Bad Habit

by Charleigh Rose

  We sat in silence as he drove. I didn’t know where we were going, but I was just happy to be anywhere with him. When we pulled up to our destination, I was just as clueless. It was this massive building in the middle of nowhere. It was pitch-black, and I couldn’t make out any distinguishing characteristics that gave away what it was. Asher drove right up to the fence and cut the engine.

  “Where are we?” I asked, leaning on the dash and scanning the foreboding building in front of us.

  “The Tracks,” he explained. “Horse racing. It’s been closed down for years.”

  “Are we going in?” I asked, gripping the metal door handle. It screeched as I pulled, but Asher grabbed my left hand that sat on the bench seat, stopping me.

  “No. It’s not safe inside.”

  “But you go inside?”

  “That’s different. We can sit on the hood if you want.”

  I bit my lip and nodded. What started as an escape now sort of felt like a first date. I mean, I’d never been on a date before, but it felt a whole lot like what I’d imagined it would, even down to the boy I’d imagined it being with.

  Asher effortlessly hopped onto the hood while I climbed up, using the bumper. I sat next to him, hugging my knees while he opted to lie back against the windshield with one arm behind his head.

  “You can’t see the stars in the city,” he said quietly. I lay back next to him and gazed up into the star-filled sky.

  “You’re right,” I said, lying stock-still next to him. The hood of the truck was hot on my exposed thighs. Our hands were just centimeters from each other, not quite touching.

  My phone buzzed with a text, and I checked it on the off chance it was Dash or my mom wondering where I was. It ended up being a text from a girl from school, so I ignored it, setting the phone on my stomach.

  Ash reached over, and I held my breath as his fingers brushed against the thin material of my tank top to grab my phone. My entire body prickled with goose bumps, and I hoped he couldn’t see my nipples harden beneath my shirt.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, breathless.

  “We need music,” he answered simply. After a few clicks, it started. A haunting song about love and dysfunction and heartbreak. A song about the right love at the wrong time. I decided right then and there, it was my new favorite.

  “What is this song called?”

  “‘Glycerine’ by Bush. It’s the one song I’ll never get sick of.”

  “I love it,” I whispered. It was raw, beautiful.

  After asking him to play it for me again, we lay in comfortable silence once more. Halfway through the third time, I felt his pinky finger graze mine. My pulse sped up, and I tried not to move while I wondered if it was on purpose. As casually as I could, I turned my palm skyward, waiting to see what he’d do. I couldn’t breathe as Asher laced his much-larger fingers with mine.

  I didn’t know what to say. What to do. I was too afraid to move in fear of ruining this moment. His thumb rubbed against mine, and I squeezed a little bit tighter.

  “What does your name mean?” he asked out of nowhere. Ash wasn’t one for small talk, so the question took me by surprise.

  “It’s a type of bush,” I said anticlimactically, and he rubbed at his mouth with his other hand to hide his smile. “But my name is from Sleeping Beauty,” I explained. “Princess Aurora’s real name is Briar Rose.”

  “Your parents don’t strike me as Disney fans,” he deadpanned, and I laughed because it was true.

  “I guess my mom was once upon a time.”

  “But you do look like a princess,” he teased.

  “Tell me about your mom?” I asked after a beat of silence. He inhaled deeply, returning his gaze to the stars. “Her name was Isabel. She came from a wealthy family, but she met my dad and got pregnant with me shortly after. She was beautiful. And she gave good hugs. She beat me at every video game we ever played.”

  I laughed, never having expected that.

  “She died saving me,” he explained, wiping the lingering smile clear off my face. “I had been working on a ramp for my bike all day. I decided to try it out in front of my house. We never had a lot of traffic, so I didn’t think anything of it.”

  I held my breath, knowing where the story was going.

  “My mom pulled into the driveway with a trunk full of groceries. She waved and smiled at me, but I didn’t smile back. I was frustrated because I couldn’t land this trick. I tried over and over, with my headphones blasting in my ears. Each time, I got sloppier and hit the jump harder. On the last try, I don’t know what happened, but it sent me flying. I landed right in the middle of the street. I didn’t hear it coming, but I saw the car, a big, white Dodge Durango. I couldn’t move quickly enough. I hurt my leg so I couldn’t stand up. I saw the car try to swerve, and then I saw my mom rushing toward me. I remember her dark hair blowing behind her as she ran. For some reason, that’s what stood out the most. She was able to push me out of the way in time, but the car hit her instead.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said quietly, brushing a tear away. Because what else could you say to something like that? That’s a kid’s worst nightmare.

  “My dad blamed me. I blamed me. And that’s when everything changed.”

  “You were just a kid, Ash. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Yeah,” he said noncommittally, and I knew he didn’t believe it.

  “I think I would have liked her,” I said, referring to his mom. “She sounds like the opposite of mine.”

  “She would’ve loved you.”

  One green eye and one brown with flecks of gold met my blues, and something passed between us that I didn’t understand, but I felt it nonetheless. I licked my lips, and his gaze followed the movement. I thought, once again, that he might just kiss me. My phone buzzed violently against the metal hood, making me jump. Asher blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair.

  “We need to go,” he said, jumping down and climbing back in the driver’s side.

  “Yeah,” I said and cleared the lust from my voice. “I should get back.”

  And the moment was gone.

  “Sooo, are you in? Bry?” Nat asks, snapping me back to the present. That night was just weeks before the night he told me about his scholarship. The night he left for good.

  “Who’s all going?” I interrupt her primping when I open one of the French doors to my closet that she’s sitting in front of and slip inside. Dropping my towel, I snag my H&M black cropped top off the hanger, a pair of frayed jean shorts, and my plain black combat boots. I quickly dress as I listen to Nat’s never-ending list of attendees.

  “Jay for sure. I think Steven and his girlfriend with bad eyebrows… What’s her name? Melissa? Anyway, Thomas, Trey, Lexi… Oh, and Jackson will be there, too.”

  “Seriously?” I ask, cutting my eyes to hers. Jackson Price is arguably the hottest guy in school. The only guy to pique my interest even moderately, other than Asher Kelley. And the only guy I’ve ever slept with. I’ve hooked up with plenty of guys, but as soon as it moved from anything more than heavy petting, it was like a record screeched, and it wasn’t fun anymore. I had a change of heart, mid-hookup, every single time.

  Jackson happened a couple of months ago, and Nat dragged me to a party at his house. Part of me was still holding on to my childish delusions of being with Ash someday, when Whitley came bouncing in, blowing that to pieces.

  She was standing there all tall and dark and edgy, the complete opposite of everything I am, bragging about sleeping with Asher over the weekend. Of course, she wasn’t telling me. She was talking to a girl named Marjorie—loudly, for my benefit, no doubt—with no shortage of crude gestures and the hickies to back it up.

  I remember exactly how I felt in that moment. The way the beer turned sour in my stomach. The way my chest ached and the way my face heated with anger, embarrassment, and jealousy. I remember how I let Jackson, whom I barely knew, lead me upstairs and take my virginity. I remember how I wan
ted to give it to him, if only to spite Asher. I remember his practiced movements and the pain he caused, even as he tried to be gentle. I remember how even though I hated myself for it, I could almost pretend it was Asher if I kept my eyes squeezed tight. But mostly, I remember how I felt the next morning. Empty and completely alone, even with Jackson’s arm curled around me, and every bit the child that Asher always accused me of being.

  I’m that girl, the one who got drunk at a party and gave it up to the first boy who came along. And I’ve avoided him ever since. What would Asher think of me now? Even thinking his name is enough to cause physical pain, but I bury it. It’s been three years. Three years since he walked out of my house and never came back. Three years since I’ve so much as heard his voice. Three years since I’ve been pining for a boy who was never even mine. This is bordering on pathetic.

  “He wants you, Bry. I don’t know how he could make it any clearer.” Nat fluffs her dark hair and stands, giving herself a once-over in the mirror. “I’d fuck me,” she says with a nod of approval. I roll my eyes, but a laugh slips out.

  “Why, though?” I muse aloud. There is no shortage of high school girls who want to hook up with Jackson Price. Or college girls, for that matter. He set his sights on me, seemingly out of nowhere last year. He’s gorgeous, funny, charismatic, but…a bit of a whore.

  “Besides that whole innocent, blonde, blow-up doll look you’ve got going on?” She circles a finger in my direction and grins when I flip her off. With my freakishly big eyes and pouty mouth, it’s not the first time I’ve heard that comparison. She knows I hate it. “Give him a chance. You don’t have to marry the dude. Just…have fun. With his penis.”

  “You’re an idiot.” I laugh. She has a point, though. I need to put Asher out of my mind for good.

  Twenty minutes later, we’re pulling off the I-10 in my little black Jetta. We’re only about twenty miles from my house, but it’s like a different world out here. No streetlights, no noise, no gas stations on every corner. Just a long, eerie, dirt road that leads to the old trotting park.

  “You’re quiet.”

  “I’m driving.” I shrug.

  “You’re nervous,” she accuses.

  “You wish.”

  I pull up next to a few other cars and trucks I don’t recognize and kill the engine. Without so much as a word, Nat hands me the chapstick she just used at the same time I hand her some gum from my purse after popping a piece into my mouth. I rub my lips together and hand her the tube when a loud banging on my window causes me to jolt.

  “Jesus!” Nat yells—while I make some noise that comes out as more of a squeak than anything—and cackling from outside my car follows. I open the car door to see Brett and Jackson standing there with shit-eating grins plastered to their faces, beers in hand.

  “For you, Briar, my lady,” Jackson says, offering me a can with a dramatic bow. I’m still catching my breath and trying to calm my frantic heart, but I take the beer anyway as I glare at him.

  “You guys are dicks,” Nat mumbles, accepting her own beer from Brett.

  “Who do all these cars belong to?” I stuff my phone into my back pocket and leave my keys in the ignition in case we need to make a quick getaway. Local cops are starting to catch onto the growing fascination with this place, and I heard they’ve been patrolling the area more than they usually do.

  “A couple belong to our group, but I’m not sure about the rest. Guess we had the same idea.”

  “No better way to celebrate the end of school than to hang out in an old, decrepit building. Yay,” I say, weakly pumping a fist into the air, sarcasm dripping from every word. I’m surprised Jackson deigned this place an acceptable hangout. I wouldn’t think he’d be caught dead here.

  Nat saunters over to me and hooks an arm though mine as we start to walk toward The Tracks. “Don’t be a pussy.”

  As we get closer, I notice a huge gate surrounding the perimeter of the building. I reach the entrance and tug on the padlock.

  “Guess they’re cracking down.”

  “That’s always locked. This way, amateur,” Jackson says, peeling back a break in the chain link fence. “Everyone else is already inside. We just came out to get you guys.”

  Nat giggles, totally getting off on this creepy shit, skips over to where he’s crouched, and slips through the hole. I hand my beer to Brett and follow her, but my belt loop gets stuck on a rogue piece of metal protruding from the fence. A warm hand lands on the small of my back, and my head snaps around.

  “You’re stuck,” Jackson smirks and gives an innocent shrug. I’m on my knees, halfway through the fence with my ass on display, but Jackson holds my gaze as he reaches to free my belt loop with his fingertip. I wonder if he’s thinking of that night. Does he regret it? Does he know I do? Not that it was his fault. I was on a mission to self-destruct that night, and I was lucky I ended up with someone halfway decent.

  “Thanks.” I’m not really sure what to say, or how to feel. I have a tendency to overanalyze things, so it’s probably best that I don’t try to decipher anything just yet. I stand up and brush the dirt off my knees and tighten the mess on my head. Brett passes me my beer and shoves his way through while Jackson opts to scale the fence like a fucking ninja. He lands in front of my feet, looking smug as hell, and I arch a brow in return.

  “Am I supposed to be impressed or something?”

  “Only if you don’t want to wound my precious ego,” Jackson says, clapping a hand to his heart dramatically. He really is gorgeous—in that all-American, golden boy way—with his light brown hair, high cheekbones, and strong jaw. He’s tall and broad and clearly doesn’t take himself too seriously. Maybe I misjudged him.

  As we all approach the massive, formidable building, nerves and excitement tangle in my stomach, and the baby hairs stand up on the back of my neck. The hot August air is suffocating, and a bead of sweat rolls down the small of my back. I head for the rusty, decayed turnstile, but stop short when I notice the razor wire coiled in the old entrance. Jackson hooks an arm around my shoulders and jerks his head to the right with that Ken-doll smile. He leads us to a different gate, this one with vertical bars. At first, I’m confused as to why we’re going this way, but then I notice that one of the bars has been pried apart, leaving enough room to squeeze through. Razor wire and double fences…makes you wonder what happened here and why they’re so determined to keep people out.

  Before I can ask how we’re getting inside the building, Brett darts toward a ditch with steep walls. He skids down the sides like he’s surfing on concrete, and Nat—never one to give a shit about consequences—downs her beer, then slides down on her butt after him.

  “Nuh-uh.” I shake my head when Jackson looks to me expectantly.

  “Mhm.” He grins.

  “Nope. No fucking way. I’m wearing shorts!”

  “I guess I’ll just have to carry you then.”

  “You wouldn’t.” I call his bluff, backing away slowly.

  Nat yells something along the lines of, “Just do it, you stupid jock!” before slipping through the gap and disappearing into the abandoned building.

  Jackson charges for me and I screech, losing my grip on my beer when he drops a shoulder and scoops me up over it. One arm bands around the back of my thighs, and he chuckles when I grip his waist for dear life. I know what’s coming next. Jackson effortlessly skids down the side of the ditch, his white Nikes crunching over the loose dirt and gravel.

  “Don’t mess up your pretty shoes, golden boy.”

  “Brave words from a girl who’s at my mercy.”

  Instead of putting me down, he carries me inside the narrow opening. I’m hanging upside down, and that, coupled with the fact that it’s dark as hell, makes it hard to see much except beer cans littering the concrete floor and an endless amount of graffiti splashed on every surface. I hear muffled voices and laughter, so I know we’re getting closer.

  “You can put me down now,” I say, using my hands ag
ainst his lower back as leverage to swing myself upwards. But Jackson’s grip on my thighs only tightens.

  “Why would I do that when I have such a nice view?” He smacks my ass, and a laugh tumbles from my lips. I don’t even know if I like Jackson, but it feels…liberating. Like I’m finally starting to break free of the curse Asher unknowingly cast upon me the day he left. Or maybe it was the day he landed at my feet on my brother’s bedroom floor. But my freedom is short-lived, because mid-laugh, I hear an all-too familiar voice.

  “What the fuck.”

  Dash. He’s here? Jackson finally sets me on my feet, and I right myself just in time to see my brother storming toward us, looking positively murderous.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, tucking my hair behind my ear, aiming for casual.

  “You wanna tell me why you just had your hands all over my baby sister’s ass?” Dash asks, ignoring my question, shooting daggers at Jackson over my head.

  “Whoa, dude. You have a sister?” Jackson throws his hands up in surrender. “I swear I didn’t know.”

  I scrunch my nose at that. Everyone knows Dash, and I mean everyone. In fact, I’m known as “Dash’s little sister” to most people. But why would he lie?

  “You didn’t know, or you didn’t realize I’d be here?”

  Jackson’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t answer. I feel like I’m in the twilight zone. Dash is protective, in the way that every big brother is, but this? This reaction is completely foreign to me.

  “Dash, I told you I was going out with friends. What’s the problem?”

  “The problem is that you didn’t mention him.”

  “We’re just hanging out,” Jackson tries, but Dash cuts his eyes to his, and Jackson wisely shuts up.

  “You. Keep your hands to yourself. And you,” Dash says, turning his attention to me, “be smart.”

  Dash turns and heads back to his group of friends on the other side of the dark, dank basement. The air seems to shift, and I hold my breath, somehow aware that something big is about to happen. My eyes follow Dash in slow motion, and my heart sinks like a ton of bricks when I lock eyes with him. Asher fucking Kelley.