Beautifully Ruined

by Nessa Morgan

  “Not as much as I love you.” He leans forward to press his lips to mine briefly before pulling away.

  “Dear God,” I blurt loudly. “We’re not going to be one of those annoying couples are we?” I ask between giggles.

  “What annoying couples?”

  “You know, the ones that walk around the halls holding hands and repeatedly stating their love for each other like a broken record.” I wouldn’t mind being one of those couples, actually. “I love you more. No, I love you more.” Zephyr laughs at my imitation. “Or worse, the ones who call each other, then say, No, you hang up first. No, you hang up first. How about we hang up at the same time. Then they count and wait but neither has hung up, so they giggle like weirdos.”

  Zephyr’s laughing hysterically. He’s lying on his back, holding his stomach as the laughter rocks his body. It’s adorable.

  “These are the reasons I love you,” he tells me. “But I promise that w’ll never be like that.”

  “Thank God!” I cheer. But I honestly wouldn’t mind.

  When I wake up, I’m still in Zephyr’s arms on the couch in the living room. Only now, there are pillows beneath our heads and two more blankets covering us. It’s Saturday and I didn’t expect for his parents to be that understanding, but this time they didn’t wake us up—or Zephyr—with an air horn. That’s always a good sign.

  I shift where I lay, trying to move my arm before I completely lose complete feeling, when Zephyr’s eyelids slowly glide up, revealing his lovely dark chocolate eyes. “I could get used to this,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms tighter around me. He’s keeping me as close to him as he can.

  “Me too,” I whisper.

  Staring into his eyes mesmerizes me but I can’t help but with the distraction I get when I see the flecks of paint still splattered on his face, his clothes, and his arms like freckles. He looks like one of those large jawbreakers. The type you can never finish.

  “What were you painting?” I ask, trying to count the spots on his cheeks.

  “Huh?”

  I reach toward his face and rub my finger against one of the spots of paint close to his nose. It’s dry so it doesn’t rub off onto my thumb or smudge; I use the excuse to touch him.

  He checks his arm, spying the various vibrant colors dotting his skin. “Shit, I completely forgot about that.”

  “Was it important?” I wonder if I ruined one of his pieces by keeping him from it.

  “No, I was just experimenting with something new.”

  Zephyr sits up, tugging me up with him, and I let him lead me up to his room to show me the canvas set up in its usual place by the window. The painting set up on the easel by the window doesn’t appear to be anything distinct—but what the hell do I know about art?

  On the large canvas is a mix of color expertly blended in a hazy wave. I walk toward the painting and notice little dots of paint not blended, as if they were just thrown onto the canvas from across the room. Knowing him, that’s exactly what he did.

  “I was trying to splatter the paint, then blend it.” He tells me as I glide my hand over the dry piece, feeling the texture of the paint bump and ridge underneath my palm. “You kind of caught me before I could blend this. I kind of like the way it turned out.”

  So do I. “It looks amazing,” I tell him, gawking at his talent. “At least, now I know you don’t just paint me.”

  “I paint many things, Jo. Not just you.”

  I laugh. It contradicts with the stack of paintings leaning against his wall, the majority of them showcasing me in random poses. Just so you know, I’ve never posed for him but he has a good memory.

  “Can I have it?” I ask, blurting out my first thought. I want this on my wall. I want to look at it every day and feel this exact emotion every time I look at it: Happiness.

  “You really want it?” he asks, sounding shocked.

  “Yeah, I think it’s pretty.” I turn to him, smiling widely.

  Zephyr takes a moment to think about it, looking over my body hungrily as I’m standing in front of him clad in only sleep shorts and a spaghetti strap. He steps toward me, lightly grabbing my arms and pulling me closer to him. To feel his skin on mine sends electric shocks through me, every touch tingles with an emotion I forgot existed. Fire erupts within me, a flame I never want extinguished.

  He leans closer, his hair falling over his face, covering his eyes. I reach my hand up to ease his hair away, my fingertips brushing gently across his forehead. Zephyr smells heavenly, he feels warm without touching me, his heat radiating from him in thick, comforting waves I want to lose myself within. When he’s this close, my entire body is tuned to his, knowing where he is, what he’s thinking, and where he’s going to touch me next.

  My hand slides down his neck, gliding over his shoulder and falling down his arm. He leans closer and closer, his lips nearing mine slowly, and all I want to do is kiss him as I’ve never kissed him before. From the look in his eyes, he wants the same thing.

  Closer he leans, so slowly I feel like I might combust from the anticipation. I just want to grab him by the neck and—

  “Zephyr, you know the rules, no Joey in your room when you’re both alone,” Antonios, his father, chimes from the doorway.

  Zephyr backs away so fast; I feel a breeze. His dad is laughing as I try to act casual, but it doesn’t work when you’ve been caught by a parent.

  “Morning, Dad,” Zephyr stammers out.

  “Hi,” I squeak out, grabbing Zephyr’s sweatshirt and tugging it over my head.

  “Good morning, you two.” Antonios smiles as he looks from me to his son. “I see that you both had a good chat last night.” Zephyr looks to me apologetically. “Breakfast should be ready in twenty. Leave the door open.” With that, he leaves, his laughter echoing down the hall the only sign he was once standing in the doorway.

  Zephyr bursts into laughter. I quickly join, and we’re sitting on his bed, hoping our laughter slows soon.

  He offers me a pair of his sweatpants, which I gladly take, while he changes into something more comfortable than the jeans he slept in, tugging on a pair of basketball shorts and a long sleeved white t-shirt. I tried not to watch him as he changed but I couldn’t help but drift my attention to him as he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the tight muscles I tried to forget he had.

  Oh, holy moley.

  When he notices my eyes settled on the thick ridges of his stomach—nearly swooning, he chuckles. I quickly avert my eyes and pretend I was looking at the wall behind him. The bare, blank wall behind him.

  He didn’t buy it.

    

  After a breakfast I thought would be awkward, I decided to head home. Walking into my room, holding the hefty box, I unload everything where it belongs. The pictures go back into their colorful frames, the CDs and books go back onto the shelves, the ticket stubs go back onto the bulletin board, and I throw the sweatshirt on my bed. KALIVAS stares at me against the heather gray of the worn fabric. Seeing the name warms my heart.

  Happily, I walk over to the window and tug open the blinds, cranking open the window, and letting the dim sunshine, air, and his line of sight, back into the room.

  Zephyr sees me. He climbs from his bed and opens his own window. “Hi,” he says, the cold after-rain air seeping through both windows, but it doesn’t affect us. We just stare at each other as if no time had passed.

  “Hi,” I reply sheepishly, nearly embarrassed. I touch my hair nervously, tucking it behind my ears.

  “Is this going to be a thing, now?” he asks, holding out his hand over the alley, motioning toward my window.

  “Yeah,” I say with a nod.

  He looks to me, his chocolate eyes dark with hunger. “Good,” he replies. “I hate your blinds.” Zephyr chuckles.

  “I hate them, too,” I reply.

  “I figured.”

    

  There wasn’t much surprise when I walked down the hall with Zephyr next to me. Everyone who
saw us only seemed… relieved. As if the sight of us together meant everything would soon be right with the world. Everyone just knew we were back together. When we walked down the hall, Zephyr walking me to my classes, I saw people smiling at us, people nodding to us, as if with approval. Apparently, everyone just liked the thought of us together.

  Everyone, that is, except Milo.

  I’m not sure what it was about them, but there was some hatred between Zephyr and Milo, hatred that went unexplained. It was annoying and I was in the middle of it.

  Stepping into AP Euro, Zephyr was again taking the seat next to mine. Now, while I was fine with it, because that meant I could once again flirt with my boyfriend during class, Milo, well…

  “Dude, that’s my seat,” Milo says, dropping his backpack on the table in front of us, his arms crossed along his chest.

  “There’s an open seat over there, man.” Zephyr points to his former seat on the other side of the room. “It has a great view of the board.”

  “I can see that, dude,” Milo replies, his blue eyes narrowing. “You were pretty happy over there last week. Just walk back over there—I promise ya, no one will judge.”

  Hearing the angry hiss of his voice, I know I should probably intervene. Zephyr looks ready to hit first, ask questions later. I know he wouldn’t hit me but that doesn’t mean I want him hitting Milo.

  “That’s not an issue for me, Milton.” Zephyr stands up, trying to use his height as an advantage but they’re at eye level.

  Milo leans forward. “The name’s Milo.”

  “All right,” I stand up, holding my arms out. “Uh, I’m not entirely sure what to say about this but you two are really beginning to freak me out.” The last thing I need to witness is a fight between them. I don’t want to visit the principal’s office again. Zephyr has already been suspended because of fighting this year. A second one won’t go well on his record, especially if he plans to apply to colleges. And Milo just moved here. It’s his senior year. He can’t afford a suspension and more missed class time. “Just move to your respective corners and calm down.”

  Zephyr turns, grinning to hide his scowl, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pressing a quick kiss to my cheek. “And this is why I love you because my corner is again wherever you are.” I watch Milo roll his eyes and clamp his hand down on his backpack, yanking it from the table with so much force; he nearly smacks it into the head of the girl sitting in front of me. I look to him apologetically, wishing I could make these two friends, but I don’t see that happening anytime soon.

  Turns out Mr. Cheney had final say. Final say was Zephyr across the room glaring at Milo as he chuckled next to me. Final say from me was a slap in the arm and my vow to make them friends. It will definitely take some time, begging, and a hell of a lot of patience I’m sure I don’t have but I hope it will all be worth it in the end.

  No, it will be worth it. If they don’t kill each other first. I’m determined.

    

  The new semester started and that meant a new class. I was fully prepared for it, I’d been taking classes with seniors for the past two years, but now I’m taking a class about life after high school. I thought I was prepared for it, I thought that I knew what life was capable of, but holy balls, I was wrong.

  I’m not prepared for the future at all.

  They pulled me from gym to take this class. I didn’t mind. I’m happy not to run the mile every Monday, even happier to have another class with Milo. He occupies the seat next to me. He can’t help but constantly poking fun at Mr. Sherman and his red suspenders—I can’t blame the Texan, I’d do the same thing. I actually do the same thing.

  I don’t think giggling is how I want to spend my time in this class, so I pinch Milo’s arm until he swats my hand away, feigning injury. He eventually takes the hint, copying my focus on the front of the room. I’m not letting anything affect my GPA.

  By the time the end bell rings, Milo’s snoring into his hand, his head pitched forward slightly. I kick the back of his chair, startling him, which makes him snort loudly.

  “Hee-yaw!” he shouts.

  Lucky for him, Mr. Sherman left the room with no sign he knew Milo was sleeping.

  I’m laughing into my hand, bent over and clutching my knees to keep from falling. I’d happily relive that moment. And do it again, just to be clear.

  “You’re evil, you know that?” Milo tells me as he grabs his backpack, slinging it onto his shoulder.

  I nod, following him out of the room, agreeing with him.

    

  My birthday is slowly creeping up. Yay! Just what I need, something pointless to celebrate. I know parties are in the works—someone is always planning something that will drive me up the wall when I’d rather be at home alone devouring my own chocolate cake (nothing small, I’m a woman now) with a shovel.

  Then, there’s the Ambrielle interview, but that flies by smoothly, I’m not sure why I was so worried to begin with.

  I push open the door to Zephyr’s house and step through, spotting everyone I know sprawled around the living room. Hilary and Patrick are talking to Molly and Antonios, Harley, Kennie, and Ksenia are talking to Jamie. Milo and Zephyr are a safe distance away—I’m surprised Zephyr let Milo into his home, but he has his sister, Mel, there for company, so that’s something—she waves excitedly when she sees. Somehow, the sight of Mel makes me happier and I return a smile.

  “I never want to do that again,” I announce to the room as I walk over to my boyfriend and link my arms around his waist, letting his heat radiate into me. His hands splay along my back, pulling me closer until he tucks my head beneath his chin. Since we got back together, I’ve been hugging him more, I’ve been finding many reasons to touch him, and this was a reason to touch him.

  It’s so comforting, being able to touch him again.

  “It wasn’t that bad, I bet,” Zephyr says. And he’s right. It wasn’t bad at all. The questions were easy to answer, Ambrielle was easy to talk to, I didn’t screw it up—I’m pretty sure it won’t be so crappy when it shows. I’m not too excited about it—try zero percent excited because my entire past will be on show for the world to see, but it was my decision.

  A decision I’m proud of myself for making.

  twelve

  My alarm blares beneath my pillow and I fight with my phone, stabbing at the screen with my thumb, until it shuts off, numbing me to the morning. If I had a nightmare or any kind of dream, I can’t remember it, and that’s enough to put me in a slightly decent mood—but it’s still early, anything can happen. I need to move, I need to shower, hell—I need to wake the hell up but my bed is so warm, so soothing and welcoming, I just stay put for another five minutes. What’s another five minutes? Then I remember: today is my birthday.

  Shit!

  I open my eyes, startling when the bright colors fill my vision.

  There are balloons everywhere. Pink balloon, green balloons, purple balloons, blue, red, white, black—it looks like my room has been hit by the weirdest, laziest practical joker there is. You know, the one too lazy to do anything damaging but takes their time filling so many balloons that they fill your room from top to bottom and wait for you to open the door so they slowly spill out.

  What the hell is going on here?

  I sit up, swatting at a few low hanging balloons floating near my head, and spy the rose petals covering my blanket. Where did these even come from? And not just rose petals, petals from other flowers—lilies, daisies, and a few others it looks like. This is elaborate.

  Peeking over the side of my bed, because I’m terrified I’m smack-dab in the center of some cheesy romantic comedy, also to make sure my foot won’t connect with anything hard and pointy that might have been left for me. I see nothing but my usual white carpet and colorful rug. On my nightstand sits a white envelope with JOEY written on the front.

  I nervously tear it open.

  Happy Birthday, Joey!

  I hope you do
n’t mind but I took the time to decorate your room for you. I know how much you hate your birthday but you’re alone on that. I absolutely love your birthday and I plan to show you how much I love it and you.

  I plan to spoil you today (because I can!).

  And don’t forget about our lovely date tonight! I have something wonderful planned for the both of us. There should be something for you to wear in your closet. You’ll know it when you see it.

  See you at school.

  I love you!

  Zephyr

  I have a date tonight—we have a date tonight? Seriously? This is the first I’m hearing about it.

  With that new knowledge, and a lovely smile covering my face, I start my morning routine. After I shower and brush my teeth, I take the time to straighten my usually unruly curly locks this morning. It’s a change I don’t mind to make, even if only for the day. As I run my fingers through my hair—it feels so different! I search my closet for something to wear today. Opening the door, I gasp at what’s hanging on the back. A dress I’ve never seen before—a beautiful, gorgeous dress I’ve never seen before. It’s a deep green with capped sleeves and a knee-length skirt. The hem flares at the bottom, an A-line dress.

  It’s so pretty.

  Turning, I look at everything surrounding me, wondering how it all got into my room without waking me up? How did he do this?

  My boyfriend is one sneaky dude.

  I tug on a pair of dark blue jeans and a Slipknot t-shirt, my eyes still glancing at the dress hanging on my door. It’s beautiful and I can’t wait to wear it.

  Unlocking the front door, I wait like usual, making myself toast, my usual breakfast. I grab an apple from the fruit bowl that’s rarely ever filled on the dining room table and toss it into my backpack on top of my books and homework.

  Twenty minutes pass and I’m still sitting alone in my living room—toast long ago eaten. Like, very alone. Where are Zephyr and Jamie? Where is Zephyr? After a few moments, I decide to walk to their house—maybe they’re running late. I grab my backpack, a jacket, and throw open the front door. I drop everything when I see a car sitting in the driveway. Even better, there’s a giant shiny blue bow sitting on the hood.