flare | a sudden brief burst of bright flame or light

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4/4/17

I LAY IN my bed with my eyes locked on the rotating ceiling fan unable to sleep. Beep. Beep. Beep. I quickly turn off my alarm on my phone having woken up an hour before I needed to.

Asher slid through my window last night and once again made me forget about the way I've hurt my best friend. The way I've torpedoed our friendship. The way I've ruined her completely. Ruined myself. Ruined everything.

My eyes flicker to the spot next to me to see it empty. Always empty. The familiar pang of hurt spreads through my chest as the hope that fills me begins to crumble away. The same hope that always fills me whenever he comes over. The same hope that's crushed when I wake up to find him gone. Always gone. The faint scent of weed and Asher's cologne clings to my sheets and I let myself roll over to inhale and cling to the pieces of him he's left behind.

I lift my body up and lock eyes on myself in my mirror. Asher left the way he always does, in the night without a word. With only a singular Polaroid of him left on the nightstand. He also left me the way he always does with bruised lips and sticky thighs. With the ever familiar doubt in my bones and a look of sorrow swimming in my eyes.

When Asher is around me my heart takes over and my fears vanish into thin air. He whispers dirty words, and sweet nothings into my ears. He kisses me like I'm his last breath. He touches me as if I was made for him. His smile makes my heart ache with the ever-familiar joint that's always hanging from his lips. He tastes of vodka and cigarettes and everything I should hate but can't seem to get enough of.

But then morning comes and I'm left alone in my bed with my mind replaying every little moment. Pushing my heart to the back and letting my mind take over so that all my fears come crashing to the forefront.

The house is quiet since my mother took a girls trip with her friend, Tracy, over the weekend. She left after I took pictures for prom. She should be back later today and I'm scared to see her after everything that took place. Scared she will see the change within me, the way darkness has clouded my judgment and heart. Scared she will say I've changed as well.

Though every bone in my body wants to stay in bed all day and continue to pretend life is normal I know I need to come to reality. Face the day ahead. Face the fact that I no longer have a best friend.

I glance at my phone as if waiting to see Francesca's text letting me know when she's going to swing by and pick me up for school.

But it doesn't come.

As I get ready and head down the stairs I expect to hear her car pull into the driveway to pick me up.

But she doesn't come.

I sit on the bus on the way to school lost in my head as nerves weave their way through my veins. As soon as the bus stops in front of the school my legs itch to run away far, far away from this school and this moment. The entire ride felt like a blur and too short, as if I didn't have enough time to prepare myself for what lies ahead. But I know the truth; nothing can prepare me for when I step into school. Nothing can prepare me for seeing my best friend for the first time since prom.

My feet stop outside the front doors waiting and waiting heavy as cement as I begin to move forward. Slowly I take a step into my school, into the body of students who will cast their judgments on me most of them probably not even knowing my name before prom night.

As soon as I am through the threshold of the doors I can feel everyone's eyes on me before I even look up to see them. See their gazes lock on me as if everyone knows my dirty little secret. I used to walk these halls not garnering one glance and now I could be seen if I was a fly on the wall.

Whispers ignite around me, and my stomach flips, as nerves weigh heavily in my chest. My body flushes and I feel heat seep into my face with every step I take further into the hallway.

"Slut!" Someone shouts at me and I feel bile crawl up my throat. My eyes flicker from side to side to see eyes all land on me. Watching me. Judging me. Hating me.

My eyes lock on Francesca and her friend group at our regular spot. I can't stop myself so I walk right over to her. I receive death glares from her cheerleader friends and looks of confused interest from the boys that surround her. Like they can't see why Asher would pick someone like me over her.

Same.

"Can we talk?" I question quietly. My voice comes out rough and laced with fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of never righting this wrong. Fear of realizing that I've already lost her forever.

"No," she says harshly. Her face is calm and almost dismissive but I can see the pain that still lingers in her eyes. The same pain that's etched into her face after a particularly bad night with her parents. I might've been on the receiving end of this pain before, but I was never the cause. I was always the reason the pain went away, not the reason it's there.

A piece of my heart breaks in this moment.

"Francesca," I breathe. "Please," I all but beg.

"Do you not know what no means?" her friend Jessica, who has never liked me, responds angrily. Stepping forward letting her emotions flare.

My tongue wets my dry lips as I shift from foot to foot uncomfortably. "I just want to talk to her for a minute," I push.

"Well you lost that chance at prom, whore," Jessica continues practically spitting at me with her hatred. Shame blasts through me with a touch of anger if I'm being honest. Francesca knows how I feel about Jessica.

"I'm not talking to you," I tell her annoyed.

"Just leave me alone," Francesca pleads as tears begin to line her eyes.

I know I shouldn't push anymore but I can't stop. I hurt her in a way I know I can never repair but I need to fix this, I need to find a way to lessen her pain. "Please, I want to explain," I tell her.

"There's nothing to explain Mae!" she exclaims and in that moment it's pin drop silent, no more hushed whispering. All eyes were already on us, but now they are glued. "You slept with my date, the guy I liked and had a crush on for years, and instead of talking to me about it you went behind my back," she announces clearly for everyone to hear.

"Fran—" I begin but can't finish because I'm cut off.

"How long did it go on for?" she asks, taking a step towards me as her arms cross over her chest. Her eyes narrow in on me and her jaw clenches as if trying to suppress the rising anger within her.

"Let's just talk in private," I suggest weakly.

"How long?" she shouts heatedly.

My bottom lip begins to tremble in attempts to hold in the emotions that threaten to burst. "I don't remember," I murmur uneasily as my gaze lands on my feet.

"When did you first kiss him?" she asks, pushing full spread ahead.

Hot tears rise within me and it feels as if a hot rod iron has been stuck in my throat burning me from the inside out with humiliation. "I can't—"

"When?" she demands with force.

I break. "Brooklyn's show," I finally answer as tears trail down my cheeks as I look at my once best friend. Because out of everything I know this will put the nail in the coffin of whatever friendship we ever had.

Her mouth falls open in shock. "That was a couple months ago," she states with disbelief in her eyes.

My shoulders lift. "It just happened," I say trying to make it seem like it isn't as bad as it seems when no matter how you look at it, it is. I messed up, and nothing can change what I did.

"They're right," she replies as she steps away from me. Putting distance between us as if I'm some stranger. "You are a slut," she tells me with disgust.

As I turn away with a sob Jessica begins a chant. Slut is being yelled at me from every side of the hallway. The word hitting me, slapping me, cutting me into pieces until I feel my body and heart go numb.

I run further down the hall and down a small usually empty corner and I rip open a door to find an abandoned classroom. It's filled with boxes and being used for storage until the classrooms on the other side of the building get painted.

My body sags against the wall as tears begin to chill against my cheeks. My lungs feel tight and too small for my chest as I fight to take full, deep breaths. I drop my backpack on the ground next to me and let me head fall against the cool cement.

The door to my right clicks open, but I'm so completely drained I can't even lift my head to see who it is. "Hey," Brooklyn's voice echoes from beside me.

My eyes squeeze shut at his kind voice. I can't face him, not after everything that happened, everything he's heard about me. "Leave me alone," I cry out letting my hands slap aggressively against my thighs.

I hear his footsteps grow closer until I can feel him right next to me. "No," he responds, refusing to listen to me. Refusing to back down. Refusing to leave me when he can see the downward spiral I'm in.

"Why?" I yell at him as I whip my body around and throw my hands in the air. "Didn't you hear? I'm the school slut," I laugh dryly. My words hurt him, Brooklyn flinches at them and a hardness fills his eyes.

Brooklyn steps forward reaching out toward me. I back up not wanting to taint him, but he doesn't stop until his hands land on my shoulders. I am once again back against the cement wall as he stands in front of me. His large brown eyes watching me. His tan hands squeeze me, warm and reassuring. My constant light in a life of sudden darkness. "You're not a slut Mae," he tells me slowly.

His compassion feels uncomfortable, as it is undeserved in this moment. I break down letting a cry fall from my lips. "Then why do I feel like one?" I whisper unevenly letting salty tears wet my dry lips. I feel like the dirt underneath my fingernails. Unwanted.

Brooklyn sighs and drops his gaze as if he doesn't know what to say at this moment.

"You hate me too don't you?" I question quietly in the small classroom.

"I could never hate you," he admits instantly. His words are strong and sure though his eyes never meet mine.

"Then why can't you look at me?" I ask my voice wavering and on the verge of breaking.

"Because..." he trails off, finally lifting his gaze to mine. "Because I was looking forward to the rest of prom with you. Then I have to hear through all the whispers at prom that you hooked up with Asher, and—"

"And what?" I urge cutting him off needing to hear the pain I've caused.

"It hurt," he confesses almost inaudibly.

I shake my head with a small sniffle. "I'm sorry I ruin everything," I apologize openly. I lift my right hand and cross it over my chest so I can wrap it around his right hand. So I can hold onto him. Onto the stability of him. Onto the one bright light that is left in my life.

But then that light begins to flicker. "Do you love him?" he asks hesitantly as if he's afraid of my answer.

My hand drops from his. "What?" I breathe shocked at his question.

"You heard me," he states harder letting his eyes rake over my face.

"I don't know," I mumble as heat fills my cheeks.

"That's a yes," he scoffs before his tongue traces over his white teeth.

"I said I don't know Brooks!" I exclaim shoving his hands off of me and stepping away from him. Anger filling me at his assumptions. But is he wrong? I do love Asher. I love him the way that fire loves oxygen and a shark loves blood. I love him in a way that is scary and harsh and destined to implode.

"What's going on?" Asher's deep voice booms from the doorway of the classroom Brooklyn and I are hiding out in.

"Nothing," Brooklyn sneers running a hand through his curly locks.

"Is he bothering you?" Asher questions taking a step further into the classroom. His dark eyes take in Brooklyn as his hands begin to fist at his side.

"No Asher," I respond with a small eye roll.

"I was just making sure she's alright," Brooklyn tells him tensely.

Asher takes him in, almost as if sizing him up. A moment of uneasiness filling the room until he breaks it and takes a step towards me. "Well you can leave now. I've got it under control," Asher says now at my side. His words dismissive as if Brooklyn was doing some service, not just simply being a good friend to me.

"Mae—" Brooklyn tries to fight but I stop him.

"It's okay," I assure my friend. "I'll see you later," I say vaguely in attempts to appease his worried mind.

"Fine," he grunts with a shake of his head before storming out of the room. A part of me wants to chase after him, thank him. But I'm also aware he doesn't want to see me. Not right now. Not after Asher and my actions today.

"Are you okay?" Asher asks once we are alone. His hands cup my face tenderly as his dark eyes take me in. Worry painted across his handsome features. His touch pulls me from the edge of an internal demise and I cling to him. Cling to this feeling. Cling to Asher.

"No," I reply truthfully letting my eyes flutter shut.

"What do you need?" he inquires letting his thumb trace over my flushed cheek. "I'll do anything," he urges.

I open my eyes. "I can't be here," I admit, my voice shaking. Broken. Desperate.

With those words he once again leads me away to safety. Once again eyes are on us as we walk hand in hand through the hallways of our high school.

I ignore the murmurs. I ignore my best friend with red eyes and pure hatred painted across her face. I push it all away and let Asher lead me to his car.

He drives, more like speeds, as my head leans against the window and watches the town blur on by.

My heart is broken, and bent, and burned. My emotions twisted, and tattered, and torn. 

I want to beg on my hands and knees for Francesca to forgive me. I want to hug Brooklyn and hope he doesn't hate me.

But more than anything I want Asher to take it all away. I want him to show me that this was all worth it. That he is worth this pain and suffering. Worth it all.

He pulls into his driveway. His parents once again not home. He quickly leads me up to his room and into his ginormous bathroom. Everything white and pristine besides the matte black clawfoot tub and shower. He turns towards the large glass shower and turns the knob all the way to hot.

"Come here," he demands and I easily follow. I've been quiet all this time not finding the need to talk when my emotions are clearly already on my sleeve for him.

My steps bring me towards him and his hands make quick work of my clothing. My shirt pulled over my head. My jeans unbuttoned and pulled down with my underwear. My sandals slipped off and tossed aside.

Steam begins to billow in the bathroom as Asher begins to disrobe in front of me. My eyes linger over his bare tan skin as his jeans fall to the ground. His hands land on my hips as he draws me closer. The steam dances around us before he even pulls us into the hot water.

"Forget it all," he whispers to me under the rain of his shower.

The water hits me like little pellets and it's a touch hotter than I like but in this moment I crave the pain. There are multiple showers heads and the water seems to hit us from every angle.

"Forget what?" I question confused by his words.

"Everything," he replies darkly.

Asher let's his eyes drag over my naked, wet frame and I attempt to do what he says. I push every thought and ounce of emotion away and focus on the man in front of me. On what he can give me.

His fingers trail up my body, his fiery touch mixing with the heated water making my body sway into his. Needing more. Needing him to help me turn it off and forget.

Asher's black eyes meet mine before his hands lift to shift the wet hair out of my face. "I love your hair," he murmurs into the steam before he lets a hand wind through it. His sweet words seeping into my heated bones. Then before I know it my body is being flipped towards the tile.

My breasts brush against the cool tile as hot water splashes against my back. His fingers pull on my hair until my back is arched and his lips run up the side of my neck causing a frenzy of emotion to melt in my stomach and clench my thighs.

"Forget them," he whispers into my ear tightening his hold on my hair. "Only think of me, only feel me. Push it all away Maeleigh," he demands letting his lips brush against the delicate skin of my shoulder.

My eyelids close and I find comfort in the darkness. Asher's teeth sink into the skin of my neck eliciting a moan from my lips. "I want you, Ash," I tell him, pushing everything away. Turning everything off, and only focusing on him and what he can give me.

His fingers graze my stomach and a gasp falls from my lips as he trails further down till he's between my legs and creating the dark magic only he knows how to make.

Before I can even comprehend what is happening he's pushing inside of me. Deep. Hard. On the very edge of pain and pleasure. A moan escapes my lips and my hips push back. Giving as much as I'm receiving.

Asher Lawton doesn't give me easy or sweet. He gives me harsh and unrelenting as he fucks me in his shower. Spots begin to swim in my gaze as sparks explode all over my body. Asher's deep groan fills my ears as I feel him pull out and finish on my back. The boiling water quickly washes away the remnants of him.

His hand relaxes in my hair and my head falls forward until it hits the onyx tile. My skin bright red from the water feels like it's burning in the aftermath of a fire.

My mind goes black and I feel my entire body turn numb as Asher's fingers trace over my back. A sigh flies from my lips as my body revels in turning it off. In feeling nothing but Asher.

The rest of the day is a blur of sex, alcohol, and the haze of his weed. And as we spend the day together I realize the more time we spend together the less we talk. The more time I spend with Asher the less I feel like I know him.

But in the darkness of turning everything off I don't seem to care.