Obsessed

by R. J. Lewis

  At the same time, he was an absolute gentleman. Just…a really nice guy through and through. Not like the typical jocks from school who snickered at the small kid in class and used girls for sex. This was largely thanks to Dad, who always preached to respect the girls and look after the weak. And like Dad, Aston became a leader, someone you’d prided to have in your corner. It still took a lot for him to smile, but that just added to the Aston appeal, and the girls melted in his presence.

  And me?

  I was a tumbleweed, directionless and hormonal. I pined for a boy I couldn’t have, who didn’t treat me yet with the affection I yearned for. Despite that, he was involved, interested, and there whenever I needed him to be. He stared at me with a depth that made me wonder what he was thinking about inside that complex head of his.

  And now he was in my bedroom. It wasn’t like he’d never stepped foot in here or anything, but at seventeen, I enjoyed my privacy. And a girl needed her privacy, right? This room was my angst-cave where I pitied myself often for wanting what I couldn’t have, especially around my period.

  “What’s going on?” I asked him quietly.

  He moved past the bed and stopped at the window, peering out through the blinds. “It’s hot out, El. Aren’t you dying from the heat?”

  I was. The middle of June was unbearably hot, unlike previous summers.

  “That’s why we went to the movies,” I grumbled. “We watched two shocking hours of B grade garbage with the only redeeming quality being that guy’s body. Did you see those abs?”

  “I see them every day in the mirror.”

  I ignored his arrogant remark. “I can’t believe they killed her off, by the way. What’s wrong with happy endings?”

  “They don’t always exist.”

  “Pessimist.”

  “I’m a realist.”

  “Why are you here then, Debbie Downer? To talk about the movie that is seriously killing my heart right now?”

  “I want to cool off from the heat.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I waited for him to answer, but as he turned with that mischievous look in his eye, it was slowly dawning on me what he was getting at.

  “You want to swim?” I then asked him, my heart racing at the thought.

  “Do you?”

  “I’m down.”

  “Grab a bottle of water. We’ll run it.”

  “Just take the car.” Aston owned a vehicle (if you want to call it that, though I preferred the word vehi-kill). He had saved for a year straight working at the local paintball field for one of Daddy’s friends. He bought the shittiest, loudest death trap of a car two months ago, and we absolutely loved it. Unfortunately, the rest of the world didn’t. Especially in the mornings when it sounded like it was blowing up the whole neighbourhood. Our neighbour Becky could often be heard screaming sermons about the end of the world when she heard it.

  “It’ll wake Dad,” he explained. “And he’ll be pissed we’re sneaking out this late.”

  I rolled my eyes. “He shouldn’t be.”

  “He says there’s more crime lately.”

  “He’s a cop. There’s always crime and it’s always dangerous.”

  His lip quirked up, and I nearly swooned at the sight. “Still can’t. Just grab a bottle and let’s go.”

  I slipped out of bed and followed after him. He weighed more than me (by double at least), stressed the floorboards beneath us, yet he still managed to be quieter. He made dramatic faces every time I made a sound, and I stifled my laughter at the overly done way his nose flared and his eyes bulged. I wanted to smack him, but that would definitely wake the parents up, and they were feet away from us as we approached the stairwell.

  The house was very modest. It had four bedrooms, and one sat between my room and theirs. It was Mum’s little sewing office, and I was thankful for it, otherwise they’d have heard our wall conversations in the middle of the night, and our attempt at sneaking out would have been foiled right from the get-go.

  It wasn’t the first time we’d snuck out. I wasn’t nervous or afraid of getting caught. We’d done this so often last summer; we didn’t even try being quiet. But a year had passed since then, and it was our first time sneaking out of the house since, so we were back to being overly cautious. Because when you had a dad that was a police officer in a town filled with strife and crime, there was no breezing in and out of the door in the middle of the night.

  We creaked down the staircase and then stopped at the kitchen. I grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge while Aston stood by the threshold, keeping a lookout. I felt like we were breaking out of a prison by the time I reached him and handed him his bottle. We then moved swiftly down the hallway, picking up pace through our impatience. He unlocked the door, wincing at the loud click, and then opened it. It was smooth sailing after that. He swung open the screen door and we slipped into our flip-flops sitting out front. Then we ran down the steps and hit the sidewalk.

  I always felt a bolt of adrenaline doing this. It was such a rush being naughty.

  “Race you,” he said, picking up speed.

  I giggled and raced after him. It made me so happy to see bursts of fun Aston, even if it didn’t always come with a smile.

  The lake was seven blocks from the house, and it was all downhill. Coming back was usually the biggest hurdle because we’d be drained from swimming, and going uphill was such a drag. But tonight was different. Tonight I felt rejuvenated. I needed my dose of Aston. He was too busy lately working, hitting the books hard, and getting prepared for that next giant step after high school. Summertime was our time, and I didn’t want that to change. I liked routine. I liked familiarity in my world, and if anything was out of it, or rearranged, it cost me my sanity.

  We ducked under the boom gate and ran past the parking lot. It was so hot and I’d worked up such a sweat, I had guzzled half my bottle already. We raced down the dirt path that led to the lakeside beach and parks. It was completely deserted, but across the river I could already make out lit lake houses with people out front and along the board walks. They couldn’t see us where we were, and I doubted they’d care much either.

  Faint music could be heard as we slowed at the beach and kicked off our flops. It was party mix music, and I couldn’t resist swaying my hips to the beat. I loved music. Loved dancing. Loved being a complete goofball, uncaring where I was or how ridiculous I looked. Good music owned me.

  Aston laughed faintly as he pulled his shirt off over his head. It caught on his hair tie and pulled it free, making his long hair fall around his shoulders. God, I loved his hair.

  “You’re such a partier, El,” he commented lightly.

  I shrugged and spun, using this as an excuse to discreetly glance at his upper body. For a freshly turned eighteen-year-old, my adopted brother was jacked. Broad chest, distinct abs, and a trail that led…woo, it led to the Land of Oz. I’d take this boy’s yellow brick road any day.

  “Stop dancing and come on,” he pressed, already moving to the water. “The last time this happened, you couldn’t find me.”

  I waited for him to wade deeper into the water, and when he faced forward, I slipped off my shirt and jean shorts. In nothing but my pink lace undies and matching bra, I waded in after him. The water was just what I needed, cooling every inch of my heated body. I felt the rocks under my feet, some jagged and painful, and plodded on after Aston.

  The massive lake overlooked the mountains and was sectioned off with vertical board walks. Every time you passed one, the water got deeper. It was the perfect way to keep the kids zoned in one area without fear of them drowning or wandering off. It was always a lick of nostalgia wading into this water because it was the very same one I taught Aston how to swim in.

  Aston and I passed four sections, swimming with ease before settling in the deepest part of the lake. I stayed close to the boardwalk, wrapping my legs around the column in the water when I got tired. Meanwhile, Aston swam like a fish, diving into the
depths and surfacing half a minute later every time. His hair was plastered against his flesh, his lips were pink and wet. I sighed. Just…divine.

  “Are you looking forward to leaving?” I asked sometime later when he’d stopped plunging into the water. This was a topic of conversation that had been ongoing between him and Dad.

  He ran a hand through his soaked hair before floating on his back around me. “I’m not thinking about it much, to be honest,” he answered.

  “Doesn’t feel real?”

  “No. It’ll feel real when it’s around the corner, not a couple months away.”

  I nodded. I didn’t want to feel sad, so I pushed the topic aside and declared, “I’m looking for a job so I have something to do when school’s out, by the way.”

  “Where are you looking?”

  “Maybe the grocery store like last year. I saw some for-hire signs out front a couple days ago.”

  He gripped the ledge of the boardwalk with his strong arms, settling in front of me, and peered at me with consideration. “I can ask Fred and Cora at the field if you can help out with anything.”

  “You want me selling paintballs?” I raised a brow.

  “It gets busy on the weekends, and we’re struggling with demand. Fred also has his store, and when the boys are out playing on the weekends, he could have you in there. I don’t know. It’s just a suggestion. Would hate to see you miserable working at a store.”

  “Why would I be miserable?”

  “Because you’d hate it. You hated it last year. Said the women treated you like a doormat.”

  I tried not to show my happiness that he’d remember something that happened so long ago. So I shrugged casually. “And I’d like the paintball field more?”

  “You’re a tomboy. You’d love it.”

  I frowned. A tomboy? Is that what he thought of me? “I’m not a tomboy.”

  He chuckled dryly. “Whatever you say.”

  Then he dove back into the water and disappeared from sight, leaving me to question myself. Was I really a tomboy? I wore girly shit. Sometimes. I mean, I liked to go out and wasn’t afraid of getting dirty. I also didn’t wear much make-up, but…A tomboy? And the way he said it, was that a bad thing? Did he think that was gross? Did he like the girly girls? He never talked about girls. Ever. I’d never even seen him check out girls to know what he was into.

  His keeping to himself had created quite a frenzy at school, and like usual, he never even noticed.

  When he emerged from the water again, he climbed and settled on the boardwalk and pulled me up to him. We sat side by side, drenched and cool, our feet in the water. He leaned back on his thick forearms after a few minutes and stared up at the night sky, and all I could think about were tomboys and girly girls and the strange jealousy that ripped through me not knowing what he was into.

  “Cindy likes you.” I blurted that out without thinking. It was rash and impulsive, but I had to know.

  “Okay,” was all he said on the matter.

  I turned to look down at him. “Like, if you asked her out, she wouldn’t say no.”

  “Okay,” he repeated indifferently, avoiding my eye.

  “Aston –”

  “Elise,” he sharply cut in. “I heard you.”

  I sighed and impatiently replied, “Well, aren’t you interested?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Cindy’s a drama-queen. I don’t know why you still hang out with her.”

  “I hang out with her because she’s still better than the other bitches at school.”

  “I met a nice girl today. Her name is Tanya. She didn’t seem bitchy. Maybe you should hang out with her too.”

  My face darkened. “Where did you meet her?”

  “At the gym.”

  I gritted my teeth. “You’re talking about the new girl?”

  He raised his brows. “Oh, so you know her?”

  “She’s not new, I don’t know why she tells people that. She arrived during second semester, and apparently she can suck-start a lawn mower…or so the boys tell me.”

  He laughed. “Right.”

  “But…I guess you might like her. She’s a girly girl.”

  He raised his brows in question. “So?”

  “So…you know, aren’t you into girly girls like Cindy? She doesn’t have a suck-start reputation. You’d be the cutest couple.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  My cheeks heated and I looked away from his “what the hell” face and kicked at the water. “I’m just asking, Aston. Jeesh.”

  “Did Cindy put you up to this?”

  “No, I just wondered if you’d be interested back in her. That’s it. You don’t have to be butt-hurt about it.”

  “She called me a weirdo years ago, or are we going to forget that?”

  “But that was before you turned…you know.”

  He looked at me. “Turned what?”

  “You know…”

  “No, I don’t know.”

  “Well, figure it out.”

  “Just tell me. Before I turned what?”

  “Beautiful!” I yelled in frustration before gesturing at all of him. “That was before you were an Adonis, Aston. Now they’re all over me asking me, ‘Oh, Elise, is Aston available? Oh, Elise, give him my number. Oh, Elise, have him date me and I’ll be your best friend and do whatever you ask of me.’ Like if I wanted to, I could have a slave camp with all these girls who’ll do anything to be with you. It’s freaking annoying and I’m tired of being the messenger. I need a life outside of your stalkers. I need you to just date one of your girly girls so I can live in freaking peace!” And get over you!

  There was an unbearably awkward silence that followed. When I found the courage to look at him, I froze in place at his expression. He was smiling from ear to ear, his dimples I never really knew were there deepening, his green eyes twinkling under the moonlight as he stared back at me.

  “Wow,” he whispered, amused, “you’re really pissed.”

  “I’m pissed that you’ve done nothing about it.”

  “Is that really why you’re pissed?” He prodded, but he knew.

  “Yes,” I lied.

  “I’m not dating airheads, and the girls at school are airheads.”

  “What about Delia? She’s smart.”

  “Her head’s the shape of a football.”

  To my dismay, I burst out laughing. “Oh, so you’re picky about their intelligence, but if they have it, then it’s their looks.”

  “I’m a normal guy, too, you know. I like girls, but…I want someone smart too. And pretty. Both those things aren’t too much to ask for. If Delia’s head was more proportionate to a baseball, I’d go for it.”

  I wrapped my arm around my sore ribs as I laughed, and he just smiled at me, watching me as I struggled for air. “What about this Tanya girl then?”

  “She’s hot, don’t get me wrong. She’s…wow.” Jealousy shook me to the core, but I swallowed it down as he continued. “I’m sure she’d give a guy a night to remember but…that’s all she is. A night to remember.”

  “You’re such a typical guy, Aston.”

  “No, I’m not, El.”

  No, he was not, but he was too. It was hard to define Aston. He was so layered and filled with more questions than answers. He hid himself so well.

  I lay back, and he dropped down too, until we were shoulder to shoulder, our normal position under the night sky since we were kids.

  As the silence consumed us, my thoughts raged on, and the questions continued mounting. It was too hard to bottle them up. Aston was a puzzle that just wasn’t fitting together in place. I needed to know something…something impossible, maybe, but something that had been on my mind for a while. And it would destroy my hopes into a million tiny pieces if it were true.

  “Aston,” I murmured quietly, my eyes transfixed on the twinkling stars.

  �
�What?” he asked.

  “You’re eighteen and…Well, you say you like girls but you’ve never had a girlfriend. The girls talk a lot about it. They think you’re hiding something, and… I mean, you don’t talk about girls ever, and…”

  He turned his face to me. “And what?”

  “It’s just odd. I want you to know I would never judge you or anything. Nobody would, unless they’re totally conservative and live at the church and eat pages of the bible for breakfast, and I know there’s some of those assholes around, but seriously, nowadays it’s normal for people to be…”

  Silence. I couldn’t say the word. You had to wait for someone to be ready to open up about it, right? Was I pushing it? Was he even?

  He exhaled heavily. “You think I’m gay?”

  OhGodOhGodOhGod.

  I turned my head and finally looked at him. He appeared shocked. Was it shock because I’d discovered it? When the girls at school began to ask me if he was gay, my first reaction was panic. Not because I cared about someone’s sexuality, but because that would mean the way I felt for him was entirely one-sided. Those looks he’d given me throughout the years, it would have meant I’d completely fabricated them in my desperate mind.

  In a way, it made sense that he was gay. My chest felt like it was being crushed by a truck at the likelihood. What eighteen-year-old guy never had a girlfriend? No, to better word it, what eighteen-year-old guy that looked like him never had a girlfriend?

  He licked his bottom lip and looked away from me. I watched his nose flare as he digested my words bitterly. “No, El,” he finally said in a disappointed tone, “I’m not gay. I like girls. I like girls a lot. Cocks don’t do it for me, okay?”

  Relief. Relief. Relief. “Then why aren’t you interested in going out?”

  He huffed, infuriated. “Fuck, seriously, El?”

  “Watch your tone, jackass. I’m just curious!”

  “I’m not going to waste a second of my affection on somebody I don’t care about,” he explained sharply. “I could go out and be the biggest man-whore that ever lived, but why demean myself? I don’t care about using girls. I don’t care about getting laid, or going to parties. That’s never been my scene. You know that. I’m going to be myself at my own pace, not be somebody else to impress others. Alright?”