So, when you catch your boyfriend mounting another girl at a party, three things come to mind.
One: You want to punch him squarely in the jaw, and keep going until you hear a crack.
Two: You want to break down and cry.
Three: You want to scream bloody murder until everyone sees what a lying scumbag he is.
I chose the secret fourth option.
“Abby,” he bounced from the bed like it was a trampoline, adjusted his zip and fixed his hair. Marcy just sat where she was, didn’t meet my eyes, and fiddled with her t-shirt.
“We’re done.” It was simple, short and succinct. I closed the door behind me, took the stairs two at a time and wanted to get the hell out of there so I could start with option two.
The night had a crisp, bitter feel to it; cutting my skin like tiny needles of ice as I raced down the road, trying not to slip on the slick patches of path. I didn’t care why he had done it—I didn’t even care who he had done it with—but the fact that he had dared to think he could get away with it?
That bugged me.
Tears were threatening to escape from their prison, and I held them in like cold steel bars, picking up my pace. But when I realised it was 2.30 in the morning, I was alone and in a bad area of town, I started to think that maybe I hadn’t been that smart after all.
“Abby!” I whipped my head around and found Max, Marcy’s older brother, chasing me down the street, before he lost his footing on the glistening gravel.
“Max!” I ran to him, but he was already picked himself up and stuffed his hands into his pockets, embarrassed.
“Why’d you leave?”
Did I really want to tell him that his little sister, and my one-time best friend, was testing the springs in his new bed?
“I had to get out of there, and I want to be alone. Mind making both of those dreams come true?” I snapped. If I cried in front of him, I’d never hear the end of it.
Max jerked a hand through his hair and seemed to be arguing with himself. Finally he settled on “It’s late. I’ll drive you home.”
Apparently he wasn’t catching the hint.
“I’ll walk, thanks.” Before he knew what was happening, I feigned right and darted into a nearby alley, hoping to loop around to the better lit side of the street.
“Abby! You can’t...” I was faster than Max. And he knew it, but when I came to a dead end, I heard him finish lamely “go that way.”
Growing more frustrated by the minute, from my anger, my resentment and the fact that I was freezing my follicles off, I stopped, jogged in place and started to clench my jaw.
“What happened?” Max said once he’d reached me. I didn’t want to talk about it. I just wanted him to leave me alone. So I hit him.
Again. And again, and again, until my knuckles were sore, his t-shirt was rumpled and he pulled me into his strong arms. Everything just dissolved from there and a salty-sea fell from my eyes and onto his white shirt.
“It’s okay,” he said, hushing into my hair, his breath warming what I thought would be forever frozen. I looked up at him, his messy blonde hair, his earnest green eyes and that crooked smile he always had for me...and I just jumped on him.
My legs wrapped around his waist, and he instinctively wrapped his arms around me. His right hand rested on the small of my back, while his left trailed a lightning storm up my spine, before resting on the nape of my neck, burning me beautifully. I leaned my forehead against his and felt his chest rise and fall against mine. His hand was in my hair, mine were around his neck, and we just kind of....fit. I tilted my head to the right and so did he, inches apart, centimetres, millimetres...I could feel his breath mingling with mine, the scent of peppermint and chocolate catching in my throat...
And then he cocked his head further right and sweetly swept up a solitary tear with his lips, before trailing its path with his thumb, his eyes lingering on mine, and setting me back down to earth softly.
“I’ll walk you back.” He said.
Twice I had been stunned tonight, and when he held out his hand for me to take, I did. It felt warm and secure. But I pulled it away in anger, two seconds later. I was sick of being out of the loop. I wanted answers.
“Why did you stop?!” I yelled.
“Because,” he said simple, not rising to my anger, not stooping to my level. “I don’t want this to be revenge. I saw Marcy and Luke come downstairs after you left. I know what happened. But I don’t want to take advantage of you, because I want this, us, to be something memorable. I want it to be a Hollywood moment.”
Stunned, I couldn’t help but stare at Max. “But...you’re Max?”
“Didn’t stop you before, did it?” he smirked. He held out his hand, and this time I took it without letting go while he guided me to back to his house and car.
“How do I look?” I asked, self consciously smoothing down my hair. Max laughed.
“You look like a mess.” As I made an indignant sound, he continued “but a beautiful one.”
Birds tweeted, music blared, but all I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears and felt the heat rising up my neck.
“Now,” he opened the passenger door and gestured for me to sit in. I stopped at the door, kissed him on the cheek and thanked him. He smiled. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
Nothing, I told him.
“How about coffee?”
Yup, That's it! :)
I may put something up from my WIP.
Hopefully it's a lot hotter!
Peace, love and Lollipops!