Brooke;
1240 Words
Delilah picks me up at 7, and we head to her house. We spend the next hour getting ready, doing our hair and makeup. We talk and laugh like old times, and for a bit I forget about Asher and boyfriends and the party. For that hour we pretend that there isn’t anything coming between us, and I wish I could capture this moment, stay in it forever. But time is slippery, and soon we’re finished and heading out. We get into Delilah’s car, and it occurs to me that Asher isn’t picking her up. Which is weird, to say the least. The two of them have spent the past days together. All the time. To say that it was grating on me would be an underestimate.
“So,” I say, once we’re pulling out of the driveway, “how come your boyfriend isn’t driving you?”
Delilah rolls her eyes. “Just because we’re together doesn’t mean we’re joined at the hip.”
Could have fooled me.
“He offered to drive me, but I told him I was bringing you.”
“Well, thanks.” I say, and then change the subject.
We walk arm in arm into Bryce’s house. He’s a guy in our grade, famous for his notorious parties. We greet Julia by the door, and she points us in the direction of the guys. Delilah heads toward them, but I peel away from her. I mumble something about going to get a drink and head to the kitchen. Truthfully, I can’t stand to be near Asher, not right now.
I lean against the kitchen counter, sighing. A girl with bright stripes in her hair offers me a drink, but I decline. Not in the mood to get drunk today. I pull out my phone, opening the text app. I frown, noticing that Josh still hasn’t answered me. I send him another text, scrolling through the dozens of other ones I’ve already sent. I reach the last message I got from him, over a month ago. Same day as the party.
A flare of annoyance goes through me. Where had Josh been when I’d needed him? If only he had been here we would have escaped through the backdoor and sat outside in comfortable silence. Or we would have talked about anything and everything. His life was as f****d as mine, and it was nice to have someone who understood. Really nice.
As I’m putting my phone away I accidentally tap on Julia’s contact. I wince, looking away, but I still saw the text she’d sent. Want to talk about it?
It felt like everyone was asking me that lately, and sometimes I felt like shouting that no, I did not want to talk, and why did everyone think that was going to solve everything? It’s not like it would make any of that horrible night go away.
I feel my arms start to tremble, and lean back on the counter, the cold marble cooling my hand. I really need some fresh air. I leave the kitchen, heading to the backdoor, but I get caught in a throng of people dancing and drinking. I try to push through, but then I’m trapped in the center, and the lights are so bright and my head is pounding and I’m going to throw up. This is exactly like last time, with the loud music and the smell of beer and sweat, and before I can do anything the memories begin to assault me.
The tang of beer on my tongue.
Click.
A room in the back of the house.
Click.
My shirt, sliding over my head.
Click.
His cool hands, roving over my body.
Click.
His lips on mine, cold ring jabbing me.
Click.
His phone camera, the bright light of the flash blinding me.
Click.
I shake my head, willing these memories to stop, willing the click of the camera to stop stop stop. I think maybe I scream, but it’s lost in the noise of the room. I’m still standing, being jostled on either side by people, and I need to get out, I need to get out. My breathing is coming in shorter and shorter bursts, and I’m going to pass out.
Right when I was about to fall over, I felt a hand gripping mine. Whoever it is guides me out, and I’m too weak to struggle, to do anything at all. We leave the dancefloor, and I’m being led outside. We walk out, and the cool air clears my head enough to come to my senses. I look up, and realize Asher was the one who saved me. He gives me a worried glance, and holds up a cup of water. I take it gratefully, too tired to argue with him right now. I take a big gulp, and the water finishes clearing my fuzzy thoughts.
“Thanks.” I say to Asher, sitting down on the stairs. He tries to sit next to me, but stumbles on his feet and slides down a step. Wait, he’s drunk!
He grins up at me, and waves a hand in the air. “I always help a damsel in distressss.”
He stretches out the s, his words slurring. Drunk as a skunk. I roll my eyes and try to stand, but he grabs my hand and pulls me back down next to him.
“Sssstay.” he pleads. I sigh, because I don’t want to stay here with a drunk Asher, but I definitely don’t want to go back inside the stuffy room. I eye him nervously, remembering what he did last time we were alone and I was drunk. I look around, realizing there are a bunch of other people around, so I’ll probably be fine. Just in case, I pull out my phone and dial Delilah’s number, ready to call her should he make a move.
He looks over at me, then reaches over and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. I tense, and he seems to notice because he pulls his hand back, sighing.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says. I groan, wishing for the thousandth time I wasn’t in this situation.
“Brooke,” he says my name so tenderly I startle. This is not the Asher I know. “I need to tell you something.”
I raise an eyebrow, cursing him inwardly. This was getting really awkward. “Get it over with,” I say.
He smiles that stunning smile, and I feel my heart flutter. “Always so witty.”
I roll my eyes yet again. “What did you want to say?”
“That song I wrote. It was for you. All the songs I write are for you, only you.”
My heart stops. I knew it! Wait, why am I happy about that? I stammer, caught by surprise. “Uh, um, thanks?”
He gives me a lazy smile. “You’re welcome.” Then he leans forward and kisses me.
- Writer
