by Chloe Walsh
“Molly, wait!” I called after her, pain and dread knotting my stomach. “Let me just -”
“No. I’m fine, Daryl. Promise.” But the fake smile she plastered on her face told me she was lying.
“Just wait!” I tried one last time.
But she didn’t wait.
Instead, she turned on her heels and raced inside the girls' bathroom, leaving me alone and reeling in the aftermath.
Molly
I wanted to lay with my feelings and let the world wash over my head.
I wanted to stop the world and let myself off.
I couldn't catch a freaking break.
Slipping into the bathroom, I made a beeline for the stalls, not stopping until I was sitting on top of a closed toilet lid in one of the cubicles.
With my head in my hands, I tried to pull myself together. I knew tears had no place at school.
Tears of a teenage outcast were like droplets of blood, and this school was a shark tank. Great whites were all around me, waiting on the moment I became vulnerable and exposed so they could pick me apart and tear me to pieces.
Just like they already had.
Girl on Fire.
I didn’t do anything wrong.
I was just trying to live my life.
I didn’t ask for any of this.
A pained sob escaped me and I slapped a hand over my mouth, willing myself to be a stronger person.
You can get through this.
You will get through this.
In five years' time, these people will be a blip on your radar.
I wanted to close my eyes and transport back to my youth – back to my mother's arms. Loneliness took ahold of a person. It gripped you tight in its chains and refused to let go. I was lonely and desperate for it all to just stop.
"Do you mind?" a girl demanded from somewhere outside of my stall.
"Yeah, this bathroom is closed," a familiar voice said.
"Excuse me?"
"Get the fuck out, red," Daryl snapped, and then the sound of the bathroom door slamming shut filled my ears. "Find somewhere else to take a leak."
"Daryl!"
"I know you're angry," he began to say. "Believe me, I'm mad enough for the both of us. Hell, I'm so fucking pissed I can taste it. But you can't not be my friend because of a bunch of jealous bitches, Molls."
"Oh my god, are you serious? What are you even talking about?" I sniffled. "Get the hell out of here, D."
"I can't," he called back. "I can't lose you twice."
I rolled my eyes. "Stop being so dramatic."
"I'm being serious." His voice was closer now. "Look up."
I did and screamed when I saw his face looking down at me from the top of the cubicle. "I could've been peeing in here."
"So?" He shrugged. "It ain't like I've never seen you pee before, Molls."
"When I was three, douche," I growled. "Ugh." Shaking my head, I stood up and unlocked the door before stepping out. "Whatever."
"I'm sorry they did that to you," he continued, following me out of the stall. "I'm sorry that happened to you because of me."
"Listen, I just want to go home, okay?" My eyes were red-rimmed and I looked like crap. "I don’t want to talk about it, and I don’t want to fight. I just want to leave."
"Alright," he said with a nod. "I'll drive you."
I thought about arguing, but decided against it, wanting to get away from school just that little bit more than I wanted to salvage my pride. "Okay. Thank you."
"No problem," he replied, holding the door open for me. "But just so you know; it ain't gonna be that easy, Molls."
"What isn’t gonna be that easy?"
"Leaving me twice."
Molly
By Saturday afternoon, I had successfully binged through three boxsets of Styles and Scott, before reluctantly acknowledging that it was time to get my butt in gear and stop wallowing in self-pity.
After showering and getting dressed, and with nothing better to do, I decided to deep clean the kitchen.
With Redneck Woman by Gretchen Wilson blasting from the iPod dock in my kitchen, I sang the lyrics at the top of my lungs, releasing every ounce of angst and energy that had built up inside of me after what could only be described as a day from hell at school.
With a mop in my hands, and my favorite country music playlist on shuffle, I glided across the kitchen tiles, combining an impressive display of air-guitar and cleaning as I went.
I was so caught up in the music, so dang wrapped up in my less than stellar performance of Carrie Underwood's Cowboy Casanova, that I didn’t hear the doorbell ring. With the handle of the mop pressed to my mouth, I danced around the kitchen.
Clad in a baggy t-shirt, my grey pajama shorts, and fluffy socks, I climbed onto the kitchen island and hit the high notes with determined relish.
It wasn’t until the sound of a throat clearing, followed by a loud knock, filled my ears, that I realized I had an audience.
"Oh my god!" I screamed, flinging the mop at the tall figure leaning against the kitchen doorframe before leaping down from the island and hiding behind it. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"
"The back door was open," Daryl explained, looking sheepish. Yeah, because I had left it open to dry the floor. "Sorry. I did ring the bell out front, but you were, ah, busy." He smirked. "Didn’t mean to interrupt the show, Celine."
"Funny." Mortified, I stayed hidden behind the island, with only my head peeking up, and my heart hammering violently in my chest. "What are you doing here?"
"I was driving past your house." Kicking off his shoes, Daryl walked inside and set the plastic bags he was holding on top of the island. "I figured I'd stop and see if you wanted to hang out."
"Hang out?" I squeaked out, fingertips gripping the marble countertop. After what happened on Friday? "Are you serious?"
"Yeah," he replied, sounding as nervous as I felt. "Is that weird for you?"
Yes. "No, not weird." I swallowed deeply. "Just…different. Don’t you hang out with Rourke and work out with your teammates on the weekend?"
"Rourke's busy with Mercy and I've already worked out."
"So, you found yourself at a loss and decided to call on your option b?"
"What – no!" He gaped at me in horror. "Of course I didn’t –"
"Relax, I'm kidding."
"Oh." He visibly sagged in relief. "Since we're giving the friend thing another shot, I figured we could..." His words trailed off and he eyed me crouching behind the opposite side of the island. "You okay down there?"
"Okay? Me?" I nodded vigorously. "Uh-huh."
He didn’t look convinced. "You hiding or something?"
"Nope." I shook my head. "Definitely not hiding."
"Okay…" he drawled slowly. "Then are you gonna stand up?"
"Nope."
"What's going on?" His frown deepened. "Do you want me to leave? Because I can –"
"No, it's not that. I don’t want you to leave, D. It's just, uh…" Blowing out a shaky breath, I squeezed out, "I'm not really dressed for company. Can you just wait in the living room for a sec? I need to go put on a sweater and jeans."
"What?" His green eyes narrowed in confusion. "It's one hundred degrees outside. I just saw you. Molly, you're dressed plenty –"
"I don’t want you to see, okay?" I snapped, shaking now. "Please."
"See what?"
I gave him a meaningful look.
Awareness flickered in his green eyes a moment later and his jaw ticked before he turned his back to me. "Fine. I won't look."
"Thank you." I sighed in relief and quickly dashed out of the kitchen, moving at full speed for the staircase. "Make yourself at home," I called over my shoulder. "I won't be a minute."
Molly
"So, what's in the bags?" I asked when I returned to the kitchen a few minutes later in an oversized, long sleeved sweater and jeans. Layered up and feeling more at ease, I strolled over to the island and pulled up a stool.
"Beer," Daryl replied, emptying the contents of the carrier bags in front of me. "But if that's not your thing, it's cool –"
"No, I like beer," I blurted out – more like bold-face lied – eyes glued to the white, sleeveless muscle tank and grey sweatpants he had on.
The tank was loose and gave me the perfect view of one of his brown nipples that was attached to a rock-hard pec.
Lord, the boy was built of granite stone.
He was ripped to within an inch of his life, but that didn’t surprise me one bit.
Since my return to Ocean Bay, I had quickly learned that Daryl King still lived and breathed football. He worked out constantly and his body was the reward he had earned for every grueling session he put in at the gym.
"Here," Daryl said, dragging me from my thoughts, as he tossed a candy bar onto my lap. "Got you a Snickers." His cheeks reddened and he shrugged. "Didn’t know if it was still your favorite kind of chocolate–"
"It is," I replied, feeling ridiculously touched by his small gesture. "Thank you."
He cleared his throat. "No problem."
"So…" Desperate to keep the mood light – and keep him with me – I reached for the pile of goodies he'd brought over. "Candy. Chips. Beer. A baggy of what I can only assume is weed?" Leaning forward on my elbows, I arched a teasing brow at him and waved the bag of weed in front of his face. "Why, King Doofus, are you proposing we do a Lana Del Rey and get high by the beach?"
Smirking, he placed his hands on either side of me and leaned in. "Actually Molly-Dolly, I was thinking more along the lines of Netflix and chill."
Thrown off kilter by his cocky reply, I shook my head and chuckled nervously. "You're such a douche."
He was joking.
Just joking.
Jesus, relax, woman!
Get a grip.
Grinning, Daryl snatched the baggy from my fingertips and quickly pocketed it. "Actually, that was an accident." He winked and patted his pocket. "Didn’t mean to bring that over here. Wouldn’t wanna extend my record of corrupting you. Did enough of that when we were kids."
I snorted. "Like you could."
"Have you ever smoked?"
I opened my mouth to give him a smart-ass answer, but fell short. "Well…no."
Daryl chuckled softly. "See. Bad influence."
"Well, you don’t exactly strike me as a pothead yourself, mister hotshot quarterback."
"Because I'm not."
"Uh-huh." I rolled my eyes. "So, you just happen to carry a baggy of weed around with you because –"
"Because I happen to live with a cop who enjoys snooping around in my room and finding reasons to screw me over and ruin my chances at Alabama State next year almost as much as he enjoys making my life a living hell."
"Wretched," I offered, scrunching my nose up at the thought of Daryl's douchebag stepdad. "Yeah, I heard he made sheriff." A shudder rolled through me. "The town couldn’t have picked a more crooked cop to head up the police department."
Daryl gave me a strange look.
"What?" I asked, feeling exposed. "What are you thinking?"
"Nothing." He shook his head, lips twitching in a small smile. "I was just thinking about how much I've missed this." He shook his head and looked away. "About how much I've missed you, Molls."
"Yeah, D." I felt my face grow hot from his admission. "Me too."
Daryl
Fuck if I knew what I was doing here.
Molly's house was the very last place I should have come, but like the habit of a lifetime, when shit went down with Wren, I ran straight to her.
My home life was all kinds of messed up, and just like every night from birth to the age of ten, I sought out the girl that had provided a safe haven from the bullshit.
There was a ridge between us now, one that had steadily grown from spending eight years apart, and had been stretched even wider when Britt pulled her shit at school, but that didn’t change that fact that there was no place else I wanted to be.
Maybe I shouldn’t have brought beer over, but I wanted to forget about the world for a little while and she seemed to feel the same.
Besides, it was easier to be around her when I was buzzed. It took the edge off the crazy fucking feelings circling around inside of me.
The guilt.
When I'd found her in singing in the kitchen earlier, she looked just like she had when we were kids. So alive and in love with life.
She seemed to love music now just as much as she had when we were kids. Wherever she was, her beloved iPod was never far away, and in the past few weeks, I'd thought of a million different songs I wanted to play her, most of which included the lyrics 'I'm so fucking sorry'.
My guilt wasn't easing up in the slightest. The more time I spent with her, the worse I felt.
Knowing that she had walked those halls for two years thinking I didn’t give a damn about her hurt me more than it could ever hurt her. I was torn to fucking pieces over it.
Fuck…
On the upside, Rourke had managed to sort his shit out and tie Mercy down. Thank Christ, because if I had to look at him moping around for another damn day, I wasn’t sure I would've been able to handle it.
Whenever I looked at him with Mercy, I couldn't help the slither of jealously that rose up inside of me, though. I knew I shouldn't be feeling it. Rourke had been dealt a rough hand of cards, but it still made me envious. Because he got to kiss and touch the girl he had feelings for.
Daryl
"I hope you realize that I'm never gonna sleep again," Molly announced, several hours later, her bleary-eyed gaze glued the television screen.
It was dark outside and we were sprawled out on the couch in her living room, having made our way through all of the beer I'd brought over, and most of her father's top shelf liquor. Her Netflix app was open and playing episode five of The Haunting of Hill House.
"Hey, you picked the show," I reminded her. "I said Netflix and chill, not Netflix and terrorize. I told you it was a bad idea. It ain't my fault you're a masochist."
"I'm brave," she bit out, sounding anything but. "I can handle this."
I snorted. "Sure thing, Molls."
"No, Nell, no!" She grabbed a pillow and hid behind it as another freaky-ass ghost jumped out on the television screen. "Ahhhh," she screamed, burying her face in my chest. "That creepy little bastard!"
Chuckling, I draped my arm around her shoulders and finished my glass of…whatever the hell it was. "What am I drinking?"
"I don't know," she squeezed out, clinging to me like a baby monkey. "Tell me when it's over, 'kay?"
"I think it's tequila," I surmised, my words a drunken slur, as I studied the empty glass in my hand. "Hey, is it okay if I crash here tonight?" Loosening my hold on her, I sat forward, set my empty glass on the coffee table, and reached for the makeshift ashtray we'd been using earlier in the night; a glass swan ornament. "I can't go home like this."
He'll kill me.
And I don’t wanna leave you.
"You think I'm gonna let you leave me by myself with the damn ghosts?" came her urgent response. "Uh, hell yes, you can crash here."
"Appreciate it." Placing a fresh, pre-rolled joint between my lips, I grabbed a lighter and sparked up. "And I'll protect you –" pausing, I took a deep hit and exhaled slowly, "from the ghosts."
"You better," Molly warned, snatching the joint from my hand and placing it between her lips.
Brain fog or not, my eyes tracked her every move as she inhaled deeply and then pursed her plump lips in the perfect O-shape as she slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke right in my face.
My dick twitched in my sweats.
Fuck me.
That was new.
Molly giggled and I joined her, laughing like a fucking idiot for no good reason.
"When did you get so hot?" I heard myself ask and then frowned when I registered the words coming out of my mouth. I frowned deeply. "I mean –"
"When did you get so hot?" she mimi
cked my voice and then fell forward from the height of laughter, resting her head against my shoulder. "Smooooth."
Snatching the joint from her, I forced a smile and took another deep hit.
The fuck was wrong with me?
Leaning back against the couch, I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly.
"Hey, D?" Molly asked after a long stretch of contented silence.
Cracking an eyelid, I looked at her. "Hmm?"
"What do you think would've happened?" Leaning forward, she quenched the joint and placed it back in the glass swan. "If I hadn't left." She blew out a breath and dropped back on the couch, head nestled on my lap. "If the fire had never happened."
"I don’t –" Shaking my head, I pinched the bridge of my nose and groaned. "I can't think about that night, Molls"
"Humor me," she whispered, craning her head to look up at me. "Let me live vicariously through your imagination."
"You use some big ass words, Dolly."
"Play along, D." She gave me the damn puppy dog eyes. "Please."
"Alright, alright." Draping one arm over her bent knees, I used my free hand to play with her hair. Fuck knows why I did it, but it felt nice and she didn’t tell me to stop. "I think…well, I think everything would be different if you hadn't left."
"Yeah?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
Fuck, I didn’t know what was happening to my body right now, but I felt like I was burning the hell up. The more she stared at me, the harder it became to resist the urge to lean down and kiss her. She wouldn’t want me to do that. Not here. Not after everything. Didn’t change the fact that I wanted to, though.
Badly.
Jesus, being friends with this girl was a helluva lot easier when I was ten.
Eighteen, horny, and her looking like that was not the best combination. Still, I remained right beside her, sticking to the girl like glue.
"We definitely would've gone to homecoming together," she offered teasingly. "And winter formal – and prom." She sighed in contentment. "Both junior and senior year."