Dark Hearts

by Micalea Smeltzer

  “Confession, I don’t even like these things.”

  “What?” I ask, my voice spiking with confusion.

  “These.” He holds out the cigarette and flicks the ash from the end.

  My brows furrow. “If you don’t like them then why do you smoke?”

  He smiles sardonically. “To piss off my dad.”

  “Seems like a legit reason,” I say dryly.

  He shrugs and takes another drag of the cigarette. The tips flares brighter for a moment.

  “My life is pretty much one big fuck you to my old man,” Jace continues. I struggle to keep up with his long-legged stride as we cross the street, nearing the apartment.

  “How so?” I question.

  We don’t talk about our home lives, though I’ve gotten the impression his isn’t any better than mine, so the fact that he’s being so open surprises me. I’m dying to know more about him and that part of his life, so while he’s speaking, I want to get all the information I can.

  He wets his lips, tilting his head toward the sky like the twinkling stars above hold all his answers. “He wanted me to follow in his footsteps and I refused.” It’s a vague answer, but it’s more than he usually gives me, so I’ll take it. “What about your parents?” he asks. “Did you stray from their grand plan?”

  I snort. “I strayed a lot.” I shove my hands in the pockets of my coat, wishing I’d worn gloves or something. It might be early October, but it’s cold. “My parents are very …” I pause, searching for the right word. “Structured,” I finish. “They like things a certain way. The normal way. The right way,” I ramble. “Right in their eyes,” I add.

  “I take it they wouldn’t approve of green hair?” He fights a smile.

  I shake my head. “They’d definitely not approve of that. If my mom saw me with hair this color she’d march me back into the bathroom and rip out every individual strand of hair until I was bald.”

  Jace looks at me sadly. “She sounds delightful.”

  I sigh. “My parents aren’t good people, but they aren’t bad, either, if that makes sense. I don’t feel much love when it comes to them, too much has happened, but I know they’ve always done what they think is right. I tend to disagree and think it’s the wrong thing.”

  “I think it’s only natural to disagree with your parents, but it’s especially easy to do when they’re an asshole about everything.”

  “So, if your dad wanted you to follow in his footsteps, what was that exactly?” I ask, hoping to learn more.

  He shakes his head. “I’m done talking about my dad.”

  And shot down.

  I nod. “Fair enough.”

  We reach the building and he holds the door open for me.

  The warmth floods over me and I rub my hands together. If it’s this cold already I don’t know how I’ll survive the winter.

  Jace and I head to the elevator and then up to the apartment.

  Once inside, we take our coats off and Jace heads straight for his guitar.

  “Do you want some hot chocolate?” I ask while he sits on the couch, the guitar resting in his lap.

  He nods. “That sounds great.”

  I’m happy to have something to do so I get busy making the hot chocolate and pulling the marshmallows from the cabinet. Jace tunes his guitar while I do that, sitting on the couch looking way too hot for his own good.

  “How many songs have you written about me?” I ask.

  He presses his lips together, a telltale sign that he’s thinking. “Five.”

  My jaw drops. “Five?”

  “Yeah, there would be more but I haven’t finished them.”

  I think I might pass out. “Do you write a lot of songs about girls?”

  He smirks. “Jealous?”

  “No.” I snort. “Just curious.”

  He shakes his head. “No, you’re the only one.”

  And there goes my heart pitter-pattering.

  I pour our hot chocolate into mugs, add whipped cream, and sprinkle the mini marshmallows on top. I carry the mugs over to the couch and sit down beside him, tucking my legs under me.

  He takes his mug and sets it on the table beside the couch. He strums the guitar once and the note hangs in the air.

  “The song I played tonight is called ‘Supernova’.”

  “’Supernova’,” I repeat. “I love that.”

  “Good.” He grins back. “Now be quiet and listen.”

  I laugh and wiggle around, getting comfortable.

  He closes his eyes and begins to play.

  Again, just like in the restaurant, time seems to stand still. All the air is sucked from the room, and I feel the emotion of the song so deeply it hits me straight in my soul.

  “I can see her sadness in the dark, and I can hear her demons calling my name.

  I can hear her cries from miles away, and I can see her frown when no one is watching.” He opens his eyes and his gaze lights a fire inside me. I feel like I’m burning from the inside out. “She thinks she's got it all figured out, but she’s putting on that damn mask again. Oh, she's a Supernova, Supernova, she's a Supernova, Supernova. It's what she is.”

  He tilts his head back, strumming the guitar strings and feeling the song.

  “And I watch as she changes her hair, trying to hide from herself. Oh, little does she know, I'm running from myself too.”

  That line hits me like a ton of bricks. It doesn’t seem real that he’s noticed that about me. For a long time, I didn’t even understand my desire to change my hair color.

  “And I can see her hiding from the world. And I know she's got some pain, that I can't take way, take away. She’s trying to tell me she's got it all figured out. But I know, oh I know, that no Supernova does. And I watch as she changes her hair. And I watch as she slips a word, that says she's not okay. Beautiful, she's a Supernova, Supernova, Supernova. It's what she is.”

  He leans his guitar against the coffee table and reaches for me, swiping his large thumbs over my cheeks. “Don’t cry,” he pleads. “I don’t want to make you sad.”

  “I don’t know if sad is exactly what I’m feeling at the moment,” I admit, wishing I wasn’t crying. I feel pathetic and stupid with my cheeks drenched in wetness. “It was beautiful. Amazing. I think I’m most blown away by how much of me you see. Things I don’t mean for you to know.”

  He shrugs like it’s no big deal.

  I move closer to him and he reaches for me, pulling me against him. We end up lying on the couch, with me on top of his chest.

  I lay with my ear against his heart and the steady thump-thump-thumping soothes my frazzled nerves. My tears seep into his shirt but he doesn’t say anything. He rubs a hand soothingly against my back, his fingers creeping under my shirt.

  I close my eyes, exhaling a shaky breath.

  It’s in this moment that I realize I’m dangerously close to falling in love with Jace and that terrifies me. Love has only ended in disaster and heartbreak of the worst kind for me. It’s a pain I’m not sure I can survive again.

  But I’m helpless to stop this feeling, and I must hope that if I fall, I learn to fly.

  Nova

  “You seem happier than normal.”

  I glance over at Joel beside me. We’re supposed to be working on an assignment focused on macro photography. The item I’m supposed to be photographing is droplets of water on a flower. Beside me, Joel is focused on a bug in a neighboring flower. The group projects our professor warned us about have already descended upon us. So far, working with him hasn’t been too bad. After all, it was his suggestion to come here—to an indoor garden—to work on the macro photography project. It was a great idea. There are a ton of bugs and other little things to take pictures of.

  “I wouldn’t say I’m happier than normal,” I hedge, though he’s exactly right.

  It’s been over a week since Jace and I had sex, and it’s safe to say it’s been one of the best weeks of my life. It makes me sound lovesick, and maybe
I am, but it’s more than that. I’ve never felt so content in my whole life, like I’m finally doing and being who I’m meant to be.

  Last year I was simply going through the motions, now I’m living my life and it feels amazing.

  He chuckles and snaps a photo, the shutter of his camera clicking. “You’re lying. Who’s the guy?”

  I snort, taken aback. “Why does there have to be a guy?”

  “A girl then?” He raises a brow, waiting for my response.

  “God no.” I shake my head. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I’m not—”

  He laughs, putting me out of my misery. “It’s okay, Nova.” He lines up his camera and takes another picture. “I understand why you shot me down so vehemently, though. There was someone else. It makes me feel better. I was thinking I was losing my touch.” He lowers his camera, flashing me a boyish grin.

  “There’s no one else,” I mutter.

  “And I’m Jack Dawson.”

  “Who’s that?” I ask, confused.

  He stares at me like I’ve grown another head. “Have you never seen Titanic? I thought it was like rite of passage for teenage girls or something? Don’t you all have a hard-on for Leonardo DiCaprio in that movie? That’s who he plays—Jack Dawson,” Joel rambles as he explains.

  “My parents never let me watch that movie, and I haven’t bothered since I’ve been away from them to try.”

  Joel blinks at me, his mouth openly agape. “That’s it, when we finish here, we’re going back to my dorm and watching Titanic.”

  “I’m not going to your dorm to watch Titanic,” I scoff.

  “Fine, your dorm then,” he concedes.

  “I live in an apartment off campus,” I snap.

  “Even better.” He grins, completely oblivious to my disdain for this idea.

  “You’re insane,” I grumble.

  “Come on,” he starts. “You have to watch it.”

  “What do you get out of this?” I ask.

  “Well …” He smiles slowly, and I notice for the first time that he has a small dimple by the corner of his mouth on the right side. “You say there’s no guy in the picture so this gives me an excuse to spend time with you in a no-date, no-pressure way.”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re super persistent?”

  “Once or twice.” He shrugs and starts walking away from me, looking for something else to photograph.

  I nervously fiddle with the sleeve of my sweater. Letting Joel come to the apartment is probably a terrible idea, but it is only a movie. Jace and I aren’t together officially—besides, nothing is going to happen with Joel. I’m not interested in him, at all, although I hate to admit I’m starting to like him as a friend. Being forced to work with him in more than one class has shown me he’s a nice guy.

  Besides, I now can’t admit to him that there is a guy, even if I don’t understand what that guy’s role in my life is.

  Joel and I spend another hour at the garden before heading out.

  He follows me to the apartment and parks behind me in the space Jace would normally use.

  I feel weird leading him into the building and up to the apartment. Even though I’m doing nothing scandalous it feels that way.

  I let him in and he whistles. “Damn, this place is nice.”

  I shrug. It is nice, much nicer than the housing on campus, at least.

  I drop my backpack on the ground and then gently place my camera bag on top. That is precious, my school bag not so much.

  “Do you want a drink?” I ask. It seems like the polite thing to do.

  “Sure. Anything is fine.”

  I scurry over to the refrigerator, happy to have something to do while Joel picks up the remote and turns the TV on.

  I grab two bottles of water and then rummage around for popcorn and other snacks. I find a box of popcorn and it’s empty.

  “Who keeps an empty box of popcorn?” I mutter to myself. Jace. That’s who.

  Since popcorn’s out I end up dumping different kinds of chips in a bowl and calling it a day.

  I carry the bowl and two bottles of water over to the couch as Joel switches the TV over to Netflix and brings up this movie.

  “How long is this movie?” I ask.

  “Four hours, I think.”

  I nearly choke on my tongue. Four hours? Jace will probably be home in four hours! Tell this clown to get out of your house! I know it’s too late for that. It’d be beyond rude to force him out. I’m stuck now.

  Joel clicks the movie on and gets comfortable on the couch.

  Meanwhile, I feel like I’m about to throw up and I’m cursing my very existence. Seriously, what the fuck was I thinking?

  I sit down on the couch, on the opposite end from Joel, and set the bowl of chips on the space between us. I hand him the bottle of water and he smiles in thanks.

  I unscrew the cap and take a long sip. I suddenly feel like I’m stuck in the Sahara and dying of thirst.

  The movie opens with haunting music, and I begin to regret my decision even more.

  “You’re shaking the whole couch,” he comments, never looking away from the TV. “I’m not going to hurt you, if that’s what you think.” He sounds sad now and I wince.

  “I know that, this is just weird. I’ve never brought a guy here,” I admit, “and while you’re not here for that, it doesn’t erase the awkwardness.”

  He finally looks at me, this time with a small smile. “It’s just a movie. Breathe. Sit back and enjoy it. Something tells me you’re always wound too tight.”

  He’s right about that. My upbringing made me highly distrustful of people and caused me to constantly walk around with a tight feeling in my chest. I lived my childhood feeling on pins and needles and that’s carried over into adulthood. It’s not something I seem to be able to shake overnight.

  I force myself to focus on the movie, and I’m surprised by how quickly I get sucked into it. Everything about it is beautiful. I don’t understand what my parents found so horrible about it that it was banned from our house—other than the nudity, but seriously I know what a girl looks like naked, that’s what happens when mirrors are in bathrooms. You kind of can’t avoid seeing yourself naked.

  As the movie progresses and the ship hits the iceberg the intensity magnifies.

  It’s dark in the apartment, save for the glow coming from the TV, and I itch to turn on a light but I can’t seem to make myself move from the couch to do it. I’m riveted, waiting to see what’s going to happen next.

  When they end up in the water I cover my eyes, because there’s no way this can end well.

  “Stop that.” Joel pries my hands from my eyes. “You’ve made it this far, you can’t quit now.”

  “Nope.” I shake my head. “Someone I love is about to die. I know it.”

  Sure enough, Rose starts begging Jack to wake up, that someone’s there to rescue them, but my sweet little Jack Dawson has turned into a frozen popsicle.

  She pries his hands off the door she’s floating on, kisses them, and watches him sink beneath the surface of the ocean.

  “No,” I sob. “That’s not fair.”

  Sobbing for a fictional character might be pathetic, but in that moment, I can’t bring myself to care. Jack Dawson was compassionate, daring, thrilling, and hot, and I have to mourn his fictional passing.

  The door to the apartment opens and Jace startles. “Nova?” I try to get control of myself but Jack Dawson just died and these things take time. “Who the hell are you?” he snaps, flicking on a light. “Did you hurt her? Answer me!”

  “Whoa! Whoa!” Joel raises his hands innocently with Jace towering above him. I still sit on the opposite end of the couch, hardly within touching distance of Joel, but I’m secretly pleased that Jace would come to my defense so easily. “We’re just watching a movie.” Joel points to the TV screen. Jace looks over his shoulder at the TV then to me. “You’re crying because the pretty boy died?”

  “Jac
k was amazing,” I defend. “I haven’t seen this movie before,” I add. “I wasn’t expecting it.”

  Jace laughs. “It’s Titanic. You know, based on the actual Titanic catastrophe where a whole lot of people died. I think it’s natural to expect people to die in the movie version.”

  “Don’t be an ass.” I toss a throw pillow at his head but he dodges it easily.

  Jace’s attention quickly zeroes back onto Joel. “Again, who the fuck are you and why are you in my apartment watching a movie with Nova?”

  “I’m Joel—we have class together. We were working on a project and Nova mentioned she’d never seen Titanic so—”

  “So, you thought you’d rectify that.” Jace nods to himself and then points at the door. “Get out.”

  To me, Joel says with a smirk, “I thought you said there wasn’t a guy?”

  Jace growls. “Out.”

  Joel grabs his stuff and leaves while the movie continues to play in the background. Jace locks the door behind him and then turns to glower at me.

  “No guy, huh?”

  “Uh …” I stare at him in confusion as he slowly stalks forward.

  He doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of me and then he bends so we’re eyelevel. I hold my breath as he leans in close so he can whisper in my ear. “I assure you, there’s very much a guy.”

  I shiver as he pulls away. In a flash, he has my hair wrapped in his fist and he tilts my head back. I moan and his eyes dilate at the sound. “I’m not a jealous kind of guy, Nova. You make me crazy.”

  I close my eyes and my tongue slips out to wet my lips.

  I feel his lips graze my cheek, the slight stubble on his chin scratching my skin, and my eyes pop open again.

  “What will it take for you to see that?”

  His hold on my hair loosens and he moves his hand to my neck. I squeak when he jerks me forward so we’re nose to nose.

  He stares at me for a moment before his lips crash against mine. I moan again and he presses his lips more firmly against mine.