The Elements Series Complete Box Set

by Brittainy Cherry

  I really freaking hoped he showed up.

  “I’ll do it,” I said. Her eyes filled with tears and she handed me the umbrella to hold so she could wipe her tears away.

  “You’re the best friend a girl could ever have.” She leaned in and kissed my cheek a total of six times.

  And I pretended not to notice how my heart flipped six times too.

  She didn’t notice it, did she? She didn’t notice how she sparked my heart each time she stood near me.

  6

  Alyssa

  “How was your rehearsal?” Mom asked, when I came back from Logan’s house. Instead of going to rehearsal, I drove over to his place and begged him to give a ticket to Dad. I couldn’t tell Mom that though—she wouldn’t understand. She sat inside of her office, typing away at her computer, doing what she did best, working. She had a glass of wine sitting next to her, along with the whole bottle beside the glass. She didn’t look up toward me, and before I could reply, she said, “Toss any of your dirty clothes into the laundry basket in the bathroom. Then if you could, wash them and fold the load in the dryer.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “And I made a lasagna, if you want to toss that into the oven at four forty-five for an hour.”

  “Okay.”

  “And please, Alyssa.” She stopped typing and turned my way, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Can you stop leaving your shoes in the front hall? It’s honestly two steps to the left to put them in the closet.”

  I glanced down the hallway at my Converse shoes laying tossed in the hallway. “I put them in the closet.”

  She gave me a “bullcrap” frown. “Put them in the closet, please.”

  I put them in the closet.

  When dinner came along, Mom and I sat at the dining room table, her looking down at her cell phone, answering emails, and me looking down at my cell phone, commenting on Facebook posts.

  “The lasagna tastes different,” I said, poking my fork around it.

  “I used egg white omelets instead of pasta.”

  “But isn’t it lasagna because of the noodle? Like, the name of the noodle is legit called lasagna. Without it, we are just eating eggs, sauce, and cheese.”

  “This way it has less carbs, and you know how I told you that you should be watching your carbs before you go out to college. The freshman fifteen weight gain is a real thing, and plus, I read an article about how those who are already overweight tend to gain more weight than the normal people.”

  “Than the normal people? Are you saying I’m not normal?” I felt my chest tighten a bit.

  Mom dramatically rolled her eyes. “You’re overly sensitive, Alyssa. I wish you could be more stable like your sister Erika. Plus, her eating habits are ten times better than yours. I’m merely stating the facts. You need to watch what you’re eating more, that’s all.” She quickly changed the subject. “You never told me how your rehearsal was,” she said, taking a bite of her dinner.

  “It was fine,” I replied. “You know me and the piano, same ol’ same ol’.”

  She huffed. “Yeah, I know. Sorry I can’t make it to the recital thing tonight. I have too much work.”

  Over the top, dramatic eye-roll from me, which she didn’t notice. She never made it to any of my recitals, because she always thought music was a hobby, not a life choice. When she found out I was going to college to study music therapy, she almost refused to help pay for my schooling, until my sister Erika talked her out of it. Even though my sister was just like my mom when it came to being realistic, she still believed in my music. Maybe because her boyfriend Kellan was a musician, and she loved him and the depth of an artist.

  Sometimes I closed my eyes and tried to remember a time when Mom wasn’t so harsh—wasn’t so ruthless. In my memories, I sort of remembered her smiling. But maybe those moments were just my imagination, wishing for something beautiful to hold on to. Did she become cold the day Dad walked out? Or did his warmth just hide her icy soul for a while?

  “I think I’m going to head to the music hall to get ready for tonight. Thanks for dinner, Mom,” I said, as she poured herself some more wine.

  “Yup.”

  As I tossed on my light jacket, my Converse, and my handcrafted purse that Dad bought me when he traveled to South America for a concert, Mom called after me. “Alyssa!”

  “Yes, Mom?”

  “Start the dishwasher before you go. And go dry that load of clothes. And pick me up a pint of ice cream from Bally’s Cream Shop. Make sure to skip getting some for yourself, though. You know, freshman fifteen and all.”

  I felt like my chest was caught on fire.

  Seat 4A was empty still when I peeked out from behind the stage. He was coming, I promised myself. He called me, he said he would be there, I thought. With daisies.

  I loved daisies, they were my favorite flowers, and Dad knew that and was going to bring them to me. Because he promised he would.

  “You’re up next, Alyssa,” my instructor said. I could feel my heart pounding against my ribcage. It felt as if I were falling apart with every step I took toward the piano. I was suffocating, knowing that he wasn’t sitting out there, lightheaded knowing that everything out of his mouth was nothing but lies. Lies. Hurtful, useless lies.

  And then I looked up.

  Pro.

  Seat 4A was filled.

  He came.

  I relaxed against the piano bench and allowed myself to get lost in the keys. My fingers connected to the piano, making magic happen. Making the sounds of my soul fill the space. I didn’t mean to cry, but a few tears fell as I played. When I finished, I stood and took a bow. The audience wasn’t supposed to applaud until after everyone performed, so the bad players wouldn’t feel terrible when they didn’t receive the loud roars of the room. But the boy in seat 4A was standing with a single daisy in his hands, clapping like crazy, hooting and hollering.

  I smiled at the boy with a suit too big for him.

  Quick, without thought, I ran into the audience and wrapped him into a hug. “The ticket was for you, anyway,” I lied into his shoulder.

  That’s when he held me tighter.

  Who needed Ass-Crack, anyway? I had Logan Francis Silverstone.

  That was good enough for me.

  7

  Logan

  “Your suit is too big,” she said, tugging at the sleeves that hung past my fingertips. The single daisy I gave her sat behind her left ear since we left the recital.

  “It’s Kellan’s,” I explained. “He drove out to drop it off when I realized Ass-Crack wasn’t going to make it.”

  “You’re swimming in it,” Alyssa joked. “But you still look handsome. I’ve never seen you dressed up before. Did you like the recital? It wasn’t my best performance.”

  “It was perfect.”

  “Thanks, Lo. I think we should do something fun tonight. Don’t you think? I think we should, oh I don’t know…do something wild!” She was talking and talking and talking, something she was very good at. As she walked, she spun in circles, smiling and talking, talking and smiling.

  But I wasn’t completely listening to her, because my mind was somewhere else.

  I wanted to keep telling Alyssa how amazing she was at the piano recital, how she was better than everyone else who performed. How she made me feel alive just from how her fingers played the keys. How she made my eyes never falter from her the whole time. How when she hugged me, I wanted to never let her go. How I sometimes thought about her when I was doing random things like brushing my teeth, or combing my hair, or searching for clean socks. I wanted to tell her everything I was thinking because all my thoughts were her.

  I wanted to tell her how I felt about her. I wanted to tell her how I was falling for her. I wanted to tell her how I loved her wild hair, and loved her mouth that was always chattering about something or another.

  I wanted to…

  “Logan,” she whispered, frozen still on the sidewalk. My hands somehow landed against her
lower back and I guided her closer to me. My breaths were falling from my lips as they hovered inches away from her mouth. Her hot exhales were mixing deep with my heavy inhales as both of our bodies shook in each other’s hold. “What are you doing?”

  What was I doing? Why were our lips so close? Why were our bodies pressed against each other? Why could I not break my stare? Why was I falling in love with my best friend?

  “Truth or lie?” I asked.

  “Lie,” she whispered.

  “I’m fixing the flower in your hair,” I said, combing her curls behind her ear. “Now ask me again.”

  “What are you doing?” she asked as I moved closer, feeling her words brush against my lips.

  “Truth or lie?”

  “Truth.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about you,” I told her. “Not even just now, I mean all the time. Morning, afternoon, night, you’re on my mind. I can’t stop thinking about kissing you, either. I can’t stop thinking about kissing you slow. It has to be slow, though. Because the slower it goes, the longer it will last. And I want it to last.”

  “That’s the truth?” she softly spoke, staring at my lips as she hiccupped once.

  “That’s the truth. But if you don’t want me to kiss you, I won’t. If you want me to lie, I’ll lie.”

  Her eyes locked with mine, and her hands fell against my chest. My heartbeats hammered against her fingertips as she inched closer to me. She bit her bottom lip and a tiny smile found its way to her. “You’re my best friend,” she whispered, tugging on the bottom of her polka dot dress. “You’re the first person I think of when I wake up. You’re the one that I miss when you’re not lying in bed with me. You’re the only thing that ever felt right to me, Lo. And if I were honest, I’d say that I wanted you to kiss me. Not just once, but a lot.”

  Our bodies wrapped together, and I felt her nerves racing through her as she kept hiccupping.

  “Nervous?” I asked.

  “Nervous,” she replied.

  It was awkward, but at the same time felt exactly how I’d always hoped it would. Like we were meant to be.

  I shrugged.

  She shrugged.

  I laughed.

  She laughed.

  I parted my lips.

  She parted her lips.

  I leaned in.

  She leaned in.

  And my life changed forever.

  My hands wrapped tighter around her back as she kissed me. She kissed me harder and harder each passing second, almost as if she was trying to decide if this was real or not.

  Was it real?

  Maybe my twisted mind was making up fantasies as we stood against one another. Maybe in reality, I was merely dreaming. Maybe Alyssa Walters never even existed; maybe she was just someone I made up in my head to get me through my shitty days.

  But if that was true, why did it feel so real?

  We pulled our lips away from one another for a split second. Our eyes locked, and we stared, as if we were both wondering if we could keep the dream alive, or if we should quit before we ruined the small, safe haven of our friendship.

  Her face inched closer to mine as she ran her shaking hands through my hair. “Please,” she whispered into me. My lips grazed across hers, and her eyes faded shut before our mouths crashed together. Alyssa’s hands pulled me closer to her. She leaned in more and slid her tongue between my lips. I kissed her back harder than she kissed me. We fell against the closest building, and I lifted her up against the chilled stones. I wanted her more than she could’ve ever wanted me. Our kisses deepened, our tongues meeting each other as my mind made fake promises of allowing me to feel Alyssa against me forever.

  I wasn’t making this up—her lips, the same lips I’d imagined against mine for so long, the same lips that always made smiles which brightened my days, they were kissing me.

  I kissed my best friend, and she kissed me back.

  She kissed me like she meant it, and I kissed her like she meant the world.

  She is.

  She is my world.

  When we stopped kissing, both of our breaths were heavy. I lowered her feet back down to the ground.

  She stepped backwards.

  I did the same. Our bodies both trembled, as we stood unsure what to do next.

  I shrugged.

  She shrugged.

  I laughed.

  She laughed.

  I parted my lips.

  She parted her lips.

  I leaned in.

  She leaned in.

  Then we started all over again.

  8

  Alyssa

  We were quiet.

  There were only a few sounds in my bedroom that I chose to notice. The sound of the ceiling fan rotating round and round overhead, as we lie beside one another on my bed. There was the sound of the vinyl record playing on top of the dresser, a record that hiccupped every few seconds as if it was damaged—yet somehow it also sounded as if it were completely whole. An automatic air freshener sent off a hiss of rose scent every few minutes, the smells dancing across our noses. And last there were our small inhales and exhales.

  My heart was pounding in such a violent way because it was scared, I was certain of that. Each day that we spent together, the more I started to fall for him. Tonight we kissed. We kissed for what felt like forever, but still not long enough.

  And now, I was afraid.

  His heart was as afraid as mine, I thought. It has to be.

  “Lo?” I said, my throat dry, making my voice crack.

  “Yes, High?” He started calling me High the moment we left the billboard—after he called me his greatest high.

  I loved it more than he’d ever know.

  I snuggled closer to him, falling into the curve of his side. He always made me feel as if he were my security blanket, the place that always wrapped me up when life grew a bit cold. He’d always held me, even when he himself felt so, so lost. “You’re going to break my heart, aren’t you?” I whispered against his ear.

  He nodded, guilt in his eyes. “I might.”

  “And then what will happen?”

  He didn’t reply, but I saw it in his eyes—the fear that he might hurt me. He loved me. He never said the words, but it was there.

  There was something to be said about the way Logan loved a person. It was quiet, almost secretive.

  He was afraid of letting anyone know of his love, because if life had taught him anything, it was that love wasn’t a prize, it was a weapon. And he was so tired of being hurt.

  If only he knew that his love was the only thing that kept my heart beating... Oh, how I wished he’d love me out loud.

  We were quiet once more.

  “High?” he whispered, inching a little closer.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m falling in love with you,” he softly spoke, his words a mirror to my mind.

  My heart skipped.

  I sensed the fear and the excitement in the tones of his voice. The fear was much stronger, but the undercurrent of bliss was still alive, too.

  Nodding slowly, I reached for his hand, which he allowed me to hold. I held it tight, because I knew this was it. This was the moment that changed everything. The moment when we couldn’t go back. We’d been doing this now for a few months, having these feelings that we felt yet understood nothing about. Loving your best friend was weird. But somehow it was right. Before that night, he never came close to saying the word love to me. I wasn’t certain that there was space in Logan’s heart for such a feeling. Everything about his life existed in the realm of darkness. So for him to say those words meant more than anyone would ever understand.

  “It scares you,” I said.

  He held my hand tighter. “It scares me a lot.”

  I used to wonder how one knew they were falling in love. What were the signs? The clues? Did it take time or was it one full sweep? Did a person wake one morning, drink their coffee, and then stare at the person sitting across from them and surrender
completely to the free fall?

  But now I knew. A person didn’t fall in love. They dissolved into it. One day you were ice, the next day, a puddle.

  I wanted that to be the end of the conversation. I wanted to lean in, wrap my arms around him, lie back down, and fall asleep in the bed. My head would rest against his chest and he would lay his hands against my heart, feeling the beats that were made by his love. He would softly kiss my chin and tell me that I was perfect the way I was. He’d say that my quirks were what made me beautiful. He’d hold me as if he was holding himself, his touch filled with care and protection. I wanted to wake up feeling the warmth of this damaged boy beside me, the boy I was dissolving into.

  Yet what one wanted wasn’t always what they received.

  “I don’t know if this is a good idea,” he said. His words hurt me more than I’d ever show. “You’re my best friend, High.”

  “You’re my best friend, Lo,” I replied.

  “And I can’t lose that. I don’t have many people… I trust two people in my life; you and my brother. And I would fuck us up. I know I would. I can’t allow myself to do that. I’ll hurt you. I hurt and ruin everything.” He turned to me, and our foreheads pressed against one another. His eyes were dilated, and as my hand lay against his chest, I could feel how his words hurt him. He parted his mouth and moved in close, whispering against my lips. “I’m not good enough for you, High.”

  Liar.

  He was everything good in my life.

  “We can do this, Logan.”

  “But… I’ll hurt you. I don’t want to, but I will somehow.”

  “Kiss me once,” I said, and he listened. His mouth found mine, and he kissed me slow, pulling away even slower. My body tingled as he ran his fingers through my curls. “Kiss me twice.” He listened once more, lifting himself slightly so he hovered over my body. Our eyes locked, and he stared at me, as if he were trying to promise me forever, even though we only had our now. The second kiss was harder, hotter, more real. “Kiss me three times.”