glow | give out steady light without flame

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3/30/17

I PAUSE AS soon as I walk into the classroom letting my eyes roam the room. My class project was now over so we've had the option of changing up our seating, and Brooklyn decided to do just that.

He moved up a few rows and joined some friends of his while I sat in the back by myself. A few cheerleaders would say their obligatory hellos but other than that I went back to being the girl who is overlooked. The girl who blends in and never stands out. Bland, boring, never exciting. My fresh tattoo tingles at the thought and wants to fight against the words that rattle in my head.

It never bothered me before. Honestly. I was okay being this girl because it was high school and I had my sights set on college and exploring a whole new world when I moved out of this town.

But now it did. It rubbed me the wrong way when eyes glassed over while I was speaking as if I wasn't worth their time. It made my blood boil and made me want to blurt about my secret relationship with Asher just to shove it in their faces and prove to them how wrong they were to turn their noses up at me.

It made me angry, and I wasn't an angry person. At least I didn't used to be.

I push away the dark tinged emotions and stalk to the back of the classroom. The bell has yet to ring so students are still wandering in and out of the room. I drop my backpack to the faded tile floor and begin to absentmindedly scroll through my phone pretending I care about my peers' lives as I double tap their pictures.

"Hey." A deep voice catches my attention and my head shoots up to see warm brown eyes. Eyes that I've missed more than I can even say.

I open my mouth to speak but no words come out. Shock courses through my veins and chills me at the same time. I'm almost afraid to speak, to make a move as if I do he will disappear and walk away from me all over again.

Brooklyn scans me obviously waiting for a response. His brows pull together as if he's worried about me as I sit here frozen with mouth agape and eyes wide.

"Can I sit here?" he asks slowly.

I nod once awkwardly and watch him slide onto the stool beside me. The stool that's been empty since he left almost three weeks ago.

"Hi," I timidly respond.

"How was your spring break?" he questions, his eyes still holding mine. Looking at me, not looking over me, and I feel a happiness soar through me at the idea that even after everything maybe he can still like me. Still be my friend.

"Okay," I shrug, acting as I'm fully relaxed and not still unsure of my words around him.

"Did you do that road trip with your mom you've been talking about for years?" Brooklyn questions with the tilt of his head letting a dark curl fall onto his forehead.

A rush of warmth coats my heart and spreads throughout my entire body. "Yeah," I breathe with a growing smile. "How did you remember that?" I ask curiously. I told him that when we were in middle school. Years ago when life was much simpler I painted a picture of what my senior year would be and the dream road trip with my mother by my side.

Never would I have thought my last few months of high school would end up like this.

"I don't know..." he trails with a small chuckle. "It was just something you would always talk about when we were younger, and you were so excited for it. I'm happy you got to do it," he tells me honestly and a feeling of comfort floods me in this moment. Brooklyn has this way about him. He accepts me, he doesn't judge me, he remembers me when most of the time I'm so easily forgotten.

He makes me feel undeniably special. A flush coats my cheeks at the thought and spreads over my body as my eyes take over him. His messy brown hair and boyish grin catches my attention suddenly in a way it never has before and a bolt of nervous confusion weaves through my blood.

I shake my head to focus on the conversation at hand. "How was yours?" I ask trying not to notice the warmth of his cheeks and his long tanned fingers that constantly rake through his brown locks.

"Worked, studied, wrote songs," he states easily as if his break was just nothing special. But he wrote songs, which means it was and so much more.

"Anything good?" I push with a smile.

"Maybe," he admits lifting a single shoulder as if he isn't confident enough in his work. As if he doesn't see what I see when he's on stage or writing the words to a tune only he can hear.

My teeth scrape against my bottom lip. "I'd love to hear it sometime," I tell him honestly.

"That'd be cool," he nods as his fingers run over the notebooks in front of him. One for class and one for music. He always carries a second notebook around during school as if he needs it for when inspiration strikes.

"Yeah, cool," I agree, as my heavy heart feels lighter. As if the weight I carry has been lifted, just slightly enough to take away the pain that damages my soul.

It wasn't a yes, but his words didn't tell me no either. I thought I lost Brooklyn, my friend, but as we sit here together in class I know I could never lose him.

"Brooks—" I start at the exact same time he says my name.

Mae—"

"Sorry," I say, letting out an awkward laugh.

He shakes his head. "No, it's fine you go," he tells me a small lift of his lips.

I pause taking a breath before asking the question I almost fear the answer to. "Why are you talking to me?" I ask but the question comes out uncomfortably stilted as if deep down I don't want to know the answer. I just like the result. Who am I to question Brooklyn when I'm just happy I have him back.

A crease forms between his eyebrows. "Do you not want me to?" he questions almost taken back. Almost hurt.

"No, of course I do!" I rush to say. "That's not it. I'm just surprised is all," I attempt to explain the mess of thoughts and emotions that reside within me.

He cracks his knuckles before he folds them into fists. "I realized I was being a dick for one, and two that I missed you," he confesses as his hands release and relax.

My heart stills at his words and heat blossoms throughout me forcing a smile to lift my lips. "I missed you too," I whisper immediately.

Brooklyn's brown eyes almost turn gold as they warm at my words and lock on me. "I won't say I'm exactly happy about you and Asher," he tells me slowly. "You can do so much better than that asshole who treats people like they're beneath him," he says his words turning sour at the end before his gaze drops to the old tiled floor. "You are everything Mae, and so much more than you even realize. You never need to settle."

I swallow the heat that scrapes at my throat forcing tears to prick at my eyes. "Thanks," I murmur afraid if I say more than that tears will fall at his kind words.

"For what?" he asks as if he doesn't understand why his word would mean this much to me. Why they would affect me in this way.

My tongue wets my dry lips. "For being probably the only person in this entire school who thinks someone like me can do better than Asher Lawton," I state as my shoulders hunch in as if I'm waiting for the insults to be hurdled at me. I'm vulnerable when it comes to Asher. He makes me feel invincible just as much as he makes me feel weak. On fire just as much as he makes my heart cold.

"Mae, you have always been above this fucked up town. And one day you'll see," he tells me with a confidence I have yet to see in myself. A confidence I crave, but am still searching for without the influence of Asher's dark words and liquor.

"See what?" I question dryly not understanding what he would see in someone like me.

"What I see," he says as if I truly am something special. Something he wants to hold on to and be around and cherish.

I open my mouth to ask him exactly what that is, but our teacher comes in and begins class leaving us busy for the next forty minutes and unable to finish our conversation.

But I keep his words with me and I can't keep the smile off of my face for the rest of the day.

Even when Asher ignores me I smile and my heart remains warmed. But not by Asher.

By Brooklyn and his unwavering friendship.

* * * * *

"Are you sure this is the one?" I ask again as I stand in front of the mirror rotating on the small platform in front of my mother and best friend.

The dress is pretty, and it's on final sale meaning it's cheap but nonrefundable. It's a powder blue fitted crepe dress with thin straps and a flattering neckline. It's simple, easy, pretty. Nothing like the jaw dropping dress my best friend chose.

A part of me wants something that will stop Asher dead in his tracks when he spots me. I want to look good for him, I want him to think I'm the most beautiful girl in the room. But once again that nasty green eyed monster makes his return deep inside me and as my eyes land on my best friend I know it won't happen. Not if she's there looking as she always does. Perfect.

Shoving those twisted emotions away I turn so I'm facing my mother letting my leg peak out of the small slit on my left side. "Yes or no?" I ask her anxiously, wanting an honest answer.

Watery eyes meet mine. "You look like an angel," she tells me with a faint smile and tears lining her eyes.

I roll my eyes, but can't deny the way joy leaps from my chest at her approval. "Mom," I groan playfully. "It's just a dress," I tell her, trying to brush off the moment, and seriously doubting I look like an angel. Especially when everything inside me is so dark and tarnished, so hell like.

Picking this dress isn't everything I dreamed it would be, and that's not because I'm picking a dress from the clearance rack. I couldn't care less what I'm wearing to prom honestly. When I look back in ten years the dress will be outdated and out of style anyways no matter how much money I throw at it.

No, what's holding me back is the actual dance itself. The fact that I'm going with some jock I've barely even spoken to just to be in Francesca's group. To watch her and Asher drink and dance and win king and queen while I pretend I'm having fun with some random guy.

A flash of new ink catches my eye in the mirror and I see my tattoo peaking out. I quickly pull the side of my dress up to cover the black script that was sneaking into view. I'm not hiding it because my mother would be mad, I truthfully don't think she would mind. I'm not hiding it from my best friend because I think she would hate it.

I hide it because of what it means to me. It was a moment in time when I did something wild and completely out of character just for me. It was a moment Asher gave me not only for himself but also for me and I cherish it more than anything.

A part of me wonders what would happen between us if I told him the truth, if I admitted how I feel for him not only to myself. If I said that I wanted him and only him, said I wanted to date him.

Would he be capable of having an actual relationship? Is he capable of feeling something past lust?

I want to give him a chance, my heart leaps at the idea of calling him mine and being able to melt into each other. But my mind won't let me take that chance because she knows he isn't good for me in the long run. He's unstable and reckless and everything my heart doesn't need.

And yet here I stand letting myself consider it all because as much as I know he's trouble he makes me feel completely alive and on edge in the most exquisite way.

"You look amazing," my mother gushes once again, pulling me back to her and my best friend.

My best friend. Francesca Dadario. Popular. Gorgeous. Fiercely loyal.

Fear rips through me, and so does guilt as it swirls within me until my heart runs into overdrive. Because choosing Asher, choosing us means picking him over my best friend. And while I want him, while my body burns for him, choosing him over Francesca is a step that frightens me in a way I know we could never recover from.

Our friendship would never live through that decision. And in that choice lies my hesitation to let him into my heart completely.

"Mae, listen to your mother," Francesca tells me with a smile. "You look gorgeous," she compliments.

My face heats at their accolades and I twist my fingers nervously as I let my eyes rake over myself one last time. "Okay," I breathe. "This is it," I agree.

"Finally," my best friend teases with a loud groan. "Prom is literally in two days and you waited till damn near the last minute to buy a dress," she complains standing up from the small chairs the store provided us with.

"Be lucky I even dragged her today," my mother tells Francesca with a shake of her head.

"Well we found a dress and Kevin is going to die when he sees you," my best friend says excitingly with a clap of her hands as if she can already picture the entire evening.

"Kevin?" my mother questions with a raised eyebrow.

I open my mouth to speak but Francesca cuts me off. "Oh don't worry Ms. Winter, Kevin is a nice boy who is on the football team and actually playing for state next year with a full scholarship," she tells my mother as if she's reading off his profile for her.

My mother flickers her gaze over to me and I give her a single nod to let her know it's okay. It's okay that Francesca threw some random guy at me and that I'll be going to senior prom with him instead of someone who asked me cause they actually liked me, not my best friend.

"Okay," my mother trails, not quite believing Francesca's words but also not fighting them. While my mother can sometimes get on to me about her, like she did on spring break, she knows overall she's always been more than a good friend to me. "I'll get everything settled, you go change," she instructs me.

"Thank you," I tell her earnestly. This dress was cheaper than everything here by a long shot but even at a hundred dollars it was far from cheap and I appreciate her giving this moment to me.

"Of course," my mother smiles before heading over to the cashier.

I walk into the dressing room to change and Francesca follows and leans against the wall outside my room.

"You are excited for prom, right?" she questions as if she's worried I might not want to go anymore. She would be true in her assessment but I won't let her know that. Not when this is the moment she's been looking forward to for years.

"Of course I am," I assure her with my words. My lies come out easier than they used to. "Just nervous," I tell her and those words leave as a partial truth.

"Mae, it's going to be such a fun night. I can feel it," she goes on about the night she's dreamed of and the night I've come to dread.

"Can you now?" I tease at her as I slide into my jeans and graphic T-shirt.

I swipe the curtain open and face my best friend. The girl who has stood by my side, stuck up for me, and nudged me to try new things and step outside my comfort zone. She didn't push like Asher who shoved without seeing where I was going to fall and if I was going to land safely.

She's always been there for me just as I have been for her when she needed me most after her parent's car crash. Two unlikely friends have taken on this friendship and let it turn us into family.

"I can," she sings as she loops her arm through mine leading me out of the dressing room. "It's going to be a night to remember," she says with stars in her eyes.

I let her words ring through my ears but I'm not filled with starry-eyed anticipation. No, I have this feeling I can't quite put my finger on. Maybe foreboding? All I know is that it slowly begins to spiral throughout my bones until I'm tense and I just know.

Prom night will be a night to remember.