The Paths We Choose

Chapter 14 (pov lisa)

    I thought driving this vehicle would be harder, but the girls made it easier. I missed them. "Natalie, are you still talking to Trev?" I knew they weren't talking, especially after I saw him kiss a girl at the football game a few weeks ago, but I felt the need to say something normal.

"No, he got with Courtney," Natalie replied, her tone edged with betrayal. Courtney was a very close friend of ours. "No, you're lying!" I was shocked; I always thought her to be a backstabber, but this was unexpected. "I told you he wasn't shit," Liana's harsh response left me with a slight laugh. "Yeah, but Trev's best friend is better in bed," Natalie added with a mischievous grin, and Liana and I followed that with multiple "ooo"s and a sarcastic, "payback, bitch."

As soon as I began to feel happy, the memories entered my mind like a sudden storm cloud. Sometimes I feel guilty for being too happy, as if I don't deserve it after what's happened to me. "Hey, do you guys mind stopping by a friend's? I need to return this bag," I asked, trying to divert my thoughts. Natalie looked at me, "Is this friend a boy?" I should've known that was coming. "Maybe," I said with a coy smile, but that was instantly followed by, "Oooo," and I finished the conversation with an eye roll.

After telling them the location, Liana looked at me wide-eyed. "So, the friend is Elias." "Oh, who's Elias?" "Fuck" I cursed internally. "He's just a brother of a friend," I said, trying to downplay the situation, but Liana looked unamused. "Sure. That's what she wants us to think."

My relationship with people has never been smooth sailing. I've always viewed friendships and relationships as essential for feeling human, but more as a series of steps in a formula rather than genuine connections. Whether it's having friends, boyfriends, or portraying certain traits like humor or flirtatiousness, it all feels artificial. It's not that I don't value the relationships I form, but they often start as mere projects.

Rather than listening to people, I observe them closely. I notice subtle cues, like a girl holding her stomach before losing weight or another's darkened eyes signaling personal tragedy. Returning to school, I've observed the shift from genuine interactions to whispers behind my back.

Among the individuals I perceive as checker players in a complex game of chess, I've encountered genuine souls who stand out. These are the people I cherish the most.

I remember the first time I analyzed Liana. She couldn't figure out how to swing— I mean, you should've seen it. She was just repeating the same back-and-forth motion with her legs without gaining any airtime. I watched as she would stare at everybody else swinging and try to mimic their movements. She would inevitably fail every time. "Here, let me push you," I walked up offering, hoping an extra push would help her learn. "I can figure it out on my own, thank you," she always was hard-headed. As I stepped away, I never left that playground. I sat on the grass for three hours watching her, Until she finally flew. The look on her face when she hit the highest peak of the swing, she felt like she was on top of the world, you could tell.

  I know my tragedies have had an impact on our friendship. They've affected all my relationships. Watching her with our old friends, seeing her laugh without being dragged to bad parties or forced to take care of me, makes me want to take a seat back on the grass and watch her from afar as she claims the highest peaks. I know it would be in her best interest, as well as in the interest of all my friends, for me not to drag them down with me.

"We are here, Lisa," the words registered in my mind, waking me up. "Okay, thank you," my mood had shifted after being stuck in my thoughts. "I'll be back," I grabbed the bag and headed towards the house. I was no longer in the mood for long conversations; I just wanted to drop this off and leave.

                                  
                                Pov Elias

I tossed my keys onto the kitchen counter, longing to collapse onto my bed and nap the day away. But as my eyes scanned the counter, they landed on the chore list Mom had left for us. It was addressed to Eli: "clean horse stalls." Fuck me.

It was mid-fall, and although the temperature hovered around a comfortable 70 degrees Fahrenheit, after the first 30 minutes of tackling those cursed stalls, it felt more like a 100 degrees.

As I continued to scoop hay and manure, I heard the creak of the front door. Curious about who could be home so early, considering my parents were at work and Adora was engrossed in her photography class at the nearby college campus, I peeked my head out.

There, standing on the doorstep, was a blonde. It was Lisa. Pretty recognizable after I glance at her outfit I insisted she not wear. I couldn't fathom why she was here. With a feeble excuse about "needing water", I made my way back to the house.

    "Hello, Catherine," she jumped in fear. "Shit, this girl is jumpy," I thought to myself. "My name is Elizabeth. People call me Lisa now, you know," she said, perhaps wanting me to know her better or wanting me to treat her like everyone else by using her real name.

"What are you doing here, Catherine?" she rolled her eyes at my mention of her nickname again.

"I'm just dropping off your bag," she held out my plain black bag. I must've rushed out of there and forgotten it; my laptop was inside. As I stepped forward to pick up the bag from her arms, I moved closer slowly. Her eyes went to my shirtless body, her hungry face turning to disgust.

"You smell like shit," she remarked with a disgusted expression on her face.

"Picking up shit will do that to you," I replied with a genuine laugh.

   "Well, I needed a shower. Maybe someone will keep me company," I said teasingly, enjoying messing with her. Her face dropped, then a smile crossed it as she slowly stepped closer.

"I wouldn't want anything more than to have your hot... wet... body," she began, tracing her fingers down my abs. "Hovered over me as I run my fingers through your hair, as I massage the shampoo in. Then I grab the soap and clean every part of your body."

   Fuck. Please. I wasn't the only thing wanting to beg. My dick came to the front of my pants, "Haha," a slow laugh escaped her lips as she dropped the bag at my feet. "Bye, Heathcliff," she winked before closing the door. She knew my name but was referring to another character in Wuthering Heights, in spite of me. "Fuck," I muttered under my breath.