Midnight Blue

by L.J. Shen

“Trouble is his middle name, a part of his charm, and the reason why I have a Xanax tab in my purse at all times.” She cracked a bitter smile.

Alex Winslow was beautiful in a way storms were—only from afar. Just like them, he had the power to sweep and ruin you, two things I was too busy surviving to entertain.

Los Angeles was like a B-Grade prostitute. She let anyone in, looked less than average, and once inside, you realized there was too much traffic and that whoever’d been there before you had left a mess.

“That would be L.A., Lord McCuntson,”

“When I finally lay my hands on you—and make no mistakes, Stardust, I will—you will be crying, all right. My name. Over. And. Over. Again.”

“If you want me to believe you about not wanting me to fuck you raw, you should probably stop looking at me like that. Like you’re already mine,” he said, his eyes still focused on his notepad. I looked away, my face growing ruddy and hot.

You look at me with dynamite in your eyes, waiting for me to light up the match and finally set you on fire.”

“When I look at you, I see something broken that isn’t worth fixing. And you look at me like I’m a cheap thing to replace the expensive one that’s been stolen from you. See, we’re all vases. And you’re the one scattered on the floor, shattered beyond repair. So I’ll let someone else pick you up. It’s really that simple. Have fun with your temporary glue.”

“Anything essential is invisible to the eye.” My eyes shot up. I’d recognize those words anywhere. “The Little Prince.”

Life is full of secrets, and narrow-minded people, and sugar-coated, empty conversations that hold no weight. What’s real is what’s inside us. What’s important is what we feel.

And I would travel from asteroid to asteroid Trying to find the one that would be ours Building palace after palace until it feels like home From London to Paris, from New York to Rome The Little Prince, Alex Winslow

“I apologize in advance.” He cocked his head to the side. “For?”

“Ruining you for any other man on this planet. I’m going to fuck you, Indie. So hard you’ll think about me years from now, when you lie under your boring, missionary-loving husband. I will own every orgasm, every shiver, every wave of pleasure inside you. From here on out, it will be me. Just me. And for that, I truly am sorry.”

“I found my well in the middle of the desert,” he said from the threshold of my open door. “Now it’s time to drink from it. Every. Single. Drop.”

“She’s suffering from massive diarrhea. This may or may not have to do with that beef fried rice we had before takeoff.” “I knew it! My stomach’s been feeling funny, too.” Alfie slapped his thigh by the sound of it. I. Was. Going. To. Kill. Alex.

Then he continued. “I think it’s gonna get loud in there, so I suggested she use the blow dryer.” I tried to tell myself he was protecting my dignity. In his own twisted, backward, exceptionally uncultured way. “Brutal,” Blake mumbled. “Bullshit,” Lucas spat out.

I turned the blow dryer on and heard them laughing. Damn you, Winslow.

“What do you want from me, Alex?” Everything. I want everything, and then all the things you’ve already given away to other people. I want them back, too.

“Me neither. I just want to talk.” He lowered his forehead and pressed it against mine, his breathing labored. “And maybe give you oral sex. But that’s it.”

From afar, Alex Winslow looked like nothing could penetrate his armor. But he was an artist—and an artist’s armor is full of bullets and cracks. That’s how the lyrics and notes seep through.

My Alex. My little prince. My fallen star in the dark, dark skies.

“Wear something!” I called out from the bed, wrapping my chest in a white sheet. He whirled and walked backward, smoothly opening the giant glass door as he flashed me a wolfish grin, canine teeth galore. “Why, I’m wearing the most beautiful thing one could wear, darlin’. My smile.”

I couldn’t be mad at the tosser. He literally had the social awareness of a chapstick.

“You should’ve seen your face.” “I want to punch your face.” “Let’s settle for you sitting on my face. Tonight. Now come on, let’s get it over with.”

“If we were together, would I be top or bottom?” Lucas laughed harder through his tears. “I’m always on top.” I said, “Bollocks.” He said, “See? Still funny,” and pressed his index against my nose, smiling miserably.