My car skidded on the driveway. I flicked the ignition off. The engine died. Cold air fogged up my windshield, but I saw you pass by. Your hand was in another girl's. Blonde. Beautiful. Smiling the way. You laughed, hoody strings in your mouth, curls blowing in the wind. I was ice inside and out. How do I survive this?
That night in the pub with my family I sensed you before I knew you were there. I sucked my straw, sharp vodka mixing with sweet lemonade. I wore my green dress, tight in all the right places. It was for you. I felt you behind me, hand on my shoulder, your scent unmistakeable. Cologne and stale cigarettes. You never could quit.
I turned around and we both lit up, our faces mirroring joy. You held me. Heart pounding beneath your flannel shirt. I hear you breathe in the perfume my sister got me last Christmas. I hated it. You didn't. It was cheap, but it was me.
You waved to acknowledge my family. It was more of an apology than a greeting. You were stealing me away. We went to the Duke Box like we did when we were 17. The thrill of being in the bar used to carry us through the night once our pockets were empty. Now it was the thrill of us. Close again. Years between us but our shoulders rubbing together. Your pockets weren't empty anymore. You brought the drinks. Your coins went in the Duke Box. Your fingers chose our old favourites. You remember. A wink. The promise you'd never forget.
The open fire crackled and spat, wafting its smoke about, demanding our attention. I saw nothing but you. My family went home, patting me on the back, unable to disturb our world. My brother quipped about old habits. I ignored him. Nothing was as important as us. The energy between us.
We stayed until the lights went up, dancing even when the music stopped. It wasn't enough. You walked me home. Ten minutes, but you needed to know I was safe. Who was the girl I saw you with earlier? No one important. You'd been seeing her a week. Before that, there was someone else. Someone special. I made you stop. If I wanted to know what you were doing while I was gone, I would have asked. You stopped walking. Underneath the streetlight, you looked at me. I could see your breath. You scrutinised me, trying to make sure you'd understood. I'd given it all away. I didn't care. I wanted you to know.
The next day was frosty. You came to pick me up in your truck, the smell of leather seats and burnt coffee the aroma of happiness. We had nowhere to go. We drove through our one-horse town. Twisting bends. The road not taken. Mud spattered on your tyres. You laughed. God, I've missed you. I pulled down the mirror and looked at myself. I need to make sure this is real. Brown eyes, brown hair, white skin, pink blush. Red lips. Black jumper. Eyelashes on. I looked like this the day it snowed, do you remember? You said you liked me that day. Do you like me now? Will you always...
We pulled up in the town. Hustle and bustle. Last-minute shopping. Bright lights overhead. Music. Mulled wine. The rustle of bags. Children clamouring to their parents. We went in and out of shops, trying things on, running our hands over expensive clothes. We didn't need anything. Just more time. You brought me a hot chocolate. I sipped, watching your lips as you watched mine. How long until it happens? Neither of us has the resolve.
After town, it was back to your house. Your mother was out. We sat on the sofa watching a movie we'd already seen. The soft fabric swallowed me up. Cushioned me. My spot. This is where I'm meant to be. I flashed back to the edge of adolescence when we had explored each other on the very same sofa, your mother's liquor making us brave. I ran away that day. I was scared. Scared then and scared now. Always fear taking the best things away.
Our friendship survived. Years later, when I was leaving for college, we had a bottle of champagne. A botched goodbye. The sex we couldn't remember. Me running again. You watched me leave. But you escaped too. We went. We came back, each time dancing around the subject. Until that night. Sofa. Movie. Mulled wine. All grown up. Time to find our courage.
There was a lull in conversation. You looked at me, I looked at you. Then the silence that can only mean only one thing. Your lips on mine. This time with purpose. You knew what I wanted and how to give it. I knew that nothing would ever be enough.
Later, in the bed, I laid on your chest, running my finger over your stomach. A body I'd overlooked. I stayed all night. You didn't care. Your mother had always suspected. We slept half the day just because we could. Then we were out. Back into the world. Treading the same path we'd walked a hundred times before. Through the fields. Past the sheep. Is this a dream?
The pond was frozen. You climbed over it anyway, standing in the undergrowth like you used to. Everything was right. I wanted to hold onto it. To breathe it in. Remember it. The white frost that smattered the grass, the smell of bonfire in the air, the itch of wool on my skin. And you. Wild and free. Scarf around your neck. Hands in your pockets to keep out the cold. Cologne and cigarettes. Blue eyes that found me and undid me, then found me again. I knew I would lose you. I had one foot in the future, watching through two pairs of eyes. This is going to hurt.
Two days. Then you were gone. Back to the sun. Back to your dreams. You chased them down. I watched you. I waited for the flame to die. It never did. It became an ache. An ache I couldn't cure. Couldn't kill. I couldn't choke the love out of. And I tried. You've no idea how hard...
Now I see you on the TV. Lights and clamour. This time just for you. I make my children breakfast. I hold myself up. You don't come back anymore. I can't seem to stop.
YOU ARE READING
Evermore: A Collection of Short Stories
Short StoryA collection of stories based on the music of Taylor Swift's 'Evermore'.