Dissolve

by Hunter, L. V.

  “I didn’t -” I flush. “It’s not like that, okay? He just gave me a ride home.”

  “Yeah, because he gives every girl he wants to bang a ride home.” She laughs. “Seriously. Every single girl who’s rode on that motorcycle has banged him. He’s lining you up to be the next one.”

  I’m quiet. Trist takes my hands and looks earnestly into my eyes.

  “Promise me you won’t get your heart broken, okay? I love you to bits. I don’t wanna see you in any pain, ever.”

  I smile, her concern melting away the hard edges of my irritation. I hug her, and she hugs me back.

  “I know. Thank you, Trist. I love you, too.”

  We part after a moment, and she points the sauce-spoon at me again.

  “If you really love me, you’ll eat my spaghetti and tell me it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted!”

  I giggle. “Uh, excuse me, that’s emotional blackmail.”

  She gives me a bowl of spaghetti to take my room anyway. I prop open my textbook and go over my notes for the day while spooning delicious pasta into my mouth. Trist is so good at cooking - she enjoys it too, which means I benefit constantly. She so good at so many things, except understanding me. There’s no way I’d ever fall for someone like Kai Jackson. I don’t know a lot, but I know that much about myself. Besides, even if I wanted him, what kind of guy would want a girl like me - inexperienced, wearing converse and flannel and jeans all the time, with barely any makeup. This isn’t me hating on myself, this is just factual; the girls Kai likes are clearly way different than me - girls with long, silky hair where mine is short and boy-ish. Girls with legs for miles where mine are on the stubby side. Girls who know how to look beautiful, who know how to work their sex appeal in and out of the bedroom. Sex and sex appeal, to me, are pointless. It’s just something disgusting guys want all the time, without ever giving a shit about the girl’s feelings. It’s not worth it. It doubly wouldn’t be worth it with a bang ‘em and leave ‘em guy like Kai. He’d use me and throw me away like all the others. And I don’t want that.

  I don’t know what I want, but right now it looks nothing like Kai Jackson’s arrogant, woman-eating swagger.

  Trist spends two hours getting ready for the party - I spend ten minutes. Her face is perfect - contoured and so smooth it looks airbrushed. Her eyes are expertly lined with dark eyeliner and smudged in the appropriate places to give her an illusion of a sultry, smoky gaze. My makeup is a little sideways, one eyeliner wing a little bigger than the other, but it will do.

  “Why don’t you wear more makeup?” Trist asks as we head to her car.

  “Promise you won’t laugh?”

  Trist nods eagerly.

  “I’m scared I’ll sweat and it’ll run down my face like clown paint,” I admit. She laughs.

  “You dork! It’s designed to specifically not do that.”

  “I know! But I can’t get over the mental image!”

  She laughs again, golden sheet of hair practically sparkling under the amber streetlight. A passing couple stares at her, the guy more entranced than the girl. She punches his arm playfully, giving him shit for looking at another girl. They go on their way. But in the car, watching Trist as she drives in her signature whiplash-inducing-stop-a-second-before-the-red-light-at-40-miles-an-hour style, I understand what they were ogling at. Trist is beautiful. Without makeup, she’s a sun-kissed classic blonde; with makeup, she’s a gorgeous diva with a killer baby-blue gaze.

  “You’re more Kai’s type, you know,” I say at a stoplight. She smiles.

  “You think so?”

  “Definitely. He likes long hair. And otherworldly glamor.”

  “Oh, stop it.” Trist blushes a little. “I swear you give me more compliments than any dudes do.”

  “I feel it’s my duty,” I put on a fake-haughty voice. “To tell girls they’re beautiful, because god knows those bull-headed idiots we call men don’t do it enough, or properly.”

  “That’s true,” she agrees. “All they do is wolf-whistle and yell inappropriate shit. Would it kill them to be classy about their compliments once in a while?”

  I can’t answer that fast enough - before I can blink, we’re pulling up the driveway of someone’s fancy house. The gated driveway dissolves into massive green lawns decorated with stately cherry trees and coldwater fountains carved in the shape of lions and angels. The house itself glows, every window tall and spotless, every balcony made of white stone. It’s like something straight out of Martha Stewart.

  “Whose house is this again?” I ask as Trist parks and we get out.

  “Giselle Deacon’s, I think. Her dad’s in stocks, or whatever.”

  “Christ,” I suck in a breath. Trist sees some friends going into the house and waves. She turns back to me.

  “Okay, so I have my cellphone on me.” She says.

  “I have mine,” I affirm.

  “Great. So, we’ll text each other every thirty minutes, right?”

  “Right. And no taking strange drinks from anyone, or letting your drink out of your sight.”

  She smiles and salutes. “Got it! I love you, Ev. Have fun, okay? We should dance later, or something.”

  “That’d be awesome.”

  I watch her go into the house after catching up with her friends, thumping EDM music spilling out when a guy opens the door for them. Trist has tons of people she knows, so I understand when she peels off for most of the parties we go to. Netflix binges are usually what we do together, and I cherish them. After the incident with Mr. Dowell, I lost most of my friends. I got quiet - I tried not to talk to anyone who wasn’t Mom. Not even teachers. I couldn’t trust anyone after what happened; not even myself. The last half of Senior year was a blur. All the friends I’d worked hard to make up until that point just floated away. My grades slipped. For a while, Mom and Dad were sure I wasn’t going to get into college, let alone a place like Montcrest. But I pulled through somehow and did it. It helped I locked myself in my room most days - there was nothing to do in there except sleep, read, or study. It felt like I was imprisoned in my own private hell for a long, long time, and I was my own jailer.

  But not anymore. I’m going to parties, now. I have a friend, again.

  I adjust my tank top and knock on the door. A guy opens it, looks me up and down, and gives me an oily smile.

  “Well hey there.”

  I grimace and brush past him on my way inside. Loud music grates against my ears, but I embrace it. It’s better than thinking about the past, at least. The house is packed - every girl wearing tight jeans or tiny skirts that suit them, and every guy trying to impress them. Everyone’s tipsy - voices loud, bodies swaying to the music, lustful glances barely disguised. No one I recognize is here, so I make my way to the kitchen and marvel at the fancy appliances and paintings on the walls. The kitchen is quieter - people only ducking inside for the occasional refill of booze. Greasy, cold pizza boxes line the counter, bowls of potato chips and cookies ravaged beyond recognition. Juice and soda chasers sit in puddles of their own sugary wetness, people too drunk and sloppy to bother putting the caps back on. I do it for them. Finally, when they’re not in danger of spilling all over the nice floor, I pour myself an orange juice.

  I sip and watch the party around me. The front door opens, and two people walk in - a girl with long, dirty blonde hair and leather pants, and a guy in a Grateful Dead t-shirt. A guy who looks around the party with two-toned eyes.

  Shit.

  I immediately turn and add vodka to my orange juice. It’s going to be a long night, and I don’t exactly like drinking, but I’ll need it if I want to have a semblance of a nice time while he’s here. The booze will calm me, and help me ignore him - dull me to the irritating flushing effect his smirk has on me.

  I drink, and gag a little. Vodka and orange juice aren’t the best combo. Too late now - I won’t let expensive booze go to waste when I’m not the one who bought it. That’d be just plain rude.

  Suddenly,
Kai and his blonde turn towards the kitchen. I double-time it to the door and squeeze through the crowd and into the party. I can’t let him see me. I don’t want him knowing I’m here.

  Why? A tiny voice in the back of my head asks. He doesn’t care about you, anyway. He’s here with a much, much prettier girl. You don’t stand a chance of getting his attention, regardless.

  Fair enough, weird and borderline jerky lack of self-esteem. You’re right. You win this round. Let’s ignore him and just try to have fun tonight, okay?

  I nurse my drink and sit on a nearby sofa, on the very end of it so I don’t get in the way of the guy sweet-talking a very visibly drunk girl who giggles at his every word. Blech. I hope she knows what she’s doing. I hope he doesn’t hurt her.

  “Aha. I knew I saw a lioness in the crowd.”

  Only one person uses that word near me. I look up, Kai grinning cockily down at me. His two-tone eyes will never not make my breath stop for just a moment when I first lock eyes with him. Nature is amazing. And terrifying. But mostly buckwild and incredible. Why did it have to give such arresting eyes to such a sleazebag?

  “I’m not in the mood to be harassed tonight, Kai.” I say.

  “Is that what this is? Harassing?” He smirks. “I just came over when I saw you staring at the guy next to you like you wanted to rip his balls off.”

  “That would solve a lot of problems, wouldn’t it? Mainly, his sex drive.”

  “What do you got against him and his sex drive?”

  I scoff. “He’s clearly trying to get into that girl’s pants. While she’s drunk and compromised. Which, in case you didn’t know, is a shitty thing to do.”

  “Look at he poor guy - he’s equally tipsy. Maybe they’re just dumb drunk kids in lust, trying to figure this whole sex-and-attraction thing out.”

  I drink more orange monstrosity, a drunk flush creeping over my face.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I say. “Men should know better than to take advantage of girls. It’s so easy for them, and girls give them so many opportunities to do it, because they trust them. They trust random boys. I hate it. They deserve better than to be used like that.”

  “Whoa there,” Kai quirks a brow. “Sounds like you don’t trust anyone, let alone guys.”

  “Yeah,” I grunt and drink more. “I have trust issues. Isn’t it terribly attractive? Just put that down on my dating profile - I’m sure boys will like that.”

  “Who cares what they like?” Kai laughs. “Just be yourself.”

  “That’s really easy for you to say,” I snap. “It’s so easy for you to be yourself, isn’t it? All you have to do is make-out with girls and ride your motorcycle around and not give a shit about messing with anyone’s heart, and that’s that. But me? I can’t be myself. It’s not safe. Not anymore. Not since -”

  I pause, the words hanging in my mind and the air.

  Not since that night.

  “Hey,” Kai’s eyes soften, the green one catching the lamplight briefly and lighting up like a flawless peridot in a necklace. He sits on the footstool beside me, suddenly shorter than me. His long legs in his jeans stretch out. “Are you okay?”

  My hand gripping my drink is shaking, the orange juice marred by little ripples on the surface. Suddenly the room is too hot, too small, every shadow holding a danger I can’t see.

  “I need air,” I whisper, suddenly feeling light-headed. Everything’s a blur, but I’m somehow moving through the crowd, people parting for me, their warm bodies throwing more shadows with pain hidden in them. It’s too small. It’s like the closet. I need to get out. I need to leave -

  Suddenly, cold air slaps my face. I blink - I’m standing on a patio. The sound of a sliding door resounds behind me as Kai closes it. I stare at him, confused. His face is so serious, so set and determined - nothing like his usual coy, self-satisfied expression.

  “I can leave,” his voice is soft. “If you want. I just wanted to make sure you got some air, like you said.”

  My light-headedness is fading, slowly, like the cold winter breeze is washing it away. The sky is gorgeous - a deep indigo studded by diamond stars. This far out of the city and away from smog, you can see almost every constellation.

  I don’t know what to say to him - thank you seems so trite, so little for what he did for me. He heard me. He led me out here. He helped me. Or did he? Did he just bring me out here to isolate me, like Mr. Dowell?

  That voice again - the negative one, the one always waiting to convince me of the worst of the situation. Look at it logically, I coach myself; Kai helped that night with Trist. He gave me a ride home. He helped me now. He has no intention of hurting me. Someone who’s helped that much doesn’t want to hurt me. I know that. I should know that, but the voice reminds me Mr. Dowell helped, too. He gave me A’s when he shouldn’t have. He recommended me for awards he shouldn’t have. He did everything he could to help me, just to earn my trust.

  “I’ll leave,” Kai says after a moment of silence, his hand shooting to the sliding glass door.

  “Cassiopeia,” I blurt, pointing straight up into the sky. Kai turns.

  “What?”

  “Right there,” I take a breath and outline the shape in the stars. “That’s the constellation Cassiopeia. She was one of the most beautiful queens of her time.”

  Kai keeps his face placid, hand dropping from the door.

  “Why is she in the sky? What happened?”

  A kernel of relief sprouts in me that he isn’t leaving, and I keep talking, if only to keep him here. If only to distract myself from the voice that insists he wants to hurt me.

  “She was vain,” I say. “She bragged about how pretty she was all the time. Eventually, the gods got sick of it. So they stripped her of her beautiful mortal body and put her in the sky. To her, it was the ultimate punishment.”

  Kai chuckles. “That’s fitting.”

  “Yeah,” I agree. “Most times, the gods stuck things up there as a reward, but she’s the only one it was a punishment for. So.”

  “So, she was an awful lady.” Kai concludes.

  “I mean, maybe,” I sit on the patio bench tentatively. “She wasn’t real. I know that much.”

  “It seems like you know a lot more than just that,” He says, sitting on the far opposite side of the bench, giving me space. There’s a quiet, and I point at three stars close together.

  “That’s Orion, the hunter. He was often seen with Artemis, the goddess of the hunt. There were rumors they would get married. But her brother, Apollo, got jealous, so he sent a scorpion to kill Orion. Artemis wept, and put him in the night sky so he’d live on in the stars.”

  Kai is silent, two-tone eyes searching the heavens intently. I admire his profile for a moment - his sharp eyebrows contrast his soft lips. How many girls have kissed those lips? Who was his first kiss? What was he like in high school, or middle school? I can’t imagine a Kai any shorter than his looming 6 foot 3.

  “Which one is the Big Dipper?” He asks, suddenly looking at me.

  “U-Uh,” I scramble as my distracted thoughts retreat into their shell. “That one. Ursa Major. The Little Dipper - Ursa Minor - is right next to it. Actually, you can find Cassiopeia by drawing a line from the Alkaid star in Ursa Major - that one right there - through Polaris, which is over here. Ta-dah! Cassiopeia.”

  “Whoa,” His mouth drops open a little. “That’s amazing. How did you know that?”

  “It’s nothing special. Star navigation is very well-documented,” I say. “It’s how sailors used to get around without compasses.”

  “So, if I wanted to go home,” He starts. “How would I figure it out by the stars?”

  “Where do you live?”

  “North Hills.”

  “So, that’s north, right?” My mind brings up a mental map of the city. When I first moved here, I took the bus and looked at the route map so often I practically memorized it. “North Hills is east of Riverside. Riverside is south-west of us. So you’d want to
go directly south.” I point at Polaris. “The North Star. Head in the opposite direction of that from here, and you’ll eventually get home, as long as you can stand a few forests and off-road areas. And raccoons. And maybe also skunks.”

  Kai laughs, the sound echoing in the empty yard. “You’re really something, huh?”

  “Not especially. Like I said - it’s well-documented.”

  “It might not be anything special to you, lioness, but I’ve never met a girl who’s studied how to get home with the stars.”

  I flush, refusing to look at him. “I’m sure you’ll meet more in the future. There are lots of girls who know this.”

  Kai fixes his eyes on me, a faint smile playing at his lips.

  “No. I don’t think there are.”

  Something in my chest twists hard. The way he’s looking at me is wrong - it’s the same way he looks at his multitude of other girls - sweetly pretending like he cares about them and what they say. I stand abruptly and clutch my drink.

  “I need to go. Thank you for bringing me out here, but please don’t help me anymore.”

  He furrows his eyebrows, but before he can open his mouth to ask anything, I slip inside the noisy house. The crowd jostles me as I head downstairs. Someone grabs my hand, and I whirl around. It’s Kai, panting like he ran.

  “Did I do something wrong?” He shout-asks over the music.

  “No,” I shout back. “No, it’s not you. Please just…leave me alone. Go back to your date.”

  His expression is off, pained, almost like an abandoned dog. But he steels himself in the blink of an eye - his usual cocky smirk looking somehow forced, this time.

  “If that’s what you really want, lioness.”

  “It is.” I set my jaw. It’s a lie. I don’t want him to leave me alone. I want to talk with him more about the stars. About anything and everything. But it isn’t right - he doesn’t want to do that. Guys like him only want one thing, and it sure as hell isn’t romantically talking about stars, or talking, period.