure," he drawls not believing any word I say. Because he knows me in a way no one else does, because he brings out a side of me I never knew existed until him. But I don't need to let him know that.

So I place my hand on the back of his neck and tilt his face towards mine so that my lips are a mere breath away from his. "Shut up, and kiss me," I tell him, and the words barely leave my lips before he fully presses his into mine.

His kiss wipes away every thought I have, and every reason I shouldn't be doing this. His tongue makes me forget that I don't like him, that he's not a good person, and that he belongs to my best friend. But instead of pushing him away like I should, I drink him in even more until the flames that coat him completely engulf me.

But I don't drown in him.

I burn for him.