Prom Night

ii. lesser of the two

CH 2

MAYA FEELS GOOSEBUMPS rise on her skin, a defense against the bitter morning air that breathes down on Maryville. Despite it only being August, the temperature has already dropped. As if winter couldn't get here fast enough.

The cool metal of the bench pressed against her back certainly doesn't help. Lying at the top of the bleachers that overlook the football field, Maya tries to rid herself of the blurry memories and shivering bones that accompany them. As long as they don't touch her, she doesn't feel like her skin burns. She stares up at the sky; bland in color and meek in distraction tactics, she yearns for any color--maybe all of them--to touch the sky and return some life to it.

Maya raises her hand, palm open towards the heavens, pleading for them to suck the colorless skies out of her, too.

They relent, bringing scorching red in the form of Peter's hand gripping her wrist, his face appearing seconds after. A chill runs down her spine as he forces her to sit up, taking a seat across from her and purposefully making their knees brush ever so slightly.

"What are you doing here, Maya?" His tone is condescending, making her feel as if she were a relentless child he kept repeating himself to. "Didn't I tell you to wait at your locker?"

Instinctively, she glances at him, dark eyes impassive as they stare hard at her. She adverts her gaze, not wanting to figure out what that look in his eyes means. "School hasn't started yet..."

Peter grips her chin harshly and forces her to look at him, "Eye contact." He lets go of her, and Maya forces herself to keep her attention focused on him. He meets her gaze as if testing her, and once seemingly satisfied, begins to scan her for any flaws. Finally, he finds one, "Aren't you cold? You're not wearing your blazer."

Maya shakes her head. It's not like she can tell him she had hoped the cold air would numb her skin to their constant touching. "I forgot it--" at your house, she refrains from finishing, though she doesn't have to, judging from the way something flickers across his stoic expression.

A long time ago, Peter's eyes had been an inviting bronze with a matching, pearly white smile that greeted her when she moved here in the seventh grade. She briefly wonders if that foul glint has always been there, concealed somewhere in her smiling image reflecting back at her every time his eyes met hers.

He stares at her and leans back, that same gleam in his eyes that makes Maya swallow down a sob. He reaches for her hand, but to her confusion he merely plays with her fingers, brushing them with his own for a few seconds. Wearily, she relaxes, and that's when he pulls her forward and on his lap.

He smirked down at her, his hands on her bare hips as he began pulling her to sit on his lap. Nauseous at her position and the sudden movement, she faintly felt him pull her dress over her head, nipping at the skin of her neck as she tried to push at his chest.

She struggles to fight off the memory and to get off his lap, her squirming halting once Peter grips her hips, letting out a small groan. Repulsed, she attempts to free herself, feeling her panic grow before forcing herself to stop moving once she feels his erection.

"By all means, keep going," he seems satisfied with himself, and the thought infuriates her. He glares down at her, eyes heated, "Brings back memories, doesn't it?"

Maya shakes her head, no longer able to keep from crying, whether out of repulsion, anger, or panic, she doesn't know anymore. "Why are you doing this?"

Peter leans forward, forcing her legs further open and her hands to fist the front of his shirt to catch her balance. His nose runs along the edge of her jaw, and Maya feels like she can't breathe with him that close and her so open to him.