Matches | √

Chapter Twenty-Seven

combustion | process of burning something

• • •

4/18/17

IT'S BEEN SIXTEEN days since prom. Sixteen days since we first had sex. Sixteen days since I broke my best friend, stabbed her in the back, and chose Asher over her.

It's been eleven days since I told him I loved him. Eleven days since he hasn't said he loved me back.

Ten days since he ditched me for a party. Ten days since I locked my window and ignored his texts and drunken knocks on my bedroom window.

We've been together for two weeks now and this has been the most confusing two weeks of my life. At school Asher stakes his claim. His hand holds mine, his arm wraps around my waist, he kisses me, and he brings me donuts. He makes sure everyone knows I'm his, but then school ends.

He sometimes drives me home. Other times he disappears. He doesn't call or text or make a true effort with me outside the four walls of our high school until it's two in the morning and he's climbing through my window.

Those are the moments I feel most connected to him. He holds me as if I'm his last breath and only hope. He always attacks me with this passion as if he's just as desperate as I am. Those are the moments I turn off all the anger and sadness and confusion and only focus on Asher. Focus on the dirty words he whispers against my lips. Focus on the spark that flames in my chest when he pushes me over that edge. Clothes fall, lips meet, and we come together in a mess of sweat, moans, and need.

A piece of me knows those small moments tangled in my bed sheets can't sustain us, but the bigger part of my heart chooses not to recognize that fact. So I push it far, far away. I pretend I don't feel the doubt weaving its way through my every thought. I pretend we're the same Asher and Maeleigh from before prom. I thrive in the memories of the before because the reality of the after simply doesn't quite live up.

My phone buzzes on my lap and I lift it up to see I have a text from Francesca. An emotion I don't expect fills me as heat flares from behind my eyes. It's hope I realize as tears fight to escape. I've refused to acknowledge her just as she has me. She ignores my presence but her friends still hurl their insults my way. Letting their words add to the million other invisible cuts that now cover me. Scar me. I've never felt so raw and vulnerable. And right now I'm fully aware of how much I miss my best friend.

How much I miss her comfort and sassy words from before. Before I fell for Asher. Before I walked into that bathroom months ago and set my sights on the man who would change me forever.

But now my best friend sits in the before of my life, before I let the flames of a boy consume me, before I choose the fire over her. And I sit here on my bed in the after, in the small flickering flame slowly turning to ash. Alone. Sad. Uncertain.

My finger swipes across the screen to see she sent me a video. Confusion chills in my veins as I click on what she sent me. The video starts and loud music pours from a nearby speaker. The video shows Asher's house filled with people drinking, dancing, and getting high. A bolt of annoyance strikes through me at the sight. It's the middle of a school week. Why does he need to have a party? But I also know graduation is less than a month away and most of our senior class has given up on actually caring about school and grades.

The video then zooms in on Asher in the middle of his living room dancing with two girls on either side of him. Their hands trail up his body as their bodies grind against his. The girls pass a large bottle of what looks like vodka between them before Asher pulls it away from them and takes a long drink.