But this shouldn’t exist. There are no such things as second chances after death. I know that.
I have to stop this, but I can’t.
Everything but That - Mal
I feel alive again. I feel the sun and taste the wind. I don’t have words for how it felt to sense Flo taking my hand, the spike of adrenaline and calm seemed to absorb straight into my skin.
I looked at her and my heart started up again.
I pulled her into my lap before I could let myself think about the motion. I somehow managed to jerk my car to the side of the highway with one hand. I didn’t signal or bother with a shoulder check.
I felt like I had no time left for that.
I looked at her and I never looked back.
Flo was mine again. I don’t know how I knew that, but the words had taken a hold of my head.
Flo was mine again.
“Oh, I absolutely don’t deserve this,” she says between fevered kisses, her soft hands holding my face as she kisses me again.
I kiss her back.
I grope her ass with one hand. She fits so perfectly into my lap, oh God dammit my dick sure likes that. “This isn’t okay. I’m dead. I don’t get to feel like this again. I don’t get to feel him.”
Him? Who the fuck is him?
“Wait, what?” I ask, she kisses me again. Her clothes are damp under my hard and hungry hands. I don’t want this moment ever to end. “Mal is too good for this.” She whispers against my lips, kissing my chin. I breathe her in as deeply as I can. She smells like concrete soaked with rain after a thunderstorm has swept in. Sweat dampens her skin, her dark green hair so vibrant I almost can’t look away from it.
“Mal is too good for this,” Flo says.
Oh, so I’m him. I guess that was kind of obvious.
“How can I feel this? How am I going to stop kissing him? I need to stop kissing him. I need to step back and shake my head. I need to stop fucking imaging this. There are no second chances after death.” Flo speaks into my neck. Flesh on flesh. God, I love this. I spread my hands out against her back and pull her tighter in against my chest.
I’m never letting her go again.
“Obviously there are second chances Pretty Girl.” I groan when she snuggles in and flips her long hair back. Fuck I missed that. I missed the look of satisfaction in her glance that flashes. It leaves me deserted.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve this,” I admit, “and I don’t know how it’s possible or how it happened. But you came back, I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to waste a moment arguing it!”
How many nights had I prayed for exactly this? Fantasized about it? So many moments where I swore that I would do anything for it and now that I had it.
I can’t worry in the moment that it may end. It won’t. It can’t.
“I thought that I’d never get to see you again. I mean I could see you, but you couldn’t see me and it wasn’t like this. It wasn’t how I wanted it, but I did this,” Flo promises.
“I fucked up. You know that I know that. Everyone in Three Hill knows that. How it is possible just to start again?” she asks and I take the opportunity to kiss her chin before pulling back.
Start again? Fuck that. Starting again would involve pretending that I didn’t give a shit about the green haired gorgeous chick in my lap. I’m so over that. “I don’t want to start again and I don’t want to question this, not even for a second,” I demand but already my thoughts are fighting against the joy and panic flooding my chest.
I grip Flo’s hips, brushing my thumb against a small sliver of exposed skin. She looks at me, and I look back. Whisky coloured eyes now look black. Her lips are dry and cracked. They didn’t feel like that. Her mouth felt soft, ready to be kissed senseless.
She shivers under my hands. I want to dip my head and drink her in again. I can’t help it. I am a dehydrated man.
“You need to head back,” Flo says, rich brown eyes suddenly black and sad. Her fingers are tracing lines onto my chest. “People will be wondering what happened. You stormed out of that class like there was a fire in your pants.” She laughs nervously, quietly.
The sound is relaxed but it fades fast.
I smile because I honestly can’t remember what I had planned when I left that stupid class. Was I headed back to bed?
“Yeah,” I say when she dips her head. I grip her hips to lift her out of my lap but keep a hold of her hand. Our fingers intertwine as she curls into the seat. I keep looking back at her as I slip back onto the road and haul my ass out of the ditch, so terrified that she will disappear again.
I make a U-Turn and head back. Nothing about the highway makes any sense. Passing cars are meaningless as they speed away from me into the distance. I don’t understand this. My mind is unable to process what the fuck just happened. I blink and blink again. What was my plan?
My body was acting as if Flo and I had made a suicide pact. Is that where I was headed? Silence and desolation?
No. I wouldn’t do that. Not to my mom. Not to my dad. I won’t. I can’t.
Am I dead?
Is that why Flo is holding my hand? Fuck. What a strange feeling that is. I can’t get used to it. I run my thumb over her white and pasty skin. She’s cold and wet. Her nails are chipped.
Black nail polish.
I smile. I can’t help it.
Flo was always good at that, at being different and looking damn hot doing it. She stood out. Her glance is quickly becoming heated. Fuck I miss that because I still don’t have it.
I can’t get it back. I know that.
Three Hill isn’t as beautiful or as haunted on the way back in. All of the cars and people I pass are simply meaningless. I run my thumb along Flo’s hand. She hasn’t spoken, her soft and pale face is a mask. She only looks ahead, but I don’t want to ask what happened.
What is it like? How has it been? I don’t want to know any of that but if she wants to tell me she can. I just won’t ask.
I park in the same spot I vacated, in front of a smooth looking bench, under a canopy of hanging branches.
I have to let go of her hand to kill the engine and exit. The loss of contact punches a hole into my chest. I need her skin on skin. I keep my eyes on her as I move around the hood. Flo doesn’t even flinch. Her eyes remain flat when I open her door and pull on her hand.
She melts against my chest.
I’m thankful that no one else is around to see us like this. I don’t know how I would explain it. Oh hey, guys look at that? My dead best friend just came back! I know that at some point now I need to ask, but first I want her in my bed. We need to get reacquainted.
“Let’s get inside, your clothes are wet and normally I’d be worried about you getting sick but...” I try to laugh, but my chest seizes when she squeezes my hand back, my heart goes cold with the words she says: “I’m dead and corpses can’t get sick.”
“Don’t say that.” I keep my voice against the top of her head.
“Why not?” she asks.
“I’m not into necrophilia last time I checked, and I want to take you to bed.” Again I squeeze her hand. Again she squeezes back.
I unlock my front door and lead her in. Giving her a tour of the living room and the kitchen.
She nods polity but acts like she’s already seen all of it. She trails her fingers against the toaster.
She pulls away from me only for me to pull her right back in. “No way. I’m not doing that. Don’t lock me out of your head. I’ve already been through that. If something is wrong, then say it.”
“I can’t,” she says.
“Yes, you can.” I pull her against my back by clasping her hands over my stomach, leading her up the stairs and into the darkness.
I’m nervous. I’ve never been nervous like this but everything about this moment feels precious. As if it could be stolen at any moment and I’m still trying to wrap my brain around it.
My girl came back.
I cross my arm
s over her hands as we reach the top of the stairs with loud and heavy footsteps, stumbling past the bathroom and down the hall. My bedroom door is open, just like I left it.
“Are you okay with this?” I have to ask; I feel my Pretty Girl mumble into my back. “Yeah,” she says, still sounding sad.
I pull us into my bedroom, praying that she ignores the heaping mess of clothes and empty laundry baskets. I unlock our hands, turning to kick my door closed as Flo sits gingerly on the edge of my bed. Darkness settles in. I can’t look anywhere but at her soft expression, my dark walls are meaningless. The posters staring back at me are blurs that are all faceless.
My bed is unmade, just how I left it.
Her hands clench around my mattress. Nails are digging in to the fabric. My white sheets are pooled around her hips, my pillows a mess. I always sleep with at least six.
The space between us flaming red with passion and words left unsaid. Moments slipping through my outstretched hands, I have her back.
“What happened?” I have to ask even though I said I wouldn’t. The words escape my lips, and there’s nothing that I can do to stop them. I look down when Flo laughs. Why am I so intent on ruining this?
“I panicked. That’s what happened. I was alone and driving back to see you again when I panicked. I couldn’t do it. I kept picking up my phone to shoot you a text, and I knew that you would text back. I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t intrude on your happiness. You were doing so good, and I wasn’t and I didn’t know how to handle it. Everything was just going to shit. I dropped out of college. I had to figure out how to pay my loan back, and I couldn’t find any work within a ten-mile radius. I was always sad and I felt broken and I didn’t know how to fix it,” Flo says, shaking hair around her head, trying to hide her expression.
I step forward and push the strands back.
“Did you fix it?” I don’t want to sound like an ass, but this is a thought in my head that needs to be said. Flo needs to know the anger that I’m holding back.
Her regret is obvious.
“No of course I didn’t fix it. What kind of question is that Mal? I was an idiot, and I made a stupid decision. I don’t even know if I did it for attention or just to feel something. I don’t know why I did but what sucks the most about it is that I’m not the only one who has to live with it. What about my parents? I can’t undo what I did to them. I know that they’re both hurting, so much so that I can’t even stand to look at them. I can’t go back. I can’t see them. I know that I could haunt them or look in on them, but my heart can’t handle that kind of depression. What you felt, I understood it because I felt it. I missed you, and I felt dead knowing that I was never going to talk to you again.” she says.
“When I saw the paramedics I wanted to wave my hands but I couldn’t move, and I died while I was being transported. I died surrounded by strangers who didn’t give a shit. They were talking about their summer plans and their kids and asshole husbands. All I wanted to talk about was the fact that I was never going to get to live again. I witnessed them telling my family and my friends. My mom collapsed and asked if she could see me, but everyone said that she couldn’t because I was such a mess. I was there with you when you got the text that something had happened.” she says.
“Didn’t River send it? God, you should have seen the poor kid. He felt so bad for telling you about it through text message, but I was just glad someone did. You were the first person I thought of, and I’ve been thinking about you ever since. I can’t get you out of my head. I wanted my parents to call yours so you could come to the hospital and hold my hand. I thought that would bring me back. How stupid is that?” she asks.
I have dropped to my knees in front of her without realizing it, reaching out for her trembling hands.
“It’s not stupid,” I promise. “None of what you just told me is stupid, it’s just honest. When I got the text message, the text message that just said ‘Flo is dead,’ I lost it. Of course, I lost it. I was so fucking mad. I tried calling your mom and then your dad. No one was at your house, and I tried and tried again. I just wanted to hear someone say it because that was the only way that I was ever going to believe it.”
I found her dad, alone in the basement of Flo’s parents’ duplex. It was three days after the fact, and he just looked straight through me like a dead man holding a box of photo albums.
I couldn’t bear to look at them. I still can’t.
“Did you know about that?” I ask, leaving words unsaid but somehow knowing that Flo was present for the worst of it.
“I did.” She simply says.
I rest my head in her lap. She leans back. We fall asleep like that.
Can’t Go Back - Flo
I pull Mal onto his bed after he starts to drift, laying him flat on his back I curl onto his stomach. Resting my head on his hard chest, I love the sound of him breathing in. I love his heartbeat. I’m drunk with it. I love this. Fuck, how did I let this happen? How did I let myself come back here with him? I’m dead and dead girls don’t get second chances even though I’m sure a lot of them wish they did.
Why me?
Why us?
Why this?
“I love you Mal, do you know that?” I whisper into his chest, tracing a pattern I created in my head. “I have loved you since we were ten.” I don’t know why I feel the need to say this.
I just go with it.
“You were standing at the bus stop with a bunch of other kids, when some older guy showed up and started picking on one of your friends. I think his name was Alec, you stepped right in. You stood pretty tall for a ten-year-old and you held your ground. You called the big guy a tool. He almost wet himself he was so shocked. You acted like you were going to knock his lights out. You glowed.”
Great. Now I feel like a tool letting all of my mushy feels out, but what’s the point in stopping now?
“I fell in love with you, and I never meant to, I just didn’t seem to have any control. It just happened. I looked up one day at you and you kind of smiled and kaboom, I realized that I was in love with you. When we got older and started high school, my mind couldn’t contain how I felt. We always used to make out and grope, but I thought it was just because I was there, and we were so close. I kept waiting for you to move on to somebody else.” As I speak Mal moves, pulling me close.
“You didn’t move on though; I mean not really. You slept with other girls, but you were always there when I needed you. Yeah, I was jealous as all hell but you didn’t know how I felt. I never told you. I think you always thought that I was just screwing with you.”
Again Mal moves, spreading my legs with one of his own. Oh yeah, that’s a new move. I smile as we snuggle.
“I missed you more than you will ever know and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to explain how much I love you. Letting you go now might just be one of the worst things that I ever have to do.” I look up to find soft green eyes peering down at me over a worried frown. His words are twisting with my own at the thought of either of us ever letting go. His voice is hard and cold and cruel.
“So don’t let go,” he almost shouts, and I take a minute before looking back down at his chest. This is not the time right now.
“Sleep Mal.” I lean my head down. I kiss his neck, his arms and his stomach muscles through his clothes.
“I won’t leave you. I’m apparently not allowed. This death grip you have on my arms should be illegal.” I wouldn’t give him up for the entire world, but I would give him up for himself. I know that this can’t be real and when we are both forced to wake up it will hurt more than before. The pain is a hundred times worse than I can endure.
I had the taste of him in my memories and as vivid as it was, it was nothing compared to this. This is truly bliss. Everything about it. About him. I feel like a drug addict in search of another fix. I’ve never been a big drinker but right now I’m throwing back shots and dancing in a club all alone, my body whispering to the music. I understand every
lyric. Every song about heartache is one I understand.
This is something grand.
How did I get by without this for so long? I wasn’t even gone that long. I managed to run away for a whole month. Thirty days of pure fucking loneliness I was rancid with depression.
I was too terrified to reach out for the fear that no one wanted to hear my voice to begin with. No one wanted me around. I had accepted that. Convinced myself of it.
The problem with being truly sick is there is no cure for it. Death does not erase mental illness.
I am not reborn. I am still sick. Held down by it. My brain is unable to process reason. Mal could look me straight in the eyeballs and ask me to marry him right now, and I would still laugh out loud. I don’t deal well with anything real.
That’s why I chickened out. Am I a coward for taking the hard way out? I don’t think so. I felt trapped. Alone. Like I had nowhere to go.
I could have gone home, stayed under the blankets for a while in my old bedroom. I moved out without telling Mal. I didn’t want him to know, for fear that he would demand checking my new place out or he wouldn’t care at all. That was the line we had drawn, the line we could not cross.
He could never care enough. Even when we fought, and he told me to get lost, I was angry that he didn’t chase me down the block. Isn’t that messed up? I wanted to get lost so that he would ride in and save me from my thoughts. I wanted to make him cry to understand that he felt the way I did. I always deep down felt like I was somewhat replaceable to Mal.
I needed him, and he showed up. That was never somehow enough.
I know that I’m not making any sense now. I’m sorry. I’ll shut up now. I rest my head back down.
How Dare You? - Mal
I can’t move. I don’t want to.
Flo is on my chest. Curled into a small green ball and I feel alive now more than I ever thought possible. I feel real.
Ache for You (Trapped in Three Hill Book 1) Page 7