by Ava Harrison
My belly hurts, I’m laughing so hard.
Me: Fit asfiddle
Douche Face: Why weren’t you in school again today? And we need to speak about what happened yesterday.
Me: School today? What time isit
Douche Face: It’s 5. Are you sure you’re fine?
Me: Why do you care, Douche Face?
Oh, shit. Did I just type that? Fuck. The phone pings again and I throw it away. I don’t want to see what it says. It keeps pinging, but I bury my head under the blanket and drift away. The silence and darkness blanket me like a cozy throw until there’s a banging coming from my living room. With shaky legs I stumble toward the disturbing sound. It’s coming from my door. I can barely look through the peephole, but what I see stops my heart. There he is, Mister Douche Face himself.
I swing the door open. “What are you doing here? And how did you get up?”
“Get up where?”
“The stairs.”
“Lynn, there are like five stairs.”
As I step back inside, I lose my footing and my arms fly forward. I brace myself on the wall. Thankfully, I don’t fall head first into the floor.
“Are you drunk?” There is no hiding the annoyance and judgment in his voice.
“Nah.”
“What the fuck, Lynn? Are you high?”
“I don’t know what I am. Whyyouhere? Don’t you have a girlfriendplay with? I’m tired,” I slur out as I start to lie down on the floor.
“What are you doing?”
“Tired,” I mumble again.
“Lynn . . . Fuck.”
My eyelids flutter shut, and in the distance I hear his voice as I crawl into a ball.
But it all fades away as I fall asleep.
EVERYTHING IS DARK.
I can’t see anything in front of me. I groan with pain as I stretch my arms overhead. My hands connect with something and the lump I hit moves.
“Fuck. That hurt.”
Prying my eyes open, I move toward the voice. “Carson?”
“Who else would it be? Damn, Lynn. You have quite the left hook. That fucking hurt.”
“You’re here? You came?”
“I’m here.” His voice softens, and for a moment I want to melt, but then I remember his rejection and Ms. Stuart.
“What are you doing here? Why are you in my bed? Don’t you have somewhere else you need to be?” The light flickers on, and I squint to avoid the invasion of the harsh contrast from the dark I was recently cocooned in.
“Can you turn the light off?” I groan.
“No. We need to talk.”
I slowly sit up, watching him as he paces the room.
“Is this why you haven’t been in school?”
“Shh, too loud.” I place my hands over my head and shut my eyes.
“Lynn, can you open your eyes?”
“No.”
“Stop acting like a child,” he grits out.
I pop my eyes open. “A child? Oh, is that what I am now? Why are you even here? You don’t give a fuck about me.”
“Believe it or not, I do care about you.”
“Yeah, so much that you went on a date with Ms. Perfect. That you took her to The Kids’ Club.”
“Lynn, what do you want me to do? She asked me to go. She wanted to see it. Was I really supposed to tell her no? You know how badly we need volunteers.”
“You could have.”
“Could have what? This is a no-win situation. Don’t you see that? We can’t do this. We need to steer clear of each other. I care about you, Lynn, more than I should, but we have to keep our distance. We can’t be together.”
“Just leave. Please,” I plead, my voice cracking with desperation.
He’s right. I know he’s right. That doesn’t stop my heart from breaking, though.
PULLING AT MY ROOTS, A sense of dread washes over me. Am I doing the right thing? It feels wrong, but what I have with Lynn isn’t healthy, especially not for her. As much as I know this, it doesn’t make me feel any better. The way our last conversion ended lingers like a dark cloud hanging over my every move—the way she begged me to leave; the pain I caused. An urge to reach out and make things right has me grabbing my phone and shooting off a text.
Me: I’m sorry it has to be like this. It’s for the best.
The phone vibrates back, and I swipe the screen to read it.
Lynn: Leave me alone. We are over.
I stop in my tracks only one block from my destination; I rest my head in my hands. I remain rooted to the spot, frigid air beating against my face as I continue to read and then re-read her response. I’m not sure what I was hoping for, but her words cut into me, ripping at the little shreds still holding me together.
It’s over.
We’re over.
My legs buckle slightly as my hand meets the cool metal of the door. But I’ve already made my decision. I know what I need to do.
Get over Lynn.
Distract myself.
Move the fuck on.
The door pushes open easily, and once inside, my gaze scans the small, intimate room. It’s dark . . . sexy. The walls are lined with small tables for bottle service. Everything in the place is plush. Decadent. Small crystal chandeliers hang from above each table. With a few drinks, this space could easily invoke desire to course through the veins of the patrons.
“Lauren.”
I lean in and place a kiss on her cheek. My voice is rough, fighting my conflicting urges to either grab her and beg her body to make me forget, or just walk away. But I’ve made my decision. I need to get over Lynn. I need something healthy. Something that doesn’t tangle me up on the inside. Something safe. I’m too broken. I’m too fucked up. Lauren is a beautiful woman, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to her. I need to exorcise the demons lingering inside me for Lynn, and she is the perfect person.
Call me an asshole for using her, but I don’t care. I need this. I need the distraction.
I smirk, putting up the mask I show everyone. “Seat?”
“Sure.”
Placing my hand on the small of her back, I guide her to a table in the back corner. She looks over her shoulder as my hand hits the material covering her skin. She breathes lightly through parted lips. She takes the seat I pull out for her and I sit across from her with my legs wide. I lean back against the chair and watch her. Her legs cross at the knee and her skirt rises, giving me a perfect view of her thigh. A sigh escapes her mouth, her breasts pushing out as she licks her lips. She’s the polar opposite of Lynn. Sensual and sexy. She’s all woman, and although she doesn’t make my heart lurch in my chest the way it does with Lynn, the ivory skin of her thighs makes it beat a little faster.
A waitress appears at the side of the table.
I incline my head. “Same as last time?” She nods, and when I order her drink, her lips part in a wide smile.
“You remembered.”
“Of course.”
Turning to Lauren, I recline back in my seat and lift my gaze to meet her eyes. “This is a cool place,” I tilt my head to the side.
Her gaze takes in the décor around us. “It is. I love it here.”
“So, you come here often? Is this your “date” spot?” Her eyes widen. “I’m just playing.” I wink, and she lets out a nervous chuckle.
“I like it here because they make the greatest martini,” she clarifies. I highly doubt that’s the reason, but I nod in agreement. “So, we might work together, but I feel I know nothing about you, Carson.” She leans in, giving me an ample view of her cleavage.
“What do you want to know?”
“Well at school, you’re quiet. You don’t really speak to anyone, so what do you do for fun?”
“Honestly. I’m kind of a loner.” I pause for a beat as the waitress approaches and hands us our drinks.
Her eyes light up. “Oh, I’m not. I’m very social,” she purrs, and there’s no mistaking the innuendo in her voice.
L
ifting my glass, I pretend to toast. “To being social,” I say and take a swig of my vodka on the rocks. “I do run a lot.”
“Oh, cool. I spin, it’s my favorite. You don’t do anything for fun?”
I’m not even sure how I should respond to this. I wasn’t kidding when I said I was a loner. Since graduating from college, I basically stopped talking to my friends. I realized at that last party just how much I hated that shit, and there was no point in pretending I didn’t.
“Seriously, I work, I run, and I volunteer.”
“Well, that and go out with me.” She winks.
“Yes. That, too. But other than going out with you tonight, and going for drinks for happy hour last week, I haven’t gone out all year.”
“Wait, really? So, what do you do after work?”
“I volunteer. I’m there every day.” My back stiffens at talking about this with her. It reminds me too much of Lynn. I need to steer this conversation into safer territory. Leaning into Lauren, I place my elbows on my knees and tilt my head. “So, what about you, Lauren? What do you do for fun?”
“I spin. Play tennis. Do yoga, and I love to go out dancing.”
“Any hobbies?”
“Can dancing be considered a hobby?” She laughs. “You?”
“Astronomy.” Lynn’s words echo through my ears. “Why constellations?”
Lauren laughs. “That’s boring. Okay, tell me what you really thought about—”
She starts to talk about something funny that happened at school, and I can’t help but laugh. She might not be deep. She might not want to know everything about me, but I like it. I can keep my thoughts and demons to myself. I don’t need to delve deeper.
Easy.
We sit and laugh as she fills every lull with more chatter. I’m not drunk, not by a longshot. Just relaxed without a fucking care in the world.
And I really like it.
After about an hour, I grab the bill. Taking her hand, I help her up. “I had a great time, Lauren.” And I did.
She lifts to her tiptoes and places her lips a fraction of an inch from mine. “I’m not ready for the night to be over.” Her breath tickles my lips. “Walk me home.”
It’s not a question.
The door to her home doesn’t even close before she throws her arms around me and her mouth finds mine. The kiss comes out of nowhere. Blinding me to everything but her. But this.
Her body presses against mine, and I fall into the kiss, closing my mind completely to what this means. I let it take over. I let myself become lost in her. Because this is what I need.
Easy.
Being with Lauren is easy. Simple.
No shit. No anger. No fear of being caught, or consequences, or repercussions for my actions. I just need to lose myself in the simplicity of this.
Not having to give a fuck.
Her hands weave their way through my hair then glide down my back.
I can do this.
This will make me get over Lynn.
And I need to get over her.
We can’t be together.
I tighten my arms, holding on tight to the escape. This is pain-free. Meaningless fun.
This . . .
Fuck.
It doesn’t feel right. Her lips aren’t right.
I refuse to push her away. I’ll make it right. I can lose myself in her.
Closing my eyes tighter, I shut out the world and all the bullshit and just try to be here, try to be somewhere else and feel. But as tightly closed as I keep my eyes, I’m here. And as much as I try, my brain won’t be fooled. This isn’t Lynn.
From the corner of my mind, a sound pulls me out of my haze. It’s a soft buzz. She pulls away.
“Hold that thought.” She fishes her phone out of her bag. “Hello?”
Her eyes go wide, and her faces pales. “Calm down. Just breathe.” She holds up her hand and mouths sorry to me. “It’s okay. Okay. No, I’m coming over. I’ll be there in a minute.” She hangs up and bites her lip.
“Is everything okay?”
“My sister just found out her husband cheated on her. She’s devastated.”
“Go, be with your sister. She shouldn’t be alone. No one should be alone when they are that upset.” I was always alone, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. But I don’t say that. She doesn’t know about my family. Only Lynn knows. Because Lynn knows what it’s like to be alone, too.
Lynn.
She’s embedded so deeply inside me, there’s no chance of escape.
“I’ll let myself out,” I say.
She steps forward, a piece of hair falling in front of her face. From habit, I reach up to push back her hair, but I catch myself, pull my hand away, and lower it to my side. Neither of us speaks as I swing open the door and take a step toward it.
“Another time,” she says, and I turn back to her.
“Hope everything is okay with your sister.” I step outside, and the door shuts behind me. My breath is heavy, and my fists tighten until they turn white.
What the fuck have I done?
I didn’t see her all weekend and I find myself anxious today, even worse than when she skipped. When she skipped I was concerned, but now that she’s back in my class it’s almost impossible to keep from doing something stupid . . . Like grabbing her in front of everyone and declaring she’s mine. Or letting her know she doesn’t need to be so sad, that she has me. But I can’t. So instead of pacing in the classroom, I find myself pacing in the alcove. It reminds me of Lynn, of the kiss we shared here, and for some fucked up reason, it calms me.
Closing my eyes, I fill my lungs with oxygen and I try desperately to right my breath. As the air leaves my body, a hand lands on my shoulder. As I’m opening them, lips thrust against mine, making me shut them closed again. I get lost in the feeling, but something is wrong. This doesn’t feel right.
Jolting my eyes open, platinum blond hair and different features come into focus and I realize I was so absorbed in my own illusion that I forgot where I was and whom I was with. This isn’t Lynn. It’s Lauren. This is wrong. All wrong. And the feel of Lauren’s mouth on mine solidifies that Lynn is the only girl for me. I move to push her away but before I can, I hear a sharp inhale of breath echoing loudly like a freight train from behind me. Everything inside me halts, tensing to the point of pain. I don’t need to turn around to know who saw us. To know who was standing behind me. It’s written all over Lauren’s face.
Fuck.
I need to go to her. But I can’t. I wish I could hold her, but I won’t. I need to stay the course. Pretend she’s nothing to me. Convince Lauren that Lynn is nothing. Just another student.
This is for the best. I don’t want to let her go. How can I? She’s a bright, shining star in my otherwise dull existence. When she’s around, it’s as though anything is possible. There’s not a second of the day that my thoughts don’t drift to her. But anything I say is only a hollow promise. I refuse to lie to her, and I refuse to lie to myself. We can’t be together. At least not now. Until the day comes that she’s no longer deemed off limits, we have to tread carefully and live separate lives.
So I let her go.
“What was that about?” Lauren takes a step back at the same time as I do.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you?” Her eyebrow rises. She steps closer, and lifts her hand to touch me.
I grab her wrist, halting her progress. “This isn’t appropriate. Us, kissing in school, is not appropriate.”
“Is this about Miss Adams?”
“Why are we still talking about her? No, this has nothing to do with Miss Adams,” I grit out. I’m mad at myself for sounding so brash, but the way she speaks of Lynn has me ready to break. “Listen, Lauren, you’re a great girl. I have fun with you. But right now in my life, this . . .” I motion between our bodies. “This isn’t working for me, and it’s not fair to lead you on.”
She leans back on her heels and narrows he
r eyes, studying me, really looking at me. “This is because of your student,” she says to herself more to me, her head shaking as she mentally puts everything together.
“I thought we just spoke about this? This has nothing to do with my students. I care about you, but not like that.” Pulling my hand through my hair, I exhale harshly and wait for her rebuttal, but she bites her lips and nods once.
“I hope that’s the truth, Carson.” She gestures behind me to where Lynn was standing. “Because that would end your career.” She puts her hand on mine and squeezes. “I care about you too, Carson. If anything changes, I’m here.”
EVERYTHING HURTS.
My head, my body, hell, even the hairs on my arms hurt.
For the past week of school, I have been in either a perpetual state of drunkenness or hung over; it’s a vicious cycle I can’t kick because whenever I try, the pain spreads and festers. I haven’t done my schoolwork. I haven’t paid attention, and this week I bailed on Toby. I shouldn’t have, but I just couldn’t muster the strength to go. What if she was there again? I wouldn’t be able to deal.
As I trudge down the hall, I stop short. About ten feet in front of me is exactly the reason I skipped school last week. Carson is propped against the wall, and he’s talking to her.
This is too much. I can’t stand it. God, I wish I brought one of my mom’s Xanax to school with me, but since I didn’t, I turn around and head for the side door. Maybe someone outside has one. The students at this school are prescribed all types of shit.
When I step outside, I spot Bryce Matthews, the resident pill popper at Cranbrook. Bingo. “So, Bryce, what do you have for me today? Any Xanax?” I ask him.
“Nah, but I got this. Here,” he says as he hands me his water bottle filled with clear liquid. I take a huge gulp, and then chase it with another. That should make me not care.
After my fourth or fifth shot, I don’t care about anything. Everything is just peachy. I check my watch. Oh, shit! Late for class. Wonder what Mr. Jerkface Handsome will think. I bust out laughing.
Within a few minutes, I’m stumbling into class, still laughing. “Miss Adams, thank you for gracing us with your presence today.”