Playing with Fire

by L.J. Shen

Beauty was a seasonal friend; it always walked away from you eventually—and never returned when you truly needed it.

Grandmomma always said people were like tacos—the harder they were, the easier they broke. Being soft meant being adaptive, more flexible.

“When you’re soft, you can contain more. And if you contain more, the world can’t break you.”

We’re all categorized. Stereotyped by our flaws and weaknesses. Welcome to life. It’s a bitch and then you die.”

“Whatever your journey is, be certain you have someone to lean on when things get tough. Because they always do. Someone who is not your grandmother. Someone chosen, not a built-in family member. Someone who’d walk through fire for you.”

As I watched him there, I didn’t see the most popular guy in college. The sex god. The illegal fighter. I saw the loneliest boy I’d ever laid eyes on. Sweet, confused, and lost. And I thought, bitterly, he didn’t even know that across the parking lot sat a girl just like him.

“Koala. I’d get to sleep all day, but still be cute as fuck, so getting laid wouldn’t be an issue.”

West St. Claire had the uncanny ability to do nice things and still act like a complete and utter jerk about it.

I’m not that type of girl.” “What type would that be?” His tone turned sultry, taunting. “The type to find herself beneath you because you gave her a crumb of your attention.” “On top of me works, too.”

“You will never have me, St. Claire.” “Hold, I’ll try to get over the heartbreak.” I raised a finger and let a beat of silence pass between us. “Done.

I had to say something, so I went for a word that meant absolutely everything and nothing at all. Wow could be either bad or good. Shocked or sarcastic. Wow was also how I felt when my heart was crushed into miniscule dusty flakes.

if you’re not scared, you’re not brave.

“So, you’re mad at me for sticking up for you?” His eyebrows pinched together. “I can fight my own wars.” “Bullshit. You’ve never once shown up for battle.” “That’s none of your business.” “You are my business.”

“Texas,” he said again. “Maine?” I shook with anticipation. “Permission to do something really fucking stupid, yet acutely necessary right now?”

I told you I don’t want you anywhere near this garbage place.” “This garbage place is yours.” “I am garbage. You’re not. We don’t play by the same rules.”

“We’re playing with fire,” he croaked. I nodded, my eyes dropping from his gaze to his mouth. I wanted more. I didn’t feel ugly in his arms, even when his hand touched my scar. “I’ve walked through fire before, so I know what I’m getting into.” My voice shook around my words, but each of them tasted like redemption and change. Like rebirth. “I’m willing to pay the price.”

“Hundred bucks says it’s gorgeous,” he murmured. “How would you know?” My mouth practically hung open. “It’s attached to you.” “Genitals aren’t often described as gorgeous.” “Your dirty talk game is weak, Tex. Less talking, more showing me your snatch.”

Anxiety is a hungry beast. Feed it, and it will grow. Starve it, and it will die.

“I could be whatever you want. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll become that,” I said quietly.

I was going to lose her. But at least I was going to have her first. This was going to be temporary. And painful. And worth it.

Was it the moon she wanted me to give her? I was open to that. I’d give her the sun, too. I just needed a little time, and maybe a loan or two.

“Do you want to come inside?” She jerked her thumb behind her shoulder after Marla left. “Any man who tells you differently is buying expired condoms in bulk.”

It turned me on, seeing how much she’d been through. How she’d come back swinging, strong and feisty. A survivor.

“Stop talking,” I ordered. “Why? You’re so adorable.” She called me adorable while I was inside her. Was I ever going to recover? “Fuck you,” I groaned. “Please do.” “On it.”

He kissed my forehead, his lips lingering on my skin, then said the most stupid, outrageous, beautiful, awful, touching thing anyone had ever told me. “I’m grateful that Tuesday went down the way it did.” His voice was scratchy. Thick. “Because the worst day of your life gave me the best version of you.”

“Hi, Grace’s pussy. It’s me. West. We meet again.” My eyes bugged out, and I looked down at the crown of his head. “Actually, we haven’t met face-to-lips yet. I usually send my errand boy your way. You might know him—tall, thick, accompanied by a couple nuts?”

East: You’re the worst. West: But I’m the best at being the worst.

“Listen to me carefully, Grace Shaw. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my entire life. When I look at you, I see a fighter. I see resilience and strength and defiance that no one can touch. You take my breath away, and no one—and nothing—will change that.”

“I love you. I’m terrified of loving you, but I do, nonetheless,” I admitted gruffly. “Have since the moment you helped me find Grams that terrible night, not letting me refuse the help I so obviously needed. My heart is in your fist.”

“I can’t unfeel, unlaugh, undo everything that went down between us.” He shook his head. “I can’t unlove you, Grace Shaw. You’re inked in my fucking DNA,

“I love you, too, West. Which is why you have to let me go. What you are offerin’ me is not enough. I want everything. The fairy tale. The romance. I want a man who will parade me around like I’m the most beautiful girl in the world—precisely because, fixed or not, I will never be pretty in my own eyes. I need someone who is good for me.” I slipped my hand from his, watching him taking a ragged breath that nearly tore his chest apart. “And I’m dead scared that someone is not you.”

Ask me out. Tell me you can’t live without me. That I’m not the only one feeling like I’m walking around with half a heart.

I’ll walk through fire for you. Love you. —Your old flame.

And still, I rise.

“Don’t break my heart so soon after putting it back together.”