by Haley Jenner
“Reid,” I complain, adding a small stomp of my foot in protest.
“Roxy.” He mimics the sound of my voice. “You know our rules. I don’t want to dance, you don’t get to demand I do.”
“Then you don’t get to demand I bail.”
His bottom lip tips out in indifference. “Never demanded shit, Rox. I asked you to let me know when you were ready to leave. I’ll wait.”
I exhale heavily. “I rejected more than a few dates for this ridiculous event,” I argue. “Forgive me for thinking that you’d give me the full prom experience, on my birthday, by sharing one measly dance.”
Impatience ticks at his jaw, the strong line pulsing in anger. “Giving you the full prom experience would see me hiring a cheesy motel room and fucking you for a pleasurable three seconds and then never calling you again. You should be thanking me.”
I growl. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Nice to see you’re using the ‘word of the day’ calendar I got you.”
Steam bursts from my eardrums, my fists clenching. I flip him off, storming off in frustration in search of Brooke.
Pushing past clusters of people with little finesse, I find her without hassle. “Roxy,” she slurs. “Dance with me.”
“Are you drunk?” I glance back at Reid, completely unaffected by our squabble, eyes closed in slumber.
“Maybe a little,” she whispers. “Want some?”
I look at the flask held in her hand. My temper still flared, I shrug. “Why not?”
She giggles, watching my face twist in disgust as the bitter liquid burns my throat. Coughing, I hand it back to her, but she shakes her head. “Have another. It’s your birthday. Live a little,” she dares, eyes widening in encouragement. Arms extended in the air, she dances, swaying to a tune solely her own.
Brooke Fairmont, like Reid, plays by no one’s rules. The difference between her and Reid is that she has no rules of her own. She lives for experience, living one split-second to the next. Fuck forward-thinking, she lives in the now. She’s all about the moment, consequences be damned. I envy her at times. Envy the way she takes what she wants without a care in the world.
Neck tipped back, I let the fiery liquid light along the inner walls of my throat. Warmed from the first shot, I manage this one without coughing up my lungs.
“Again,” Brooke eggs me on, her body wrapping around her boyfriend’s, his hands caressing her body.
Looking away from their eager show of affection, I do as she says, shaking my head at the awful taste. I hate how easily intimacy comes to them. They’re a mess, of the worst kind. They fight, they fuck, they break up, then they’re back together. It makes zero sense, but love often doesn’t.
Handing Charlie the flask, I grab Brooke’s hand, dancing away with her. She follows eagerly, hand clasped in mine as we nestle in amongst the crowd of our class.
My hair whips around me as I move, blonde waves fanning around me in slow motion. Eyes closed, I raise my arms in the air, hips swaying in time with the music. A sheen of sweat clings to my skin and I feel good. Happy. The alcohol moves through my body like a calming flame. It takes me no time to be lost to the moment, letting my anger and disappointment glide off my skin in relief. Reid was right. We promised to never push one another in a situation that made us uncomfortable. Clearly dancing makes my broody bestie prickly. I don’t need him to have fun, like he doesn’t need me for the same.
Brooke squeals at the change of song, arm thrown across my shoulder as she begins jumping up and down energetically. I follow her lead, laughing as we trip and stumble. Our classmates scowl in our direction, but we ignore their unenthused glares, too caught up in ourselves to care.
The beat changes again, slowing this time, much to my disappointment. Charlie pulls Brooke away, his lips connected to hers before we’ve even completely detangled.
“Why do they have to make us witness them all but fucking on the dance floor?” Tipping my head up, a smirking Reid looks down at me. Arm crossing just above my breastbone, he pulls me in close, my back hitting the heavy wall of his chest.
“Thought you didn’t dance.”
Almost swaying, not quite dancing, but moving enough for me to count it, he looks above my head, watching the rest of the crowd.
“You were right. It’s your birthday. Plus, it’s ‘Blessid Union of Souls’. This song reminds me of us.”
Head resting on his shoulder, I let him sway us side-to-side, listening to the lyrics of ‘I Wanna Be There’. My throat swells with an emotion that weighs on my heart. A pressure so heavy, I expect my heart to give out. To stop beating in protest at being wrung so thoroughly.
God, if only he could understand the dilemma I live in daily. The way my feelings tear me brutally down the middle. One-half content in the friendship we share, the other needing more.
I’ve read countless books, seen an infinite number of movies. Pick your genre, a portion of everyone’s story encompasses an aspect of love. It’s human nature. It’s what we, as a flawed species, are driven by. Be it romantic, familial or friendship. We want to feel loved. We want to feel connected. We want someone to share this turbulent and sometimes unstable journey of life with.
The problem is two people rarely share the same opinion on what love actually is. Love fits every individual face of the world’s population. It’s ambiguous. It differs, starkly, for everyone. To some, it’s the all-consuming feeling that makes you feel complete. The variety of feelings that nestle themselves into parts of you you didn’t even know existed. An attachment that you never want to let go of.
To me, love is most definitely all-consuming. But not with hearts and roses. It’s not a glorious feeling of completeness and contentment. For me, love isn’t just a feeling, it’s not an emotion. It’s solidified itself within me, it’s part of who I am. A large chunk of my soul that aches. It’s pain. It’s despair. At times I feel like a ghost, an intruder in my own body.
Unrequited love will do that to you. I know Reid loves me. More than he loves any other person on this planet, including himself. But, his definition of love is separated into clearly identifiable blocks. And I, Roxy Monroe, lifelong best friend, have been locked heavily away into a friendship that he needs to survive.
The reality of our truth stings my eyes with unwelcome tears. As if he feels the tornado of emotions swelling inside, he pulls me tighter against him, kissing the crown of my head. “Happy birthday, Firefly.”
I force a blink, letting the thick tears caught in my eyes drop down my cheeks. Thankfully he can’t see the love I have for him pouring along my cheeks in a desperate need to escape.
A soft hum sounds from his throat, the hand wrapped around my body tapping against my bare shoulder in time with the music. With every roughly sung lyric, he claims more and more of who I am. It’s frightening to imagine a day where I won’t exist within my own body. That everything inside will be consumed by Reid. One day it’ll all belong to him and I’ll be left with nothing. It’s as sad as it is scary. I don’t know how to stop it. I know it’s not reciprocated on his end. Which leaves me with a painful decision. Do I keep my lie buried so far down that someday, in the near future, I’ll no longer recognize myself? Or do I walk away? Do I step away from the most important person in my life, knowing it’ll be like carving out my own heart in an attempt to save a small sliver of myself?
The thought of leaving him is professedly impossible. Walking away from our life plan, from the dreams we’ve built together is beyond the bounds of possibility. But enduring a life like this, being forced to love my best friend in silence, it very well might break me to a point that I won’t have a choice.
“You okay?” Reid murmurs in my ear, the ridged tone of his voice tickling along the back of my neck, making me shiver.
I nod, afraid of what my voice will do if I speak.
His body pauses, not believing my silent lie. I hear his intake of air, a breath as he begins to speak, but thinking better of it, he stops hi
mself.
I hate myself a little in this moment. Our relationship has always been simple, easy. Now I’ve shrouded us both in awkwardness. I wish I was stronger. Stronger at arguing with my heart, of educating it on the damage it’s causing. I didn’t give it permission to fall in love. It knew how important Reid is in my life, and it went ahead and did the one thing that could force him away from me.
We sway along to Blessid Union of Souls until the very last chord. Wrapped up in one another, me wishing his heart was as stupid as mine, him completely oblivious to the way mine was breaking wide open. Bleeding a river between us, forcing us apart, whether we knew it or not.
Three
Take One - Age Eighteen
Roxy
Stirring awake, I rub at my eyes, groaning at the thick and steady throb echoing along my temples. Forcing my lids apart, I curse myself for not removing my eye makeup last night.
Mascara is tangled along my lashes like glue. Picking at them delicately, I clean them of any unwanted lumps, letting my vision clear, if only slightly. Mouth dry, I drag my tongue against my teeth, cringing at the fur of too much alcohol dusted across them unappetizingly. I can feel the booze seeping from my pores, I’m sweaty, the remnants of my evening fighting for escape.
Shifting up onto my elbows, my entire body protests, stomach lurching. I look down at my body, my prom dress twisted uncomfortably around my body. I groan, cursing both prom and my birthday for forcing me into the ultimate of hangovers.
I love you. I’m in love with you.
I force my eyes closed at the memory, praying it was a nightmare.
Movement at my door makes me flinch. Reid, back pressed casually against my bedroom door, looks how I feel. Contrite. Tangled. Lost. Dressed in a black tee tucked messily into his jeans, the knees of which are torn purposely, he refuses to meet my eyes. Ankles, covered in his unlaced boots, are crossed in front of him, arms braced similarly across his chest.
He’s mad.
Understandable.
Cursing prom and my birthday once again for lowering my inhibitions just that little bit too far.
“Hey,” I whisper.
Blinking, his gaze drops to his feet, the tick of his jaw prominent enough to be seen across the room. He’s not shaved, the dark spatter of his five-o’clock-shadow darkening the sleep-deprived sockets of his eyes.
I want to reverse time. I’d give anything to go back. To stuff my words back into my throat, to choke them down and never let them see the light of day ever again. Anything to remove the look on his face right now. The way he looks at me like I’m nothing more than a stranger. Not his best friend.
Lifting his head, disappointment and bitterness pull at his face. “You ruined it.” The words are sharp in their accusation, potent in their betrayal.
Eyes wide in panic, I shake my head.
“Yeah.” He moves forward, stopping as he reaches my bed. “You did.”
Pausing for a beat, he considers himself before allowing himself to sit, back bent to let his elbows rest on the torn material of his pants.
“We had rules, Roxy. We fucking shook on it.”
Shifting to sit up, I ignore the protest in my head. Crossing my legs, I tuck the tulle of my black skirt against my lap. “We were ten,” I croak out, last night’s binge catching in my throat.
“So?”
“Meaning I can’t help how my feelings develop,” I argue meekly.
He growls, hands ripping into the inky black strands of his hair. “You absolutely fucking can.”
I frown.
“What?” he questions. “You think I haven’t been tempted over the years?” He shocks me by admitting. “Look at you, Rox. I’m a fucking teenage boy, of course, I was fucking attracted to you a time or two.”
Was.
That stabs into my heart like the blunt end of a knife.
“But I looked past that,” he admonishes. “You’re my best friend, you can’t be my heart, too. It’s too much pressure.”
I sit quietly, unsure of what to say.
He waits in a similar way, the heavy silence pushing us farther apart with every passing second.
“If I broke your heart,” he grits out. “Or you broke mine, that’s everything, Rox. Surely you see that? We lose our best friend, and in that same beat we’re left with the bitter reality of a broken heart.”
I know I shouldn’t say the words before they’re out, but I can’t seem to stop them tumbling from my mouth. “Who says anyone’s heart would be broken?”
A small chuckle starts in his throat, shaking his shoulders. It grows louder and louder, my cheeks shading in embarrassment.
“Fuck, Firefly. You on drugs? You’re fucking delusional if you think two eighteen-year-olds can live out their lives in a permanent state of happily-ever-after. Jesus.”
“Don’t make me out to be an idiot,” I snap.
“You’re acting like one.” He turns back to me, the bite of accusation back in his tone.
My eyes fill with tears, my emotions not used to being on the receiving end of Reid’s anger.
“Just forget about it, I was drunk. I’ll get over it,” I vow. “We’ll just go back to the way it was.” I pause. “I’m sorry,” I add quietly, hoping he believes the sincerity in my words.
“Your lips touched mine,” he yells, dropping his voice quickly to not wake my parents. “You told me that you were in love with me. The way it was no longer exists.” He throws his hands up. “I fucking told you, you ruined it. You ruined us.” He points a finger of blame at me, forcing my heart to stumble in its rhythm.
“You’re not being fair,” I murmur.
“I’m not fair?” he argues. “I’m not fair.” His voice raises an octave. “You think this is easy for me? Walking away from my best friend? It’s fucked. You were part of me,” he spits. “I’ve lost part of who I was.”
“Then don’t.” I reach for his hand, pleading. “I’m sorry, okay? Cross my heart,” I urge. “It won’t happen again.”
“I’m sorry, too.” He yanks the warmth of his hand from mine, leaving me cold and alone. “I can’t do this, Roxy. The thought of looking at those sad eyes knowing my rejection is causing you any pain is too much to ask of myself. Maybe that’s selfish, but I love you too much to put you through that.”
I roll my eyes. “Tame your ego,” I reason. “I’m a big girl, I’ll be fine. I’m not pining after you.”
“You changed the dynamics,” he pushes, begging me to understand. “Whether you intended to or not. It’s broken. We’re broken.” A beat of silence passes. “What we had is never going to look the same, and I’m not willing to share a sub-par friendship after what we’ve had.”
Denial spikes through me and I shake my head. “We can’t just pretend like we were never friends.”
He looks away, shame keeping his eyes from mine. “We don’t need to pretend anything. I won’t be here.”
Confusion twists along my face, speaking for me.
“Dad is leaving in two days to start on some new superhero film in the UK,” he explains regretfully. “I’m leaving with him.”
“No.”
He doesn’t rebuke me.
“Look at me,” I demand, my voice rising in panic.
Twisting his neck, he lets me see the ache of his heart. The pain painted clearly in the beauty of his features.
“That wasn’t the plan.” My voice cracks.
He attempts to speak, but his voice fails him. Clearing his throat, he sniffs heavily. “Plans change.”
“What will you do there?”
He shrugs. “Work with Dad for a bit. Apply to the performing arts schools there.”
“What about Tisch?”
He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to. His decision is made. Was made the moment I tried to kiss him, the split-second of idiocy when I confessed my deeper feelings.
“What happened to where you go, I go?” I whisper.
He looks away, shame causing the tick in his
jaw to pulse.
“You’re running away.”
He shakes his head. “No. I’m moving forward.”
“Without me,” I clarify.
He nods. “Without you.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “You’re an asshole.”
“You’re an asshole,” he scolds. “You’re the one that changed the game. I’m saving us from the pain waiting to tackle us if we try and keep this friendship pretense up.”
He walks to the door, pausing with his hand on the handle.
“You don’t love me? Not even a little? Why is us so hard for you to see?”
I watch the expanse of his shoulders expand with his breath. “I did love you.” He turns back. “Not the way you need me to, but I loved you. Completely. But that was before you stole my best friend from me. You took the one person I needed in this life and chased her away with the cancerous thought of her own fairy tale.”
“Reid!” I scurry forward on my hands and knees, dread settling into my bones, making them shake.
This can’t be it. The end. Curtains fucking closing on our friendship. Eight years swirling down a drain in broken promises.
Over what? A measly attempt at a kiss and a small declaration of love egged on by too much alcohol?
“Why’d you have to do it?” he grits through clenched teeth, his anger getting the better of him. His feet move forward, fire surrounding his pain, artfully camouflaged as fury. “Why did you have to change the fucking plan? It was sorted, Roxy. Mapped out. God. I hate you right now. I never thought I’d have that inside of me, but it’s filling me up. I hate you.”
Feet to the floor, I pause in horror, or maybe heartbreak. My head shakes, denial thick in the forefront of my mind as fear seeps into my soul.
“I said I was sorry,” I utter, too afraid of my voice giving out to attempt to speak louder.
“Sorry doesn’t change this,” he whispers back, sounding as broken as I do. “The damage is done. Feelings can’t be locked away after you’ve set them free. They’ve tasted freedom, they’re not going back to the dark.”
