Ashes in March

Chapter 4: Fixed

The next time I see Ash, I'm sitting on the rock out behind his house. I don't know why I came out here. I think part of me wanted him to see me and walk out and tell me more about the stars and his parents and forget that I actually bolted out of their house like my ass was on fire.

He probably thinks I'm crazy. I mean, I literally sprinted out of his house. Sprinted. Like track-and-field-100-meter-hurtle-the-fuck-out-of-their-house sprint.

Why am I out here, I think. It's cold and the only thing protecting me from the harsh wind is Ash's tattered jean jacket that I basically stole, the cleanest pair of sweatpants I could find, and one of my brother's old beanies. The rock is hard beneath me and my ass hurts but I don't move. The possibility that he will come keeps me from moving, keeps my eyes on the darkening horizon.

When the sun is so low that only a sliver of it shows, he finally comes out.

"Wow, I thought you would've been in Florida by now," he laughs, the glow of his lit cigarette matches the gold of the sky. I don't look at him.

I pull my knees to my chest and press my mouth into the sleeve of his jacket. There's a tiny rip on the cuff and I scratch at it with my fingernail.

"Would you like some company?" he asks, his voice almost lost on the crashing waves.

I turn to look at him and regret it. His red hair is wild and curly, his eyes heavy and his smile crooked. He looks like he just rolled out of bed with a cigarette between his lips. He's beautiful.

I shrug. He frowns and climbs up beside me.

The fact that his shoulder brushes mine does not go unnoticed by me and my stuttering heart.

"I like your jacket." He nudges my elbow with his and takes a slow drag on his cigarette. My hair falls around my shoulder as I shrug again.

"I got it from this guy I know," I say. He laughs.

"Oh really? He sounds like a nice guy."

"He's ok. I did run out of his house so maybe that says something about him," I say and he stills beside me. I squeeze my eyes together. Why the fuck did I say that? What's wrong with me?

"Oh. Well, in that case, maybe he isn't that nice," Ash says, a weird lift to his voice. I turn to look at him to find his bizarre mixture of hazel-something eyes trained on me while he blows a puff of smoke to the side.

This close, I can see his freckles more clearly. He only has them on his nose and cheekbones and that patch of hair missing on his eyebrow is in fact a scar. It's small and white so he must have gotten years ago.

"I'm sorry," I breathe quietly. His face remains unchanged for a moment, serious and grim, before nodding his head.

"I know," he sighs and runs a frustrated hand through his hair. "It's just, next time you have the sudden urge to run a full marathon, let me put my shoes on first."

I snort and this catches him off guard. He raises an eyebrow at me.

"I only live a couple miles away," I roll my eyes. He narrows his eyes but the slightest of smirks curls his lips.

"You live five miles away, Rowena," he responds and my heart sputters with the use of my first name. He uses it casually but I wonder if he realizes that he has only called me March from the first time we met. I decide not to comment on it.

"Four and half. I would know. I ran it yesterday," I cross my arms.

"With no shoes on, might I add," he smirks. I frown.