Sixteen
“I read the wildest post ever this weekend,” Odette says, leaning against my locker, not a care in the world. “This woman asks this dude to watch her fiddle-leaf fig while she’s out of town. It’s not the neediest of plants, and they’d been dating for nine months, so she thought it wouldn’t be a big ask.”
“They require at least weekly watering,” Poppy says from my other elbow.
Odette waves her hands. “Still. She’s not asking for the world, and this dude agrees, but then he ignores all her instructions and murders this plant in cold blood.”
Poppy gasps, her reaction enough to keep Odette going. I pull my notebooks out of my locker, trying to focus on not vomiting when I see Ash again in approximately seven minutes.
“I know!” Odette says, swiveling to Poppy. “He kills it, and then when she comes back a month later to its desiccated corpse, she’s pissed. She asks him to replace it, because it’s an expensive shrub.”
“Tree,” I say, my underarms getting a little sticky.
“Tree, shrub, plant, whatever. Anyway, he refuses because he says it’s a used plant, and he’s not going to buy her a new one to replace something that’s old.”
I slam the door and tune back in. “He said what?”
She grins, basking in our undivided attention. “Oh, yes. This man was asking the internet if he really is an asshole for saying she only deserved a used plant at best.”
“Well, how old are we talking? Did anybody do the math on the actual depreciation?” Poppy asks.
Odette scoffs. “And what model are we using for that? I would assume, if anything, a plant you’ve invested time and energy in that’s bigger than when you bought it would be worth more.”
My skin buzzes, and I know I should participate in this conversation, or wait for a transition, but it builds to a fever pitch, and I’m helpless to stop the words from coming out.
“Ash kissed me.”
Two heads snap in my direction, and I panic in the spotlight.
“Well, it was my idea. I may have even insisted on it.”
Odette chokes on her gum. “Excuse me?”
“Probably a mutual decision if you’re going to be picky. There was at least a consensus at the end there.”
“I swear to God, Lo, I will scream if you don’t start from the top.”
Poppy looks as lost as I feel. “Was this a book thing?”
I shrug, ignoring Odette’s rapidly reddening face. “Kind of? More of an experiment. Maybe even a pity kiss.” My left eye twitches, Nope, don’t like that. “Let’s just call it an attempt to kick-start my memory?”
Poppy nods slowly. “Oh, okay.”
Odette explodes, and I struggle to keep up with the movements, hands, and facial expressions. “Oh, okay? That’s it? Am I the only one listening to this? How about Oh, okay, that’s a hell of a thing to drop on us five seconds before the first bell. Or even Oh, okay, that’s a big jump from someone who’s supposedly trying to get Josh back.”
“I am trying to get Josh back!” I say defensively. The words feel wrong on my tongue.
“Or even better: Oh, okay, but what does Ash’s lip ring taste like?”
Poppy raises her hand. “I would like to change my response. I want to go with that one.”
I cover my face and hope the bell inexplicably rings several minutes early.
“Marlowe Meadows, stop hiding behind your hands. We’re still standing here, and all you’re going to do is clog your pores,” Odette says.
I sigh and whisper through my fingers, “It tasted… cold. Like the sharp bite of metal with a sting of spearmint gum.”
I drop my palms and face the music. Poppy is nodding, but the disappointment in her face has me opening my big mouth again.
“Fine.” I roll my eyes. “And the sharper bite of his actual teeth when he shoved me up against the wall.”
Poppy’s face lights up like a Savannah sunrise, and Odette’s shriek echoes off the lockers, down the hall, and probably all the way to Hertford High the next county over.
I grin because I can’t help it. It was a stupid request, one that caused no fewer than two sleepless nights, and a very awkward car ride home from laser tag. But in that moment? When his lips moved against mine, and my body remembered absolutely everything? I had no regrets.
I tried to reason away the way my fingers curled into his soft cotton shirt, tangling us closer together. The way the house music drowned out everything, and how I felt, and swallowed his groan into my mouth.
I feel prickly all over and shake out my hands. I had no regrets in the moment, but I know I’ve made things more complicated, and I’m pretty sure normal people don’t ask their friends to take one for the team and kiss them.
Odette steps closer, drinking up whatever is broadcasting from my face to the rest of the student body. “Oh, okay,” she says softly. “Now this is a development I can get behind.”
I shake my head, feeling sick with big feelings. “The third letter is a bit of a struggle. I wanted to be able to describe something less sweet.” I clear my throat. “More physical. And I felt too disconnected to find my voice, or the words. Ash was just willing.”
“Willing to help you find his tongue,” Poppy says.
“These romance novels are a delightful influence on you,” Odette adds after a beat.
I laugh, but it feels wrong. Like I’m making fun of the fact that I’m supposed to be in love with Josh, and what I convinced Ash to do in the dark. I don’t want any of this to go past these lockers. I don’t want anyone thinking this is more than it is.
“Do you think…” The words clog in my throat. “Do you think Josh will consider it cheating?” Should I tell him now? Send him a quick text? A little FYI in case I forget it later?
Hey, Josh! Remember when you told me to stay away from Ash? Whoops, I did the exact opposite instead!
My brain assaults me with the memory of a thumb tracing my jaw, and I know I’m not forgetting anything anytime soon.
“I’m not an expert, but I’m pretty sure it’s impossible to cheat on someone that dumped you,” Poppy says.
“I don’t know if that’s fair—”
“Incoming.” Odette’s smile grows and I know exactly who’s walking down the hallway.
Poppy clears her throat, her voice too loud to sound natural. “And that’s how we decided on our Cyrano presentation.”
Odette and I nod along, and I can feel Ash looming over my right shoulder. I shake off the urge to lean back and see what he does. Should I get my hormone levels checked? Or my frontal lobe? Maybe I was dropped on my head as a baby and the area in charge of impulse control is damaged.
“What are you doing for the presentation?” Ash asks, like it’s a normal Monday and we’re all normal people who don’t possess many adjectives about how each other taste.
“Well,” Poppy says, staring at him a little too long. “We’re going to present a wood carving of Cyrano’s death scene. I’m writing the paper, Billy’s doing the carving, and we haven’t had to speak since that first day.”
“Sounds ideal,” Odette mumbles.
Ash looks down at me, worrying his lip ring with his teeth. “We really need to work on our project.”
“But there are so many other books and mushroom documentaries.”
His crooked smile punches me in the stomach. “And don’t forget laser tag.”
My face flames, and I don’t respond until I make myself name three things I love about Josh. He challenged me by taking me to do things I wouldn’t normally do. I’m now a girl who knows about football rules. His easy confidence and the way that confidence spilled over into me. I try to superimpose nights with Josh in the backseat of his truck over that moment in the laser tag maze. The way he introduced me to my body. Josh was my first kiss. My first everything, and you don’t just get over that or replace it with something just because it’s shiny and new.
“Yeah, I’ve heard some good things about this laser tag,” Odette says, her smile bland, and I make a mental note to murder her later.
I take a step to the side to give myself a little more space. That kiss was an anomaly. It was a one-off experiment, and I dislike the way it erased all the normal boundaries between us. Like I could trip into his personal space, and the chances of us making out against the lockers are exponentially higher because it’s already happened. I turn toward him, my words barreling over Odette’s. “We can try to figure out some of the project now?”
He nods, nudging me toward the doorway. We take our seats, me settling into the space next to him as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
We work through a writing prompt based on Richard Wright’s Native Son, and then while the class shuffles around into groups, he opens his laptop and slides a blank Word document over to me.
“Okay, we’re doing this.” He rubs his hands together. “Wuthering Heights time.”
“Or we can talk about this week’s book assignment? One for the Money?”
“No. Behave.”
“Ash, you can’t assign me a math book, and then get mad when I read it early.”
“You’re done? It’s only Monday!”
“You’re right, I need to go to Three Little Words tomorrow to pick up something else.”
“I’ve created a monster.” He pulls his hair up out of his face. “And it’s not a math book.”
“Sophie is a genius at statistics and applies game theory and some light card counting to win a national poker championship.” I wave my hands around. “Math.”
He sighs. “You know what else is a romance? Wuthering Heights.”
“Really?” I’m close to the end, but I don’t see any hope for a happy ending in sight.
“Nope, but we’re going to work on it anyway.” He slides the computer closer to me, and I give in.
“Fine, but I’m going to hope for the best. Maybe Bront? sprinkles in some light necromancy and they all get to ride off happily into the creepy moors.”
He hums, the sound noncommittal, but it vibrates down to my bones. “You do that. In the meantime, it’s toxic-love time. What do we want to highlight?”
I feel a little lost, like I frequently do in this class, and around him, but I want to pull my weight. “I’m not sure.”
“Give it a go, Marlowe. No wrong answers.”
I find more confidence in the easy silence. “We can highlight how this is the only book where I’m going to advocate for the blond love interest.”
“Okay, maybe there’s one wrong answer.” He looks up from his laptop, his smug face knocking me flat. “You like dark hair, huh?”
I briefly calculate the chances of spontaneous human combustion and barrel forward. “We want to make Heathcliff the romantic hero, because he’s moody and wild, and it’s thrilling to think of a love that all-consuming.” He leans forward. “But it’s not about love in the end, is it? It’s about…” I grasp for the word, just outside my reach.
“Possession,” he finishes quietly. “Power. Both Catherine and Heathcliff spent so much time on power struggles and mind games that they missed the opportunity to love each other or anybody else.”
“Yes.” I nod, his face closer than I remember. “You’re good at this, you know.”
He leans back, clearing his throat. “I’ve written a bunch of papers.”
“So have I, but you’re extra good at this.” If I didn’t know better, I would think he was embarrassed. “I haven’t asked before. What are you planning to do with your life?”
“The same as everyone else. Rock band on the weekend, and a little card counting during the week to supplement my income.”
“Oh, sure, the usual.” I pull his laptop toward me and start a list of Heathcliff’s most toxic moments. “What’s our fieldwork going to be this week? Are we going to count cards in a casino, and then go on a shopping spree with our winnings?”
“I really feel like One for the Money should have made it more clear to you that card counting is illegal. I wouldn’t even trust you at a bingo hall.”
“You shouldn’t, I’m ruthless. I have my own dauber and am not unknown to the Wednesday night group at the Methodist on Main.”
His lip twitches. “Why am I not surprised?”
The bell jangles—the hour disappearing in an instant. I hurry to pull my things together, and he waits by my chair.
“I’ve been thinking. Maybe we can combine the fieldwork and the band practice this weekend.”
I look up from arranging my three separate pencil cases in my backpack. “Combine them?” I can hear the hurt in my voice. I don’t know if it’s from concern that we won’t do as much work as we would normally do, or me worried that I’m eating up too much of his time and he’s trying to get rid of me.
He tilts his head. “Unwrinkle your forehead, Meadows. This is a good thing. Hazel’s having a birthday party. The band is going to play, and a party is the perfect place for fieldwork.”
“Perfect, we’re really making progress. I even finished the third letter last night.” The words fall out, and I can feel them redraw some of the boundaries between us. I watch his face, needing the reminder.
“Right.” His shifts the bag on his shoulder. “And how did the ode to Josh’s body go?”
“So great,” I say, easy and breezy. It wasn’t, though. It felt too sticky and wrong to reference any of the things Ash’s kiss inspired in a letter I was going to send to someone else. Even picking up a pen felt like a betrayal.
“I’m so glad to hear that.” We’re having a contest on who can maintain the blandest smile the longest—he’s winning.
In the end, I’d only managed one sentence. I wrote you’re beautiful in a way that made it easier to ignore more than I should have, and sealed it this morning.
I give Ash another tight smile, and move down the hallway to physics. I pause briefly, slipping the third letter into the slots of Josh’s locker as I move past in the crowd. A sleight of hand that would make One for the Money proud.
It was the only way I could be truthful, because every scorching, passionate word that’s rattling around in my brain now has Ash’s name tattooed on it. I squeeze my eyes tight, hoping I can reboot my entire system.
Josh is beautiful. Of course he is. You only have to look at him to see the truth in that. And maybe I was willfully blind, because I spent two entire years by his side and thought I knew everything about him. I romanticized our love story, and his sweet gestures, and maybe he was right when he questioned if I really loved him. Maybe I didn’t know him at all.