My bed has never felt so cold and empty.
He comes home the next afternoon, but he completely blanks me. If he looks at me his eyes don’t linger because I don’t see it or feel it. His face is set in a permanent scowl just like before we became friends. He hates me again and I don’t blame him.
I head to school with Cella so he doesn’t have to reject me from his car too. It’s too painful. The girls keep me cheery for the most part, all of us excited for prom.
It’s all we talk about at lunch too and I try to be enthusiastic, for the girls at least. We were always planning on going stag so it’s not like I’m dropping Travis.
Travis sits elsewhere at lunch, so do Duncan and Preston, though at least they smile at me. Travis doesn’t look at me at all.
It hurts but it’s more than I deserve.
I’m going to try and smooth things over later. We now have mutual friends between us and the girls planned so much on prom night. It’ll be awkward if we’re not talking at least. I’m not expecting him to be my best friend again, but we don’t have to be like this.
As soon as school ends I head straight for Travis’ car and climb into the passenger seat before he can lock the door.
He grips the wheel and hazel eyes stare ahead through thick glasses.
I made him start wearing them again a couple of weeks ago. The contact lenses hurt his eyes and he admitted to me that the only reason he cut his hair and got contacts was to impress me. He thought the reason I didn’t want to be with him after the kisses we shared was because of how he looked.
So far from the truth. So very very far.
He starts the car as soon as my seatbelt clicks into place and his body remains tense until we pull up in the driveway.
I don’t get out of the car and neither does he.
There’s a pregnant pause as I swallow my pride and gather the courage I need to apologize. I figure there’s a two percent chance he won’t reject me, but that chance is everything I have right now and I’m not missing it.
“I’m so sorry, Travis.”
His knuckles whiten around the steering wheel. “Sorry for what? For leading me on for months or for abandoning us all like we mean nothing to you?”
“Both,” I reply, choosing not to correct him because nothing I can say will convince him I do care and I do love him, just not enough to stay or in a way he deserves. Telling him I love him will only make things worse. “I never meant to lead you on. We never had that conversation. I should have been clearer.” I try to place my hand on his but he rips it away and keeps his eyes ahead. “If I’d said this to you before the first time we had sex, would you have had sex with me still?”
“I don’t know, and you never gave me the chance to find out.” He looks at me at last, but the hatred and anger aimed at me is devastating. “Did you know then that you were going to New York?”
I hesitate but that’s all the confirmation he needs.
“You knew all of this time?” He laughs coldly and pushes his door open, but I grab the sleeve of his shirt.
“What can I do to make this right?” I beg when he looks at me over his shoulder. “How can I fix this between us.”
He turns back to face me and looks me up and down with sad, hazel eyes. “Choose me. Stay. Say you love me and stay.”
Oh, Travis. My heart is breaking.
“But we’re on different paths right now,” I reply. “Maybe one day, when you’re a big shot at NASA and I’m an epic head doctor we can reconnect? I’ll come back one day.”
He stares at me. He’s so hurt. I hate myself.
He climbs out of the car before I can stop him.
“Don’t follow me, Raven,” he calls over his shoulder. “Please… don’t follow me.”
I don’t follow him. I climb from the car and go to my room with tears burning my eyes and my stony heart spitting acid in my chest.
Raven: This is so hard.
Cella: I know. :-(
Raven: It’s really super fucking hard, man.
Cella: It’ll all work out. You’ll see.
Raven: Promise?
Cella: I promise that one day you’ll look back on this moment and smile.
Raven: Or cry at what I’m losing.
Cella: Travis isn’t the only great guy in the world. He’ll move on and so will you.
Raven: But we’re perfect for each other.
Cella: At this point in time you are, but what about in five years from now when you’re both totally different people? Look at my parents for example, they were in love in high school, now they can’t stand each other.
Raven: I’m so sorry. :-(
Cella: It’s life, bae. <3 We have each other. That’s all we need.
Raven: Amen, sistaaaa. xoxoxox
Cella: xoxoxoxoxoxox
Raven: Can I stay at your house tonight? I need a break from all this shit. My head is spinning.
Cella: Duh… Get your curvy ass over here.
I open my bedroom door with a packed overnight bag in my hand and almost bump into Travis who is on his way to our shared bathroom.
“Hey,” I try but he keeps his eyes ahead and then slams the door in my face.
I meet Dad downstairs. “I’m staying at Cella’s.”
“It’s a school night,” Shonda says with a frown.
“We are studying for finals.”
Dad and she share a look before my dad nods. I’m surprised he let me go what with him wanting to spend more time with me.
I’m glad he did. It’s only one night after all.
“Mother-fuck-nugget,” I cry when Shonda pulls on my hair.
“Language.”
“Don’t scalp me then and I won’t swear!”
We share a smile in the mirror, and I look at my face once more. My makeup is perfect. I look and feel so beautiful. It’s subtle and complements my features, highlighting certain points to make my cheekbones stand out just enough.
I look older but in a good way.
When I stand, I yank off my bra and Shonda helps me into my dress. It’s simple, elegant, and stunning. It’s black satin with a deep V and thin straps. It clings to my body like a second skin and fans out at the back, trailing behind me. A mermaid style, the kind I swore I wouldn’t wear.
I drape my shawl over my shoulders and arms, grab my clutch, and turn to face her.
“How do I look?”
She dabs at the corners of her eyes with a makeup wipe. “Like the most beautiful woman in existence.”
“Impossible, Mommy dearest, you already claimed that slot.”
She hugs me without messing up my hair that took her an hour, and then exits the room with me hot on her heels.
“Are you ready yet?” Cella shrieks.
“I NEED TO MAKE MY ENTRANCE!” I shriek back and compose myself as my hand grips the railing and my heeled pumps make contact with the very top step. “Get your cameras out, ladies.”
I blow an errant strand of hair out of my face and descend the stairs with poise, grace, and a comically seductive smile on my face.
Cella, Molly, and Bris all holler and catcall when I step into their line of sight. They’ve seen my dress of course.
My dad hasn’t though, and he looks at me like he’s seeing me for the first time.
“You look beautiful,” he says, taking my hand and turning me underarm. “My little girl has grown up. I don’t know how it happened.”
“Don’t, you’ll make me cry,” I say, smiling softly.
We take photos together, making a proper display of it, until we finally leave the house and I wonder if Travis is there already or if he’s even going at all.
I feel sick at the prospect of him having a date which is unfair of me. I ended it, he deserves to move on.
Cella hands me a bottle of raspberry-flavored vodka the second we enter the limo, out of the sight of our parents and the driver. It’s strong but it is so good.
We screw around with the buttons, get told off for wavin
g out of the windows like the queens we are, sing at the top of our lungs, and take a thousand selfies, of course. I’m having so much fun I almost don’t want to go to prom.
Though of course we do, popping on our masks after the first round of photos at the entrance, to the side of a red carpet that leads to the hall. We hand over our tickets and head into the crowd. The dance floor is already full, and everyone is already having a great time.
Feeling buzzed from the alcohol we head to the center and dance like we’ve never danced before. The teachers join us, the cheerleaders show off, the jocks act rowdy in the corner, and everyone just goes crazy but in a really good way. We chat to people we don’t normally chat to, compliment each other’s outfits, and talk about who we think will be prom queen. We don’t vote at this school, the prom committee and the teachers decide based on who they think is best dressed and who is most active at the event. I used to dream it would be me, but now I hope it’s Bris. She’s so animated and beautiful, and she wants it more than anybody else.
I see no sign of Travis, and truth be told, as selfish as it is, I’ve been looking for him all night. Scanning the masked faces, looking for his eyes, his hair, his height. So far no such luck.
I contemplate shooting him a text, just to see if he’s okay but every time my hand grasps my phone, I talk myself out of it. He doesn’t want to talk to me. I hurt him. I have to let go.
I feel like a broken record.
“What’s wrong?” Cella asks as I swipe my thumb over my phone screen.
“Nothing,” I lie and plaster a smile on my face.
We both glance at Bris who is currently grinding her rear all up on Parker. I don’t know what she sees in that guy.
“Gross,” Cella murmurs and I nod my agreement.
“Will you text Preston and find out where Travis is?”
She raises a brow. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“He’s not here.”
“You know the only reason they agreed to come in the first place was for you.”
I blow out a breath. “I know.”
“It’s not their scene.”
“I know that too.” I stick out my lower lip. “Please text him?”
She laughs through her nose and quickly types out the message. After a moment she gasps and my heart staggers with fright.
“What is it? Is he okay?”
“I don’t know, Preston said I have to kiss him for his secrets.” She gags good-naturedly. “So gross.”
“Just say yes.”
Her thumbs move at a furious pace and I wait on bated breath. Finally, after a few minutes of back-and-forth texting, she says, “Preston said Travis took one look at you at prom and left. They followed, got drunk, called you a selfish bitch for a while and now they’re at Duncan’s watching scary videos on YouTube.”
“He saw me?”
She nods and shows me the messages.
I read through them, noting how they said he’s tanked out on vodka. That’s my night ruined.
“I feel so bad.”
“I know, but what can you do?”
“I don’t know,” I mutter, handing her back her phone. “This sucks ass.”
“I can tell.” She places her temple to mine. “If you want to go to him, you can, but I don’t know what good it will do.”
My lip trembles but I refuse to cry. This is a good night.
I push my shit away and focus on everything else. Cheering up especially when Bris wins prom queen as we all hoped she would.
Hours later we head home, to our own homes as requested by our families because we have four years of slumber parties to look forward to. I spent a little bit of time with my exhausted dad and then slunk off to bed.
I’m now in my bedroom, still tipsy, swaying slightly in the dark, as I try to unzip my dress.
I hear the window slide open, I hear a foot on the ground, I hear him stumble and I hear the drapes close as he tugs on them.
“You’re late,” he mutters to my back.
“You shouldn’t be in here. Dad’s probably not asleep.”
I hear the lock click on the door and turn to face him.
He looks disheveled and weary; his sad eyes are hazy and unfocused from the alcohol he has consumed. We stare at each other, unmoving.
“You look…” His voice trails off and he tucks his hands into the pockets of his suit trousers. So he did dress up for prom then. His untucked shirt is creased and if he wore a bow tie it isn’t there now. Instead his top button is undone, showing the smooth dip of his throat.
I remember licking ice cream from there once. I remember how he groaned and gripped my arm as though trying to restrain himself from grabbing me and taking things further.
“Can you unzip me?” I ask on a whispered breath.
He doesn’t move, he just keeps looking at the fabric that covers my body. “It’s like a glove.”
“Sorry?”
When he steps forward, I hold my breath. His hand touches my waist gently and slides up over the silky surface with ease. I stay still, now breathing softly through my nose so as to not groan as my body burns exquisitely under his touch.
He cups my breast making me gasp and his thumb rolls over my nipple, making it tighten and tingle.
“If I unzip your dress,” he murmurs, tickling my other side with his fingers. “I’m not going to be able to leave this room.”
At his words, insatiable need burns between my thighs.
“Travis,” I plead breathlessly, and his forehead hits mine.
We stay like this for another moment, absorbing the heat from each other, trying to talk ourselves out of whatever is about to happen, but I know with certainty that I can’t resist him.
He finally turns me around and caresses my shoulders and neck with his soft hands. I whimper, waiting with desperation carried in my blood.
The zip drags down, getting lower and lower until it stops at the curve above my rear. It pools to the ground, leaving me clad in nothing but a thong for his gaze.
He grips my rear with both hands and squeezes.
Wow.
Then his hands leave me and he starts to undo my hair, taking out bobby pins and dropping them on the floor.
He kisses my neck after twisting my hair around his hand. Shivers burst along the surface of my skin. I bite my lip, almost drawing blood.
We step over my dress, almost getting caught in the train, when I’m turned again at the edge of my bed and his lips aggressively come to mine.
I squeak and wrap my hands in his shirt and then starting to work on the buttons. I pop three open when I’m pushed onto the bed with a bounce and he’s yanking off my thong. I lie back and wait for him to drop his trousers. He nudges open my thighs with his knee before sinking onto it.
I feel him probing at the wetness between my legs after he drags me to the end of the bed. He thrusts inside, knocking the wind out of me.
We fuck, it’s brutal. He’s not soft, he’s not gentle, he hooks my legs over his arms and powers into me with a force unlike any other time we’ve joined. I groan with the pleasure of it and tears fall from my eyes.
We aren’t making love this time, not like all of the other times. This is a punishment. This is his way of hurting me, because he knows how much I like to hold him, at least at some point, and he doesn’t let me. Every time I reach for him he pushes my hand away.
I watch him, watch his brows furrow, watch his eyes squeeze shut, watch his lips thin to a white line. He’s mad, so fucking mad.
“Travis,” I whisper and his eyes open and find mine. When he sees my tears he stops moving and his demeanor changes, the anger melts away and concern and sorrow fill the space it left behind.
He pulls out, still hard, glistening with my own juices. “Did I hurt you?”
“Yes.”
“Physically?” He sounds horrified, he looks it too.
“No, not physically.”
“Good.” He tucks himself into his trousers and stands, loom
ing over me as I pull my quilt across my body to hide my nudity.
My heart shatters, scattering through the ashes of the burning hole he just left in my chest with that one word. I watch him climb out of the window he came through and sit numbly, clinging to the blanket as though it’s my only comfort in the world.
Which it is at this point.
I break down, sobbing silently into my quilt, letting my tears soak it as I curl into a ball on the foot of my bed and pray that sleep takes me.
One thing is for sure, no matter what I did, I didn’t deserve that.
When I wake the next morning with swollen, makeup-stained eyes and puffy cheeks, I head into the bathroom for a hot shower and get myself ready for the day. I prolong the inevitable venture to the downstairs world where I can hear Shonda talking on the phone.
A knock at the door startles me. “Yeah?” I ask, removing my toothbrush from my mouth.
“We’re having a date today.”
“You and the mother-beast?”
He laughs at my name for Shonda. “No, just us.”
“Oh.” I feel happier now and I smile at my reflection in the mirror as frothy minty toothpaste drips down my chin. “Awesome. I’ll get dressed then.”
“Great.” His footsteps vanish, so I quickly finish up doing what I was doing before getting dressed in a modest cream shirt and shorts.
When I leave my bedroom I almost collide with Travis as he steps out of his. He looks hungover, his hair is a mess, his glasses are lopsided on his face.
“Raven,” he tries. “About last night…”
“Fuck off, Trav,” I bite out, shouldering past him only to meet my dad at the bottom of the stairs.
“Still mad that he snitched on you?”
“Something like that,” I reply and smile up at him. “Let’s not talk about that.” I link my arm through his. “What’s the plan for today, Pops?”
“Watch it with the pops,” he grumbles good-naturedly and pulls me under his arm. I escape before he messes up my hair. “So, I thought we could go to the mall? Shop for your university shit?”
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