Harley

Her bright green eyes bore into mine, tired but still with their signature spark. Her pale cheeks are flushed red with cold, and her red hair blows gently in the sharp wind. I don't know what it is about her that always finds me tongue-tied. Maybe I'll never know.

My eyes focus on her red, dry hands. "Careful," I click my tongue, "You don't want those pretty hands to dry up."

"Shut up." She turns and begins to walk down the road. I follow her, trying to get in front of her, but her long legs make it almost impossible.

"Stop walking so fast," I say, trying hard to catch up with her. We're about five stores down from the cafe, the only store open on this block. Every other store is dark. Uninviting. The path is slick with fresh rainwater, and she somehow doesn't slip over any of them.

"Stop following me." She moves faster, practically running as she tries to get away from me. I always knew I wasn't a nice guy, but girls normally don't trip over themselves trying to get away from me. 

Then again, Autumn isn't like other girls.

Every other girl I've ever met has been fake. They act interested in me, but it's obvious that they don't care, that they just want someone to make them catapult in the social pyramid. Autumn isn't like that. She's a rose with thorns, tough on the outside, but sweet on the inside.. 

And something about that smile makes her seem worth knowing.

"Can you please just listen to me?" I run in front of her and stop her from walking. She slams into me, almost falling on the dead leaves lining the sidewalk. She gracefully stops herself from falling, and stands back up, green eyes flashing.

"What?" She throws her hands up in the air, flopping down on a bench near the edge of the road. "What do you want?"

I can't believe I'm doing this. 

I've missed playing. The feeling of being on stage, Adrian pounding the drums behind me, Jayden playing the bass to the right of me. I had loved being on stage once. But then, Adrian died. 

That changed everything.

So, maybe what I asked her next was fate. I'm not religious. I don't believe in omens and coincidences. If I were sane, I wouldn't have asked her.

But, I'm not.

"Can you play with my band? Just one show, and you'll never have to see me again after that."

Her eyebrows perk up, interested but trying hard to not show it. She fiddles with a lock of her hair, eyes staring off into space. Her legs are crossed, left leg over right, and her left leg bounces up and down. She bites the inside of her lip, thinking hard.

"Can you make up your mind? It's getting late." I say, standing in front of her.

Her green eyes snap back into focus and she stands, popping the bones in her neck. "For the record, I want nothing to do with you," she says, gathering up her stuff.

"No? Why not?" Autumn begins to walk down the street again, shoving her fists in her pocket. I follow her, ignoring the walking pain in my legs.

"You're a pompous jerk and I tend to not do well with people like that," she calls over her shoulder, not looking back at me.

"Ouch." I laugh. We're at the very end of Main Street, turning into rural neighborhoods, acres of land in between them. I shiver, wishing I brought my motorcycle. This thirty minute walk could've been a lot shorter.

"It does sound tempting, though." She walks to the left, on the dark roads leading to the rural neighborhoods. Gullwitch Cove doesn't have streetlights anywhere but the main roads. The town never had money for that sort of thing, and the residents never really cared that they weren't there. We, I mean they, learned to get by without them.

Now that I'm back, I don't want to start calling myself a member of this town. I want to get out of here, play music, tour the world. I would've walked away from here, never looking back once.

But then Adrian died, and the only thing I could do was come back.

"Here's me." Autumn says, pointing to a small blue townhouse with a wrap-around porch and a white picket fence. Blegh. It's the perfect family home. I can picture her mother cooking chili in their perfect kitchen, her father taking a pipe in a rocking chair in front of their fireplace. She probably has the perfect family.

Autumn pushes open the gate leading into her house, walking up the pathway. She hops the stairs, one at a time, and turns back to me, hand resting on the silver doorknob. "I'll think about what you said. I can't promise anything else." 

I smile at her and she smiles back. A smile. That's a start.

"Autumn, you're-" The door swings open and a redhead identical to Autumn studies me. "Who's this?"

"Em, this is Harley. He and I go to school together. Harley, this is my sister, Emery." Autumn's sister studies me over, opening the door wider.

"Do you want to come in?" Emery asks. Autumn's eyes widen, and she begins shaking her head at her sister. "You made sure Autumn got home safely, and the older sister in me wants to make sure that you're not walking the dark streets alone." 

I pause, wanting to come in and wanting to run away at the same time. I think of my apartment above the town music store, with its dusty mattress, creaky floorboards, dilapidated windows that break apart at the slightest touch. It's cold and foreboding, and wasn't my first choice of places to live.

Yet, it's too soon for me to stay with her. Even a night on her couch would drive her away, and that's the opposite of what I need.

"I can't. My landlord will kick me out if I don't make it home by the curfew." I make up a lie, the hardest lie I've had to tell. My landlord is a beady eyed, seventy year old woman who's too addicted to crack and cigarettes to even care what I'm up to.

I really want to stay. But I leave anyway, bracing myself against the dark roads and the frigid night air. "Goodnight!" I call, waving my hand towards the two sisters, huddled together on the porch.

"Wait!" Autumn calls. She disappears inside her house for a minute and reappears, black sharpie in one hand. Running towards me, she stops, panting. Red hair a mess, she uncaps the Sharpie and grabs my arm, fingernails digging into my skin. "Don't make me regret this," she says, Sharpie cap in between her teeth. Letting go of me, she finishes writing and caps the marker, turning to walk away. 

"Text me when you get home safe."

And with that, she's gone. The door to her house has closed, the lights have gone dark, and I'm not needed here anymore.

I begin my long, lonely walk back to the cafe, smiling down at Autumns number, written in neat letters on my arm.

Cold sweat trickles down my body, chilling me to my core. I jolt up from my bed, soaked and breathing heavily. I run a hand through my thick black hair, making it stick up even more. Pushing my sheets down to my feet, I stretch and shuffle out of bed towards the bathroom. My feet are bare, and I shiver, clad in only pajama bottoms. 

Flicking the bathroom light on, my eyes adjust to the brightness, heavy with sleep. I turn the water on. I watch it hiss for a minute, and step into the shower, pants and all. Feeling the cold water beat against my bare chest, I take a deep breath, fighting the urge to scream. The water stings, but it numbs the pain and washes all of my nightmares away. 

I slide down, feeling my pants get soaked on the wet tile floor. I bury my face in my shoulder, watching as the black sharpie on my arm blurs, running down in a black waterfall.

It's a good thing I already programmed her number into my phone.

I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling droplets of water fall onto my closed eyes. My pulse begins to race, and I try desperately to shut out my feelings. My head hangs backward, and my chest heaves dry sobs. My tears are all dried up. I run my hands through my hair, biting my lip.God. Why is it so hard to let him go?

I lie with my head tilted upwards, letting the cold water cloud all memories of him. The grains of the shower tiles bite into my back as I scream, letting it out. I scream until I'm hoarse, until there's nothing left in me. Scratching the back of my neck, I sigh and get up to turn the water off.

It should've been me. There's nothing else to think, or even say. I should've died that day.

Adrian was young, promising. He could've done something with himself if I hadn't-

I need to get a grip. 

I walk over to the sink, surveying my reflection in the mirror. I look like death. The black circles under my eyes are the size of dinner plates, making my blue eyes look even colder. Water drips down my face, pooling into a puddle on my bare feet. My hair sticks up everywhere, making me look like a doused porcupine. I sigh, grabbing a towel from the rack next to the shower. I've definitely been feeling my three hour sleep schedule for a while. I'm weak and exhausted, unable to muster up enough energy to go to school. Shauna has to poke my ear with a pencil in math every day, because I can barely keep my head up.

"You good, Harley?" She'll ask and I'll nod, pretending it's fine, pretending everything will be fine, even though it won't, even though nothing will ever be fine again.

Every day, I drown in my nightmares. Water fills my nose, and I can't move, can't breathe, can't think. Every day, I think of him. 

It hurts me. One of the advantages of living alone is that there's no one around to hear you scream.

I've been by myself since I was sixteen. The day my father got arrested and my mother had a heart attack, was the day that I grew up. The day that my younger brother got sent out to foster care, was the day that I lost everything I thought I cared about.

The day that I ran away from the social worker and booked it to Gullwitch Cove, living with my uncle for two years, until I found my own place in cheap, dilapidated apartments on the other side of town. 

Nobody bothers an eighteen year old living alone on the very top floor of the building. They let me go about my business, and I don't bother them. Everything is fine. I've learned to push people away, to have them leave me before they get hurt.

Leaving the bathroom, I walk into my room and take out a pair of sweatpants and a flannel shirt. I put the sweatpants on and lie across my bed, staring up at the vast white ceiling.

And I wait.