Entangled in Lust

14. Dave, The Forgotten Friend

The rain outside the library hadn't completely stopped. A fine mist clung to the glass, like cold sweat.

I sat there, staring at one word scratched into the corner of the old, scarred table. Dave.

The writing was small, done in white correction fluid that had hardened and started to chip at the edges. A relic from tenth grade, back when Mrs. Linda gave us detention and told us to summarize the chapter on World War II. Instead of working, Dave was busy drawing a caricature of the teacher. I—foolishly—had carved his name right next to it.

Back then, it felt funny. It felt like we were going to be the school's troublemaker duo forever. Now, looking at that name felt like looking at a ghost.

I touched the letters with the tip of my index finger. Rough. Cold. "Where have you been, Cell?" I whispered to myself. But the answer was obvious: It wasn't Dave who left. It was me who ran.

I slammed the History book shut. Ashley was right, my grades were tanking. My English essay got a C-minus. Yesterday's Math test? I couldn't even remember half the formulas, even though that used to be my daily bread. My brain felt full of fog. Images flooded my mind: my mother being kicked out, my father screaming, and Lucas's touch. It was addictive yet made me feel dirty.

I shoved the book into my bag carelessly and walked out. The school corridor was already starting to empty out since the final bell had rung half an hour ago. The hallway used to buzz with laughter from basketball players and cheerleaders. Now, it only echoes my footsteps.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

As I passed the bulletin board near the teachers' lounge, my steps slowed. There was someone there. A tall guy with a uniform shirt that was always slightly untucked at the back. His hair was a bit messy, like he had just woken up or ruffled it in frustration.

Dave.

My stomach dropped. My first reflex was to turn around. Run. Hide in the girls' bathroom. That had been my new skill this past week: dodging Dave. I memorized his canteen schedule, his route to the parking lot, all so I wouldn't have to face him.

But this time, I was too late. Dave turned. Maybe he heard my footsteps, or maybe his "Marcella Radar" wasn't completely broken yet. Our eyes met.

Swear to God, I would rather have Jessica scream at me in public than have Dave look at me like this. Before, Dave's eyes were always full of laughter. Or teasing. But now? Empty. There were dark bags under them. He looked tired. Disappointed.

"Cell," he called out. His voice was raspy.

I swallowed hard. "Hai, Dave." Awkward. God, it was so awkward. Even though this was the same guy who knew my phone password and held my hair back when I threw up in 8th grade.

"Long time no talk," he said quietly. He didn't move closer, as if there was a thick glass wall between us. "I saw your name on the Math remedial board."

I let out a small, hollow laugh. "Oh yeah? Wow, new record for me. Papa George's golden child in remedial."

Dave didn't laugh. He looked straight at me. "What's wrong with you, Cell?" Simple question. But it felt like a punch to the gut.

"Nothing's wrong," I answered defensively, my feet shifting, ready to bolt. "Just the usual, lots on my mind. My parents divorced... it's normal if I'm a bit off, right?"

"That's not what I mean," Dave cut in, his tone sharpening. "I know you're wrecked because of your parents. But this is different. You... you're like a stranger."

"People change, Dave," I replied coldly. I didn't want him digging inside my head.

"Change?" Dave scoffed, taking a step forward, making me instinctively step back. "Change into what? Into Lucas's shadow? Are you really into a girl who wants to be the secret side-piece of a guy too scared to hold your hand in front of Jessica?"

My blood boiled. "Watch your mouth."

"Why? It's true, isn't it?" Dave was getting bolder. His eyes flared with anger. "I hear things, Cell. Every break, you disappear. Every time school ends, you take off on his bike. You think the whole school is blind? People are starting to talk. Especially Jessica."

"I don't care what people say!" I snapped. My voice echoed in the empty hallway. "And I don't care what Jessica says! She's not my friend anymore."

"Then what am I?" Dave's voice suddenly dropped. And that silenced me.

"What am I, Cell?" he repeated, his voice shaking. "Am I still your friend? Or did you throw me away too, along with your dignity?"

"I didn't throw you away!" My eyes felt hot. Damn it, don't cry. "You're the one who stayed away! You're the one who stopped talking to me ever since I got with Lucas!"

"BECAUSE YOU HURT ME, MARCELLA!" Dave's shout bounced off the corridor walls. It was the first time he had ever yelled at me. His face was flushed red, his breathing ragged.

"I've loved you since we were kids. And you know that. But you chose him instead. You chose a guy you've known for a month over me, who's been there for you your whole life!"

I froze. His words hit me like bullets. "I..." I lost my words. "Dave, I can't choose who I have feelings for."

Dave laughed cynically, rubbing his face roughly. "Okay. Fine. You're right. I accept that I lost." He looked at me again, and this time his gaze made my knees weak. "But what hurts me isn't that you rejected me, Cell. It's watching you destroy yourself for that guy. You're not happy. You're just running."

"You don't know anything," I hissed, even though my heart knew he was right.

"Whatever," Dave slumped his shoulders. He looked like he was giving up. Truly giving up. "I miss my best friend, Cell. The Marcella who dreamed of making it into Forbes. Not the Marcella who's scared of her own shadow."

He shook his head slowly, then turned around. "Take care of yourself, Cell. Because it looks like... I can't look out for you anymore."

Dave walked away. His back shrank as he moved down the long school corridor. His steps were steady, no hesitation, no looking back.

I stood there like a statue. It felt like a part of my body had been forcibly amputated without anesthesia. Pain. Sting. Emptiness. I wanted to scream his name. Dave, wait. Don't go. I'm scared. I'm alone. But my mouth stayed shut. My ego was too high.

Now it was truly quiet. Jessica hated me. My father was busy with his own mess. My mother was gone. And now Dave... my only home... he was gone too.

My knees gave out. I needed something to hold on to. I needed something to plug this gaping hole in my chest. With trembling hands, I reached into my pocket, pulling out my phone. I called the only person left.

Riiing... "Hello, Babe?"

Lucas's voice. Cheerful. Burden-free. "Where are you?" I asked, my voice cracking, holding back a sob. "I need you."

"Out front in the parking lot. Been waiting ages for you, Princess. Come on out, let's get out of here. Let's find some fun."

I hung up, wiping my tears roughly. Dave was right, I was just running. But right now, running to Lucas seemed way easier than accepting that I had just lost my best friend forever.

I turned my back on Dave's shadow in the dark corridor and walked quickly toward the parking lot. Toward my sweet escape.

My footsteps echoed in the empty lobby. I walked by the dusty glass trophy cabinet. My debate trophy and Dave's had been sitting side by side for two years. I looked away. It hurt to see proof that we were once an unbeatable team. Now, I walked alone, my heart cut in half.

As I pushed open the glass lobby doors, the hot Jakarta air slapped my face, a sharp contrast to the school's cold AC. At the end of the parking lot, under the shade of a rain tree, Lucas was waiting.

He was sitting on his red sport bike, long legs resting on the ground casually. He was still in uniform. His shirt hung untucked, and the top two buttons were open. The silver necklace he always wore showed clearly. When he saw me, he didn't ask why my eyes were puffy or why my nose was red. He just smirked, that crooked smile that always managed to make my knees weak.

"Took you long enough," he complained playfully when I reached him. "I was about to grow moss waiting here, you know."

I didn't answer, just stood there with slumped shoulders. Lucas noticed my silence. He straightened up, then reached out to pull me by the waist. His warm fingers touched my chin, tilting my face up to look at him.

"Hey," his voice softened, but not the pathetic kind of soft like Dave's earlier. This was a teasing soft. "Crying again? Who made the Princess cry? The counselor? or Dave again?"

Hearing Dave's name made my chest ache again. But I shook my head quickly. I didn't want to talk about Dave. I didn't want Lucas to know I had just been begging for another guy. "Doesn't matter," I answered, voice hoarse. "I'm just tired. Take me away, Cas. Please."

Lucas looked at me for a second, as if weighing something, then he nodded. He didn't push. That was what I liked about Lucas. He never forced me to dissect my brain. He offered pleasure, not therapy sessions.

"Okay. Let's ride," he said while putting the helmet on my head. His hands tucked my loose hair strands carefully before clicking the strap under my chin. "Hold on tight. I'm gonna speed so your sadness gets left behind."

I climbed onto the back seat, wrapping my arms around his hard stomach. His expensive perfume—a blend of musk and tobacco—filled the air. It chased away the citrus scent of Dave that lingered.

The engine roared loudly, breaking the afternoon silence. Lucas sped out of the school gate on his bike. He weaved through Jakarta's traffic with skill and a hint of recklessness.

Strong wind hit my face through the helmet visor. Skyscrapers blurred backwards beside us. My heart raced from the adrenaline, and slowly, the pain in my chest started to feel distant. Dave was right. I was indeed running. Running with my arms around Lucas felt much better than stopping. The wind roared around us, urging us on. I closed my eyes, letting myself drift into the illusion that as long as I had Lucas, I was going to be okay.