by Jasmine Rose
♥♥♥♥♥
"No, no, no!” I said stubbornly, crossing my arms. “There's no way I'm getting on this...this thing!"
Jonah whined, "Why? Come on!"
I was currently standing on my lawn, in front of a black motorcycle with red flames all over it.
"No."
"Lena. Come on!"
"Absolutely not!"
Before I could process what was happening, I felt myself being carried, bridal style. I started hitting Jonah on the chest but that did nothing to stop him. He just smirked at my efforts to get free. But there was something else, something weird. I don't know. A strange feeling nagged in my chest. A bad feeling. I didn't feel like I was supposed to be in his arms. I shook that feeling away, determined to have a good night. I closed my eyes.
When I opened them again, I was sitting on the motorcycle, a helmet on my head, Jonah comfortably sitting in front of me. I put my arms around him tightly and reclosed my eyes.
♥♥♥♥♥
"Babe, you can wake up now, it's over. And you're cutting off my circulation."
I hesitantly opened my eyes and immediately let go of my grip on his strong, muscular waist. I got off the motorcycle, stood up and brushed invisible wrinkles on my dress. I unbuckled the helmet and handed it to Jonah.
"Oh, will you stop smirking!" I said, annoyed a little.
I looked to the place we were standing in front of and frowned. It was a fancy, Italian restaurant.
Jonah slid his arm around my shoulder and we walked to the entrance. He opened the door for me and bowed, making me laugh.
We sat on a table for two and after about 10 seconds, a blonde waitress came towards us. Her shirt was a little too low for my taste, but Jonah didn't seem to mind at all. Her caked face was showing a wide, flirty smile. I already disliked her. Her eyes were glued on my date.
"Hello there, Jonah! Long time, no see! Do you want the usual?" She asked in a "seductive" voice. Jonah's eyes didn't lift up for a second from her busty chest.
"Hey, babe. Yeah, the usual. A lasagna, but don't make it too hot. At least, not as burning as you are right now." He winked and showed his famous smirk.
I coughed.
She turned to me, and immediately scrunched up her nose: "What do you want?"
"Baked potatoes and the chicken, please," I said, not paying any attention to the way she greeted me.
Her eyebrows lifted a little in distaste and said: "Wow, I know she's not the usual. She looks plain. What happened to you, Jonah?"
Frustrated by her attitude, I looked at Jonah expectantly, but he stayed motionless and silent. On the inside, I was punching her. On the outside, I stayed calm and collected. Her name tag read: Heather.
It's on.
"You, know, Heather,” I said, making eye-contact with her, “it's not really in your job description to flirt or tell any lies. If there's anyone unusual here, it's actually you. Plus, looking like a freaking slut won't help you get with him; he likes real girls, not dolls."
I was pretty sure I was burning holes through her. She snorted, twirled a strand of her hair and turned away. Jonah smiled a little and wasn't very discreet when he checked her out as she walked off.
When she was completely out of sight, he looked at me with a bewildered expression. "What was that all about?"
"She was being impolite," I simply replied, giving him a small smile. He laughed a little and we kept on talking. I couldn't stop thinking about the way he refused to defend me. It hurt a little.
He was funny, I had to admit. A little cheeky but in an amusing way. He talked to me about how his friends were and about his football matches. He never seemed to stop talking about himself, or how he was the pride of the family. I chose to ignore his comment about the waitress being "burning hot.” To be truthful, he was slightly boring. Normally, a conversation was supposed to engage two or more people, not just one guy.
Heather came back, the food in her hands. She put the plates down and grazed her fingers against Jonah's coat. He shivered and smirked.
She gave me a smile that could freeze the Sahara over when she said: "Anything else?"
"A less slutty waitress, please."
Heather turned towards Jonah, her eyes wide. "Jonah! Do something!" He cleared his throat and played with the fork in his hands.
"Babe, don't be like that. Heather isn't slutty. Be nice."
I've had enough of this damned date.
I stood up and looked at Jonah. I took two full glasses of water in my hands.
SPLASH.
In a split second, Heather and Jonah were drenched in freezing water. His green eyes were blazing with anger. I gave him a sweet smile.
"And Jonah, don't bother talking to me again, I don't go out with assholes who don't respect their dates and treat them like dogs. So, no, I won't ‘be nice.’ Have a good night with Heather here, babe."
I winked, turned around, and walked away.
♥♥♥♥♥
Damn, I felt proud of myself.
Walking out of the sucky restaurant, I noticed a boy coming in with an elderly woman. My heart started feeling weird. The boy raised his head up and our eyes met. Those blue eyes, they were no stranger to me.
Why does he look so familiar? I thought, racking my brain for a response.
I walked carefully towards him and tapped his shoulder. He and the old lady turned towards me.
"Excuse me, have we met before?" I asked.
His eyes widened slightly in recognition but he continued walking. He was almost entering the restaurant. The elderly woman stopped him.
“Liam, it’s impolite to walk away from people talking to you.” She turned to me, untangled her arm from the boy’s and extended a hand. “Hello, dear, I’m Darla Black.”
I shook her hand. “I’m Lena. Sorry for interrupting, I just thought I saw him-,” I nodded towards Liam, “-somewhere before.”
Darla looked at him. He shrugged. “Maybe he’s in one of your classes, Lena.”
I nodded, knowing now that was partly true. We had French, Art and Math together. “Maybe. Goodnight ma’am, sorry again. Sorry, Liam.” I waved at him.
“Call me Darla,” said the elderly woman. I smiled at her.
I backed away a little and tripped over something. A dirty bucket of water was behind me; someone must’ve forgotten to take it away after they were done sweeping the floor.
Liam’s arms stopped me from falling, but that felt familiar too. The feeling of safety…
It suddenly clicked in my head. This was the mystery guy who saved my life on the first day of school.
Before I could dwell on it, his grip on my waist was nonexistent. I straightened up and smiled. He stayed expressionless. There was something about him that concealed secrets. It intrigued me.
"Well, Liam. Thank you for saving my life, again. Bye ma— Darla."
He stayed silent. He gave me a soft nod before turning away and going inside the restaurant with his grandmother.
I turned and walked away. I recognized the street and felt relief wash over me. The restaurant was extremely close to my house.
I took off my heels and held them in one hand. I walked and walked, a million thoughts running through my head.
That was why I didn't feel good when Jonah carried me. It was because I’d already experienced a feeling of safety elsewhere. With Liam. When I’d almost fallen – twice now - and he caught me, I felt safe. With Jonah, I did not.
On another note, how clumsy could I possibly get? I was tripping and falling everywhere these days.
5
She Said, He Said
“A little crazy is good.”
Lena Rose Winter
Two weeks later.
My stomach grumbled. I clutched my abdominal muscles to stop the noise of a dying whale. The bell rang, signaling lunch time. I was happy dancing, from the inside.
"Go on, run you little whore."
The words made me freeze. I turned around, toward the o
wner of the voice. My eyes widened.
A group of boys were huddled around me, and...Jonah? He was lazily leaning against a locker, a huge smirk plastered on his face. My eyebrows pulled up. What was this, some kind of a joke?
"What did you say?" I asked slowly, as if I was talking to a child.
"Didn't you hear me? I said you were a whore. I bet your car accident made you just a little bit deaf."
His words made me gasp loudly. How did he know? I clenched my teeth, “Oh, so, that’s what happens when a girl loses interest in you, Jon-ass?”
He ignored me. "Or is it the fact that your daddy died? Poor little Rosie."
My breath caught in my throat.
Rosie.
He used the name my father once called me. How did he know that? To begin with, how did he know about the accident? Everything was known during elementary school but now, years later and far away, it was more of a secret. And the look of pity that used to be in people’s eyes was now nonexistent.
Jonah took his time walking towards me and before I knew it, he was just inches away. I stayed silent, not knowing what to expect. I observed him. His face was full of malice and hate. I felt the bubble of dislike and annoyance form into something much stronger. Almost, hate.
His hands reached out to tuck a strand of my hair. I flinched and stepped away from him.
"Don't you dare touch me! How the hell do you know about my accident?" I cried out.
Now, I felt like the whole school was surrounding us. Every eye was glued on Jonah and me.
"Let's say I have my sources."
"Oh, so you stalked me?"
He winked, and I wanted to puke. "I call that investigating, babe."
He kept advancing towards me, and I kept backing up. I felt so alone. No one was there to defend me. I felt anger boil in my veins. It was time to practice my black belt karate skills.
Crack.
I punched him in the face.
The whole crowd gasped and then they started cheering for me. I felt my heart smile in satisfaction. But my face stayed expressionless. I could already feel a bruise forming on my fist, although, this was the least of my worries.
"This will teach you not to mess with me, or my family, you freaking douche bag."
With that, I let my spit land on him.
♥♥♥♥♥
It was funny how easily people could abandon you.
Stacy had been ignoring me all week and when I talked to her, she put her head down, as if she was ashamed of me. I gave up on her and simply ate my lunch alone now.
Having decided I wasn't going to mope around all weekend, I decided to go to the park. I put a huge hoodie, my favorite comfortable sweats, and my Ugg boots. My hair was in a messy braid and my face was make-up free. I couldn't care less about how I looked. I had my camera around my neck and that was all that mattered.
"Mom! I'm going to the park!" I shouted, hoping she'd hear me.
"Okay, darling!” she replied, shouting louder than I had, “Love you!"
I stuffed my phone in my pocket and put the headphones in my ear. I walked as far as my feet could take me. Then I arrived at Ridgefield Park.
It was my own personal heaven.
Many golden hues formed the color of the leaves that lay scattered all around. Young laughter rang out everywhere. Some passed time as they jumped on a heaped pile of discarded leaves. I was walking, admiring the view, oblivious to the sound of crunching under my feet as I walked a well-trodden path. A slight breeze whispered along the trees and teased more leaves into releasing their tentative hold. Deeply engrossed in feeding a little bird, an old woman didn't notice a wayward leaf on her head.
I smiled, something that was rare to me during the last couple of days. I felt happy, so happy.
I tried to capture every fleeting moment. Everything. From the flock of birds flying to a warmer place, to children playing tag. From the beautiful trees releasing their hold on the orange, red and yellow leaves, to an old couple holding hands, concentrating only on each other.
I remembered what Dad had said at one point.
"Every single piece of life needs to be remembered. Every moment, sadness or joy, in this big world can never be forgotten. Everything had its own remarkable beauty, it has to be captured. This is a photographer's job. If you do this, you have the whole world in your hands. In your camera."
My eyes welled with tears and I felt my knees go wobbly at the thought of him, so I sat under the biggest tree in the park. I protectively put my arms around my knees and placed my head over them.
I cried, and cried.
I blew on all 10 candles happily. I was ecstatic. Everyone cheered and gave me a hug. After eating the delicious chocolate cake, my dad told me to put on my snow wear. I was confused, but I obliged. He took my hand and we went to the backyard where snow was everywhere. In his hands were small bags.
Out of nowhere, he lifted me up and spun me around. I giggled, joining my father's resounding laughter. He put me down and then squatted to be on my level.
"Happy birthday, Rosie! You're a double-digit number now, do you know what that means?" He asked seriously.
"No daddy, what does that mean?" I said, curiosity building inside me.
He took the package and gave it to me. I hastily opened it to find a brand new Canon camera. I gasped and looked at it as if it was the most beautiful thing in the world. I gave my dad a tight hug, as his eyes beamed with excitement.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you so so much, daddy! I'll treasure it forever and ever," I told him.
He smiled at me in admiration.
I closed my eyes at the memory.
This was the first time I felt weak in days. But I was tired of having to hold it all in, to seem so strong all the time. Hot tears kept flowing down my cheeks, they seemed unstoppable. I tried to wipe them away, but that only made them fall harder.
Everything was because of me, everything.
After what seemed like a lifetime and I'd cried all the tears in my body and let them dry on my face, I was pretty sure I looked like a zombie. I quickly untangled my braid and let my hair loose on my head. I lifted up my gaze and let my eyes scan the scenery in front of me. Everything seemed normal, yet something caught my eye.
There was a boy, sitting underneath the tree across from mine. He was holding a sketchbook and... Drawing? Every once in a while, he would look up, directly at me.
He seemed handsome, with a face practically begging for his picture to be taken. I took a quick shot of him and then looked away. I studied the photo closely.
It was Liam.
I didn't know why, but my feet dragged me towards him. His eyebrows pulled up a little when I arrived, as if I was interrupting him from doing something important. I sat beside him.
Silence filled the air. Although, it wasn't an awkward silence, it was comfortable. I took a peek at his work. There was a girl, looking sad; her head was on her knees. There was a messy, yet perfectly drawn braid. Beside her, a camera was lying on a heap of leaves. Under the drawing, there were two perfectly written words. I gasped.
Intrigued and shocked, I looked at him. His blue eyes were observing me, waiting for my reaction.
"I-Is that me?" I asked, hoping the answer was yes.
His head bobbed down.
I immediately felt stupid after the next question I asked. "I'm Lena, and you're Liam, right?" The head action repeated.
“How’s your grandma?”
He nodded again.
Why wasn't he answering me? "Did I do something wrong?" I inquired, fearing his answer.
He put his head down and shook his head. Was he embarrassed about something?
On the spur of a moment, it clicked in my head. He was mute.
My eyes widened and I apologized. "I'm so sorry; I didn't mean it like that."
Something flickered in his eyes. He scribbled down: No pity, please.
I nodded, understanding. I knew how he felt.
"
No, I hate pity too. Do you mind if I join you?"
He instantly relaxed and shook his head as a "no". I felt relief flood me.
I leaned my head on his firm shoulder. My head fits perfectly along its contours. He was warm. He continued drawing, it was a new one.
I closed my eyes and savored the moment. A million thoughts were running through my head. And his, if what I felt was right. My heart kept screaming something, but I ignored it. All I could think about were the scribbled words under his drawing. A drawing of me. Two words that made me feel confused, yet strangely happy:
