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“You have to come. It’s the first party of the season,” Josh joins in. “Everyone is going to be there.” The fact that everyone is going to be at the party doesn’t make it sound appealing.
I refuse to give up after a little hiccup gets in the way. But Ace doesn’t seem like a minor hiccup, he’s a damn downpour, and I’m uncertain if I’ll be able to survive near someone like that.
citrus with an overdose of oakmoss reveals a rugged trail of mystery and captivation.
“For me to hate you, I’d need to feel something—and frankly, I feel nothing for you.”
“Ugh, I think I actually hate you!” I’ve never met someone more infuriating than him. “Good. You’d be stupid not to.”
It does bother me if someone doesn’t like me, but it bothers me more that it’s him. I’m not going to tell him that.
“I suppose you’re going to tell me that you also like Nickelback.” He shakes his head in disbelief and reveals a crooked grin. “I’m not going to be shamed for my music choice by someone who probably listens to Hannah Montana.”
“Afraid you’re falling in love with me already?” he jokes, lightening the mood. I scoff. “In your dreams, Blackwell.”
I often find myself disconnected from my own body, or perhaps disconnected from the world may be a better phrase.
“Your boyfriend is quite the fighter,” he observes with a feral grin. “Ace is not my boyfriend.” Far from it. “No?”
A hand glides around my waist and pulls me closer. I don’t have to turn around to know it’s Ace. Everything about him is familiar, although it shouldn’t be.
It isn’t long before the sound of a motorcycle approaches behind me. Here we go. Here comes the whirlwind of mood swings. “Get on the bike, Calla,” Ace commands as he pulls up next to me.
On Monday, after classes, I arrive home to find a pink sticky note on my door with a CD taped underneath. My favorite is track 3.
Ace and I communicate through sticky notes for the remainder of the week.
In some ways, he’s an enigma that’s impossible to solve, and yet, I notice a part of myself when I look at him.
“What were you going to do?” I ask, furrowing my eyebrows. “Soften the blow, so I could make a joke about you falling for me.”
It was one of his first shifts on the job. He got called to deal with a public nuisance matter. My mother was twenty-four, freshly single, and drunk—stripping in the middle of a busy highway.
“I’ve never met someone who’s been able to keep my attention for long enough.
“Do you want me to lie and tell you that the reason I’ve never had a girlfriend is because I’m a conceited asshole?” A suppress a smile. “That certainly would be more believable.”
The hurricane of Ace blows to Logan’s car, and a heated argument erupts between them. I
His gleaming eyes search for me, and when he finds what he’s looking for, a crooked grin emerges on his mouth.
and I want to spend time with him. As friends, of course.
“You and Ace, huh?” Liv places the butter knife in the dishwasher. “Hmm?” I quickly glance over to her, and she arches her eyebrows in accusation. “No, no, we’re just, uh, getting along—like friends,” I ramble, retrieving a glass of water. “Friends? I don’t recall myself looking like that at my friends.”
“Somehow, messed-up things seem to generate something good with them too,”
“You say that, but you’re also the one who came after me,” I tell him. “If that’s true, then why don’t you stay away?” “Do you think it’s that easy? You drive me fucking insane.”
“And sometimes the worst things that we do lead us to the best things that happen to us,”
Gazing out my window, I observe the sun setting. It’s a delicate hue of deep orange and pink. It’s a shame it will dim into darkness within a few brief moments like all good things tend to do.
My mind occasionally wanders to him… “Occasionally” is the wrong word for the circumstances. “He’s deeply embedded into my thoughts” would be a better way of putting it.
No amount of guilt will change the past. Don’t blame yourself. It’s unfair, and it will destroy you.”
“Make me forget,” I say, my voice breaking. “Make me forget about everything. It’s killing me inside.”
“Not everything is defined by fate, and fate is almost always cruel and unfair.”
“What are you doing, Ace?” I hiss with my back against the coolness of the metal. “Are you trying to piss me off? Make me jealous?” he asks. “What?” I ask, perplexed. Make him jealous? “What are you talking about?” “You and Nate?”
“We’re just friends.” It’s not any of Ace’s business. His jaw clenches. “You know, like you and me,”
“Calla, if we are just fucking friends, then why do I feel like this every time I’m around you?”
“We’re all afraid of something.”
“It’s in the past. You can only move on if you accept it and stop letting it have power over you.”
I don’t want to rush into things, and you’re making that very difficult.”
“I don’t want to see anyone else but you.”
“If you had tried my pancakes, you’d know that I’m an amazing cook,” he states, raising his eyebrows. “Ah, yes. If I remember correctly, they looked better smeared on your face,” I reply. He shakes his head. “You’re a menace. I still can’t believe you did that.”
“So, there were a lot?” Ace asks. “Hmm?” “You said ‘boyfriends,’ I want to know what I’m up against.”
My dad always bought the journals for my mom. He said her words belonged in something as beautiful as their meanings.
“I don’t know…it’s stupid.” Ace steps in front of me. “Why do you do that?” he asks, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. He holds my face in his hands. “Why do you try to diminish something that clearly means a lot to you?”
If you read the same thing over and over, you’ll still interpret it differently each time. There will be something that resonates with you that day, whether it’s based on your mood or something that you’re seeking to find.”
“How do you always say the right things?” I sigh, my own lips twisting up at the corners. Ace shrugs. “Maybe it’s because I’ve done all the wrong things.”
He tastes like desperation and self-destruction. I taste myself in him.
“Not all monsters are bad, Ace.”
“Against all odds,”
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you.” “You should be,”
People come, people go, and that’s just a way of life. They almost always leave something behind, either a treasured lesson or a particular memory that will cross your mind when you think of them.
“It’s a waste of time and energy to analyze the past. To try put pieces back together, to justify what could have happened, when in reality, there’s nothing you can do to turn back the clock,”
