Punk 57

The street is dark and quiet, and Masen starts the engine, getting us out of there.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted.”

He gives me a weak smile. “I got what I want.”

Flutters hit my stomach, and I bring up my hand, running my fingertips over the top of his hand that’s resting on the console.

After a couple minutes, he pulls up in front of my house and puts the truck in Park, leaving the engine running.

I sit up and lean over to him, not wanting to say goodnight.

Never wanting him to leave, actually.

“There’s a tree house in the back yard,” I look up at him teasingly. “You game?”

He smiles. “I would love to. But I have something to do right now,” he tells me, whispering in my ear.

I feel disappointment, but I brave it and plaster on a flat expression like I always do.

“Do me a favor, though?” he asks, kissing my cheek slow and soft. “Make sure the key’s under the pot. And don’t touch yourself tonight. Save it for the morning when I can watch.”

My body warms with excitement, and I smile. If it weren’t so dark in the truck, I’m sure he’d be able to see me blush.

“Be early,” I beg. “I might not be able to wait.”

He kisses me, and I linger for a moment before pulling away. Climbing out of the truck, I look back at him once and then unlock my door, entering the house.

As soon as the door’s closed, I hear him pull away.

How easy it is to get lost with him. A few minutes ago I was crying, and now none of that seems to matter. I want friends, of course. I want to know Ten will stay by my side, and I want Misha back, but…

Masen just makes everything seem smaller. Like I have a new perspective. He’s becoming a part of my heart, and I feel good when he’s around.

Almost like none of my fears matter as long he’s there.

Tomorrow he said he would tell me everything, but honestly, part of me isn’t sure I want to know anymore. Of course the more I know about him the more I’ll feel like he’s real and the more I’ll be a part of his life instead of him just being a part of mine, but I like him. A lot.

I walk up the steps and down the hall, entering my room. Switching on the lamp, I kick off my shoes and collapse onto the bed, hanging my head off the end and staring upside down at all my chalk wall scribbles.

My eyes feel heavy with exhaustion, but I’m not tired.

Misha’s words and my words mix together, running into each other along the wall, and I can’t even remember whose are whose anymore. His thoughts and lyrics, my dreams and musings, his anger, and my confusion about everything in my life… Misha is everywhere, and I miss him. For a long time, he was my savior.

But Masen makes me feel courage, too.

I don’t need him to fill the void Misha left, but I like how he pushes me and expects more. He’s a reminder of what I want to feel every day, whether it’s with him or on my own. He’s taught me that who I am when I’m with him feels too good to sacrifice for the approval of everyone else. The way I dress, the guys I talk to, the games I play…it’s all plastic, and when I’m with him, I’m gold.

My eyes fall on the list of words I drew over the past couple of weeks.

Alone

Empty

Fraud

Shame

Fear