Among the Flames

by Lya Lively

  “I see you’re a fan of good music,” I said with a little more shock in my tone than intended.

  He looked down to see what I was talking about while tugging at the bottom corners of his shirt. “Oh, no. It was my dad’s,” he replied, the side of his mouth turned up in a lopsided grin before running a hand through his short mess of dark hair.

  “Oh, so you have bad taste in music?” I asked sarcastically, trying a little too desperately to keep the conversation going.

  He took a step back with mock offense, furrowing his eyebrows in false anger he smirked slightly. “Well, I wouldn’t say I have bad taste in music...”

  “Oh no,” I cocked my head slightly, “of course you wouldn’t.” Flirting? Was that what I was doing right now?

  “So you’re completely confident in your taste in music?” He asked, glancing at the neck of my guitar. It had become such a part of my daily life; I’d almost forgot I was wearing it.

  I looked away for a moment, staring thoughtfully at the worn green shag carpet in the hall. I bit my lip in concentration; he’s asking to follow up with a question of what I like; I need examples prepared. I thought frantically, trying to keep my expression calm; Deep Purple, Guns N’ Roses, Led Zeppelin, Bon Jovi... “Yes,” I answered finally, smiling brightly at him.

  He nodded, “Alright.” His arms crossed in front of him competitively; this is it, “What do you like?”

  “The classics,” I said vaguely. I don’t need to give into this condescending boy’s charade.

  He squinted at me as if he was trying to figure out my game.

  Quickly I started backing up; I pointed up at him with my face twisted in confusion, “Didn’t you say you had to go?”

  I saw him smirk before I turned around, “I guess I didn’t peg you as someone who backs down from a challenge,” he called from behind me.

  “Cute,” I smiled. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to play all your cards on the first hand,” I called back.

  “You do if you have a winning hand.”

  I turned around at this, “Well maybe I’m just not done playing.” And I walked away listening to my heart pounding heavily in my chest. Noah, I thought musingly. Maybe this place isn’t so bad after all.

  Noah

  I stepped off of the elevator; my neck is stiff and back sore. Every movement felt painfully emphasized as I tried desperately to forget what I had done last night. He wasn’t the bad guy; I thought bitterly, I was. My eyes felt sunken in as if my insides had been rotting for months already.

  My thoughts were interrupted by a petite redhead with a guitar slung on her back who rushed toward me, never looking up as if trying to avoid eye contact with everyone. She must not be from the south. I should have stepped out of her way, but where would be the fun in that? She ran into my chest, nearly bouncing off me like a cartoon character. “I’m so sorry,” she cried out. Her large denim eyes blinked several times.

  “It’s fine. No big deal,” you should be apologizing you idiot. “See you around,” I gestured behind her before slipping by in the narrow hall.

  “Well, I’m Hayden. It was nice meeting you too. Can’t wait to run into you again,” she called out from behind me, and I shook my head at her stubborn attitude. Most people would make sure to give me a wide berth when they saw me coming, but this tiny little thing of a girl was mouthing off to me, and it was amusing.

  I turned around, struggling to hide my smirk at her sudden outburst and I could have sworn I heard her mutter a curse. “Noah,” I extending a hand for her to shake as I took a step close. “Nice to meet you.”

  She watched me, her gaze flickering back and forth from my hands and my eyes. I could feel the crusted blood dust I hadn’t wiped off of my knuckles weighted by her judgmental glance as she cautiously stepped close to me and grabbed my hand in hers. “I see you’re a fan of good music,” she said with a hint of excitement.

  I looked down to meet her attention and tugged at the bottom edges of his shirt, “Oh, no. It was my dad’s,” I replied bitterly, wishing I hadn’t worn it today, wishing I had done some laundry or burned it the second I got the chance. Running a hand through my hair, I stood up straight; I wanted to change the conversation.

  “Oh, so you have bad taste in music?” she asked, clearly amused, her nose scrunching slightly as she spoke.

  I took a step back pretending to be offended, “Well I wouldn’t say I have bad taste in music...”

  “Oh no,” she said cocking her head innocently as she teased me, “of course you wouldn’t.”

  “So you’re completely confident in your taste in music?” I asked. Her short hair fell just above her shoulders, the guitar on her back nearly her height seeming impossibly heavy the way it tightly hugged her delicate shoulders. I’m shocked she didn’t topple over when she strapped it on.

  “Yes,” she said giddily. A single dimple formed in her left cheek while she playfully rocked back and forth on her heels.

  “Alright,” I crossed my arms to almost block out the light she unknowingly gave off, “What do you like?”

  “The classics,” she said carefully with an eyebrow raised, challenging me. She started backing up, eyebrows pulled together in question, “Didn’t you say you had to go?” Her lips twisted up in a playful grin causing me to smile in response, even in my dampened mood. She turned around, ready to make a quick exit before I could question her further.

  I’m not ready for you to go yet, I thought. “Woah,” I said jokingly as I waited for her to turn back around, “I guess I didn’t peg you as someone to back down from a challenge.”

  “Cute,” she called back, causing something to flinch inside of me. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to play all your cards on the first hand?”

  “You do if you have a winning hand,” I shot back.

  Finally, my waiting paid off, and she turned around to face me, briefly. “Well, maybe I’m just not done playing,” she said before walking away. It wasn’t much, but it was something. I kinda hoped it was true.

  The words began to tumble around in my thoughts, a song effortlessly writing itself from just one encounter with the mystery girl.

  the spark ignites

  something breaks inside

  of me, the chains untied

  the light finally finds me

  something flinches inside

  the flick of her eyes

  where one thing held darkness

  this one, there’s light

  Hayden

  As I exited the elevator, I couldn’t wipe the smirk off my face. If all of the guys are as hot as the southern sun, keep ‘em comin’. I took careful steps through the lobby, remembering that last unfortunate event that occurred here.

  I made my way out the heavy double doors, holding one open for a young mother and her little boy who struggled with their suitcases. I thought of my mother, and my smile faded as I turned to trudge down the sidewalk.

  The warm air outside blasted in my face like opening an oven door, and I was glad I’d left my jacket behind, even if I did feel exposed without it. Even in the stifling heat, I needed caffeine, which I’d grown to depend on after long nights filled with nightmares.

  What even is sleep?

  There was a small café just down the street that looked more like a furniture store with couches and recliners. The guy behind the counter was smiling as the woman in front of him rattled off her drink order that sounded more like a grocery list.

  “Hi, I’m Drew; how can I help you?” He smiled as his grassy green eyes landed on me. I suddenly felt flustered as I looked at the board listing the different beverages behind him.

  “Um, can I try just... uh,” I cringed having no idea what I was doing. “I would just like something... coffee-like?” I brought my shoulders up to a shrug, my eyes gliding over the various pastries under the glass hood to my left.

  “Not much of a coffee drinker, huh?” He asked sympathetically.

  “Nothing this fancy,” I admitte
d. “Is it that obvious?”

  “No,” he shook his head causing his chestnut hair to sway as he struggled not to smile. “Your secret is safe with me.” He replied, finally revealing a broad smile and a delicate wink.

  I chewed the inside of my cheek as I struggled to find something witty to say, but I drew a blank. “I’ll just have a Redbull,” I sighed. Noah was right; I am a quitter.

  “One Redbull, coming right up,” He said before turning around to grab one out of the mini fridge. When he came back, I was studying the different sugar packets.

  “You know,” I said. “The artificial sweeteners are actually worse for your body than the normal sweeteners; which sucks because people on diets love using them,” I fumbled one around between my fingers.

  “No kidding,” he said as he handed me my drink; resting his forearm on the counter. “That’ll be a three dollars and ninety-five.”

  I glanced at the tattoo that laced over his inner arm while I searched my back pockets for cash. I pulled out a five, “What’s that?” I asked nodding at it. He had been eyeing the guitar on my back carefully as if preparing to question it but somehow changing his mind.

  He took the cash, counting out the change by mouthing the numbers silently. “Oh, uh it’s a clock to remind me just how important it is to live in the moment and,” he waved his hands like a magician, causing me to giggle, “to not let a moment pass you by. Here’s your change.”

  “Thanks,” I said grabbing the change, clutching the can tightly in my other hand. “That’s weird,” I blurted.

  “What?” He was smiling his voice slightly whiny. “How?”

  “I don’t know,” I shrugged, “I mean, why not just get a watch or something?”

  “But I can check the time on my phone.” He raised an eyebrow as if I was the crazy one.

  “It looks cool,” I lied. “Have a nice one,” I added while putting my change into the tips jar and heading back outside into the unbearable heat.

  FIVE

  Hayden

  When I finally got back to the apartment complex, I felt like I was missing something, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember what it was. I spent the entire trip through the lobby thinking about it, and then while I was in the elevator on my way up I remembered. “Shit,” I slapped my hand against my forehead out of frustration. “I left my room key on the dresser. Shit,” I repeated.

  I made my way back to the room hoping that Cameron would still be there to let me in. Luckily, he was, but he wasn’t the one to open the door. “Noah?”

  “Uh, Hayden? You following me?” He asked jokingly with a cocky half-grin.

  “Cute,” I said while adjusting my guitar strap on my shoulder.

  “So I’ve been told.” His smile widened as he shifted his weight to lean against the inside of the door frame, crossing his arms across his chest. His shirt was different, he was wearing a black one now that clung much tighter to his wide frame.

  “But no,” I continued. “I live here. And you? Are you friends with Cam or something?”

  I asked while pushing past him; my hand accidentally brushed his thick bicep. “Uh, I live here.”

  “Huh?” I turned around. For the love of God, please no.

  “You two know each other?” Cameron asked from behind me, watching television while shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “Well, you sure are smitten with the ladies lately, first hallway girl and now this? You’re on a roll, bro!”

  I wanted to protest, but then, “Wait a minute, did he just say ‘hallway-,’” but I was cut off.

  “I thought I didn’t have to rent out that room,” Noah argued, ignoring Cameron’s excitement. “The apartment is fully paid for.”

  “Well, maybe mom is tired of footing the bill for your lavish digs, and now you have her.” He gestured to me.

  “Why can’t she find somewhere else to live?” His muscles flexed beneath his angular jaw as he ground his teeth. “This is bullshit, and you know it.”

  Cameron shrugged as he ate another bite of his food, clearly amused and not the least bit phased by his brother. “I’m sure you keep showing her your charm she won’t want to stay very long.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked angrily, embarrassed that I actually thought this Neanderthal was kind of cute earlier. “Look, Cameron said it wouldn’t be a problem, and I already gave him my half of the rent. I’ll stay out of your way but as long as I’m helping with the bills,” I pointed at him now, “I expect not to be treated like garbage by some spoiled overgrown toddler with shitty taste in music.”

  Before I had time to react he had slammed his hand heavily against the doorframe beside my head, leaning in with a smirk as my eyes widened fractionally before narrowing. I glanced at his bicep I had brushed earlier to find it tensing.

  “Spoiled? You don’t know me, princess. You have no idea what I’ve been through. This shitty apartment is all I have, and I’m not sharing it with some girl looking for a summer adventure.” His light gray eyes were suddenly darker as if storm clouds had settled behind his thick lashes.

  I flinched, but I wasn’t afraid; I was surprised. He actually seemed kind of decent when I ran into him, literally, in the hallway. His warm breath that reeked of alcohol fanned over my cheek, and I felt them begin to heat from his close proximity.

  “We’ve all been burned, princess.” I said through a clenched jaw to keep me from shaking, “bottom line, I’m staying.”

  I felt my eyes watering beneath his gaze, but I wasn’t sad or frightened. I studied him, my eyes locked on his defiantly in hopes of seeing a glimmer of the guy I’d met earlier, but all I saw was the glassy-eyed stare of my mother looking back at me. The poison had taken over, and he was gone.

  He finally pushed himself back with the same abruptness from which he came. Cameron was standing beside us, his voice low and calm as he halfheartedly tried to calm his brother who now focused his attention on him, giving me a chance to breathe again.

  “Mom probably doesn’t want you living alone anymore. You know that. She was only paying for the room anyway so you wouldn’t get into fights as much, or so I could sleep over anytime.”

  “Then you move in. You’re here all the damn time anyway,” Noah snapped.

  Cameron shook his head, stifling a laugh. “You’re too much of an asshole for me, bro. Besides, she’s nice. Give her a chance.” I winced at the word nice, meant as a compliment. Was I nothing else?

  Noah stalked away sorely, shaking his head before he disappeared into his bedroom, slammed the door.

  He was gone. In every sense of the word, Noah was gone.

  Whatever was going on with him, I knew not to take it personally. I’d come with my own baggage that was slowly causing me to crumble under the weight.

  I’d realized long ago that we are all stars; the victims of attraction, the result of power and destruction, serving our purposes unquestionably until the time comes that we die.

  Some stars create galaxies, but some fall in into themselves creating a black hole, a place where gravity is so strong that not even the light can escape it. Others are consumed by the unrelenting darkness, leaving nothing behind but their silent screams as the center they once surrounded becomes their undoing.

  Seen, not heard. Feeling, not felt. There, then in an instant, gone.

  He and I were just two lost souls in the vast abyss, waiting for our undoing.

  Noah

  How could they do this? I asked myself, violently slamming my fist onto my bed. Was it him? Did he come back and now this is just his way of making things shitty for us again? Dad’s way of continually making us suffer?

  The light in her eyes was almost bent in the same way his were, I thought. The broken story behind her gaze is the same, I choked on the lump in my throat, and it seemingly halted my thoughts. The same as mine...

  “I’m sorry about him,” I could hear Cameron’s muffled voice saying through the door to her causing me to stop my pacing. “He’s been through a lo
t.”

  I threw my hands up into my hair, gripping and pulling at it like a madman, the memories flooding back.

  ***

  I stared up at them quietly from behind my door frame. My mother gasped in sharp cries, begging my father to let her go. He didn’t. Instead, he just yelled at her, holding her wrists tightly beneath his fingers while he flipped the cigar around with his tongue.

  Cameron lay awake in bed crying. He curled himself up tightly in his bed, hugging his knees and praying our dad would just stop; praying that he would just go on one of his trips and never come back.

  Deep down I knew what he was really asking for, the thing he truly wanted for our father but was too weak to admit it. He wanted him to die.

  She screamed for him, her eleven-year-old son, to save her. I watched as he pinned her against the wall and Cameron shook more violently from fear, unable to be moved.

  How could she call for him? He still wets the bed. I watched the way my dad was hurting her, but I didn’t feel scared. I felt angry. Angry that she could be as dumb as to stay with a man that did nothing but force her to be weak. So, at nine years old, I took careful steps toward them and watched quietly.

  “Why,” I asked, wanting desperately to be able to pull her free from his grasp, but now that they were both looking at me, my feet felt too heavy to move.

  “Now what’re you doing out of bed,” he asked, releasing my mom from his grasp as she crumbled to the floor in a heap.

  “I heard you were up,” I whispered, suddenly not feeling as brave, but I didn’t move. I couldn’t.

  He stood over me, and I had to crane my neck to look up at his face that was contorted in anger. His breath was pungent and hung heavy in the air like a dense cloud. I watched his movements carefully as he took the cigar from his lips, exhaling smoke into my face and causing me to gasp and sputter. He drunkenly grabbed me by my bare shoulder and pressed the glowing end against my flesh. I felt the immediate sting followed by the painful feeling of my skin melting beneath his cigar as I cried out, begging for someone to help me.