Walking Tall

 

 

   It felt like the whole room was throbbing. I could barely hear myself think over the monotonous drone of the music―Super Bass, it sounded like, good God I don't think I can handle Nicki Minaj right now―not to mention the pounding in my head wasn't helping much. Why had I agreed to come to this thing? I squeezed my eyes shut, leaning my head against the wall to try and block out the sounds of laughing and screaming and shouting coming from all around. What's that old trick? Click your heels three times and you'll be home? Hm, wouldn't hurt to try it, I suppose―

   "Lighten up, you've got the face of a horse."
   I opened one eye and peered at Sahara through mascara-choked lashes. Sahara Bell, a.k.a 'The Bitch', a.k.a my best friend, was giving me her patented I hate you glare. Usually it was reserved for people who tried to take her seat in class, or maybe someone who just breathed in her direction too much. She flipped her ombre hair over her shoulder and curled one of her perfectly glossed lips at me.

   "Why did I agree to come to this lame ass party? So not in the mood."
   "Oh boo, you Nana. Here, have some of this."
   She thrust a Fanta bottle at me, but the liquid inside was anything but soft. It was Sahara's famous blend of orange coolaid, vodka, and whatever else she could find in her Dad's liquor cabinet. I unscrewed the cap and downed as much as I could handle. I screwed up my nose as the burning alcohol clawed its way down my throat, then took another sip. 

   "What the hell is that, 90% vodka?"
   Sahara shrugged, grinning. "I might have been a bit heavy-handed with the Smirnoff."
   I handed her back the bottle, feeling the vodka hit my stomach like a warm wave. She took a swig as well, stamping her feet as she forced the mix down. "Goddamn, that's the stuff."
   "Are you sluts getting your drink on without me?" I looked up to see Taylor leaning against the door frame, arms across her chest, propped up one on hip.

 
   "Tink! Oh my god I've missed you," Sahara went running over, grabbing Taylor by the neck and swaying against her, face buried in her shoulder. We usually called Taylor 'Tink', since she looked so much like the original Tinkerbell―white-blond hair, elfish features, tiny and short but a little firecracker if someone set her off.
   "Jeez, it's only been a day," she said, disentangling herself from Sahara. Sahara was the kind of drunk that got very affectionate, something her boyfriend Jesse was quite appreciative of. 

   Tink walked over to me, slinging an arm over my shoulders and leaning her head against mine. She smelled like Herbal Essences and Marc Jacobs Daisy. Trailing in her wake was the ever-present Tyler, her twin brother who always lingered wherever his sister was. He was basically Tink in boy form, same white-blond hair, slender nose and defined features, but where Tink had sharp, high cheekbones, Tyler had a chiseled, square jaw. Where Tink was short, Tyler was tall. We all knew that if it weren't for Tink, Tyler wouldn't have had a chance with our group. He was always the oddball, always just there like a bad smell. And he always insisted on wearing that damn fedora like it was the 50s or something. I didn't even acknowledge him as he walked over and joined our group, standing a little apart from us, but still close enough to hear our conversation. Ugh, what a buzzkill.

   "Any cute guys at this party?" Tink asked, standing on her tip-toes to scan the crowd. But at 4'11", she didn't have a chance at seeing over the densely packed partiers, but it was worth a try.
   "Haven't really had a chance to look, since someone―" Sahara shot an obvious look in my direction "―came over here and set up camp in this corner the second we got here." 
   Tink gave me a weird look. "I'm disgusted with you."

   I poked my tongue out at her and she pressed her lips together to stop from laughing. "Like you should be checking out cute boys anyway, Sahara. Something that starts with J, ends with E, and has that certain boyish charm you just never could resist," I said, nudging Sahara in the ribs with my elbow.

   "You're such a party pooper, you know that? Where is Jesse, anyway... I haven't seen him for a while." 
   Sahara stalked off to find her lover-boy, and Tink looped her arm through mine and led me away from my quiet, secluded haven. "I don't want to alarm you," she whispered. "But Evan is here and he was checking you out the whole time we were over there."

   I rolled my eyes. Yeah, like Evan would ever be interested in me. Tall, dark and handsome didn't quite cover Evan. He was the certifed badboy of Westerley High; rode a motorcycle to school, seemed to permanently have a cigarette clamped between his lips, and was in detention more than he wasn't. Just to be sure though, I shot him a glance and saw that he was, indeed, looking at me. Our eyes met and I felt a current of electricity shudder through me. I looked away and suppressed a smile.

   "You always were the delusional one, Tink," I said, manoeuvering us over to the drinks table and selecting two semi-cold beers for us. I hated beer, but I'd drink it if it were free. And since Sahara had disappeared with her little cocktail, I didn't have much choice. I was still way too sober to tolerate this party, although the vodka was finally starting to kick in.

   "You're a babe and you know it," he cast a wry look over her shoulder. "Just ask Ty." 
   "Oh would you stop with the whole Tyler thing," I took a swig of my beer to try and cleanse the bad taste out of my mouth that comment had left. "Never, ever, ever going to happen. I know he's your brother and all, but he wears a fedora. And those checkered pants are making me gag."

   She narrowed her eyes at me. "You know, if you gave him a chance you'd see he's really not all that bad," she looked around, lowering her voice conspiratorily. "And if you won't go for Ty, then Evan's got you on his radar."

   Before I could shoot her a cynical reply, she'd slipped into the crowd and disappeared in the dim mass of bodies. I was about to call out to her, until I felt a weight on my shoulder. 
   "And just why haven't you said hello to me tonight?" Evan asked, his chin on my shoulder, hands finding their way to my hips. "You know you look so good in red."
   I spun around, thankful that the lack of reasonable lighting would hide the blush creeping into my cheeks. "You know, you could say hi to me, we are friends after all." 
   "I just did," he was giving me that smile again. Oh god, that crease just beside his mouth was showing. Stop looking at Evan's lips. Look away, look away― "Why don't we hang out more?"
   I took another sip of my beer to give myself time to think. "Usually because you're too buy with your latest conquest to notice me," damn, that wasn't supposed to come out like that. Did I just sound like a bitch? Oh god, where was Sahara when I needed her?
   Evan cocked an eyebrow at me. "And what if I have my sights set on someone new?"
   I gulped. "Someone like who?" Oh man, I hope that came out as the seductive purr I had hoped it did.
   His hands moved from my hips to my waist, pulling me in close. I could feel his breath on my neck, his sky-blue eyes boring into mine. "Someone in a little red dress that would look a lot better on my―"
   "Ahem, am I interrupting something?" Sahara asked, grabbing my elbow and pulling me away from Evan. "I hate to be annoying, but I'm having an MBE and I need Tali immediately." 
   "MBE?" Evan looked thoroughly pissed off.
   "Major bitch emergency," he looked at Evan like he'd just asked her what 1+1 was. "Anyway, nice chatting to you Eddie!"  
   "It's Evan," he grumbled, his voice getting swallowed by the noise and the music.
   Sahara tugged me away, out of the lounge and onto the less crowded staircase. "What was that about?" I asked, snatching my arm away. "Evan was actually hitting on me I think."
   "Exactly, I was saving you from making a huge mistake," she leaned back against the railings, hands on hips. "Plus I still haven't been able to find Jesse and I know he's here." 
   "Have you called him?" 
   "Maybe," he took an over-long glug of her bright orange drink. "Yes. And texted him. Like a million times."
   "He's probably playing beer pong in the basement," I sighed, looking over Sahara's shoulder for Evan. "Have you checked down there?"
   "Duh! Of course I have. I've checked in every room except one."
   "Which one?" 
   "Master bedroom. It's locked."
   "That doesn't mean anything. Besides, do you really think Jesse would hook up with some girl at a party that he knew you'd be at?"
   Sahara blinked at me, a slight frown pulling down at the corners of her mouth. "I guess. But can you come on a stake-out with me, just in case?"
   "Obviously." 

   We made our way up the staircase, trying to look stealthy but probably just looking like a pair of idiots. I could really feel the vodka working now, blurring the edges of my vision and making the ground seem violently unsteady beneath my feet. The stairs seemed to be swaying underneath me, wavering like rippling water. I reached out for Sahara but it was too late; I was falling backward, arms flailing at my sides, desperately grappling for something to grab a hold of. I faintly heard Sahara yell out, "Timberrrrrr!" before I landed in a heap on my ass at the bottom of the stairs.

   Sahara was laughing hysterically, one hand holding onto my elbow and pulling me up, while another unknown force was yanking at my other arm. I looked to my side, realizing Evan was the one with his arm around my waist, hand on my forearm, setting me back on my feet.
   "How much have you had to drink?" He asked, forehead crinkled with concern.
   "Just one... A lot of one," my mind was hazy. What was I saying? "I―I like your face."
   "C'mon, let's get you home," Evan was draping my arm over his shoulder and hoisting me up. "Where do you live?"
   "Nah-uh, you can't just take my girl off someplace in your car," Sahara was tugging on my arm again. "You could be some kind of creep!" 
   "I live on Willowbank," I said, smiling up at Evan. The world still seemed so lopsided, and it felt good to have Evan holding my upright. 
   And then Sahara was shrieking and running back up the staircase. I heard, "You fucker!" and something along the lines of, "Jesse I am going to kill you, you sonofabitch," before Evan was helping me out the door and into the sticky, summer night air.

Hazy Days

 

 

I woke up with a thumping head and a mouth like a cotton ball. A sliver of sunlight was streaming in through the parted curtains, hitting me right between the eyes. It felt like a hot scream of misery, and I burrowed down in my blankets to hide from the blinding light.

What had happened last night? I couldn't even remember getting home. I wriggled free of my coverlet cocoon and sent an arm out in search of my phone. What the hell? Where's my bedside table? I peeled open one eye to an unusual sight. My wardrobe wasn't usually there, was it? I sat up, realizing I had fallen asleep with my feet on my pillows and my head down the other end. I was still fully clothed, too. Jesus, I was a mess last night. My phone was laying on the floor, having spilled out of my purse when I chucked it there.

13:17?! How had I slept all day? I stumbled out of my bed, clutching my head as a burst of pain exploded behind my eyes. I started veering to the left, stars sparkling in my foggy vision. Wow, this was one beast of a hangover. I mean, I've had hangovers tons of times―most weekends since I started hanging out with Sahara―but this was one helluva mean surprise.

My phone started vibrating, going around in circles on the carpet as the sounds of my Parkway Drive ringtone filled the room. I picked it up, squinting at the screen in an effort to try and control the blurring that seemed to be taking over. 'The Bitch!' was flashing on the screen, accompanied by a picture of Sahara with her face screwed up. I answered it without hesitation.

"Earth to dorkface! I've been trying to get a hold of you all morning," Sahara sounded annoyed. But more than that, she sounded worried. Weird.

"Well, it's not really morning anymore," I sighed, sitting back down on the bed and squeezing the bridge of my nose with my fingers. If I'd known Sahara would be this shrill I might not have answered at all.

"We're all meeting at Big Bear's for lunch―well, I guess lunch is out of the question now, huh. You know how breakfast and lunch combined becomes brunch? What would lunch and dinner be?"

"Uhh... Linner? Dunch?"

She huffed. "Well whatever it is we're getting it at Big Bear's. You in? You know Tink's been going crazy about you all damn day. She thinks you and Evan hooked up."

I searched backwards through the fog. Had I hooked up with Evan? The last thing I remembered was being bundled into his truck, and how desperately I was trying not to puke in his car. Did he have his hand on my thigh? Dammit, I couldn't remember. My memory was like a wall I kept coming up against again and again. Ugh, figures! I fiinally get time alone with Evan and I can't even remember it. "We didn't, but sure. I could go for something big, greasy and artery-clogging."

"That's my girl. I'll be at yours in 15 and you better be ready."

I hit the end call button and threw my phone on my bed. It bounced once then settled between my pillows. Shielding my face from the sun, I fumbled my way to the bathroom and locked the door behind me. Great, I looked like hell. I felt like hell too, but looking like it was worse. I turned on the shower, the scream of the pipes sounding like claws down a chalkboard. I jumped in and scrubbed my hair and face as quickly as I could, feeling my skin turn red-raw beneath my loofah.

I wrapped myself in a towel and slathered my face with foundation, paying particular attention to the bruise-like blue smudges underneath my eyes. I gave my hair a quick blowdry, threw on a pair of jeans and a sloppy joe tee, and went outside to wait for Sahara.

In typical Sahara fashion, she was most definitely not on time. I wish she'd give me more accurate time estimates so I could actually spend more time getting ready rather than waiting outside in this stupid bright sun.

I was about to give up and go back inside when Sahara's jeep finally came around the corner. She screeched to a halt beside me, flashing me her best megawatt smile. "How much for an hour, sugar"

"Oh baby, if you gots to ask you can't afford it," I said, putting on an unconvincing Southern drawl. I tugged open the passenger door and slid into the seat beside her. She thrust a coffee in my direction, before flipping down the vanity mirror and reapplying her lip gloss.

"Drink up baby girl, you look like you need it," she gave me a scrutinizing look. "And it's your favorite; grande caramel macchiato, double caramel, hold the cream."

"Ah, what would I do without you?" I took a satisfying sip.

"Probably go insane and get locked up in a mental asylum?" She rammed the car into gear―force was necessary with her old jeep. "Where you'd no doubt spend your days drawing pictures of me and putting them all over your walls. Oh Tali, I never knew you felt that way about me!"

I bit back a laugh in favor for a half-smile, half-glare, and settled back into the passenger seat as the world flew by beside me. Sahara was humming along to some song on the radio, drumming her fingers to the beat on the steering wheel. How did she always look so great? I swear she drank more of that orange jet fuel than I did, and yet she seemed perfectly fine. Maybe I was just a lightweight. Okay, I was definitely a lightweight.

Big Bear's was only six blocks over, so it didn't take us long to get there (especially since Sahara was prone to driving like a racecar driver). We went in, finding Tink, Ty, Jesse and Peyton sitting in our favorite booth.

Peyton was the final member of our little quartet (Tyler didn't count, okay?). She rarely showed up at parties with us because her parents were crazy, Bible-bashing psychos. It's one thing being religious, it's entirely another to dedicate 90% of your time to praying and reciting Bible verses. And Peyton was never allowed out after dark (because folk would get the wrong idea, obviously!), so unless she managed to sneak out sometime between dinner and group prayer, she was usually locked up all night.

And yet, somehow, Peyton had turned out totally normal. Scratch that, Peyton was even worse than the rest of us sometimes. On the outside she had this girl-next-door vibe going on, but on the inside she was like a wild cat. Her face lit up when she saw Sahara and I, and she scooched over on the seat to make room for us.

"I heard you got up to some mischief last night," she said, giving Tink a knowing glance. "Spill everything or you die."

"Nothing happened," I sighed. "It probably would have if I weren't so drop dead drunk. And while we're on that subject, please don't give me that orange horse piss ever again, Sahara. I think there was enough vodka in that to actually kill a horse."

Sahara shrugged. "I felt fine. You just can't handle your liquor, baby."

Peyton laughed. "What an anti-climax! I was hoping you'd finally done the dirty and joined the club."

Yep. I was the only virgin of the group. It's not that I hadn't had opportunities, I just hadn't found the right guy. At least, that's what I told myself. "Sorry to disappoint you, sweets. Let's not forget we're talking about Evan, here. He only dates 10s and I'm only like a 6. At best."

"Bullshit," I jumped and spun around in my seat. "I thought I heard my ears burning," Evan lowered himself into the seat beside me, winding an arm around my waist and pulling me next to him. "You don't give yourself enough credit, Tali."

Oh Jesus, I was blushing again. I must have been as red as a beetroot, because Sahara was fighting the urge to crack up laughing, and just ended up snorting out loud. I glared at her as best as I could.

"What are you doing here, Evan?" I wiggled around to get a better look at him. "I didn't know you came to Big Bear's?"

"Sahara invited me," again, I gave her my best glare. "Plus I don't feel like I got enough time with you last night." 

Evan squeezed my waist again and I felt my stomach flip. "Yeah, sorry about that. I got a little bit... Wasted."

"Just so you know, you're definitely a 10," Evan whispered, his lips dangerously close to my neck. "When can I see you again, just you and me?"

"Jesus Christ, get a room," Sahara gave her famous eyeroll. I looked up to see her sitting cross-legged in Jesse's lap, her head leaning against his shoulder. I got a flashback of our 'stakeout' last night and gave her a questioning look.

"You can talk," I said. "Jesse was a sonofabitch last I heard."

Tink burst out laughing. "Yeah, Jesse got really high last night and passed out in the master bedroom before we even got there. Sahara thought he was in there was someone else and totally flipped her shit. It was like something you'd see on the Animal Channel."

"Damn, I can't believe I missed that," I said, acutely aware that Evan's hands were moving higher, slowly brushing over my ribs. "There's only a few times I've seen Sahara go full bitch and it wasn't pretty."

Peyton took a loud slurp of her soda. "Are you referring to the Taco Bell incident? Because I'm pretty sure I still have that video saved on my phone."

Before I could beg Peyton to let us see it again, Evan had his hand around my wrist and was pulling me to my feet. I gave the girls an apologetic look over my shoulder. "Uh, should I be concerned that you're abducting me?"

"Not abducting," he said, backing me into a corner and planting his hand above my shoulder. He smelled like Old Spice. "Getting some time alone. Your friends are great and all, but I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since last night."

He was leaning in close again, his hair brushing against my forehead. I noticed Eric the busboy flash me an odd look from behind Evan's shoulder, and I mouthed 'Go away' as silently as I could. 

Suddenly Evan's lips were on mine, soft but forceful. I gripped him by the ribs, digging my fingers into him as he moved his free hand down to my hips and angled me towards him. Wow, this was really happening? In Big Bear's of all places? Maybe I'm still drunk. No, maybe I'm still sleeping. No way is this happening.

Evan pulled away, his hand still on my hip, fingers hooked through my belt loops. "Give me your phone."

I obliged, hoping he didn't notice my hands were shaking. He punched his number in and then gave it back to me. He gave me his phone in return, and desperately trying to steady my fingers, I typed mine in as well.

"I'll give you a call sometime," he side, doing that adorable half-smile at me. "You free Friday?"

"Uh, yep. Friday! I am free on Friday!"

"Sweet," he planted another kiss on my cheekbone. "I'll see you around."

He walked away with his hand buried in his back pocket. He gave the girls a wave goodbye, before opening the door and walking out. The little bell above the doorway tinkled as he left.

I stumbled back over to our table in a daze. Peyton, Tink and Sahara all squealed, "What happened?!" in unison.

"I think..." I had to stop to catch my breath. "I think I have a date with Evan Winters."

Bliss

 

 

 

The sun beat down all around like a big, golden kiss. Sahara sighed, rolling over and extending an expectant hand in my direction. "Ahem," she said, beckoning with her fingers. "Lotion?"

"What? Oh! Sorry, I'm so not with it today," I said, digging through my bag and retrieving the bottle of tanning cream. I squirted some on my hands and rubbed it into Sahara's back, its rich coconut scent lacing the air like perfume. 

"Yeah, on Planet Evan," Sahara laughed, undoing her bikini straps and laying face down on the sand. Not that Sahara even needed to tan. Her skin was naturally a deep olive, like a blushing summer's sunset. I'm not going to say I was jealous of her, but oh god, what I would give to have skin like hers. 

I suppressed a girlish smile, pretending not to watch Evan as he dived under a wave. His shoulders were broad and muscular―courtesy of highschool football―beads of water clinging to his skin like diamonds in the sun. Tommy Richards jumped on his back and tried to dunk him under the water, and Evan shook him off like he was little more than an annoying bug. Even from here, all the way up on the beach, I could see Evan's dimpled smile shining like a beacon.

Tink was waving at me furiously, stumbling as a wave hit her from behind. Her hair was snapping like a candle, eyes squinting up into the sun's glare. When she realized I was purposely ignoring her, she ran up from the water and stood over me, dripping.

"Aren't you going to come in?" She asked, almost breathless. "I'm the only girl in there."

"Ask Peyton," I said, pushing my sunglasses up my nose and closing my eyes. "I'm enjoying the view from here."

"Oh please," Peyton's voice was lilting and melodic. "You could get a much better view of Evan's abs if you were down in the water with him."

"Who said I was checking out Evan?" I asked, but the blush in my cheeks was a dead giveaway. Dammit, I wish I wouldn't blush at the first hint of embarrassment. 

Tink leaned down and grabbed my wrist, groaning as she tried to pull me off my position on the sand. "C'mon, please? I'll buy you some Dairy Queen on the way home I promise!"

"Tsk, tsk, what do we have here?"

Oh please no, not that voice. I fumbled with my sunglasses, throwing them down into the sand. I propped myself up on my elbows and flashed the most casual smile I could muster. "Just four girls in bikinis, what does it look like?"

Evan smiled. "It looks like you're refusing to go in the water," he looked me up and down, eyes lingering on my chest. Suddenly I wished I had a less revealing bikini on, that pesky blush creeping into my cheeks once again. "Because that's something I just won't stand for."

"Oh yeah? And how exactly are you going to make me get in the water?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Like this," he grinned, leaning down and grabbing me by the waist. He hoisted me up onto his shoulder like I was nothing at all, seemingly not noticing my flailing arms and legs hitting him from all directions. Oh god, his shoulder was so warm. He smelled like salt and―

"Put me down!" I squealed, beating my fists on his back as he trudged through the sand. "I'm not kidding around Evan, put me down." 

Before I could protest much more, Evan pulled me down from his shoulder, his hands digging in to the soft flesh of my waist. He gave me his infamous half-smile, before unceremoniously dunking me under the waves.

I came back up in a flurry of struggling limbs, gasping for breath. Evan was laughing hysterically, hands on his hips as he doubled over with the force of his laughter. 

"So not funny!" I growled, shoving him backward with all my force. He stumbled slightly, then wound his arm around my middle and pulled me close to him.

"You're a feisty one, aren't you? And I thought it was Sahara that got called 'The Bitch'."

"You thought wrong," I said, trying to look pissed off. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Tink bobbing in the waves next to us, smiling apologetically. Oh man, she had a lot to answer for later.

Evan leaned down for a kiss, and I struggled from his grasp. I shoved my hands through the water and splashed Even right in the face. Ha, revenge.

"You're gonna pay for that, Tali!" he said, shaking the water out of his hair like a dog. He pinned both arms to my side and pulled me out into deeper water with him, our bodies rising and falling with the gentle swell of the waves. I could feel Evan's heart beating against my chest, a soft fleshy thrum. His breath was misting on my neck like a thousand little kisses. 

We were out in chest-high water, everyone else looking like little specks on the shore. I could barely feel the sand underneath my feet, and when a wave lifted us up I felt like I was floating. I wriggled free from Evan's grip, winding my own arms around his neck. I played with the soft curls of his hair, idly winding my fingers around them.

"Where did you come from?" Evan whispered, eyes locked on mine. "How has it taken us so long to get together?"

"I don't know," I said, putting on my best seductive whisper. "It's your own damn fault." 

"Oh really, why's that?"

"Because I've been waiting for you all this time," I said, wrapping my legs around Evan's waist. I could barely believe how brazen I was being. My heart beat wildly out of pace.

"You should have told me," Evan said, his lips finding their way to the gentle rise of my collarbone. "But I guess we should just make up for lost time now."

Evan kissed a trail along my collarbone, winding up onto my shoulder and along the arc of my neck. I was acutely aware of the way the water felt as it lapped against our entwined bodies, the way my wet hair clung to the length of my back, and sounds of Evan softly breathing as he nuzzled into my jawline.

This is a dream. I know it, and I'm going to wake up any second. There's no way this is happening, there's no way that Evan Winters would be interested in a girl like me. But then, how many years have I been totally, completely, wholly infatuated with him? He had dominated my every waking moment since middle school, and now here we were, finally, in each other's arms.

His fingertips were grazing along my back, tracing the curve of my shoulderblades and the line of my spine. His fingers found their way to the nape of my neck, tightening around the string of my bikini and pulling it loose. 

"Hey!" I squeaked, gathering my slackened bikini and pressing it tight against my chest. 

"What's the problem? No-one can see us out here," Evan drawled, trying to pry my hands away from their protective position.

"The problem is I'm not that kind of girl," I said, detaching from Evan's embrace and hastily tying the biking strings together at the back of my neck. "I don't want to be half naked in a public place!"

Damn he was doing that half-smile again. Even though I was trying to be mad at him, I couldn't help the way my stomach flipped whenever he looked at me like that. "Look, I'm sorry. I find it hard to... Control myself, around you." He pulled me close again, his lips against my hair. "Do you forgive me?" 

Even though my hands were itching to slap him, and my bikini still wasn't properly secured, I couldn't help but melt at Evan's words. I buried my face into his shoulder, arms clamped against his back. "Of course I do."

***

True to her word, Tink had taken us all to Dairy Queen after the clouds had rolled in and plunged the beach into shadow. I shoveled a mouthful of M&Ms Blizzard into my mouth (not good for the waistline, I know), and tried to stifle the laughter that was treatening to bubble up inside me. Sahara, Tink and Peyton were all staring at me, eyes wide and glittering. Tyler was staring at the table, tracing shapes with his pinkie finger on its surface.

"So? What happened," I'm sure Peyton's voice just broke some kind of decibal law.

"Not a lot," I was trying not to grin, and failing. "We kissed. Okay, we kissed a lot. He might have untied my bikini." 

"What!" Sahara choked back a mouthful of cherry sundae. "What a horny fucker."

"It wasn't like that," I shrugged. "He said he can't control himself around me."

Tink let out a sharp burst of laughter. "He's so into you!" She pressed her hands to her heart. "Girls, I think our little baby's going to lose her V-Card soon!"

Peyton snorted. "Wait, wait!" She dragged her purse onto her lap and started pawing through it. "No glove, no love babe." Peyton threw three condoms onto the table and shoved them in my direction. Sahara ripped one open with her teeth and dangled it in my face.

"Cut it out you guys!" Ugh, trust them to make a scene like this. 

Ty slammed his hands down onto the table, cutting us all off mid-giggle. "I don't know what you see in that guy, Tali. He's a douchebag and he's going to break your heart."

"What do you know?" I asked, raking the condoms off the table and into my lap. "You've barely even spoken to Evan." 

"I don't need to speak to him. You might cruise through your life being the naive, pretty girl, but I see what's going on around us. He's dated more girls than he can probably name, and you'll just be another notch on his bedpost."

"Oh can it Tyler, you're just jealous that you're not the one getting with Tali," Sahara leaned in close, eyes boring into Tyler's. "We all know you're in love with her; you have been since second grade. Build a bridge and get over it already."

I felt a sharp twist of shock writhe in my stomach. Tyler, in love with me? As if. We couldn't stand eachother. As if to emphasise my point, Ty shook his head at me, grabbed his bag and stormed out of the store.

"Jesus Christ, Sahara, why do you always have to be like this?" Tink hissed, hurriedly sliding out of the booth and running after Tyler. The little bell over the door tinkled for a second time.

Sahara shrugged, scooping another spoonful of cherry sundae into her mouth. "Everyone was thinking it."

"I wasn't," I said. "If Tyler's in love with me then I'm the Queen of England."

Sahara cocked an eyebrow at me. "I was just pushing his buttons. That guy is way too easy to piss off."

"Yeah, well you've pissed Tink off as well," Peyton said, twirling her straw around in her glass of water. "I mean, I know they're twins and all, but she is way too protective over him."

"I know, right?" Sahara had her bitch voice on. "If it weren't for Tink, Tyler would be hanging out with all the other rejects instead of with us. He should count himself lucky."

I nodded in agreement, but I still felt uneasy. Something Tyler had said had struck a chord. I looked out the window, watching as black, pregnant stormclouds rolled in, and wondered if he was right.

When It Rains

 

 

Come over

That's all the text said. No Hey Tali, how you going, no What are you up to tonight? Just 'Come over'. It wasn't a question, because Evan wasn't asking. Evan was telling me to come over.

I had painted seven toenails when the text came through, the crimson polish shining like burst grapes against my skin. For a while I had just stared at the screen, reading those two words over and over again. It was 10:30pm on a Friday night, and Evan was asking―no, telling―me to come over.

I forwarded the text to the three people who could give me the most sound advice. Evan had sent the text exactly two minutes ago, and I still hadn't responded. Oh god, what if he thought I was ignoring him?

Booty call, was Tink's response. That bitch ain't gon give you no respect, hunny. Helpful. I couldn't tell if she was joking or not.

Skank!! Typical Sahara. Go for it... Hope you kept those condoms.

And, as I had expected, no response from Peyton. It was youth night at her church, after all. And if those kids were anything like Peyton, who knew what kind of debauchery they'd be up to right now.

My fingers were shaking so bad I could hardly tap out my response. Sure, I said. Pick me up in 10?

K.

K?! And to think I'd put so much thought into my response. 

Ten minutes gave me just enough time to finish off the last three tonails, find something cute―but still sexy!―to wear, and put on a little more makeup. Hopefully. 

I picked out a red dress (I remembered Evan had said I looked good in red) that cinched in tight at the waist, with pleats fanning out to the knees. It made me look bustier than I actually was, but I still had that girl-next-door vibe going on. A lick of winged liner and I deemed myself satisfactory. Hell, I looked quite good actually.

Evan's pickup truck came screaming into my drive like a cavalry charge. Some indistinguishable screamo music was blaring from the speakers (it all sounds the same to me), and he honked out three, long horns to announce his arrival.

"Who the Hell is that in our drive?" Ugh, Mom's drunk again. She was blocking my exit at the bottom of the stairs, swaying in place. She took a swig of scotch and waved the empty cup at me. "You look like a slut. Going to meet some boy, are ya?"

I shouldered past her, her boozy breath making my own head spin. "I'm going to hang with a friend. Anywhere is better than this hole you call a home."

Mom narrowed her eyes at me, greasy strands of hair falling over her face. "Make sure you get the money from him before you spread your legs. That's all the advice I can give ya."

Oh Jesus. I had to get out of here before I did something really drastic, something involving my fist and her face. I slammed the door in my wake, trying to block out the sounds of Mom's slurred words as she screamed after me.

I gave Evan my most charming smile as I slid into the passenger seat of his Chevy Silverado. He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, his Calvin Klein cologne lingering in the air between us. As we drove back to his house, he lay a hand over my thigh; a fleshy, warm comfort.

The windows at his house were dark, save for the porch light slicing through the night. "Where are your parents?" I asked.

"Out," he shrugged, cutting the engine and jumping out of the truck.

I could feel my heart hammering in my chest as I followed Evan through the darkened hallways, my palms cold and slicked with sweat. Was it hot in here? It definitely felt hot in here.

The air in Evan's room was thick and smelled of boy. Piles of clothes―I assumed dirty―were heaped in the corner. His desk was cloaked with papers, books and old fast food packets. But there were also candles arranged on the window sill, casting the scents of jasmine and rose into the room as the wax burned away. And his bed was pretty much the only thing in the room that actually looked clean. It was kind of... Sweet.

"Take a seat," he said, indicating to the bed. I did so, trying to slow the frantic pace of my heart, and to shove the doubtful thoughts from my mind.

Evan walked over to his wardrobe, digging around in the bottom drawer. He pulled out a bottle of tequila, waving it in my face and grinning like an idiot. "How about we make this a real party?"

He poured us both a shot, and I knocked it back as fast as I could, scrunching my eyes shut as the burning liquid seared down my thoat. As soon as it was gone, Evan poured me another, doing that innocent half-smile as he did so.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to get me drunk," I said, downing the shot. "And you're butchering this fine tequila here. We need salt and limes."

Evan shrugged. "I don't buy into all that bullshit. A shot's a shot. Is a shot." He tipped his glass at me and poured me another. "Drink up."

By the fifth shot (in almost as many minutes) the room was really starting to tilt and blur. My stomach felt warm, and I could swear I could feel the tequila sloshing around when I moved. My skin was tingling all over like a thousand little pinpricks, sweat beading on my forehead and upper lip. I flopped back on the bed and waited for the spinning room to settle down a little. 

"Psht, you're such a lightweight," Evan could hardly talk, he was staggering too. He went back to his bottom drawer, pulling out a bag of weed and most probably the tiniest pipe I had ever seen.

"Is that a baby's pipe?!" I was giggling uncontrollably. "Or are we in The Hobbit?"

Evan suddenly looked pissed. "I need a small one so it's easier to hide. I can't have a massive bong just sitting around in my room, my Mom would find it."

I tried to stifle the laughter. "I'm sorry," I said, a smile breaking through. "Come over here and light it up for us."

I'd done weed a few times, always at some random party. It never did much to me, besides making me really sleepy and a little uncoordinated. I figured a little weed might help take the edge off this tequila, anyway. It was really starting to kick in now, and the bed felt like a boat bobbing on the ocean.

Evan stuffed a pinchfull of pot into the pipe, sucking on the end as he charred it. Once he'd got it burning, he passed it to me. I took a long, deep drag, ignoring the tight, clawing feeling in my throat as I held the smoke in. Oh man, this stuff was strong. Like really strong. By my third puff I was feeling awful; weed had never done this to me before. My vision was starting to darken at the edges, the room wavering in and out of focus. I tried to sit up, but a wave of vertigo knocked me back down again.

"What the hell was that?" I tried to say, but I don't think it came out as much more than a garbled mess.

Evan lay down on the bed next to me, propped up on one elbow. He wound his free arm around my waist, pulling me close to him. His fingers idly traced the line of my dress strap, before he pulled it down loose around my shoulder and placed a kiss on my bare skin. He smelled like tequila and smoke and sweat. His hair was tumbling down over his face, tickling strands against my neck.

Even though my limbs felt heavy and unresponsive, I was able to push his face away from my shoulder, holding it inches above mine. His pupils were huge and black; he barely looked like himself. "Let's do another shot!" he said, leaping from the bed with surprising speed.

"I don't think so," I said, making an active effort not to slur. "Not right now."

"Oh, don't be a wuss," he said, shoving another shot glass in my direction. Droplets of tequila sloshed out and fell onto the carpet. "Here."

He was staring at me expectantly, so I gulped it down. Evan did the same and returned to his place on the bed, sitting up on his knees. He pulled me up next to him, his hands cradling my hips. I gripped onto his shoulder to keep myself upright, the dizziness threatening to overtake me. 

Evan's hands were fumbling for the zip of my dress, tugging it down before I could protest. The air stung my bare back, making goosebumps spring up all over my skin. He slipped the dress down around my waist, his hands moving to the clasp of my bra.

Was I ready for this? Even in my tequila-drowned mind, the question stood out loud and strong. I was sixteen, almost seventeen, and the last remaining virgin in my group. Every time the others would talk about sex, I couldn't help but feel left out. And this is Evan we're talking about here; the star of all my fantasies since the moment I had met him.

Evan lay me back down on the bed, positioning himself over me. His eyes ravished my face, before he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. Oh god, he tasted awful. I guessed I probably did, too. I was trying to get into the moment, but all I felt was a rising nausea and a desperate need to just fall asleep. The room was still fading in and out of focus, like a dream that I couldn't wake up from. I was only dimly aware of Evan's searching hands all over my body, of the sound of a belt unbuckling, and an unfamiliar weight on top of me.

Just before I passed out, I heard Evan whisper something into my hair, something like 'Are you ready?' or 'Are you okay', and all I could do was nod. I felt a sharp, twisting pain, and then the darkness closed in.

Mirror, Mirror

 

 

I didn't look any different. I didn't feel any different (save for the pounding in my head, and the dry stickiness in my mouth). I pulled my hair away from my face, angling my head this way and that, narrowing my eyes at my reflection. Nope, I was definitely same old Tali. I didn't have a new glow, I didn't look older or more mature; I was just me.

I cast a look over my shoulder at Evan, still laying tangled in his blankets. Who knew Evan Winters snored? Definitely not the image I had built of him. Still, he looked kind of angelic when he slept, what with his tousled hair hanging over his face, his lips barely apart. 

I couldn't remember much from The Night Before, the night when I thought everything would change. I knew we'd done it; I knew as much from the subtle ache down below. I couldn't tell you how it was, though. Maybe that was a small blessing? Sahara, Tink and Peyton all seemed to have such horror stories about their first times. At least mine had been... Numbed.

Okay, that sounds really creepy. Still, I couldn't help but wonder if Evan had been intentionally trying to get me wasted. I mean, who does that many tequila shots without wanting to completely obliterate themselves?

I pushed the thought from my mind and turned my attention to the mirror again. Ugh, I looked like a wreck. My face was a mess of streaked mascara and blurred eyeliner. I found a box of tissues and set to work furiously scrubbing the makeup from my cheeks. I wouldn't want Evan to wake up and find me looking like the Bride of Frankenstein now would I?

I leaned back and peered at myself again. Okay, maybe I did look a little older. And wiser. If nothing else I at least felt like I'd become a woman, so surely that counts for something? My face was a little red from all the scrubbing, and my eyes were still puffy and blood-shot from the lack of sleep and the hangover, but there was a definite difference about me, even if it was small.

Evan wrapped his arms around my shoulders, smelling like sleep and stale smoke and sweat. I hadn't even heard him wake up; how self-absorbed is that? He buried his face in my hair, inhaling deeply. I could see those familiar dimples crease the corner of his mouth, and I involuntarily felt myself lean back against him. Damn, this boy had a helluva hold over me.

"How'd you sleep, beautiful?" He asked, kissing the top of my head.

"I don't know, how much sleep did we actually get?" I asked, trying to sound coy and seductive. In truth it was a pretty honest question―I had no idea how long we'd actually been... You know.

Evan laughed, that deep, hypnotic sound I loved so much. "I won't lie, I was a little out of it. Still, I had a pretty amazing time last night. You're pretty amazing."

I couldn't stop the warm blush that seeped into my cheeks. "So it wasn't... Awful?"

"Are you kidding? I loved every second with you."

Evan tenderly took me by the hand and pulled me to my feet. His eyes latched onto mine, big and blue and completely debilitating. I felt the breath woosh out of me. Why was it Evan was able to turn me into a drooling, swooning mess just by looking at me? Oh my god, those eyes―

Evan cut off my frantic stream of thoughts by pulling me in for a kiss. My brain emptied of every little word; everything in that moment existed solely of me, Evan and nothing else.

His hands moved along my back, eventually cupping my hips and pulling me closer to him. It's like our bodies were meant for eachother; they just seemed to fit together so perfectly. I could feel his warm skin against mine, inflaming the sudden knot of urgency that had formed at the pit of my stomach. Evan took me by the hand again, this time leading me back to his bed. And this time, I would remember everything.

***

I didn't want to go home. Even though Mom would probably still be passed out at this hour, even the slim chance of encountering her awake was enough to put a dampener on the elation that was surging through my veins. Instead, I asked Evan to drop me off at Sahara's. 

She was walking around with half her hair in foils when I got there, lips pursed as she peeled back one and checked that her regrowth had turned the desired shade of Bitch Blonde. She had on a pink tracksuit and still somehow managed to look glamorous. 

"You know, I'm thinking of dip-dying my hair," Sahara said when she heard her door open. "I'm getting kind of sick of the ombre look. Think I'd suit dip-dyed pink or red?"

"Pink of course," I said, throwing myself down on her lip-shaped beanbag. "Is there any other color you wear?"

"Good point," she said, replacing the foil and spinning around to face me. She leaned against her dresser and crossed her arms over her chest, an impish smile playing on her face. "So? Spill the beans kiddo, or I'll get it out of you by torture."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, mock-seriously. 

Sahara rushed over to me, dropping to her knees on front of the beanbag and shaking me by the shoulders. "Lieutenant Slutstorm this is a dire situation! Tell. Me. Everything."

"Let's just say you can't call me the baby of the group anymore," I smiled. "Things might have happened... Twice."

"Oh my god you horny little teenagers! So how was it? Amazing or awful or both?"

I bit my lip. "I can't really... Remember the first time?"

Sahara cocked an eyebrow at me. 

"We were really drunk, okay? Don't look at me like that."

"Ew, what a pervert. Getting a gal drunk so he can have his nasty little way with her."

I playfully hit her shoulder. "It wasn't like that. It was more to loosen up at first I think, but we both got a little out of... Control," I couldn't stop myself from grinning. "And then we did it again this morning and, I don't know. I think it was good? I mean, I didn't... You know... But Evan seemed to enjoy himself."

Sahara rocked back on her haunches and gave me a sideways look. "You know, for a guy as slutty as Evan Winters I would have thought he'd be a little better in the sack."

"Hey! Maybe he was, what do I know? Besides, it's never that great when you first start out."

"That is true. Although, the first time with me and Jesse, oh my god I―"

I waved my hands to cut her off. "Not again, please, not the Jesse story again!"

Sahara poked her tongue out at me and I made a love-heart symbol with my hands. Sahara really was the best person to talk about all this with. Tink always seemed a little judgemental, even though she was far from virginal, and Peyton, well. With Peyton I always got the feeling she was trying to one-up on all our stories, like she just always had to be more debauched than us.

For a moment I felt myself wondering what my life would have been like if Sahara hadn't taken me under her wing. I wasn't exactly popular before we became friends; far from it. I used to get called gnome-nose by the kids at school, and people would always vandalize pictures of me in school yearbooks by drawing a little red gnome hat on my head.

And then, for no reason other than that she felt like it, Sahara had stood up for me one day.

"Gnome-nose?"  She'd said, snorting. "I'd rather have a gnome-nose than your gigantic witch's hook, Sammy!"

"Why are you smiling at me like that, dorkface?" Sahara asked, breaking my little private reminiscing. "I swear, if you weren't with Evan I'd think you had a raging, lesbian boner for me."

"Oh, but I do," I purred, licking my lips at her. "I know you feel it too..."

Sahara shoved me backwards, laughing. She sighed, looking at me from beneath hooded lids. "I love you, Tali."

"Who's the lesbian now?"

Sahara grunted. We sat in silence for a few moments, before Sahara started shrieking. "Oh shit! My hair! Oh my god it's going to be so ruined!"

I watched Sahara as she rushed off into the bathroom, tugging at the foils in her hair. I decided life was perfect. I was certain it couldn't get any better than this. How wrong I was. Things were about to go from perfect, to utterly diabolical. 

Smoke Screen

 

 

The smoke was billowing up, plumes of dark cloud smudged against the star-speckled sky. It swirled and eddied in the wind, leaving gauzy, gray tendrils in all directions, stretched thin and transparent. It clung to our faces, to our hair, to our clothes, imprinting on us its choking, acrid scent. It hung above us like a canopy, mingling with the trees, wrapping around their branches. For days this area would smell like smoke.

The bonfire was stacked higher than I'd ever seen it, leaning precariously under the weight of old logs, splintered wood and dead grass. I could see a blistered, 'Go Weres' sign buckling in the heat, probably a discarded sign from Westerley's bleachers, now nothing more than a pile of smouldering sticks.

I lay stretched across the grass, wayward blades poking into the skin below my cut-off denim shorts. My head was nestled on Evan's chest, listening to his soft, drowsy breaths. His arm was wrapped around my middle, hand resting on my hip. Every now and then he'd laugh along with the group, his husky laughter ringing in my ears.

We'd been offically 'dating' for two weeks now. To be honest, I've been expecting to wake up any minute now, the whole thing just being some surreal, crazy dream. Me and Evan Winters, dating. Even now it made my mind spin. I tried to to think about it too long.

Sahara was dancing around the bonfire like some kind of crazed hippy. Her arms were flung high above her head, her body swaying with the low music playing. She had dip-dyed her hair after all, and the pink ends streamed out behind her like cotton candy. She paused in front of the T-shaped pile that mine and Evan's bodies made, hands on hips, bottom lip sticking out like a child who wasn't allowed a lollipop.

"Look what you've done to my girl, Evan," she said, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction. "She used to be fun; now she just lays around all loved-up and happy all the time."

I heard Evan chuckle, low and husky. "Your girl? Not to burst your bubble or anything sweets, but she's my girl."

I felt my stomach flip at his words. Me. Evan Winter's girl. "Uh, excuse me? I'm my own girl thank you very much. Feminism and all that," I got to my feet, brushing off strands of dried grass and dirt from my clothes. "But just to humor you Sahara, I'll do your weird hippy dancing thing with you."

"Ah, I love you!" She squealed, gripping me by the wrist and pulling me towards the fire, hair snapping in the breeze. I glanced back over my shoulder to see Evan rolled over on his side, head propped up on his elbow looking like a cat that got the cream.

I'll admit, dancing around a bonfire like a witch casting a spell is pretty damn fun. A few times I had to double-over from the laughter, with Sahara tugging me back to my feet and around the circle again. Even though most of the school were watching us like we were idiots, I was having an amazing time.

Eventually Sahara tired, and I followed her over to Craig's pick-up, its tray filled up with half-melted ice and pale ale. Sahara retrieved two, wiping her hand against her shorts as she handed me mine.

It was sour, and bitter, and definitely not my taste, but it quenched my thirst and warmed me against the pre-autumn chill. Besides, I've heard if you hold your breath you can't taste it as much when it's going down. Worth a try, I guess.

Sahara had her bitch face on. She wore this face when she was about to shoot a snarky remark back at someone, or when she was feeling particularly mischevious. I had a feeling tonight as going to be a night for mischief.

"I feel like burning something," she said, grinning like a mad woman. 

"Burning something?!"

"We're at a bonfire, after all. Why shouldn't be burn something?"

She had a point. But that look on her face told me she wanted to burn something of someone's. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

She started tracing the toe of her Doc Martin boot in the dirt, around and around. She was biting her lip, looking every bit the girl up to something.

Then she stopped, standing still as stone. When I opened my mouth she put a finger up to shush me. "You hear that?"

I strained, sifting through the regular noises of the woods at night; an owl hoot, wind rustling through leaves, the sound of some small creature digging through the underbrush. And there, soft at first, but still there. Laughter. Very distinct laughter.

It was coming from just ahead of us, from a grove of far-reaching pines bent with age. Sahara cocked an eyebrow at me, before hunching her shoulders like some kind of spy and tip-toeing towards them.

I sighed, looking back at the bonfire burning not 10 yards away. As much as I wanted to behave (believe me, I was a goody two-shoes once), the urge to get into trouble was too strong. And Sahara was wildly beckoning me from the bushes, one hand clamped over her mouth to stop from laughing.

I snuck over to her, doing the legit Pink Panker sneak. That only made Sahara want to laugh more, and she had to slap the other hand over her mouth and put her face between her knees. By the time I got over her face was bright red, her mascara starting to smear at the corner of her eyes where she'd almost started crying from it.

She took one hand away long enough to point over her shoulder, before doubling over laughing again. It was dark, but the moon was bright enough to illuminate two figures doing some seriously non-PG things. And just to Sahara's side were two piles of clothing.

It didn't take a mind-reader to figure out what Sahara was thinking. Before I could stop her, she'd grabbed the poor guy's jeans and was hightailing it back to the bonfire. By the time we got back, both in hysterics, most of the people around the fire had stopped to watch.

Sahara held the jeans high above her head like they were some kind of trophy, popping her hip out and pacing in front of the fire. A few excited murmurs burst through the silence, egging Sahara on.

"If anyone would like to claim this abomination to denim, now's your chance!" Sahara said, letting the jeans' legs flap in the wind. She cupped a hand around her ear for dramatic emphasis. "No one? Really, no one? Well. Not that I'm surprised. If I owned these jeans I'd want to see them burn, too."

A soft chant started to erupt from the crowd, the first few words swallowed by the breeze, until more people join in. "Burn them, burn them, burn them!"

The audience was absolutely ecsastic, and their chant rang around the clearing like a victory call. Hell, you'd think we'd just won the Superbowl or something.

Sahara turned to me, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "I just do what the fans say," he said, before flinging the jeans onto the bonfire.

They landed on the edge, on a barely smouldering patch. But still, thick smoke swiftly started to rise from the jeans' edges, mingling with the lighter smoke above.

The crowed cheered, interspersed with catcalls and whistles. Sahara bowed over-dramatically, before coming over to stand with me.

"I feel better now," she said, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched the jeans start to smoulder. "I swear it's an addiction or something."

"I wouldn't be surprised," I said, surveying the quickly dispersing crowd. "Hey, have you seen Evan? I haven't seen him since you came over to get me."

Sahara shrugged. "Nope. He's probably smoking up in the woods. I know that's where Jesse is right now."

"Yeah, you're probably right," I said, making my way back over to Craig's truck to get some more beers. Sahara was going on and on about something, something about how her sister had dropped her MAC blush and how the powder had gotten all smashed up. She was making wild hand gestures, her voice getting more and more shrill, but I wasn't paying attention. I wasn't paying attention because I'd seen a commotion in the corner of my eye, what looked like a head bobbing behind a tree. Not just any head. Evan.

"Is that..." I trailed off, because I'd gotten a glimpse of leg. Bare leg.

"Holy shit," Sahara breathed, her beer can slipping from her hand and fizzing up all over her Docs.

Evan must have seen us staring, because he hobbled over to us, his hands protectively shielding his crotch. I guess he'd decided to go commando tonight.

"What happened to your pants?" I asked, barely able to conceal the rising tone of my voice.

"Some asshole stole them! I swear these kids are animals."

"Why were they off in the first place?"

"I was uh... I was taking a piss."

"And you need to take your pants completely off to take a piss?" Sahara joined in. "Wow, you must have really shitty aim."

Evan glared at Sahara, and she glared right back at him. They'd never really warmed to eachother, and now they weren't even trying to hide it anymore.

"That's funny because, as it so happens, Sahara and I stole a pair of jeans not long ago," I was fighting to keep from crying, and my voice came out cracked and strained. "We saw this couple going at it in the woods, and figured it'd be funny to throw the guy's pants on the bonfire."

Evan's face blanched. He looked between me and Sahara, his mouth dropping open, before hobbling off towards the bonfire at full speed. A few people sniggered as he went by, pointing at his naked ass bobbing as he ran.

In that moment I felt time stop. I could hear Coldplay's Paradise playing on the speakers, ringing in my ears. I saw a beetle skitter across the dirt by my feet, pausing to inspect a flower's stem before hurrying along. I felt the wind on my face, stirring the hem of my baggy shirt. I felt the thrum of my headbeat pounding in my ears, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. I felt it all in that single moment whe time stopped.

I felt a tear break free watching Evan trying to fish his charred jeans out of the fire, and I wiped it away with the back of my hand. No one was going to see me cry over Evan Winters. Especially not Evan Winters himself.

He shimmied into his jeans, hopping on foot to foot as they cooled against his skin. When he noticed Sahara and I were still shooting poison arrows at him, he sheepishly came back over.

"Look, it's not what you think," he started, running his hands through his hair. "It was, uh..."

"Shut it, Evan," I pressed my lips tightly together to stop myself screaming. "It's over. Fuck off."

Evan rocked backwards as if he'd actually been hit. Believe me, my hand was itching to slap the smug off his face. "Wow, really?"

"Really."

"No, I mean really as in you're breaking up with me? You. Breaking up with me," he shook his head, chuckling to himself. "Unfuckingbelievable."

"Excuse me?" Sahara's voice was shrill. "Tali is way more amazing than you could ever hope to be."

"Tali is trash," he spat back. "Tali was an easy lay. Tali was a loser before you made her your pet, and you know it."

Those pesky tears were threatening again, but I bit them back. "Evan, please..."

It didn't matter that I was choking on the rest of my sentence, because Sahara lunged forward in place of my words and thrust Evan backward. Hard. He fell to the ground like a house of cards, sending up a plume of dirt as his body hit the earthen floor. He hit the ground so hard you could hear his teeth clack in his skull.

"You stay away from Tali," she growled. "Or you'll regret it."

Before Evan could respond, Sahara was ferrying me away from the scene, her arms draped heavily across my shoulders. She steered me towards her Jeep, depositing me in the passenger seat before jumping in beside me. I felt catatonic. I felt sick. I felt defeated. I barely even felt like living. Sahara sped through the night like a woman on a mission, but I just wanted to curl up and die.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 21.07.2013

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