Fuck, I am not strong enough for that kind of talk right now.
I turn my head and close my eyes, begging for any strength to appear. I pull my cigarettes out of my pocket to give my fingers something to do and whirl the stick around my fingers, trying to get those tempting words out of my head.
She suddenly pulls out a ribbon from her bag. It’s a long piece of pink silk, and she gives me a look of mischief. “Give me your hand.”
“What?” I ask before she grabs my hand and tugs it toward her. She smiles, fiddling with the silk ribbon as she moves it over my two middle fingers. I watch in confusion, wondering what she’s doing, before she ties it into a bow, binding my fingers together. The pink stands out against my black nail polish, and she grins wide as she stares at it, admiring her high handiwork.
“Pretty,” she murmurs, and then looks at my other hand. “Can I have one?”
She points at the cigarette box, moving on so quickly that it gives me whiplash.
“You know smoking is bad for you,” I tease, pulling one out for her.
“That’s never stopped you,” she retorts, making me laugh. Apparently that’s a recurring theme with me. I can’t seem to stay away from things that are bad for me, case in point.
She lets me light the cigarette, inhaling it deeply. I realize too late that she’s probably never smoked a cigarette before. Reds arenotmade for beginners, so she coughs up a storm. It’s worse than before, and probably heightens the high because she throws the cigarette to the side during her struggle, both of her hands going to her chest once free. I stand up to help her… somehow, but then I see the tiny spark on the ground and my eyes widen. Her cigarette flew into some kind of puddle, but instead of extinguishing, it burst into a mighty flame right before my eyes.
“What the fuck?” I freak out, the mysterious liquid blazing faster than I can think. Did someone pour gasoline in here? Has it really been that long since someone came in here to clean?
The flames crackle and the heat blooms as we both stand up and panic, wondering how a simple thrown cigarette could suddenly ignite a fire as thunderous as this. When I look over, Stacey is frozen with fear, her hand over her mouth in shock as she stares at the flames growing in strength and size.
Shit. This is probably the worst thing that can happen right now. We’re about to graduate in a few days, and Stacey has been nothing but perfect since kindergarten. This would ruin her.
So, I snatch her up before I even have time to think about it and throw her over my shoulder. She squeaks with surprise, her tears still falling as she hits me in the back. “What are you doing?! Put me down! Someone might see!”
“Even when we’re seconds away from being burned alive, you’re still worried about being seen with me,” I accuse, but there’s no malice in my words. It’s how she’s been raised, how she survives. I don’t blame her for that one bit, but right now isnotthe time.
That makes her fall silent, her tiny fists no longer pounding my back as I rush us outside. Before I walk out the door, I pull the fire alarm, and the loud blare is piercing. I let out a sigh of relief that it still works and then sneak us outside.
Instead of heading toward the main building, I turn toward the woods, knowing that it will be the best place to avoid being seen by cameras.
“Why are you doing this for me?” Stacey asks, her voice soft and defeated.
“You know why,” I tell her, but I don’t elaborate. This thing between us has always been unspoken, and I don’t want to makeit real right now. Not when there’s a fire and she’s as high as a kite.
Not when there’s still nothing we can do about it. Our hearts are still closed off, armored by walls. One afternoon together, interrupted by an accidental fire, isn’t going to change that. No matter how much I wish it could.
EIGHT
Playing: “Gethsemane” by Sleep Token
Ledgerand I lounge on our couch, a blunt passing between us idly. He flips through the channels, apathetic and exhausted from the late night before. Nothing sticks out, and he ends up going through them all over again once he gets to the end.
I don’t have the energy to care. No show or movie will fix my problem right now anyway. My brain is watching its own events, remembering last night in waves that feel overpowering. Blonde hair, pink glossy lips, and words said in the heat of the moment. I flex my bruised knuckles, remembering the way Stacey whimpered into my mouth when they moved inside her just right. How she clutched my bicep, holding onto me for dear life as I helped her through it. The image of her in that state is burned into my brain; this blunt is doing nothing but sending me into a languid state of wanting.
I’ve yearned for her for years, but now it’s excruciating. There’s nothing romantic about this pain that I feel; this desire is ripping me open from the inside out.
She’s right in my grasp. Her gardenia scent still lingers on my hoodie, the floral tones leaving me breathless with every inhale. I pull it up to my nose again, unable to let the compulsion go as I hold it there discreetly, getting my fill of her smell.
She feels closer than ever, but there’s still a mob with pitchforks keeping us apart. I’m not sure what to do about it, but hoping from a distance no longer feels viable. Not when I know her lips taste like pomegranates and her skin is as soft as flower petals.
My hand fiddles with my drumsticks, the pink ribbon that Stacey gave me holding them together. Ledger lazily hands me the blunt once more, patting my shoulder in a supportive gesture after I take it. He knows something happened last night, but he also knows I’m not ready to talk about it, so he lets me linger in my thoughts until I’m prepared to voice them.
When I hit the blunt, my mind wanders back to high school, when I found Stacey getting high in the old gym behind the main building. It was the first time I had ever seen her so relaxed, ever heard her soft, stress-free giggles that hit me right in the chest. Last night, I saw that version of her again. She is beautiful all the time, but she is especially breathtaking when she isn’t worried about what people might think. Her completely uninhibited personality is one that I could fall in love with easily. I would do anything to see that spark in her come to life over and over again.
She deserves the world… and I want to be the one to give it to her.
Stacey hasn’t mentioned that day to me since. Maybe because she doesn’t remember it, or maybe because her mistake caused a lot of headaches for me. Even though the gym didn’t completely burn down, the incident still caused a lot of distress around town, especially since the fire occurred during school hours. No one wanted to believe their child could possibly causesuch a thing. So, who’s the best bet? Blame it on the punk kid that no one really knows.
