Saving Barrette

by Shey Stahl

  “When did he get back in town?” she asks, as if implying I should know by the tone of her voice.

  Cadence knows our history. I cried on her shoulder for two weeks after he left. She gets it. Trying to play it cool, I shrug. It’s easier than telling her I don’t know. One would think given our past I would know exactly when Asa returned to town, but I don’t. I lost touch with Asa not long after he left.

  It happens then, his eyes slowly drifting to mine, meeting my gaze. Only this time, they don’t hold. He looks away, as if his expectation of what he thought he’d seen, he hadn’t.

  Did he not recognize me? Sure, I look slightly different, but just because I have boobs now doesn’t mean I’m completely unrecognizable to the girl he used to know.

  You know that feeling when a memory hits you and it plays out in your head like a nightmare? That’s the feeling I get when I recall the day Asa left and me begging him to take my virginity. Yep. At fourteen I had it in my head I needed my virginity taken and it was going to be Asa Lawson. It had to be as far as I was concerned. Wasn’t exactly my best memory of the last four years because spoiler alert, he said no. He said, “I can’t take that from you.”

  Whatever the hell that meant other than, screw you—actually no screwing happened—I’m not having sex with you. And then he laughed, pushed me away and smiled before following up his soul-crushing denial with, “You don’t want me like that, and you know it.”

  Cadence glances over her shoulder at him, and then quickly looks away. “Did you ever hear from him at all?”

  My hands tremble at the memories, my heart catching. It stills, tries to understand, but it’s something beyond comprehension for me. Dryness seizes my lungs and I swallow, or attempt to. Nothing works. My heart races, my breathing fast and rapid.

  Why does he still spark this reaction in me after four years?

  Cadence bumps my arm, my drink sloshing in my cup and spilling over the sides. “Hey, did you hear me?”

  I stutter, “W-What?”

  Her blue eyes snap to his and then back to me. “Have you talked to him?”

  “No.” I bite the inside of my cheek. Can you hear the way my heart thuds? Do you notice my breathing and the quick hitch to the shifting of my feet in the gravel where the water’s edge tickles our bare feet? When you’re an eighteen-year-old girl on the verge of everything you don’t understand, those are the emotions that drown and suppress words.

  I lift my eyes to his and notice the quick glance to mine, as if he knows I’m watching him. To my surprise, he crooks a half smile in my direction.

  Holy crap. Look away.

  I can’t.

  He still has that same smile, boyish but serious. It’s the same smile that used to instigate my own. And he’s beautiful, as always. Me? I’m nothing like that fourteen-year-old girl he left. For a moment, I’m lost in my own head, remembering the smallest details about a boy everyone in this small town worshiped, including me. It’s then I realize he’s looking right at me.

  Shit, he noticed.

  And here I thought he seemed completely unfazed by my presence here, or at the very least, unaware. Quickly as I can, I divert my eyes because my face is probably redder than the plastic cup I’m holding. It pisses me off that I’m so easy to read it’s ridiculous.

  “Roman said his mom died,” Cadence adds, a certain sadness to her voice. “That’s like, so sad. I thought for sure she’d beat the cancer.”

  Afraid to risk a glance in his direction, my eyes deceive me again and land on the boy who held my hand for two years through the awkward middle school years, and harshly left me when I needed him the most.

  With my cup pressed to my lips, I mumble, “Yeah, she passed away last week.” Just because I didn’t keep in touch with him didn’t mean I hadn’t stalked his dad to find out every little piece of information I could about him. His dad? Orthopedic surgeon. I intern at his office doing filing only so I can hear every detail about Asa’s life. If that doesn’t scream pathetic, I don’t know what does. Probably me stalking him on Instagram under a fake account—which I do—but we won’t discuss that. Maybe throwing yourself at him and begging him to take your virginity. That’s probably one too.

  “I heard he has a full ride to UW.”

  “Yep.” Again, I only know any of this because of his dad. It’s the same reason I applied there too.

  Cadence stares at Asa, eyeing his appearance. I can’t really blame her. I do it too. He’s wearing relaxed jeans, a black T-shirt, and a hat. Though I can’t see his eyes, I’m familiar with their exact color. Dark brown with a hint of green to them. He stands across the fire, solid, strong, a red cup in hand. Is he drinking beer? Vodka? Water? I’m dying to know.

  There’s a girl beside him, black hair, busty, but his interest doesn’t lie with her. He hasn’t even looked over at her, but it doesn’t stop the burning sensation in my chest or the pinch to my brows as I attempt to melt her with my gaze. I wish I was the one standing next to him, sharing the space and conversation, but I can’t make myself move closer to him in fear he’ll say he doesn’t remember me.

  Sliding her sunglasses up, Cadence tilts her head to mine when she hears his laughter in the distance over something Roman says to him. “He seems okay, like not sad.”

  Not sad? Sure, that’s probably what he wants everyone here to believe. I know the truth. Years can’t erase that. I can tell by the rigid set of his jaw and the slump of his shoulders, he’s not okay. And that laugh? It’s the one he uses when he’s trying to be nice. I know this because I know everything about Asa Lawson from every single facial expression to the way he smiles when he lies. Time can’t erase everything. And I bet if I walked over to him and leaned in, he’d smell the same, a mixture of pine trees, spice, and oranges. It’s like Calvin Klein threw up all over him. It sends a familiar tingle up my thighs.

  Cadence bumps my arm again, attempting to untangle her sunglasses from her wavy hair. “You should go talk to him.” I stare at her as she pulls and tugs only to rip a clump of her hair out with the sunglasses. She winces and rubs the spot. “Damn it.”

  I know what you’re thinking. That I should, in fact, go up to him. I should tell him I’m sorry for his loss or ask him why he never kept in touch. I should maybe ask him how he liked Ohio and if he still plays football. I don’t because I know the answers. Instead, I play the bitch card and act like his presence here doesn’t faze me.

  But I’m a girl and rather predictable at times, and the idea that Cadence thinks I should go over there sends a shock through me. A horrified snort bursts out of me and I slap my hand over my mouth at the same time as beer spits from my nose. It burns. I choke and it’s like I’ve been waterboarded with beer. It’s awful.

  Cadence rubs my back, laughs at me and guess who is staring at me now because you know damn well he heard me choke? Yep. Asa. And he steps in my direction as if he’s going to come closer, but then Roman says something to him and draws his attention back to him.

  Fuck you, Roman.

  That’s when Remy, our friend and Roman’s twin sister, practically jumps on top of my shoulders to see him. “Girl, check it out. Asa’s back!” Remy yells in my ear while she holds the red plastic cup in her hand to her lips and crawls on my back. I lose my footing with her spider monkey climb and end up falling to my knees, her drink spilling down my back.

  Still trying to catch my breath from inhaling beer, I jump up at the shock of the ice-cold beer down my white tank top. “Remy!” I screech, my arms straight out, and heart pounding.

  I stand there shocked for a moment before I realize that one, I’m wearing a white, soaked tank top with one of those lace halter tops we think are bras but really aren’t.

  And two, everyone is staring at me. Either from my scream or the fact that my nipples are saying hello.

  “I’m so sorry!” Remy says, her eyes wide. “Let me go get you a shirt.”

  “Don’t bother,” I hiss, turning to leave. I didn’t want to be her
e in the first place and now that Asa’s here, I definitely don’t want to be.

  “B, don’t go!” Cadence yells after me and grabs hold of my hand in passing. “We just graduated. We need to celebrate.” She forces me to turn and look up at her. It’s not hard. I’m barely five foot two and she’s damn near six feet tall.

  Tears sting my eyes the moment I look up at her. I’m a crier. Mad, sad, frustrated, happy, all my emotions end in crying for me. It’s quite possibly the worst fault to have if you ask me. I’d rather turn green like the Hulk than wear my emotions on my sleeves.

  So naturally, tears surface with my frustration and embarrassment that I’m wearing Remy’s beer. My muscles tense, and I pull at the front of my shirt to keep it from sticking to my chest. “I’m not leaving.” My gaze darts to the side of Cadence toward the bonfire. Smoke fills the air, guys whistling at me in the distance. One yells, “Take it off, B!”

  Cadence flips them off. “Shut the fuck up!”

  I close my eyes and fight off the need to punch the fucker in the face who just yelled. I don’t know him, but he’s standing next to Roman, so I assume he’s one of the football jocks and just as annoying as the rest of them.

  Despite the lack of visibility with the fading sun, I know he’s watching me. It’s his glare I’m not expecting. Is he glaring at me? What the hell did I do wrong?

  The teenage girl in me glares back. “I’m going to look for a new shirt,” I tell Cadence and Remy. Realizing I need a minute, they don’t follow me. I didn’t drive here, so I don’t have my car to search through and I have absolutely no clue where I’m going to get a shirt from. Cadence probably has something in her car I can wear.

  I walk up the beach, through the twists and turns of the trail that cuts through the woods leading to the house overlooking Budd Inlet. Throngs of people line the deck and there’s no way I’m going up there to Remy’s room to look for a shirt. I keep walking up the driveway to Cadence’s car hoping there’s a shirt in there I can wear.

  You know, something told me not to come tonight and I should have listened to that little voice in my head. But I didn’t. Stupid. So stupid.

  Each step becomes more aggravated than the next, and before I know it, I’m stomping up the driveway with such force it hurts my knees.

  I can’t believe I came here.

  “Hey, B?” comes from behind me, and the sounds of heavy footsteps follow.

  Hey, B? Everyone calls me B and it never fazes me. But when it’s said by him, it’s so unbelievably sexy. The sound entices, teases, and leaves my heart waiting for the storm.

  I don’t need to turn around to know who it is. His voice. It shouldn’t make me feel this way, so familiar, so distinct, but it does. It’s as if I’ve been waiting four years to hear it, and I have been.

  At first, I don’t turn around. I refuse to. I’m afraid to. But I have to because it’s him.

  Are you ready to meet him? Are you ready to have those syrup eyes draw you in and his sharp tongue turn you on? I wasn’t when I met him at nine years old. I’m still not, even after all this time.

  So I turn slowly, unwillingly. I don’t want to face him because I know the effect my heart will have, the reaction reflecting on my cheeks, the one he sparks so easily in me. He branded me with his love so long ago only to rip it away. Why should I turn around? I don’t owe him anything.

  Curiosity, that’s why. I want to know why it was so easy for him to cut me out of his life like I didn’t exist at all. I want to know why I wasn’t good enough to sleep with, yet Heather Randal was. Yep. First girl he slept with was Heather Randal. The biggest slut around, and he, as Roman puts it, “tapped that” two days before he left.

  Why her and not me?

  So yeah, curiosity. That’s why I turn around. At first, I don’t meet his eyes. I think I’m afraid to, but when I finally do, his expression is unreadable. He doesn’t say anything. For the length of a heartbeat, I let myself believe time hasn’t changed anything. There’s a long pause, our gazes locking for a moment. Mine pale blue, his golden.

  “What?” I snap, crossing my arms over my chest so he can’t see the fact that my nipples are perky and hard.

  His lips twitch, fighting a smile, and he hands me a sweatshirt. “Need a shirt?”

  “No, not really.” I close my eyes and inhale slowly through my nose trying to calm myself down.

  He waits and holds it out like I’m supposed to take it.

  “Okay, yes. Fine.” I groan. My palms tingle. I want so badly to hit him or something to show my anger. “I do, but not from you.” Years. Fucking years, I’ve spent wondering why, only to have him come back here and act like our childhood didn’t mean shit.

  “Why not from me?” He sounds confused, his face serious as his hand falls to his side.

  I look at his hands, his forearms, the tan skin and the golden flecks of blond hair covering them. “Because…. You left, remember?” I point out, my voice and stance guarded.

  “You know it wasn’t like that,” he explains. “What was I supposed to do?”

  My eyes narrow in on him. “Not leave me. You just cut me out of your freaking life like…” I hiss through my teeth, “…like I wasn’t good enough.”

  He’s staring at me incredulously, his face tense and defensive. My words obviously caught him off guard. He stares at me in disbelief. “Is that what you think? That you weren’t good enough?” His questioning tone pulls at my sanity.

  “What else am I supposed to think?” There’s a good amount of sarcasm from my end if you can’t hear it.

  He matches my tone, spitting out the words, “My fucking mom was dying. It wasn’t like I had a damn choice in the matter.” It’s as if he growls the words, licking his lips. And just like that, I’ve pissed him off. Easy to do. One thing hasn’t changed. Asa’s moods flip like a switch.

  I want to apologize to him. I knew why he left, but to cut all attachments to the girl he said he couldn’t live without, that’s what makes me angry. And Heather. So I stand my ground. Only time hasn’t changed anything. I still feel his presence deep in my bones. Caught up in the pull he has over me, it takes me a minute until I can move. I step away from him. “I know you left for her, but why not call?”

  He swallows, shrugs one shoulder, and then lands those beautiful golden eyes on mine. His brow pinches, his emotions trapped inside his tense stare. He looks away toward the trees when he says, “I thought it’d be easier that way, but it wasn’t.”

  I open my mouth to say something, but no words come. So I close it, and then try again. This time my anger speaks for me. “I don’t want your stupid shirt.”

  Or your dick. But… I leave that part out because of two things: I still want him, and there’s no way he’s gonna know that.

  “Barrette, please. I’m sorry. I really am. I never meant to hurt you.” Asa reaches out, his touch unprovoked, a natural reaction. He did it the day he left when I tried to leave his room. Only he walked away that day. I bite my lips, holding the swell of feelings inside. Don’t react. Or maybe I should?

  His grip tightens and he attempts to pull me into him.

  I don’t go. My hand slips from his. His mouth clamps together, his shoulders stiff and defensive as he glares at me. Anger works his face, his jaw clenching. I quickly look away feeling a blush creep up my neck.

  “Just go, Asa.”

  With a deep breath, I let go and walk away like he did when he left town.

  Fuck this bullshit party.

  I knew what coming here meant, I did, but I didn’t think she’d react like this. I should have, though. Barrette Blake is anything but easygoing. She’s stubborn, relentless and never lets anyone tell her how she’s going to feel. Above all else, she’s beautiful, inspiring, and deep. One look at those ocean eyes and I know I’m in deep already.

  Do you notice my breathing heavier, louder, body temperature rising and the tension in my face? It’s all an indication that I shouldn’t be drinking and shouldn’t be
here.

  I bring the beer in my hand to my lips. It provides no relief. My mind is numb, my actions forced. I’m rooted in a haze of uncertainty. I want to go to her, but I can’t make myself follow.

  Can you hear the beating of my heart and the skip when she walks away? It’s deserving. I shouldn’t be here, at a party, that is. And while we’re at it, back in this town, but I am. It’s just another reminder of what I wouldn’t give to have the last six months back. Six months can change a lot about a person. Four years can destroy you.

  It can take a life, and give you back the one you thought you lost. The one you thought you wanted. I don’t know what I want anymore. My thoughts spin and I lift my gaze from the one holding it, to the one beside me now.

  “Dude.” Roman pushes my shoulder. “Everyone can’t believe you’re back. They’re looking for you.”

  I look over at him, and then away toward Barrette in the distance. It’s his words that rattle around in my head. You’re back. Those are the ones I focus on. Back here, back in her life, but so far away from her. I don’t look at Roman. No, I can’t focus on him when she’s this close. I watch my reason for breathing walking away from me.

  I know, hold up. Your reason for breathing? You’re eighteen, you don’t know what love is. Fuck you if you think that. Harsh, I know, but my reason for everything is blonde, feisty, and doesn’t have a goddamn clue she’s the only reason I kept going these last six months when my mom went from bad to worse. Barrette’s the reason I made it through the worst time in my life. Like watching my mother die brutally of a disease she didn’t deserve.

  When I watched my mom’s casket being lowered into the ground last week, I had one thought. Actually, two. First was how I was relieved that she was no longer in pain. Second? That I wished Barrette had been there for me. Maybe that’s why I snapped and beat the crap out of my mom’s boyfriend’s son, or maybe it was that I couldn’t stand the son of a bitch for a moment longer. Either way, I wasn’t exactly in my right mind.