The Fire Between High & Lo Page 2

  “I bet she’s the reason you’re breaking up with me.”

  “Yeah, she is.” That was the second lie. I made my own choices, but Alyssa always backed me, no matter what. She always gave me her input though, and let me know when I was in the wrong in all of my relationships. She was painfully blunt sometimes.

  “She wouldn’t ever really get with you though. She’s a good girl, and you—you’re a piece of shit!” Shay cried.

  “You’re right.” That was the first truth.

  Alyssa was a good girl, and I was the boy who never had a chance of calling her mine. Even though sometimes I’d look at her crazy, blonde, curly hair and my mind would think about what it’d be like to maybe hold her close and slowly taste her lips. Maybe in a different world, I would’ve been enough for her. Maybe I wouldn’t have been screwed up since I was a kid, and would’ve had my life together. I would’ve gotten into college and had a career, something to show for myself. Then, I could’ve asked her out and took her to some fancy restaurant, and told her to order anything on the menu because money wasn’t an issue.

  I could’ve told her how her blue eyes always smiled, even when she frowned, and that I loved how she chewed on the collar of all of her T-shirts when she was bored, or anxious.

  I could’ve been someone worthy of loving, and she would’ve allowed me to love her, too.

  In a different world, maybe. But I only had the here and now, where Alyssa was my best friend.

  I was lucky enough to have her in that form.

  “You said you loved me!” Shay wept, allowing the tears to fall down her cheeks.

  How long had she been crying? She was a professional crier, that one.

  I studied her face as I slid my hands into my jean pockets. Goddamn. She looked a mess. She was still high from earlier, and her makeup was smeared all over her face.

  “I didn’t say that, Shay.”

  “Yes, you did! You said it more than once!” She swore.

  “You’re making shit up.” I would’ve traced my memory to see if those three words slipped out of my mouth at some point, but I knew they didn’t. I didn’t love. I barely liked. My fingers brushed against my temple. Shay really needed to get in her car and drive far, far away.

  “I’m not stupid, Logan! I know what you said!” Her words were confident in the belief that I loved her. Which, as a whole, was pretty sad. “You said it earlier tonight! Remember? You said you fucking loved me?”

  Earlier tonight?

  Oh, crap.

  “Shay, I said I love fucking you. Not that I fucking love you.”

  “Same thing.”

  “Trust me, it’s not.”

  She swung her purse in my direction and I allowed it to hit me. Truth was, I deserved it. She swung again, and I allowed it once more. She swung a third time, and I grabbed the bag, yanked it—and her—toward me. My hand landed on her lower back, which she arched at my touch. I pressed her body close to mine. Her breaths were heavy and tears were still rolling down her cheeks. “Don’t cry,” I whispered, turning on my charm to try to get her to leave. “You’re too beautiful to cry.”

  “You’re such an asshole, Logan.”

  “Which is exactly why you shouldn’t be with me.”

  “We’ve been broken up for three hours, and you became a completely different person.”

  “That’s funny,” I muttered. “Because last I checked, it was you who became different, when you hooked up with Nick.”

  “Oh, get over it. That was a mistake. We didn’t even have sex. You’re the only boy I’ve slept with in the past six months.”

  “Uh, we’ve been dating for eight months.”

  “What are you, a math guru? That doesn’t matter.”

  Shay was my longest relationship in the past two years. Most of the time, it was a month tops, but with Shay we made it a total of eight months and two days. I didn’t know why exactly, other than her life was almost a carbon copy of mine. Her mom was far from stable, and her father was in prison. She didn’t have anyone to look up to, and her sister was kicked out of their house by their mom because she got knocked up by some jerk.

  Maybe the darkness in me saw and honored the darkness in her for a little while. We made sense. But as time went by, I realized that it was because of the similarities that we truly didn’t belong together. We were both too messed up. Being with Shay was like looking at a mirror and seeing all of your scars staring back at you.

  “Shay, let’s not do this. I’m tired.”

  “Okay. I forgot. You are Mr. Perfect. People make bad calls in life,” Shay explained.

  “You made out with my friend, Shay.”

  “It’s just that: making out! And I only did it because you cheated on me.”

  “I’m not even sure how to reply to that, seeing as how I never cheated on you.”

  “Maybe not with sex, but emotionally, Logan. You were never fully there and committed. This is all Alyssa’s fault. She’s the reason you never really committed to me. She’s such a stupid bitc—”

  I held my hand up to her mouth, halting her words. “Before you say what you’re about to say, don’t.” I lowered my hand, and she remained quiet. “I told you from day one who I was. It’s your own fault for thinking you could change me.”

  “You’re never going to be happy with anyone, are you? Because you are so strung up on a girl that you’ll never have. You’re going to end up sad, alone, and bitter. Then you’ll figure out what you had when you were with me!”

  “Can you just leave?” I sighed, brushing my hand against my face. I blamed Alyssa for this.

  “Break up with her in person, Lo. That’s the only way a real man would do it. You can’t break up with someone over the phone.”

  She had some awful ideas, sometimes.

  Shay kept crying.

  God, those tears.

  I couldn’t handle the tears.

  After a few snotty sniffles, she glanced to the ground before holding her head high, a spark of confidence finding her. “I think we should break up.”

  I appeared shocked. “Break up?” We already did!

  “I just feel like we’re two people going in two opposite directions.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  Her fingers flew over my lips and she shushed me, even though I wasn’t talking. “Don’t be so emotional about it. I’m so sorry, Logan. But it’s just not going to work out.”

  I snickered internally at her, making it seem like the breakup was her idea. I stepped back and placed my hands on my neck. “You’re right. You’re too good for me.”

  Why are you still here?

  She moved over to me and brushed her fingertips across my lips. “You’ll find someone good. I know it. I mean, granted, she might look like an ape, but still.” She jogged toward her car, opened the door, and climbed inside. As the car pulled off, my gut tightened, and regret overtook me. I started sprinting toward her car in the pouring rain, shouting her name.

  “Shay! Shay!” I waved my hands into the darkness, running for at least five blocks before she came up to a red light. I banged on her driver’s window and she screamed, out of fright.

  “Logan! What the heck are you doing?!” she cried, rolling down her window. Her confusion turned into a proud smirk and she narrowed her eyes. “You want to get back together, don’t you? I knew it.”

  “I…” I huffed. I wasn’t an athlete at all, that was more of my brother’s field of expertise. I tried to catch my breath, holding my hands against the edge of her window. “I—I…ne-need…”

  “You need what? What, baby? What do you need?” she asked, running her hand gently against my cheek.

  “Pie.”

  She sat back, confused. “What?”

  “Pie. My pie supplies that we bought earlier. They’re in the back of your car.”

  “Are you freaking kidding me?!” she screeched. “You chased me down for blocks and blocks for pie ingredients?!”

  I arched an eyebrow. “U
m, yeah?”

  She reached into the back of her car, snatched the bag up, and slammed it against my chest. “You are so unbelievable! Here’s your stupid crap!”

  I smirked. “Thanks.”

  Her car pulled off and I couldn’t help but laugh when I heard her shout, “You owe me twenty bucks for that goat cheese!”

  The second I stepped foot into my apartment, I pulled out my cell phone and sent a text.

  Me: Next time I break up with a girl, I’m doing it via text message.

  Alyssa: That bad?

  Me: Dreadful.

  Alyssa: I feel bad for her. She really liked you.

  Me: She cheated on me!

  Alyssa: And yet you still found a way to sleep with her three times.

  Me: Whose side are you on?

  Ellipses.

  Alyssa: She’s such a monster! I’m so happy she’s out of your life. No one deserves to date such a psychotic person. She’s disgusting. I hope she accidentally steps on Lego pieces for the remainder of her life.

  There was the response I needed.

  Alyssa: Love you, best friend.

  I read her words, and tried to ignore the pull in my chest. Love you. I never said those kinds of things to people, not even to Ma or Kellan. But sometimes, when Alyssa Marie Walters said she loved me, I kind of wished I could say it back.

  But I didn’t love.

  I hardly liked.

  At least that was the lie I told myself daily to keep from getting hurt. Most people thought love was a reward, but I knew better than that. I’d seen my mom love my father for years now, and nothing good ever came from it. Love wasn’t a blessing, it was a curse, and once you invited it into your heart, it only left scorch marks.

  Chapter Two

  Alyssa

  Me: Hey, Dad. Just checking in to see about you coming to the piano recital.

  Me: Hey! Did you see my last text?

  Me: Hey, me again. Just texting to see if you’re okay. Erika and I are worried.

  Me: Dad?

  Me: ??

  Me: Are you still awake, Lo?

  I stared at my cell phone, my heart pounding in my chest as I sent the text message to Logan. I checked the time, sighing heavily.

  2:33 a.m.

  I should’ve been sleeping, but I was thinking about Dad again. I’d sent him a total of fifteen text messages in the past two days, and ten voicemails, yet I still hadn’t heard back from him.

  I lay my phone against my chest, taking deep inhales and exhales. When it started vibrating, I was quick to answer. “You should be sleeping,” I whispered through the phone receiver, secretly happy that he answered. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

  “What’s wrong?” Logan asked, ignoring my question.

  A light giggle escaped my lips. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

  “Alyssa,” he said, stern.

  “Ass-Crack didn’t call me back. I called him twenty times this week, and he didn’t call me back.” Ass-Crack was the name we’d graced my dad with after he walked out on our family. He and I had been extremely close, the two musicians of the family, and when he left, a part of me floated away with him. I didn’t talk about him a lot, but even though I never said the words, Logan always knew that it bothered me.

  “Forget about him. He’s a piece of trash.”

  “I have the biggest summer piano recital of my career coming up, and I don’t know if I can do it without him there.” I tried my best to keep my emotions in check. I tried my best not to cry, but I was losing the fight that night. I worried about him more than Mom and Erika did. Maybe because they never really understood who he was, as an artist, as a performer. The two of them had very reality-based minds that came with a lot of stability—Dad and I were kind of floating spirits, dancing in the wildfires.

  But lately he hadn’t called. And I was so, so worried.

  “Alyssa,” Logan started.

  “Lo,” I whispered, a light tremble in my voice. He heard the sniffles through the receiver, and I sat up more. “When I was little, thunderstorms used to freak me out really bad. And I’d run into my parents’ bedroom and beg them to let me sleep with them. Mom never let me because she said I had to learn that storms wouldn’t hurt me. Ass-Crack would always agree with her, too. So I’d go back to my bedroom, huddle under my blankets, listen to the thunder and try my hardest not to see the lightning. Within a minute, my bedroom door would open, he’d have his keyboard in his hands, and he’d play music beside my bed until I fell asleep. Most days, I’m strong. I’m okay. But tonight with the storm, and all of the ignored calls… He’s breaking me tonight.”

  “Don’t let him, Alyssa. Don’t let him win.”

  “I just…” I began to cry over the line and I started to break down. “I’m just having a sad moment, that’s all.”

  “I’m coming over.”

  “What? No. It’s late.”

  “I’m coming.”

  “The buses stopped running at two, Logan. Plus, my mom closed the gate to the property and locked up. You couldn’t get in anyway. It’s fine.” Mom was a hot shot lawyer and had money—a lot of money. We lived at the top of the hill, with a huge gate around our property. It was pretty impossible to get into after Mom locked up at night. “I’m fine,” I promised. “I just needed to hear your voice, and for you to remind me that I’m better off without him.”

  “Because you are,” he explained.

  “Yeah.”

  “No, Alyssa. Really. You are better than Ass-Crack.”

  My sobbing grew heavier, and I had to cover my mouth with one hand just so he wouldn’t hear how hard I was crying. My body shook in bed, and I fell apart, tears falling against my pillowcase, my thoughts making me even more anxious.

  What if something happened to him? What if he was drinking again? What if…

  “I’m coming over.”

  “No.”

  “Alyssa. Please.” He almost sounded like he was begging.

  “Are you high?” I asked.

  He hesitated, which was enough of an answer for me. I could always tell when he was high, mainly because he almost always was stoned. He knew it bothered me, but he always said he was a hamster on the wheel, unable to change his ways.

  We were so different in so many ways. There wasn’t much that I’ve ever done. I pretty much went to work, played the piano, and hung out with Logan. He had a lot more experience in things than I could’ve ever imagined. He used drugs that I couldn’t even name. He lost himself almost weekly, usually after crossing paths with his father or dealing with his mom, but somehow he always found his way home to me.

  I tried my best to pretend that it didn’t bother me, but sometimes it did.

  “Goodnight, best friend,” I softly spoke.

  “Goodnight, best friend,” he replied, sighing.

  ***

  His hands were tucked behind his back, and he was soaked from head to toe. His normally wavy brown hair was lying flat against his head, strands covering his eyes. He was wearing his favorite red hoodie, and his black jeans that had more rips than any pair of pants should’ve ever had. And he had a goofy grin on his face.

  “Logan, it’s three thirty in the morning,” I whispered, hoping not to wake my mom.

  “You were crying,” he said, standing in my front doorway. “And the storm wasn’t stopping.”

  “You walked here?” I asked.

  He sneezed. “It wasn’t that far.”

  “You climbed the gate?”

  He twisted a little, showing me the rip in his jeans. “I climbed the gate, plus,” He pulled his hands from behind his back, showcasing a pie pan, wrapped in aluminum foil. “I made you a pie.”

  “You made a pie?”

  “I watched a documentary on pie earlier today. Did you know that pie has been around since the ancient Egyptians? The first documented pie was created by the Romans, and it was a rye-crusted—”

  “Goat cheese and honey pie?” I cut in.

 
; His face dropped with shock. “How did you know?!”

  “You told me yesterday.”

  He grew a bit bashful. “Oh. Right.”

  I laughed. “You’re high.”

  He snickered, nodding. “I’m high.”

  I smiled. “It’s a forty-five-minute walk from your place to mine, Logan. You shouldn’t have come that far. And you’re shivering. Get inside.” I grabbed his dripping wet hoodie by the sleeve, and yanked him down the hall to the bathroom connected to my bedroom. Closing the door behind me, I sat him down on the closed toilet seat. “Take off your hoodie and shirt,” I ordered.

  He smirked mischievously. “Aren’t you going to offer me a drink first?”

  “Logan Francis Silverstone,” I groaned. “Don’t be weird.”

  “Alyssa Marie Walters. I’m always weird. That’s why you like me.”

  He wasn’t wrong.

  He took off his hoodie and shirt, tossing them into the bathtub. My eyes danced across his chest for a second, and I tried my best to ignore the butterflies in my stomach as I wrapped three towels around his body. “What the heck were you thinking?”

  His caramel eyes were gentle, and he leaned in closer to me, locking his stare with mine. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I ran my fingers through his hair, which was so cold and soft. He studied my every move. I grabbed a small towel, kneeled in front of him and shook my head as I started drying his hair. “You should’ve stayed home.”

  “Your eyes are red.”

  I snickered slightly. “So are yours.” Thunder rumbled outside, and I jumped out of my skin. Logan placed a comforting hand against my arm, and a small hiccup escaped my lips. I stared at his fingers lying against me, and his stare fell to the same place. Clearing my throat, I stepped away from him. “Do we eat pie now?”

  “We eat pie now.”

  We headed to the kitchen, quietly, hoping to not wake my mom, but I was almost certain she wouldn’t wake up due to the amount of sleeping pills she took each night. Logan jumped on the countertop, shirtless with soaked jeans, holding his pie.