Ache for You (Trapped in Three Hill Book 1) (8 page)

  
Not Yet - Mal

 

              I last five minutes. Five minutes spent listening to some waste of skin in some fucking class that did not even pause as I walked in.

              No one tried to stop me, so I sat in the back. I wish I had my backpack, at least then I could lean on it. My legs are shaking; my skin is damp. I’m clammy and uncomfortable and I hate it. The classroom has an auditorium style to it, high rows of chairs narrowing into a circle where the professor is meant to stand.

              I get up with a grunt and turn with a twist, pushing open the heavy metal door. It slams behind me when I exit. I let it. I do not care if anyone is bothered or interrupted by it.

              No one calls out demanding an explanation. No one gives a shit. At least I’ve learned that.

              I storm along the walking path. Head down, rage blooming inside of my chest. No one bothers me again.

              My ride is still parked right where I left it, in front of my townhouse. I don’t know what moronic part of me expected this to be different. Why would it?

              I am only haunted in my head.

              My girl is gone, God dammit.

              She’s not coming back.

  
I Can't Do This - Flo

 

              “Mal what the hell are you doing? I’m dead, and even I’m exhausted.” I dropped into the passenger side of his Camaro™ and grunted at a sudden, unexpected difficulty in the situation.

              I can
feel
him.

              I can feel the seat I’m sitting in. The door handle was in my hand. I was suddenly unable just to shift my way through it. I had to open it.

              “What the…” Mal says. Forest green eyes wide open. He looks over at me or where he has no idea that I currently am before shaking his head and revving the engine. I close my door and shrug at him.

              “What? How else did you expect me to get in?”

              He has no response to that, which would probably happen even if he could hear my stupid question. He backs out and merges into the parking lot’s slow and meagre traffic.

              “What happened to my car?” I ask him. “I mean, not my car, not the fabulous Old beater, but the car I was driving right before it happened. The one I rented, Do my parents think I stole it?” I didn’t need their permission to rent it.

              Mal gives me nothing. Nada. Not even a grin. He can’t feel
this.
“It was a last minute decision to leave it where I parked it. I wanted to drive it over the edge like that badass movie where those two women did but meh. That seemed too dramatic. Plus, I only rented it. I didn’t want to be responsible for the rental company having to pay for damages. They gave me a good deal, but I had to empty out my pockets to fill it full of gas. Damn gas guzzling piece of shit.”

              Mal signals left.

              “My real car though. My Old beater? What happened to it? Do my parents still have it? I would be totally okay if you wanted to drive it. My mom would only wreck it. Plus, I left a bunch of personal shit in the back but I guess you already know that.”

              Who has it?

              My shit? God, I hope it didn’t all end up with my parents although I don’t know why that wouldn’t happen. Of course, it would go to them. When I ran I wasn’t thinking about that. I was just looking for the next exit. I found it with a casual glance. I never intended for Buffalo Falls to be my final destination. I had never really believed in any of that.

              Did Mal? I honestly never thought to ask.

              Again he signals left, and I realize we’re headed towards one of the many highway exits. He’s headed right for it. I don’t even know how to explain how I know this. I have to stop him. He doesn’t want to see what I did. He can’t. I won’t let him.

              “Mal come on man. Think about this. That place, I’m not in it. If you’re looking for some sort of reasoning that death trap isn’t going to help you see it. Trust me, I already went looking for it.”

              Reasoning with him may be a waste of breath but I’m up for it. Before anything else Mal is my friend. My best friend. I love him before I’m in love with him. I only want what’s best for him.

              “If you’re listening Pretty Girl I need you to show me something,” Mal suddenly says, gripping the steering wheel as he looks only at what’s ahead of him. “I need you to show me what it looked like when you looked over the edge. Did it look like a requiem? Did the sunset make you see everything but sadness because honestly Pretty Girl? I don’t get it. I don’t know why you did what you did, and I can’t stop thinking about it. If this is my end, then so be it because I can’t handle this.”

              “Of course you can’t.” I cut in. “No one can handle death. No one human. That’s what you are Mal. You’re human, you feel everything, and you help people without them having to ask for it. You were a good kid, a good friend, and now you have the chance to be a good man. Don’t do this, my friend, just don’t do it.” I don’t know what happens, but suddenly I’m crying and reaching for his hand.

              He flinches at the chill of my skin. God I really can feel him.

              “Don’t do this,” I tell him. I do not beg or plead with him. I just simply tell him and believe that he has to listen. Even if he can’t hear it.

              Buffalo Falls isn’t far from Three Hill. I ran and drove for hours and days only to come back. Months of being gone and the thought of Mal brought me right back. I wanted to feel close to him.

              I missed him.

              “Do you think that I don’t regret it?” I whisper for him. “I regret everything about it, but I know enough to know that the only way I was going to realize how permanent death is, was by committing myself to hell with it. I was destined for damage Mal, you know that. No matter what I would give I know that I can’t change what happened.” My hand closes over his and I watch his fingers flex with the movement.

              I’m not brave enough to look at his expression.

              “Do you feel that?” I ask. I already know the answer is yes, but I would give my entire body and this moment to hear him say it.

              “Yes,” Mal says, and I am so sure that I imagined that, but it doesn’t matter at this moment. I let go of him as he breathes in.

              “Okay now stop being dramatic. I may already be dead, but I would appreciate it if you stopped trying to give me a heart attack. First the nakedness now this? Come on Mal. I’m only human.” I tease him, “Let’s head back. I can creep you out but somehow managing to have a bubble bath while you take a much needed nap.”

              I reach again to pat his hand. I’m halfway there when something glimmers up ahead, a sudden spark of madness. Suddenly I know that we’ve skipped to the end and missed a bundle of pages.  There’s a flash, and I blink to rid my mind of it. We are pulling over, and I feel like I’m being pulled into his lap. No. I’ve lost it. I imagine this only because of how badly I want it. His body is hard and welcomes me right in.

              I scramble for a steady grasp.

              Trying to blink my way out of this, whatever this is. It hurts, and I know that my brain is only playing tricks, but suddenly I am consumed with the possibility of it. I want to give in to my illusions.

              I’ve snapped.

              I’m somewhat okay with that God dammit.

              Mal’s voice breaks with three words—one sentence —followed by a soft and easy laugh. I feel my entire chest collapse.

              “You came back.”

  
Tastes Like Sex - Flo

 

              His hands are on my lower back. I have my hands against his chest, and suddenly I am looking everywhere but directly at him.

              Mal.

              My buddy.

              My friend.

              My eyes burn with a faded recognition.

              He’s real, I can feel him. It feels like forever since I touched him. I told him that I loved him. Even if he didn’t hear it I’m embarrassed. My body feels feverish but my skin is like ice when it touches his.

              “You came back.” He says it again as if the first time didn’t quite stick, as if somehow I didn’t quite hear him. That would be ridiculous seeing as I’m sitting right on top of him.

              I’m in his lap. What. The. Frack. My lips just barely brush his, like an almost-kiss, despite the fact that his hands have moved to the back of my head and are trying to fuse my face against his. His eyes are closed but I just can’t stop gaping at him. Mal just seems drunk with all of this. Drinking it in.

              I can’t get away from him. I need to stop him.

              “I knew that you didn’t mean it,” Mal says. “I knew that you’d come back if I tried to make you mad.” He laughs a soft laugh that is almost enough to do me right in.

              Every part of me is almost touching him. As if I’m only here for a millisecond. This kiss could be real if we both wanted it. Perhaps.

              Or it was never real to begin with. I do not want to give too much thought to the possibility of that.

              “Yeah I’m so not doing this.” I grip his sweatshirt in my fists and start to push off of him. The steering wheel is digging me in the back. All I can almost feel is the pressure of Mal’s hands. It’s like we’re dancing.

              Like magnets, the push and pull force me back from opening my mouth to kiss him back. I’m exhausted. Touching him and not slipping right through him takes a lot of concentration.

              “Not doing what?” an intoxicated Mal asks as his lips find my neck. My ears, my eyelids. One hand clutching at the back of my head, the other curving over my ass. I’m still in his lap. Straddling him.

              I can’t take this.

              I kiss him back. Opening my mouth to let his eagerness and taste in. It’s like a flood of emotions. I’m so suddenly consumed by it but unable to stop him with my two hands. Mal has always been determined. I cannot help but lean into him. Running my hands along his chest, touching his shoulders. His neck. I love all of it.

              But this shouldn’t exist. There are no such things as second chances after death. I know that.

              I have to stop this, but I
can’t
.

  
Everything but That - Mal

 

              I feel alive again. I feel the sun and taste the wind. I don’t have words for how it felt to sense Flo taking my hand, the spike of adrenaline and calm seemed to absorb straight into my skin.

              I looked at her and my heart started up again.

              I pulled her into my lap before I could let myself think about the motion.  I somehow managed to jerk my car to the side of the highway with one hand. I didn’t signal or bother with a shoulder check.

              I felt like I had no time left for that.

              I looked at her and I never looked back.

              Flo was mine again. I don’t know how I knew that, but the words had taken a hold of my head.

              Flo was mine again.

              “Oh, I absolutely don’t deserve this,” she says between fevered kisses, her soft hands holding my face as she kisses me again.

              I kiss her back.

              I grope her ass with one hand. She fits so perfectly into my lap, oh God dammit my dick sure likes that. “This isn’t okay. I’m dead. I don’t get to feel like this again. I don’t get to feel him.”

              Him? Who the fuck is him?

              “Wait, what?” I ask, she kisses me again. Her clothes are damp under my hard and hungry hands. I don’t want this moment ever to end. “Mal is too good for this.” She whispers against my lips, kissing my chin. I breathe her in as deeply as I can. She smells like concrete soaked with rain after a thunderstorm has swept in. Sweat dampens her skin, her dark green hair so vibrant I almost can’t look away from it.

              “Mal is too good for this,” Flo says.

              Oh, so I’m
him.
I guess that was kind of obvious.

              “How can I feel this? How am I going to stop kissing him? I need to stop kissing him. I need to step back and shake my head. I need to stop fucking imaging this. There are no second chances after death.” Flo speaks into my neck. Flesh on flesh. God, I love this. I spread my hands out against her back and pull her tighter in against my chest.

              I’m never letting her go again.

              “Obviously there are second chances Pretty Girl.” I groan when she snuggles in and flips her long hair back. Fuck I missed that. I missed the look of satisfaction in her glance that flashes. It leaves me deserted.

              “I don’t know what I did to deserve this,” I admit, “and I don’t know how it’s possible or how it happened. But you came back, I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to waste a moment arguing it!”

              How many nights had I prayed for exactly this? Fantasized about it? So many moments where I swore that I would do anything for it and now that I had it.

              I can’t worry in the moment that it may end. It won’t. It can’t.

              “I thought that I’d never get to see you again. I mean I could see you, but you couldn’t see me and it wasn’t like this. It wasn’t how I wanted it, but I did this,” Flo promises.

              “I fucked up. You know that I know that. Everyone in Three Hill knows that. How it is possible just to start again?” she asks and I take the opportunity to kiss her chin before pulling back.

              Start again? Fuck that. Starting again would involve pretending that I didn’t give a shit about the green haired gorgeous chick in my lap. I’m so over that. “I don’t want to start again and I don’t want to question this, not even for a second,” I demand but already my thoughts are fighting against the joy and panic flooding my chest.

              I grip Flo’s hips, brushing my thumb against a small sliver of exposed skin. She looks at me, and I look back.  Whisky coloured eyes now look black. Her lips are dry and cracked. They didn’t feel like that. Her mouth felt soft, ready to be kissed senseless.

              She shivers under my hands. I want to dip my head and drink her in again. I can’t help it. I am a dehydrated man.

              “You need to head back,” Flo says, rich brown eyes suddenly black and sad. Her fingers are tracing lines onto my chest. “People will be wondering what happened. You stormed out of that class like there was a fire in your pants.” She laughs nervously, quietly.

              The sound is relaxed but it fades fast.

              I smile because I honestly can’t remember what I had planned when I left that stupid class. Was I headed back to bed?

              “Yeah,” I say when she dips her head. I grip her hips to lift her out of my lap but keep a hold of her hand. Our fingers intertwine as she curls into the seat. I keep looking back at her as I slip back onto the road and haul my ass out of the ditch, so terrified that she will disappear again.

              I make a U-Turn and head back. Nothing about the highway makes any sense. Passing cars are meaningless as they speed away from me into the distance. I don’t understand this. My mind is unable to process what the fuck just happened. I blink and blink again. What was my plan?

              My body was acting as if Flo and I had made a suicide pact. Is that where I was headed? Silence and desolation?

              No. I wouldn’t do that. Not to my mom. Not to my dad. I won’t. I can’t.

              Am I dead?
              Is that why Flo is holding my hand? Fuck. What a strange feeling that is. I can’t get used to it. I run my thumb over her white and pasty skin. She’s cold and wet. Her nails are chipped.

              Black nail polish.

              I smile. I can’t help it.

              Flo was always good at that, at being different and looking damn hot doing it. She stood out. Her glance is quickly becoming heated. Fuck I miss that because I still don’t have it.

              I can’t get it back. I know that.

              Three Hill isn’t as beautiful or as haunted on the way back in. All of the cars and people I pass are simply meaningless. I run my thumb along Flo’s hand. She hasn’t spoken, her soft and pale face is a mask. She only looks ahead, but I don’t want to ask what happened.

              What is it like? How has it been? I don’t want to know any of that but if she wants to tell me she can. I just won’t ask.

              I park in the same spot I vacated, in front of a smooth looking bench, under a canopy of hanging branches.

              I have to let go of her hand to kill the engine and exit.  The loss of contact punches a hole into my chest. I need her skin on skin. I keep my eyes on her as I move around the hood. Flo doesn’t even flinch. Her eyes remain flat when I open her door and pull on her hand.

              She melts against my chest.

              I’m thankful that no one else is around to see us like this. I don’t know how I would explain it. Oh hey, guys look at that? My dead best friend just came back! I know that at some point now I need to ask, but first I want her in my bed. We need to get reacquainted.

              “Let’s get inside, your clothes are wet and normally I’d be worried about you getting sick but...” I try to laugh, but my chest seizes when she squeezes my hand back, my heart goes cold with the words she says: “I’m dead and corpses can’t get sick.”

              “Don’t say that.” I keep my voice against the top of her head.

              “Why not?” she asks.

              “I’m not into necrophilia last time I checked, and I want to take you to bed.” Again I squeeze her hand. Again she squeezes back.

              I unlock my front door and lead her in. Giving her a tour of the living room and the kitchen.

              She nods polity but acts like she’s already seen all of it. She trails her fingers against the toaster.

              She pulls away from me only for me to pull her right back in. “No way. I’m not doing that. Don’t lock me out of your head. I’ve already been through that. If something is wrong, then say it.”

              “I can’t,” she says.

              “Yes, you can.” I pull her against my back by clasping her hands over my stomach, leading her up the stairs and into the darkness.

              I’m nervous. I’ve never been nervous like this but everything about this moment feels precious. As if it could be stolen at any moment and I’m still trying to wrap my brain around it.

              My girl came back.

              I cross my arms over her hands as we reach the top of the stairs with loud and heavy footsteps, stumbling past the bathroom and down the hall. My bedroom door is open, just like I left it.

              “Are you okay with this?” I have to ask; I feel my Pretty Girl mumble into my back. “Yeah,” she says, still sounding sad.

              I pull us into my bedroom, praying that she ignores the heaping mess of clothes and empty laundry baskets. I unlock our hands, turning to kick my door closed as Flo sits gingerly on the edge of my bed. Darkness settles in. I can’t look anywhere but at her soft expression, my dark walls are meaningless. The posters staring back at me are blurs that are all faceless.

              My bed is unmade, just how I left it.

              Her hands clench around my mattress. Nails are digging in to the fabric. My white sheets are pooled around her hips, my pillows a mess. I always sleep with at least six.

              The space between us flaming red with passion and words left unsaid. Moments slipping through my outstretched hands, I have her back.

              “What happened?” I have to ask even though I said I wouldn’t. The words escape my lips, and there’s nothing that I can do to stop them. I look down when Flo laughs. Why am I so intent on ruining this?

              “I panicked. That’s what happened. I was alone and driving back to see you again when I panicked. I couldn’t do it. I kept picking up my phone to shoot you a text, and I knew that you would text back. I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t intrude on your happiness. You were doing so good, and I wasn’t and I didn’t know how to handle it. Everything was just going to shit. I dropped out of college. I had to figure out how to pay my loan back, and I couldn’t find any work within a ten-mile radius. I was always sad and I felt broken and I didn’t know how to fix it,” Flo says, shaking hair around her head, trying to hide her expression.

              I step forward and push the strands back.

              “Did you fix it?” I don’t want to sound like an ass, but this is a thought in my head that needs to be said. Flo needs to know the anger that I’m holding back.

              Her regret is obvious.

              “No of course I didn’t fix it. What kind of question is that Mal? I was an idiot, and I made a stupid decision. I don’t even know if I did it for attention or just to feel something. I don’t know why I did but what sucks the most about it is that I’m not the only one who has to live with it. What about my parents? I can’t undo what I did to them. I know that they’re both hurting, so much so that I can’t even stand to look at them. I can’t go back. I can’t see them. I know that I could haunt them or look in on them, but my heart can’t handle that kind of depression. What you felt, I understood it because I felt it. I missed you, and I felt dead knowing that I was never going to talk to you again.” she says.

              “When I saw the paramedics I wanted to wave my hands but I couldn’t move, and I died while I was being transported. I died surrounded by strangers who didn’t give a shit. They were talking about their summer plans and their kids and asshole husbands. All I wanted to talk about was the fact that I was never going to get to live again.  I witnessed them telling my family and my friends. My mom collapsed and asked if she could see me, but everyone said that she couldn’t because I was such a mess. I was there with you when you got the text that something had happened.” she says.

              “Didn’t River send it? God, you should have seen the poor kid. He felt so bad for telling you about it through text message, but I was just glad someone did. You were the first person I thought of, and I’ve been thinking about you ever since. I can’t get you out of my head. I wanted my parents to call yours so you could come to the hospital and hold my hand. I thought that would bring me back. How stupid is that?” she asks.

              I have dropped to my knees in front of her without realizing it, reaching out for her trembling hands.

              “It’s not stupid,” I promise. “None of what you just told me is stupid, it’s just honest. When I got the text message, the text message that just said ‘Flo is dead,’ I lost it. Of course, I lost it. I was so fucking mad. I tried calling your mom and then your dad. No one was at your house, and I tried and tried again. I just wanted to hear someone say it because that was the only way that I was ever going to believe it.”

              I found her dad, alone in the basement of Flo’s parents’ duplex. It was three days after the fact, and he just looked straight through me like a dead man holding a box of photo albums.

              I couldn’t bear to look at them. I still can’t.

              “Did you know about that?” I ask, leaving words unsaid but somehow knowing that Flo was present for the worst of it.

Other books

When First They Met by Debbie Macomber
Deadly Little Secret by Laurie Faria Stolarz
Total Knockout by Taylor Morris
Crimson Sunrise by Saare, J. A.
The Accidental TV Star by Evans, Emily
Playing With Matches by Suri Rosen
No Magic Moment (Secrets of Stone Book 4) by Angel Payne, Victoria Blue
Iron Gustav by Hans Fallada


readsbookonline.com Copyright 2016 - 2024