Ache for You (Trapped in Three Hill Book 1) (18 page)

              How do I all know all of this? How do I feel it? I don’t fucking get it.

              “What’s your absolute favourite radio station?” Mal asks as we get in. I close my door and look anywhere but at him. His car feels way to small with both of us squished into it.

              My elbow touches his. I feel gigantic. Awkward and fucking fantastic.

              “98.5 FM,” I tell him. “They play all the good stuff. The soft pop and angry chick music. I love it.”

              “Angry chick music, what the hell is that? Some kind of Taylor Swift shit?” Mal looks at me, and I look back at him.

              He so deserves a good smack.

              “Well yes, but she’s the queen of everything, so I’m just going to pretend that you didn’t say that. I love angry chick music; I love anything beautiful born out of aggression. A break up is awesome because of the emotions triggered by it.”

              Every bit of pain has some beauty built into it. I one-hundred-percent believe this. But still, I go up and down with it.

              I know every route to
Walmands
: the back roads and the main ones, the busier streets and the dead and empty ones. I have pretty much lived in the junk food section since Alex. Sour gummy worms are my favourite. I also like sour cherries. If you wanted to you know, make a note or something out of that.

              Mal switches to my favourite radio station and just like that angels all out the heavens.

Renegade”
by
Lorraine
is playing, and I’m totally in love with it!
You take a part of my heart/ you pull it away/ I know we will both be better if it breaks
. I belt these beautiful words out of the window, turning around to look expectantly at Mal, again. He just grunts, feigning being confused.

              I don’t want to stay away/be my renegade.

             
My dance moves are awesome so that you know.
You dance with me under the street lights/ this is our masquerade/ be my renegade.

             
I scream and totally fall out of tune. Mal almost smiles, almost. That almost counts.

              I reach over to turn the music down, listening to Justin swoon me in the background. My heart is beating super swell for that dude right now. Also, you know, kind of for Mal. At least a little. Don’t tell him or I’ll kill you.

              “Why do you even listen to the radio? Why don’t you just plug in your iPhone?” I for some reason want to know.

              “I don’t know,” shrugs Mal. “I kind of like to think that every song that I’ve download onto my phone holds a memory that I don’t like to talk about. Listening to those songs makes it almost too real.”

              Makes what almost too real?

              “Flo?” the name leaves my mouth and I have no idea what to do. I’m confused. I didn’t think we were talking about water or my menstrual cycle, but you never know. Yeah. I’m gross. I know.

              I wasn’t afraid of Mal’s driving skills before now. He slams on the breaks, and since I forgot to put on my seatbelt I fly towards the windshield, holding my hands out to defend myself.

              “What the fuck dude?” I bellow.

              Mal is gripping the steering wheel such a death grip that I suddenly find myself worried about the state of his poor, white knuckles.

              “Get out,” Mal’s whisper is a shout. “Just get the fuck out. I don’t ever want to hear you talk about Flo. I knew that that was what this was about. Now get out.”

              Huh?

              Who?

              What now?

              “What are you talking about?” He’s parked in the middle of the road; the fact that we didn’t get rear-ended is a miracle.

              “You fucking know what I’m talking about,” he growls, still grasping the steering wheel. “I know you do. Everybody knows. I’m the boy that can’t let go. A walking wound. So what if my best friend killed herself? The whole fucking world thinks that I’m making this huge deal, as if I just want attention and to drag this misery out as long as fucking possible. I can’t go home, I can’t see my parents.

              Pictures of her are everywhere, pictures of us as kids and I look at it and I still can’t grasp why they had to give her death so much attention. Her life was special. She was the fucking best to be alive around and showing her dead body the way that they did? I mean, some of those fuckers zoomed in on it. When I complained about it, people told me that if she didn’t want that to happen, she should have killed herself in private. How does someone say something like that?

              That’s what nobody seems to understand, they think that she killed herself for attention, but I know that’s not why she did it. Flo hated attention. She fucking despised it; she used to get sick whenever she was centre of it,” his words explode from within him, heavy and leaded. I try to sit back, eyeing his heaving chest.

              His breathing has become dangerous.

              “Our high school graduation was a gong show. Flo spent a good thirty minutes in the bathroom just freaking out. She thought nobody knew, but I totally knew. I made it my business to know, but when she finally came out, I just acted all cool. Like I didn’t care, and I couldn’t see the snot running down her nose. I knew she’d given herself a good thirty-minute freak out, trying to find a way out. She would have snuck out the back if I had helped her out. I should have helped her out.”

              His voice quickly becomes hollow. I feel terrible. I want to reach out. I’m scared he’ll slap me though.

              “I didn’t know,” I tell him, but I don’t know if it’s the truth. I didn’t know, but I did somehow. Not all the blurry and fucked up details but I knew that Mal had lost someone he’d cared about. Or still cares about. I don’t know.

              “I’m sorry Mal,” didn’t I hate when people told me they were sorry about Alex? They never really meant it. They just didn’t know what to say in my presence. I was a zombie. I looked like a drug addict hanging by a thread even though I never touched shit like that. I get drunk, but that’s it. I’d like to think that I don’t need it, but I know deep down that that’s just utter bullshit. I do need it. I need the numbness and the silliness that follows taking that first sip. I need to laugh. I need to feel weightless. I just hate admitting that.

              “Come on. Let’s keep going to
Walmands
. You said it yourself you need food and I could use some socializing with strangers in a public forum. We can people watch while we shop, that’s always fun, and we can keep talking if you want, or not.” Either way I’m good.

              Mal looked up. His eyes blank with a mixture of misery and shock. I stopped being afraid of him and leaning in to touch him, grazing my lips along his jaw while I longed to make us both senseless with kisses. I resisted and sat back, breathing the air around us in.

              “Let’s do this.”

  
Say It Again - Mal

 

              “Let’s do this,” she said. Cadence. Do what? Sit in my car causing a traffic jam? Staring each other into a shocked silence?

              I can’t believe I told her all of that. What the fuck is wrong with my head? I don’t get it.

              “What is your end game here Cadence?” I have to ask because her eyes are too bright, and her smile is haunted with too much of my own happiness. I’ve tasted it.

              I don’t get any of it.

              “Fuck the rich boy? Is that it? Break my heart and get some laugh out of it? If that’s your plan, I have some bad news. My heart is already broken; you can’t re-break it. I’m not made of glass, but I’ll still lay my shattered pieces in your bare hands. Do you want that?” I ask and watch as Cadence seems to think about it before shrugging and giving me her best impression of a careless and care free person.

              “I don’t know man. If you’re into that kind of shit, I guess.” I don’t buy any of it. Not in the slightest.

              “Fine,” I’ll happily call her bullshit on sight when I see it, “you want to go to
Walmands
and talk, let’s do it.”

              I lift my foot off of the break and touch the gas with a gentle push that creates a sly grin on Cadence’s face, like she just offered me some challenge and expected me to back away from it. But I didn’t.

              Yeah, let’s do this. Can you tell that I'm sarcastic? I hope you can, because after that mid-afternoon sex I’m a little exhausted. I don’t feel like putting much effort into it.

              I looked back at the road as I got honked at by a soccer mom in a minivan. I flipped the soccer mom off and glared at Cadence when she laughed. I don’t even think she noticed, she just continued to laugh. That made me mad.             

              Cadence was too easy to get along with. She was too easy to do everything with. I didn’t like her for making me feel like that. I actually wanted to hate her for it.

              I ground my jaw when we pulled up to
Walmands
. I parked as close as I could and hopped out, locking my door with the back of my hand and turning around to wait for Cadence. I made sure to grab a hoodie out of my trunk to cover up my top half; I didn’t want to get banned from
Walmands
for heading in shirtless, although I’m sure that some of the hot cashiers would have loved it.

              I know Cadence did.

              She couldn’t stop staring at my chest. I smirked and glanced down at her ass. My shirt barely covers it; that’s why I asked her to wear it. I wouldn’t be able to control myself if she were wearing that dress. At least with her in my shirt I stand somewhat of a chance. I laugh, and Cadence looks back. We’ve stepped up onto the sidewalk leading into
Walmands
, and I reach for her hand because it suddenly feels like a habit.

              She has small hands. Her black nail polish is chipped. This doesn’t settle well in my stomach.

              “Why do you do that?” she whisper-asks. “One second you look like a smug asshole, the next you just look sad.”

              Because I’m human?

              I don’t have a much better response than that. The automatic doors open, I look up and for a second feign like I’m telekinetic, somehow magically pushing them back. No one laughs.

             
Walmands
always has massive line ups, half empty shelves and a terrible left over selection. I keep a firm grip on Cadence and her tiny hand, keeping her tight against my hip.

              I feel suddenly protective of her or some shit.

              Don’t question it.

  
Don’t Break It - Cadence

             

              I let Mal hold my hand. I should have questioned it, but instead I just fell into easy steps with him while looking around the supermarket otherwise known as
Walmands
. They sell clothes, electronics, housewares and they even have a domestics section. My favourite is the books department to be quite honest. Reading is awesome.

              I want to stroll towards the romance section, but I don’t want Mal to say anything sarcastic, so I stop myself from running ahead. For some reason, I feel like a little kid again. I don’t want to wonder too far out of Mal’s grasp, and frankly that doesn’t make any fucking sense. I don’t even know him.

              I have no reason to feel better about myself while standing next to him. That’s just sad. Most of the time I pride myself on not needing a man unless it’s for sex, but something about this already feels different. We headed towards the grocery section. I eyed the plus sized clothing department and told Mal to go ahead, I’d surly follow him in a second. I hated shopping for clothes; I had never been any good at it. I headed straight for the clearance rack, feeling all sorts of self-conscious when I picked up a pair of size twenty-two pants, holding them out against my hips.

              I hate looking at big people clothes in public. They always suck, the fabric clingy and thin and also pricey as shit. For some reason just because there’s an extra five inches, the price has to double. People I’ve loved told me to diet, but I’m big boned.

              I can’t help the way my body is.

              I look up when I hear a voice just to my left. A laughing and whispering group of bitches have perked up out of the bushes. I know that they have no business being in the big bitches’ section.

              “I don’t think they should let fat people like that shop. What about the rest of us? Having to look at someone like that?”

              Someone like what?

              “She’s so gross to look at. I mean look at those pants. How far can sweat pants really stretch? The poor fabric looks like it’s going to start screaming for someone to rescue it.” The leader of the bitch pack cackled into the back of her tiny hand. She had her nails done and I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t the slightest bit jealous. I’d never been good at makeup and nails. Things like that went beyond my few talents. I mean, sure I could cake on a good pound of foundation but I looked the same with or without it: a tall, fat crappy piece of existence.

              I’m ugly, outside and in. I’ve always felt like that.

              “I can hear you,” I said. That’s all I said. I took the pair of pants I had taken off of the hanger and rack and quietly put them back. I started to move towards a display of grey sweatpants with red words on the ass, carefully aware of the bitch pack.              I’ve always had a hard part in my heart for women who belittle other women. Even when I was a kid, the girls who tormented me seared themselves into my brain. I never forgot any of their names. If a boy got in my way, I smacked him until he learned his place, but boys are mean where girls are winning at cruelty. The pain is not the same.

              “Hey, did you find something?” I was shocked to hear Mal’s voice reaching to me. His hand is touching the space between my shoulder blades. I shrugged; I didn’t need to buy anything. I had clothes at my place, lots of clothes. They may not have been nice, but they were mine, I bought them with the money saved.

              “I’m fine,” I lied, realizing a moment too late that Mal hadn’t exactly asked if I was okay. The silence between us was booming.

              Mal had found a cart somehow in my clothing fuelled haze. He had the bottom filled quite nicely: corn chips, toilet paper, water and an extra-large bucket of butter.

              “Is that all you’re getting? You can’t even mix any of it together!” I observed, pointing a finger into his shopping cart. “Okay, maybe just maybe you could make some weird desert out of the corn chips and butter but I wouldn’t want to eat it after.”

              I watched Mal smirk, momentarily glad that he didn’t take my teasing to heart. I liked to shit disturb. I placed my hands on Mal’s hips and walked behind him, I couldn’t help myself as I glanced over my shoulder, looking for the bitchy girls. It felt so weird being here together, out in public. Shopping like a couple or friends or some other shit I didn’t want to start. It was super fucking weird. To get back to the food side of the store where Mal had obviously lingered before, we had to pass by the cashiers. There weren’t many of them working at this strange hour, not that it was even dark, but it was around most people’s supper time.

              I usually just ate small snacks through the day, nothing all that filling since I was never really all that hungry.

              “What are you thinking?” Mal didn’t stop walking or look back to talk to me; my hands left his waist and I tried not to be embarrassed for planting them there in the first place.

              “Me? Oh, nothing. Just wondering why they don’t put more girls on when they always have massive lines.” I wasn’t totally lying. That had kind of been what I’d been thinking, but only in a sort-of-not-really way.

              I looked at the front windows that we could only just see as he walked by. It was still bright outside and for some reason I desperately wanted it to be raining.

              Rain for some reason seems to mean peace and tranquility. Nothing bad ever happened while it was raining. Only good things, but all good things get washed away eventually.

              The only thing permanent about life is a pain. I found that out the hard way, or the easy way I guess you could say. I pushed at my boundaries until they bounded back and slapped me in the face.

              “You okay?” This time Mal did stop walking, I smiled but felt like I was grimacing.

              “Great,” I bullshitted so awkwardly.

              I felt my chest break when he looked down and away, Mal was embarrassed by me. Duh. Obviously. Who wouldn’t be embarrassed to be seen in public with a train wreck such as me? I mean really. I clicked my tongue while thinking, a bad habit I had never really been able to break. What was he doing here with me? I mean, really? I fucked him, I was easy (I want to add apparently into that, but we all know that isn’t the case). Mal was using me.

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