shimmer | shine with a soft tremulous light
• • •
4/8/17
MY EYES DRIFT shut as my head hits the headrest in Asher's car. The black leather heats the bare skin on the back of my thighs as his cologne fills the air around me.
"Are you okay?" His warm voice rolls over me and makes my skin pebble with goosebumps.
"Yeah," I murmur keeping my eyes closed. "Just tired," I add with a sigh.
"I keep you up too last night?" he teases naughtily with a chuckle.
My eyes flutter open and I twist my head to lock my gaze on him. "Don't you always," I reply with a raised eyebrow.
I play it off with a faint smirk but the mention of last night weighs heavy in my chest and my stomach clenches with a mix of frenzied fear and doubt.
Last night when Asher climbed into my room he was piss drunk. More so than usual. I didn't want to care or find it annoying but the feeling nagged at me and created a bitter taste on my tongue.
He quickly kissed away my annoyance until I became a pile of sweaty skin and breathy moans at his fingertips.
His hands held me. His fingers bruised my naked flesh. His teeth grazed my sensitive skin. His body became one with mine until I felt on fire with need, desire, love.
Everything felt perfect. So I told him how I felt. I told him how much I loved him.
And he didn't say it back.
Instead he kissed me and flipped me onto my hands and knees and made me come twice more only saying how I was his before passing out next to me.
He was gone once the sun bled into the sky.
We barely even spoke. Everything about how the night played out rubbed me the wrong way and I hate this feeling. I don't want to hesitate and question my feelings for him. I want it to be like how it was before everyone knew. When I was drowning in him. Burning for him. When he made me laugh. When I saw him smile. When he tried?
Forget it all.
His words echo in the back of my head and I once again close my eyes inviting in the darkness that accompanies the numbness that rises through my fingertips and settles in my soul.
I swallow the rising feeling of dread that lumps in my throat and relax my tense shoulders. My hand finds Asher's and his warmth instantly settles me. I squeeze it once and ease into the dark seats as we get closer and closer to school. He's been driving me every day this week and with him by my side the glares and words fade away. Because it's me he walks to halls with. It's me he shows off. It's me he kisses in front of everyone.
He chose me.
Dating Asher is a surreal experience. People still think I'm a slut and a backstabber but they don't dare say it to my face.
They keep their whispers to themselves and cut their lingering glances short when Asher and I walk by them hand in hand. They even smile and make small talk with me when he's talking with his friends. I know it isn't real. I know they don't truly care about me. But in some way it makes me feel less guilty. Less ashamed about my actions that lead me to this moment. This moment where I'm with Asher and Francesca isn't my friend anymore.
My teeth graze the delicate skin on my bottom lip. "Are you doing anything tonight?" I ask in a tense breath. My heart beats loudly in my chest and I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because even with Asher by my side I'm still unsure of where we stand. Unsure if he truly will want to take that next step with me.
Asher's eyes stay on the road but he shakes his head. "Nope," he replies easily.
"Well I was thinking, maybe, if you want, it's no big deal if—"
Asher cuts off my rambling. "Spit it out Maeleigh," he tells me with a chuckle. The deep laugh eases some of the nerves that claw their way through me.
"I was wondering if you would want to come over tonight for dinner and meet my mom?" The question comes out messy as I spit the words out quickly.
My pulse resounds in my ears as my hand sits clammily in Asher's waiting for him to speak.
"Sure," he says with a small shrug as if the response was easy.
A smile stretches across my face. "Really?" I breathe.
He turns his head and meets my gaze as we stop at a light right around the corner from school. "Yeah," he responds. "I'd love to come over," he tells me without hesitation.
My hand squeezes his as once again that deep winding, heart-racing emotion of love fills me.
"Cool," I murmur trying to act calm even though my body is overflowing with happiness. "Does six work for you?"
"Sounds great."
"Thanks for driving me," I tell him as I've told him every day so far this week. I don't live as close to the school as he does so he has to drive out of the way to take me. I offered to take the bus, but he refused and has showed up every morning.
"Stop thanking me for driving you. It's honestly just a selfish excuse to be around you," his words strike my heart and my cheeks burn at his words.
We slowly pull into school and Asher finds parking near the front entrance.
"Plus I like giving you breakfast," he teases before handing me a small white paper bag. A paper bag I know holds a pink frosted donut with sprinkles.
I open the bag even though I know what it holds. I dip my finger in the sugary frosting before licking it off. "Thank you," I tell him truthfully.
Asher leans in and places his lips against mine. He's gentle as he lets his lips move against mine with a slow burning passion. He pulls away too quickly and let his eyes linger on me. Those dark eyes burn me as he takes me in, watches me as if he's in awe of me.
A pout paints my lips at the fact he pulled away. "Why'd you stop?" I tease.
At my words his lips pull into a smile. My smile.
And I can't help but melt.
* * * * *
"Mom?" I call out as soon as I walk through the front door of my house.
"In here!" Her voice rings from the kitchen. I drop my backpack and turn the corner to see her at the table on her computer.
I pause not knowing how to start. My mouth dries and my tongue darts out to wet my lips and try and find the right words.
"Is everything okay?" My mother questions her eyes narrowing in on me from across the room.
I nod. "Yeah," I trail, feeling my heartbeat echo throughout my entire body. "Do you remember that boy I talked about?" I question bringing up the boy I spoke about during our spring break road trip.
A smile touches her lips. "Of course," she responds gently.
"Well...we are dating now...I guess," I stutter out awkwardly on an uneasy breath. "I want you to meet him so he's coming to dinner tonight," I confess. I wanted to tell my mother sooner about dinner, but nerves kept holding me back.
My mother's eyes widen and her hands come together with an excited clap. "Oh, honey this is so great I can't wait to meet him!"
"Really?" I sigh letting out a pent up breath.
Her eyebrows dip suddenly. "What does that mean for you and Fran?"
My heart clenches and my stomach flips. I was hoping she wouldn't remember that part of our conversation from spring break. "It's okay," I lie. "We'll get through it," I all but whisper an edge of pain evident in my voice.
"I'm sorry," she murmurs quietly. "But I am excited to meet him! What's his name?" she asks with excitement obviously trying to change the line of question.
I pause before answering. "You've actually met him before," I tell her slowly. "Asher Lawton," I finally divulge.
Her face twists and her eyes widen. Her gaze drops from mine before her hands fall from the table and land on her lap. "You're dating Asher?" The question flies from her mouth with obvious disbelief.
"Yeah," I tell her with half a shrug. "I know rumors fly about him through this town but he's actually a really good guy and I lo—"
"You what?" she questions in shock her voice raising an octave and turning harsh.
"I like him," I say going back on my words. "A lot," I add with a racing heart.
Silence sits around us. It weighs on my chest as my mother says nothing but emotions flash in her eyes and her mouth opens but nothing comes out as if she can't find the right words.
"Can you just meet him before you judge him?" I plea. "Mom, come on, have an open mind. You know how Easton can be," I say echoing the words she has always told me. She taught me at a young age how small towns can be. How whispers fly and secrets rarely stay that way.
An exasperated sigh flutters from her lips. "Okay, okay, okay," she relents. "I'm sorry. I can't wait to officially meet him tonight," she apologizes with a smile though I know it's forced, as it doesn't meet her eyes.
Something stirs within me. Uneasiness, I realize.
I know Asher has some bad rumors that float about town, but my mother has never been one to judge someone before meeting them. She's always been so open, accepting. But at the mention of his name an emotion flashed deep in her eyes. Fear? No it couldn't be, it doesn't make sense.
My clammy hands slide against my shorts before I push away from the kitchen and let the moment slip away.
My mother will love him. Right?
The next couple hours pass by quickly as I finish some homework and begin to help my mother prepare dinner. I cut some bell peppers, and onions and, occasionally stir the sauce.
Dinner has all come together. The smell wafts through the air and makes my mouth water. My eyes flicker to the clock above the stove to see it's five minutes past the time I told Asher to be here.
I wipe my hands on the hand towel before walking away from the hot stove. My fingers type out a quick message to Asher before sending it. I can feel my mother's eyes on me, watching me, and I begin to feel sweat bead at my hairline.
"He's just running a few minutes late," I comment casually, trying to ease myself more than my mother.
Suddenly my phone rings and a smile lifts my lips in excitement. I grab my phone and go to swipe my finger across the glass when the name on the screen makes me pause and my heart drop.
"Hey Brooks, what's up?" I ask hating the disappointment that seeps into my words. Where the hell is Asher? Why isn't he here? Why isn't he the one calling me right now?
"Just wondering if you needed a ride to Asher's place?" His question comes out easy and calm, only confusing me even more.
I run a shaking hand through my brown locks. "What?" I ask in a harsh whisper.
"His party..." he trails as if this is something I should know about.
My bottom lip begins to tremble and my teeth sink into the plump skin in attempts to stop it. "Party?" I ask a bit breathless as I step out of the kitchen and away from my mother's prying ears and eyes. "What party?" My voice cracks a bit at the end as my free arm wraps around my waist in attempts to comfort myself.
"Ha ha ha," Brooklyn fake laughs with a scoff. "Seriously what's your plan for tonight?" His question takes me back to all the times in the past we would walk, or he would drive me to parties at The Grove. Times when I didn't want to go with Francesca's group so we would go together. I always had so much more fun at those parties with him by my side.
The memories instantly slide away and the pain of the moment takes over. "He's having a party," I state this time. It's not a question. It's a fact and pain ricochets from my stomach to my heart hitting every single spot in between.
"Mae," he breathes my name as if realizing I'm not playing around. "He didn't tell you?" he questions slowly almost as if he can't believe it.
"No," I grit out between clenched teeth. Heat flashes behind my eyes and begins to prick at my throat but I push it all away.
"I'm sure it's a misunderstanding Mae," he tries to reason. Tries to find the silver lining like the sweet, kind soul he is. "Come on, I'll come get you and we can go and get drunk and you can tell off your boyfriend," he offers, trying to find a way to make this better. But he can't. Nothing can.
I was on cloud nine this morning with Asher. His arm around my waist as we walked the halls together. All the hurt and fear from the night before lifted as we talked and joked and even made out in an empty stairwell. It was a perfect day.
But now I'm six feet under as emotions tear me apart from the inside but I'm forced to hold it together on the outside.
My head shakes as my free hand fists and my nails pierce the skin. "Umm," I utter out uncomfortably. "No, it's fine. I have dinner with my mom," I tell him with hurt evident in my voice.
"Maeleigh—" Brooklyn starts but I don't let him finish. I can't.
"I gotta go," I utter out before pulling my phone away from my ear and hanging up.
On a stuttered sigh I finally let the tears go. I let them flow freely as salt lines my cheeks. I suppress a sob in my chest and let the hurt run like a train through my bones. He said he would come. He didn't even try and lie and make an excuse.
He just didn't show.
I take one deep breath. Then two. And one more before wiping my hands hastily across my flushed cheeks. I sniffle a few times and tuck a loose piece of hair behind my ear.
With that I turn on my heel and head back towards the kitchen. Back towards my mother.
I set my phone down on the table and let my hands grip the chair in front of me. "He's super swamped with finals coming up," I tell her slapping on a fake smile and pretending pain isn't wreaking havoc in my body like an out of control wildfire.
"Oh," she responds tersely with a raised eyebrow.
"Yeah, and he's had a long week with helping coach soccer," I add though the words burn like acid. I hate that I'm making excuses for him when he hurt me.
"Didn't know he did that," my mother comments, but I can see she truly isn't interested. I don't know what Asher Lawton did to her or what she's heard but it's truly made her not like him.
"Yeah," I say, not wanting to say more considering the only reason he's coaching soccer is to get out of a marijuana charge.
"Okay," she murmurs out while scooping up a plate of pasta and then handing it to me.
"Don't think any less of him," I blurt out the words desperately.
"I don't," her voice calm but her eyes locked on the food in front of her.
We both sit down and I pick at my bread unable to stomach any food at this point.
A loud knock at the front door pauses my moments and I rise from the table. A bolt of unwanted excitement courses through me that I can't suppress or hide. An eagerness fills my bones. He's here. I knew he wouldn't let me down.
I whip open the door expecting to see Asher but instead I come face to face with big brown eyes.
Shock courses through my body. "What are you doing here?" I ask unsure of why my friend is standing in my doorway.
"You didn't sound okay on the phone," he tells me openly and I can't stop the feeling of heat that fills my body in shame and embarrassment as tears line my eyes.
"Brooks—" I start but he doesn't let me finish.
"No, I'm your friend Maeleigh," he tells me, strongly not standing down. "Stop shutting me out!"
My throat constricts in attempts to fight back the tears. But he's right, he's my friend, so I tell him the truth. "Asher was supposed to come over and have dinner and meet my mom tonight," I divulge weakly.
Brooklyn's features harden at my words. "Dick," he says under his breath. "I'm sorry," he tells me earnestly. I can tell he wants to say something more, something stronger, but he holds it in as if he knows I'm barely holding it together.
I shake my head lightly. "Don't be," I tell him. "Not your fault he can be an ass," I try and attempt to joke but it falls flat in the moment.
Brooklyn tucks his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "I'm always here for you," he tells me. His words come out soft but the weight behind them are anything but soft. They mean everything as I stand before him falling apart, unraveling.
"Thanks," I whisper wholeheartedly.
He looks as if he wants to say more, but he doesn't. We stand in the doorway with the night wind wrapping around us. Neither one of us speaks as we hold each other's gaze and take in one another's presence. It's as if him being here, in front of me, is slowly putting me together.
Brooklyn runs a hand through his messy brown locks. "Okay well I guess I should go," he drawls taking a step back from the door.
Before he can take another step away from me my question spills out, "Are you going to the party?"
His eyebrows bunch together. "No, just going to head home," he tells me.
Without thought I reach out and place a hand on his arm. "Stay," I urge him.
"What?"
I take a step closer to him and drop my hand. "Have dinner," I say. "My mom would love to see you. It's been a while," I add telling him the absolute truth. My mother always loved Brooklyn and his sweet charm and boyish grin. Who wouldn't?
He tilts his head as if to see if I'm being serious. "Are you sure?" he asks and I can see how his eyes narrow to take in my response.
I nod with a light chuckle. "She made her famous Cajun chicken pasta," I tell him knowing just how to reel him in.
He relaxes and takes a step towards me. "You know that's my weakness," he admits with a smile that warms my heart.
I push the front door wider. "Get in here," I tell him with a wave of my hand.
"Mom!" I call out from the entryway. I walk towards the kitchen with my friend by my side. "Look who just happened to show up," I add with a bright smile.
As soon as we walk into the kitchen my mother's face lights up. "Brooklyn!" she exclaims surprised to see him next to me.
"I smelled something delicious and couldn't stay away," he jokes around with a chuckle.
"Oh you're the sweetest," my mother gushes with a wide smile before embracing him.
This night started with me crying and my delicate heart cracking just a little bit more for the boy who keeps dropping it. But now, now Brooklyn is here. He is here making me smile, making me laugh. Taking me and my mother down memory lane and turning this night into one that I won't soon forget.
We help my mother clean up the kitchen before I walk my friend to the front door to say goodnight.
"Thank you for tonight," I tell Brooklyn as we stand in the entryway.
"I didn't do anything Mae," he shrugs as if what he did meant nothing. As if he didn't swoop in here and pick the pieces of my heart off the ground and help put me back together. Even if just for tonight he took the pain away.
I shake my head lightly. "You did everything," I whisper to him.
He leans forward to give me a hug goodnight and as soon as his arms wrap around my waist I feel instantly safe and comforted. My arms snake around his neck and I hold him. A moment passes and he makes the move to step away from me, but something stops me. Something deep inside me shifts, and instead of letting him pull away I draw him in closer. I cling to him for a moment liking the way he makes me feel. Liking the person I am around him. His hands span across my back and return my emotion as he pulls me into him, into his warmth.
Brooklyn pulls away, just a smidge, and our gazes lock. We are at the same height and our bodies are flush and at this moment I can't stop the thought that fills my mind. My eyes flicker to his lips and a question I never thought about begins to twist it's way through my heart and into my head.
What would his lips feel like against mine? What would he taste like?
My breath hitches in my throat and my pulse threads like a drum under my skin. His cheeks warm and his nose brushes against mine as we share the same breath.
It's not a pause. No, the whole damn world stops as his hands tighten on my waist and his head tilts until his forehead is flush with mine. My eyes flutter close and for a moment I feel everything. His body, his hands, his breath, and I'm in sensory overload.
I can feel his lips move towards mine when there's a crash.
The sounds of glass breaking a few feet away feels like a bucket of ice cold water is being dumped on me. My blood chills and my heart ices over. My body jumps back and a nervous and unsteady breath flies from my parted lips.
"You okay mom?" I call out as my eyes stay locked on Brooklyn. His sweet brown eyes are darker than I've ever seen them. His jaw is locked and his hands clench at his side as he watches me. His eyes trailing over my face trying to read me.
But he can't. Because I don't even know what I'm feeling. I'm more than confused. I'm absolutely lost drowning at sea.
"Just dropped a glass in the sink!" my mother responds from the kitchen. "No worries!"
I nod thought I know she can't see me.
Brooklyn finally drops his gaze and my body coils in fear of what happens next. I can't lose him. He's all I have left.
"Brooks..." I trail unable to find the words.
"Thanks for dinner," he says letting a small tense smile touch his face before heading out the front door.
The sound of the door vibrates through me shaking me to my core. "Thank you," I murmur as my hand lifts to touch my lips. My lips aren't cold. They are warm and tingle as if electricity is coursing through them.
We didn't even kiss, but then why does it feel like we did?