Chapter 8
EIGHT
Playing: “Gethsemane” by Sleep Token
Ledger and I lounge on our couch, a blunt passing between us idly. He flips through the channels, apathetic and exhausted from the late night before. Nothing sticks out, and he ends up going through them all over again once he gets to the end.
I don’t have the energy to care. No show or movie will fix my problem right now anyway.
My brain is watching its own events, remembering last night in waves that feel overpowering.
Blonde hair, pink glossy lips, and words said in the heat of the moment.
I flex my bruised knuckles, remembering the way Stacey whimpered into my mouth when they moved inside her just right.
How she clutched my bicep, holding onto me for dear life as I helped her through it.
The image of her in that state is burned into my brain; this blunt is doing nothing but sending me into a languid state of wanting.
I’ve yearned for her for years, but now it’s excruciating. There’s nothing romantic about this pain that I feel; this desire is ripping me open from the inside out.
She’s right in my grasp. Her gardenia scent still lingers on my hoodie, the floral tones leaving me breathless with every inhale. I pull it up to my nose again, unable to let the compulsion go as I hold it there discreetly, getting my fill of her smell.
She feels closer than ever, but there’s still a mob with pitchforks keeping us apart. I’m not sure what to do about it, but hoping from a distance no longer feels viable. Not when I know her lips taste like pomegranates and her skin is as soft as flower petals.
My hand fiddles with my drumsticks, the pink ribbon that Stacey gave me holding them together.
Ledger lazily hands me the blunt once more, patting my shoulder in a supportive gesture after I take it.
He knows something happened last night, but he also knows I’m not ready to talk about it, so he lets me linger in my thoughts until I’m prepared to voice them.
When I hit the blunt, my mind wanders back to high school, when I found Stacey getting high in the old gym behind the main building.
It was the first time I had ever seen her so relaxed, ever heard her soft, stress-free giggles that hit me right in the chest. Last night, I saw that version of her again.
She is beautiful all the time, but she is especially breathtaking when she isn’t worried about what people might think.
Her completely uninhibited personality is one that I could fall in love with easily.
I would do anything to see that spark in her come to life over and over again.
She deserves the world… and I want to be the one to give it to her.
Stacey hasn’t mentioned that day to me since.
Maybe because she doesn’t remember it, or maybe because her mistake caused a lot of headaches for me.
Even though the gym didn’t completely burn down, the incident still caused a lot of distress around town, especially since the fire occurred during school hours.
No one wanted to believe their child could possibly cause such a thing.
So, who’s the best bet? Blame it on the punk kid that no one really knows.
There was no evidence to prove I did it or that I was there, but the rumor still sparked to life regardless.
The bullying and smiting got worse after that; people were avoiding me in the town streets and whispering “arsonist” under their breath.
None of that really bothered me though, because there was nothing that could be done about it.
Stacey didn’t deserve that scrutiny, so I let them believe what they wanted.
I bore the brunt of it for her, and I’d do it again.
When my phone rings and I see who it is, my smile is immediate. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hi, bud. Just calling to see if we’re still on for lunch.”
My grin widens. My dad is one of my favorite people.
We may not share a last name, but we’re as bonded as blood can be.
I didn’t know him until I was four years old and he came to get me from the group home I was staying in.
Apparently, my mother kept records of my birth father even though she never informed him of my existence.
After her death, he was all the family I had, so he popped over the bridge and scooped me up, vowing to take care of me despite us not knowing anything about each other.
And it turned out for the best. He never tried to change me; always encouraged me to be as different as I wanted.
And it’s thanks to him that I didn’t end up exactly like every other prick in this town.
After the fire, my father shut down anyone who accused me of setting it.
He was the voice of reason at the time, and after a while, people started to slow down on demanding consequences.
Especially since they had no legal proof that I was even there.
The lawyer in my dad couldn’t stand to see the injustice, but it hit even deeper that it was me he had to defend, all because I don’t dress or speak the way Greenwood wants me to.
I can stand being in this horrible town because my dad isn’t horrible.
Which makes sense; he fell in love with someone from Oakson Lake despite the ridiculous expectations in this town.
He’s given me something that I never had before, true stability.
So despite the dozens of people here that think I’m a freak and would rather have me gone, they’re shit out of luck.
Because wherever my dad goes, so will I.
“Yes, lunch sounds amazing,” I reply.
“Lunch sounds—Are you high?” He laughs, knowing it’s true. “Well, I guess that means you’re going to need a lot of food. Do you want to head over a few towns? I know an amazing Mexican place in Jensen Place.”
“And miss all of the excitement here?” I ask sarcastically.
“We could both use a break,” he agrees with a soft laugh. “I’ll pick you up in ten.”
“Sounds good.” And it does. It really, really does.