A burst of emotion

   "I told him there was no way he was coming anywhere near my apartment," Rosy said as everyone burst out into a wave of laughter.
The restaurant was pretty quiet now with the exception of our table of six. We were out celebrating Dean's 22nd birthday as a tradition within our group. Everyone's birthdays were always celebrated with a meal at the restaurant of the person's choice. This year, Dean chose The Crock Pot, a formal restaurant right in the center of town. Everyone was dressed to the nines, because in this group of friends, whenever there was a chance to get fancy, we took it.
This birthday celebration felt much different than the last, since Becky was the last birthday we celebrated and that was six months ago. Since then, a lot has changed. Rosy and Matt have been dating now for about three months. It was really weird at first since the two of them have been friends for years on end, along with myself, but all of us knew they'd had feelings for one another forever. Matt had the ability to ground Rosy; bringing her upbeat and sometimes overwhelming personality back to earth, while Rosy made Matt more adventurous. It was like they were the complete opposite of each other but created some sort of balance that made their relationship work perfectly.
Becky and Luke had been dating for years. They were the childhood sweethearts you'd see on TV, but they weren't annoying about it. Sometimes Becky would come to me freaking out about not feeling 'good enough' for Luke, which was just another reason why I felt they were perfect together.
Then, there was Dean and me. We were the only single ones in the group. We have been close friends for a few years now, and I trusted no one more than him. Well, maybe Rosy, but I had much different feelings for Dean than I felt towards Rosy. I...maybe...might have some feelings for...
   "Soph!"
   "What?" I questioned, confused as to who was talking to me and where we were for a second.
   "It's your turn."
Oh. Right.
   "Oh, okay. Uhm. My weirdest place would have to be... on top of Greg White's car at the end of senior year."
Everyone burst out laughing and spitting out words in between laughs like, "what?!" and "when did this happen?!"
   "You slept with him?" Becky asked at the end of a long laugh.
   "Yes, after graduation."
I glanced over at Dean briefly who didn't seem to be reacting like everyone else, but instead just had an uncomfortable smile on his face.
   "That's why you were so late to my party," Rosy concluded.
I just smiled and nodded my head, still glancing over at Dean, hoping he'd stop radiating awkwardness and thay someone would change the subject.
   "I have to pee," Dean announced, not making eye contact with anyone at the table.
I felt the need to go talk to him. To see if he was okay. To see if I had done something wrong. So I decided to sneak away as well.
   "Shit, guys, I forgot I told my mom I'd call her when we got here."
   "You're about three hours late," Matt said with a chuckle.
   "I know," I confirmed, "I'll be right back."
I got up from my chair and let my long chiffon skirt fall to my feet. I rushed to the back of the restaurant towards the restrooms in order to make it look like I was anxious to call my mom. When I got to the men's room, I waited outside the door.
After about a minute or so, Dean appeared with a shocked look on his face seeing me outside waiting for him.
   "Hey," I spit out. Wow, what a great opener.
   "Hi," he said back.
   "I just wanted to make sure you were okay, you seemed a bit uncomfortable and out of place at dinner."
He was barely making eye contact with me and could not stand still. What was wrong with him?
   "Dean," I said, forcing his eyes to meet mine as I stepped closer to him to create less space for him to avoid me.
   "I'm fine," he began. I scoffed which made him finally connect his eyes to mine.
   "I know you, Dean, and you are not fine."
He sighed heavily and looked at me again.
   "I just don't want to be here anymore. I'm not feeling well and I think I just need some sleep."
I didn't believe him, but I could tell I wasn't going to get anything else from him, so I surrendered to his weak excuse.
   "Okay," I said. "Let's go."
We returned to the table together and Dean sat down as I stood behind my chair.
   "Hey, guys, it looks like they're ready to close up so we should probably head out for the night."
   "Do you guys wanna hit up a bar and grab some drinks?" Rosy offered.
I looked nervously at Dean and he connected his eyes with mine, not looking very sullen anymore, but a different type of emotion radiating from his steel grey eyes. What was it?
   "You guys do what you want but I'm gonna call it a night. I'm beat."
I thought that saying no myself would make it less uncomfortable for Dean to do the same. Seems I was right.
   "Okay, guys, we'll see you tomorrow then. Happy birthday, Dean!" The four of them said their good nights to Dean and me and the two of us agreed to share a cab back to our apartments.
   "Want to come over for a drink?" Dean asked, completely throwing me off guard. Didn't he want to be alone? Wasn't he 'not feeling well'?

   "Sure," I confirmed, and slid into the yellow cab next to him, allowing the heat blowing from the vents to smother me in its arms. 

   "Forty third street, please." Dean leaned back in the leather seat and glanced in my direction. I noticed this because I was already peering over at him, watching the moonlight shine through the back window and dance off his stubbly facial skin and plush, pink lips. 

He raised his mouth into a slight smile while looking at me and I could feel all the blood in my veins heat and the continuous beating of my heart come to a screeching hault. What the hell is he doing to me? Why is this happening? 

I smiled back and quickly turned my head towards the window, knowing that the sudden change of color in my face was nothing less than obvious. 

When we got to his apartment, he paid the taxi driver and helped me out of the cab since I was wearing three inch heels and he knew I wasn't the most graceful at managing them. 

   "Thank you," I said as he held my hand out of the cab. He responded with a smile that lit up that dark New York street, and once again I felt prisoner to his charm. 

His place was warm and welcoming. The air smelled of wine and his musky cologne. He went around a few rooms, turning on dimmed lights in each, adding more to the comfortable atmosphere around me. He made his way into his bedroom and emerged wearing only his black pressed dress pants and his crisp white button down shirt, now revealing more of his neck and the top of his chest. He sauntered towards me in the kitchen where I stood as still as a statue, for some reason feeling alien in an apartment I knew so well. He realized this and stopped a few feet in front of me, clearly looking more at ease and calmer than he did when we spoke at dinner.  

   "What's wrong?" He asked. 

   "Nothing. I don't know. I...I'm fine."

He shifted and smirked. Making his way to the counter, he asked, 

   "Wine?" 

   "Yes, please." 

   "Red," he stated rather than asked, knowing that's what I liked. 

He poured the blood colored drink into the crystal glass and then another one for himself. He placed mine in front of the stool by the counter, implying he wanted me to sit. I made my way to the seat and rested onto it, my feet thanking me as soon as I did. I slid my heavy jacket off my shoulders and onto the stool next to me. When I looked up, Dean was staring right at me with that same look in his eyes as before. 

   "What?" I asked. 

He smirked at me like me asking him that was stupid. 

   "Nothing," he started, "I just can't stop looking at you tonight."

My heart nearly fell out of my chest.

   "For being such a clumsy person, you sure do wear those heels like you're doing them a favor." 

I didn't know what to say. What could I say? And more importantly, what did he want me to say?

   "Thanks," was all I could muster. 

He chuckled and sipped his wine. 

   "Sophia," he said. His tongue caressed my name like it belonged nowhere else but in his mouth. 

   "Yes?"

   "You really do look beautiful." 

It wasn't until now that I realized he was leaning over the counter and was less than a foot away from my face. I could feel my skin blush a bright red and the heat in my cheeks could melt the frosty snow bitten ground outside. You're killing me, I screamed from inside. 

Why did he make me feel this way? Why was it that at the simplest word I was putty in his hand? Had it always been this way? Did he always hold this power over me and I didn't realize until just now? Or was it that I had just realized my feeling for hi--

Oh, no. This couldn't be happening. How could I have feelings for my best friend? Did he always look at me that way?

I tried to remember the last time he called me beautiful or I caught him staring at me but I couldn't. My lungs suddenly felt heavy and I had the overwhelming urge to connect my lips with his. I can't, I thought, and snapped myself out of his smothering gaze. 

   "Thank you, Dean."

I broke our connection by bringing my glass of wine to my lips and letting the cool, crisp liquid run over my tongue and down my throat. 

   "You're welcome, Soph."

The rest of the night flowed casually. The uncomfortable tension in the air was finally released and the connection between us went back to normal; two friends conversing and laughing as usual. 

Before I knew it, it was three a.m. and I had work at eight in the morning. 

   "Jesus Christ, I didn't realize it was so late, I have work tomorrow," I stated. 

Dean glanced at the clock and sighed heavily. 

   "You can stay here if you want, your place is only four blocks away so you can get there easily in the morning."

A part of me considered it for just a moment before another part of me kicked in. The part of me that was desperate for this man's hands on my body, and suddenly I needed to get out of there as quickly as possible. 

   "No," I breathed, "I should really stay at home. Thanks though." 

Dean helped me put on my jacket and walked me to the door. Right before I opened it I turned around and remembered something. 

   "Oh, uh, happy birthday, Dean. I hope you enjoyed your night." 

He smiled his warm, tired smile and the stubble on his cheeks rippled like silk as he did. I wanted nothing more than to graze my hand along his strong jaw and feel the dimples underneath that furry layer of facial hair, but stopped and turned before I had to endure anymore torture.  

   "Thank you, Sophia," he said from behind me. Why was he using my full name? "It is all thanks to you that I enjoyed it." 

I turned back just to get one more glimpse of his gorgeous face; a face that could catch the attention of an entire city; a face that I didn't realize was so extraordinary until this night. 

I did not know how to respond, so I smiled and continued back down the stairs to exit his apartment building. 

When I got outside, the winter air hit my exposed face so hard I almost fell back. It was like an entire sheet of ice shattered into me and I was left paralyzed and alone on the abandoned city street. What the hell am I doing? No taxis are going to come down here at this hour, and it's way too cold to walk even four blocks. I let out a long sigh and decided to make my way back up to Dean's place. I realized shortly after that I'd have to buzz up to his apartment to get back in. 

I hit the button and he responded almost immediately. 

   "Hello?" 

   "Dean, it's me. I'm really sorry but I didn't realize how cold it was out here. Could I possibly stay with you tonight?" 

In the silence between when he answered, it was almost as though I could hear him smiling at me. 

   "Yes, of course, Soph. Come on up." 

He unlocked the door and I headed back up to his place.

When I got back inside to Dean's apartment, I was practically shivering out of my jacket. 

   "Damn, Sophie, you're freezing." 

All I could respond with was a smile, and when I did my teeth chattered, so I closed my mouth. 

Dean helped me out of my jacket and heels and went into his room to get me clothes to sleep in. He came back with an oversized t-shirt and soft pajama pants. 

   "Thank you, Dean. Where would you like me to sleep, the couch?"

   "No," he said quickly, "you can stay in my bed. It's a queen size so I've got plenty of room. The couch will break your back." 

   "Oh," I whispered, "okay."

What? What am I doing!? I thought. 

We went into his bedroom and he closed the door. As I began changing I remembered he was in the room and I turned around to look at him. When I did, I noticed he was looking at me and my face flooded red. 

   "Uh, where can I change?"

He pointed to the bathroom attached to his room and I shuffled in uncomfortably. I changed out of my formal attire and into the pajamas. I pulled my hair down and let it roll over my shoulders in a sea of tired waves and curls, exhausted from the long day. I didn't have too much makeup on so I didn't worry about taking it off. I took one last look in the mirror and shut the lights off, opening the door and heading back into the bedroom. Dean was sitting on his bed flipping through TV channels in nothing but his boxers, allowing all his muscles to show and boast after a long day of celebration and activity. 

I swallowed hard, knowing I'd have to not let it phase me since we'd be sharing a bed for nearly four hours. 

I then realized how small the amount of sleep was that I was about to get and suddenly got very exhausted. 

   "Ready?" He asked. 

I wanted to respond with, for you? Oh yes. But averted my eyes and my response. 

   "Yes." I kept it simple. 

He got up and turned off the light and then cuddled into bed under the thick down comforter he had. 

I followed, staying as close to the left side of the bed as possible to resist any chance of me accidentally touching his bare skin with mine. I knew if that happened I wouldn't be able to stop myself or hold myself responsible for any actions I made afterwards. 

I snuggled under the warm blankets and closed my eyes. Just as I was about to drift off into a deep sleep, his low, bruting voice awoke me. It felt much closer than he was when I drifted off, so I opened my eyes to inspect and respond to his "Sophia." 

When I did, he was leaning directly over me, his nose almost touching mine. My breath hitched and I felt all my bodily functions stop working. My intense need to grab his neck and close the few inch gap between us was overwhelming, but he was so close I couldn't even roll away to save myself. 

   "Yes?" I managed to choke out. 

   "I'm sorry," he whispered. And right before I was about to question his motives to apologize, his lips were on mine. At least I think they were. Maybe I was dreaming. His soft lucious lips slipped sweetly over mine and it felt unreal. When he grasped my neck with his hand, the shock that ran through my body made me know I wasn't dreaming and that, luckily, this was really happening. 

I couldn't help but let out a soft moan, releasing all the tension I've been holding inside my head and body all day. His hips grinded against mine and I could feel all his muscles throughout his body. I ran my hands over his arms, up his back, and onto his neck. I tangled my trembling fingers in his tousled hair and grasped as if I were holding on for dear life. I needed to. I needed to hold onto this one moment as long as I could because I knew it could all be over within the next second. I felt his hands make their way over every inch of me, familiarizing themselves with my tired flesh. 

His lips moved over me, tracing their way up my neck leaving soft, needing kisses in their path. He then met his mouth with mine, parting my lips and claiming my mouth with his strong tongue. My body felt limp, lifeless. As if my soul had risen and left my body as an empty shell for Dean to have. I allowed him to take me, all of me, and was more than happy to offer myself to him. 

In between desperate, needy kisses, Dean breathed words filled with passion into my ear. 

   "I've wanted this for so long," he said. 

I couldn't reply. I couldn't speak. I just responded with my body, arching myself into him and biting his lower lip. 

   "I want you, Sophia."

I rolled myself so that I was on top of him and reconnected our lips yet again. 

   "I need you to be mine."

Jesus, his words. They did things to me I couldn't explain. I wanted him. I needed him. I wanted him to have me in no way I've ever offered myself to anyone before. 

I leaned up and pulled the large t-shirt over my head, letting my bare skin glow in the moonlight through the shaded window. 

   "Fuck, Sophia."

For the first time in my life, I liked my full name. And I liked the way it sounded rolling off his tongue. 

Our bodies melted together like they were pieces of chocolate on a heated stove. He ran his fingers over all of me and if it were possible I'd want them on more of me. 

   "You're amazing, baby."

Eventually, his words and arms and lips all blurred, and it felt like time stopped for just this moment. Life was good. 

I woke up to a sunny December morning as the past few hours flowed back into consciousness. I rubbed my eyes and stretched my arms. My body felt like a combination of sore, empty, full, and content. I looked over and saw the sun shining through the slotted shades. I smiled and sat up, realizing it was 7:10 and I needed to leave now since I was already running late for work.
I got up and grabbed my clothes, took off the comfortable pajamas I was wearing, and put on the formal dress wear from last night. As I was sliding on my heels I realized something was missing.
Dean.
Oh, shit. Where was he? Was he there when I woke up? I don't remember. I don't think so.
I didn't have time to think about it, I had to go and get to work.

I got to work two minutes late but was there earlier than I expected. I walked to my cubicle and took off my thick coat. I settled into my chair and let out a deep breath. Finally, I thought. Everything's finally falling into place for me. I was just about to dive into my paperwork when my cell phone rang. The office I worked in was very relaxed so they didn't mind when I took a personal call here or there.
   "Hello?"
   "Sophie!"
   "Hey, Rosy, what's up?"
   "Nothing really, I was just wondering where you went last night? I called your apartment phone and you never picked up."
   "Oh," I felt myself blush. "I kinda... stayed at Dean's."
   "What! Oh, my god! Tell me all the details! Sophie, you've got--"
She kept talking but was cut off from my attention when I looked up and saw Dean standing in front of my cubicle, panting heavily with a look of pure worry on his face.
   "Rose, Rosy. I'm sorry, I have to go."
I clicked my phone and stood up from my chair.
   "Dean, I-"
He cut me off.
   "Soph, please. Don't drag this out. I need to do this."
Uh oh. A pit opened up in my stomach and I felt the world crashing beneath me. What was wrong?
   "I can't hold this off or put it any nicer, but it needs to be done. Sophia, we can't be together."
Jesus Christ, what was happening?
   "Dean, what-"
   "In fact, we can't even see each other anymore, Sophia."
I couldn't breathe.
   "Dean, stop. What are you talking about? You're my best friend..."
   "I know," he began. I felt like I heard a whimper in his voice. "I'm so, so sorry. I just... I can't. Goodbye."
He turned on his heel and ran toward the stairs. And as quickly as he showed up, he was gone. I couldn't breathe. My lungs sunk into my stomach and my eyes filled with the weight of my broken heart and the heavy tears that began plummeting down my cheeks. Oh, my god, I thought, I can't be here right now.
I ran through the clearance of cubicles and down into the stairwell. I stopped a few flights down and collapsed on the landing. My knees couldn't take any more weight. My eyes couldn't take any more light. My heart couldn't take any more pain.
For once in my life, the very first time, something amazing had happened. Something I had been waiting for my entire life but never expected to happen, and in an instant, it was all gone.
I allowed myself to stay crumpled up in the corner of the stairwell and cry until nothing came out of my eyes and nothing but empty sobs cried out from my throat. I silently realized that for those four or so hours I spent with Dean, I was content. I was filled to the brim with all I had ever needed in my short life time. I had never felt such a fullness and happiness until that moment.
Now here I sat; sad, alone, confused, and empty. How could so much happen in such a short amount of time? How could I recover from this?
I decided my best option was to go back to work, stick it out for the day, and deal with it after. I stood up, drained my mind and body of all the feelings and emotions and felt myself go numb.
I strode back up the stairs, lifelessly, and finally reached my floor. As I opened the door, I felt the other side of it being pulled as someone was about to make their way down. I looked up and saw Dean staring back at me, tears in his eyes, chest elevating and deflating rapidly.
   "Sophia."
I didn't say anything. I didn't have anything to say. I was empty. So I just stared at him blankly.
A moment of silence stood between us. A moment that felt so eternal I felt like I was back in my dreamland from the previous night.
   "I'm so sorry. I can explain."
I had no words. He knew it, so he responded.
He responded by surging the life back into me with a life-altering kiss. A kiss that forced all the emotions, good and bad, back into my body and soul and reminded me what it was like to feel. A lifetime of emotions was felt just through that one kiss, and for just one moment, I knew I would do, live, say, and feel anything for this man for the rest of my life more than willingly.
He released my lips from his and I looked into his eyes, confirming that he needed no further explanation. 

Uplifted

 "You know I love you, right?"
She rolls her head over to look at me and her soft, pale skinned face sinks into the thick pillow. She bats her eyelashes and they brush against the soft fabric like fingers in lightly fallen snow. Her crystal blue eyes look up at mine and sting into me like an icicle. She closes them slowly and I see a small tear roll gently down her cheek.
   "Baby, don't cry."
I feel something swell up in my throat and my eyes get heavy. My stomach feels like an entire universe is spinning inside of it and I can feel my eyelids fill up and begin to empty all the feelings I've been holding behind them for so long.
Tears begin to pour out of my eyes like a warm waterfall and stain the eggshell colored sheets below me. Even with my eyes closed and tearing I can feel her eyes open and turn towards me. I rest my elbows on the stiff bed and cradle my damp face in my palms. I feel the mattress shift below me and feel her shaky arms envelop me in their warmth.
   "Shhhh," she hushes at me trying to calm me down. "I love you, too."
   "Rosie, I can't do this, I can't lose you."
She pulls away from me and leans back on the raised bed. She brings her hands up to her face and rubs any stray tears from her eyes.
I pull my face from my hands and look at her. Admire her. See her. See through her milky white skin and empty scalp. I look past the scars on her tiny wrists and sadness in her deep eyes and see her. I mean really, really see her. I see her flaws. Like the way she bites her nails without noticing and the loud way she breathes in her sleep and that little snort she does at the end of her laugh even if she denies doing it. I see these things that she calls flaws and I realize I want to experience them for the rest of my life. I want to love them and make her believe that they aren't flaws. They're her. And they're perfect. And they make her the exquisite, unique specimen that I've come to know and love. I look deep into her and I see my future. And with one blink of an eye it disappears.


I walk into the dark, empty room that feels like it's filled with the presence of death. How is that possible? How can such an empty room feel so filled with this emptiness? I walk over and sit on the neatly made bed and feel every organ, every bone, every muscle, every nerve, and ever hair on my body collapse. I fall completely onto the flat mattress and break down. Every part of me. My body. My mind. My hopes. My dreams. My life. I watch it all come crashing down in front of me along with the thick, supple tears seeping from my eyes. The ghost of her white, porcelain skin engulfs me and sucks the last of the life from my limp, hopeless body. She is gone. And I'm laying here staring at the ceiling she was forced to look at for three months.
Suddenly the cold, empty room is filled with not an unbearable emptiness, but her warm presence; her laughter, her full smile, her long, thick golden hair. She wraps herself around me.
   "I love you, too."
Then my body releases one last tear. One last droplet it can handle.
One last blink.
One last breath.
And it's over.

Weight

"How much do you weigh?" he asks.
The question stings into me
like the scorching heat of a thousand electric
shocks.
How much do I weigh?
The question twirls in my mind
and wraps around each of my limbs
my fingers
my love handles
my toes
my stretch marks
my legs
my chins.
How much do I weigh?
"Well," I reply,
"My legs are filled with the weight of all the places I've traveled and all those I've yet to go,
my stomach holds the weight of all the home-cooked meals I've eaten, and all those I missed out on when my mother left us,
my lungs are weighed down by the millions of breaths I've taken in my life, and the tragedy they endured the day they almost took no more,
my arms are burdened by all the weight they have pulled in carrying my family and myself through the hard times that darkened our days,
my head is troubled heavily by the depressing thoughts of suicide and hatred that flow relentlessly through it daily,
and my heart is filled with an everlasting emptiness, a lack of love, and an absence of life that drags me down like an anchor, brimming with the need to be accepted and wanted yet never finding the sweet satisfaction of knowing such.
So, if you must know,
that's how much I weigh," I breathe, finally.
A blank, pale face mirrors mine in his now dampened stature.
And with all this talk
of weight
and pounds
I feel myself becoming even heavier
as my eyes fill up with tears
and a heavy emptiness
consumes me.

Scars

   "Table six needs more coffee, Ana."
   "Yes, sir."
Ana wipes her wet hands on her apron that hangs from her waist and turns to grab another hot pot of coffee. She spins around to run to the table awaiting her, but gets stopped when she catches sight of herself in the mirrored wall that stands before her. She loses track of where she is, and right above her v-neck tee shirt she sees the scar. She lets that scar swallow her whole for what feels like thirty seconds and three hours all at the same time. Eventually, the sound of the bell ringing from the kitchen awakens her, allowing her to take one last peek at herself before heading back to the customers. She is wearing the generic black v-neck that was given to all the waiters, a burgundy colored corduroy skirt with metal buttons running down the middle, black tights, and black velvet flats with bows on the top. Her pale skin seems almost invisible next to the darkness of her outfit. Her thick, red hair is frazzled and messily thrown up into a bun, causing tendrils of hair to spill out every which way. Her thick eyelashes stand out prominently against her milky skin, and her deep, dark brown eyes seem almost entirely black, hiding all of her inside of them.
   "Ana! Did you not hear me?"
She jumps from the harsh sound of her boss's voice, flashes him a sympathetic smile, and continues towards table number six.

   "I am so sorry for the hold up, here's your coffee," she says as she pours the dark liquid into their abandoned mugs. "Is there anything else you need?"
   "No, ma'am, thank you very much," the frail old woman smiles as she sips from her now steaming cup.
Ana turns quickly towards the counters knowing she has other tables awaiting her, but in her hurried state, slams into another body, causing the remaining coffee in the pot to pour onto the front of her body, and the glass container to shatter to the floor. She falls to the floor from the sudden impact and hisses from the steaming coffee now running down her tights.
   "Ahhhh!" She yells as her vision clears to see a man standing in front of her attempting to help her to her feet.
   "Oh my god, oh my god I am so, so sorry. Oh, god, are you okay?"
She struggles to her feet with the help of his strong hand and wipes the rest of the liquid off her now stained clothing. Using the backs of her hands, she wipes the long, stray hairs from her face and opens her eyes wide to the 6'2" beauty standing before her.
   "Y-yeah, I'll be fine, I-I just need to find a change of clothes..." she manages to mutter out while losing herself in his gorgeous green eyes.
   "Oh, please, let me help."
She stops wiping her clothes and looks back up to him with a confused, questionable glare.
   "Oh, not like that... I mean, I don't want to see you naked. I mean, no! Not that I wouldn't want to see you naked, it's just that I don't think it's my place and..." He trails off and lets out a flustered sigh, "Can I help somehow?"
Ana smiles in comfort, knowing that someone as mindbogglingly stunning as him could be at a loss for words.
   "No, don't worry about it," she shrugs, "I'll be okay, go enjoy your meal."
   "Please, let me help," he insists.
   "Aw, let the boy help, he's cute!" The older woman from behind her pats her on the arm and smiles a warm smile as she chuckles in her seat.
Ana sighs and puts her hands on her hips.
   "Fine, are you free tomorrow?"
His face lights up as though someone has just hit a special switch.
   "Yes I am. Would you mind joining me for a drink?"
   "Sounds great, I will not be wearing this skirt," Ana says confidently, trying to seem suave as she walks past him toward the counter. She stops and turns.
   "Oh, wait, what's your name?"
Being that he was already turned to watch her, he simply twitches his lips into a smile causing ripples of skin and stubble throughout his cheeks as he answers her.
   "Noah."
Her breath stops and she reminds herself to respond.
   "Noah. I'm Ana. I will meet you here tomorrow at eight." She turns and continues towards the counter as a captivating smile spreads across her face like it's meant to be there. Nice job, Ana.


Noah steps out of his car into the parking lot at eight on the dot. He's wearing a button up shirt with khaki pants and dress shoes. His silky hair is carefully structured atop his head leaving one strand to graze his forehead. He clenches his teeth as he walks towards the benches in front of the diner, giving definition to his sharp jawline. The freckles on his face are light enough that they're just kissing his skin but dark enough to be noticed. His hands grasp each other tightly as he sits down on the wooden bench and waits for his anxiety to subside.
Ana turns the key in the ignition, allowing the car to shut down and relax, wishing there was a similar remedy for her thumping heart. She opens the creaky car door and climbs out, letting the light, wispy material of her dress fall over her thighs. Her black heels give her some more height which she desperately needs with her 5'2" stature. The thick waves of shimmering red hair reflect brightly off the streetlights, bringing out the radiant color even more. She walks quietly over to where Noah is seated and stops in front of him as he raises his head to see her.
Once he does, he stands up with his mouth open in awe, trying to find the words to say to greet her properly.
   "Hi," he chokes out. Not entirely graceful, but when has he showed any grace, anyway?
   "Hi," she smiles, returning his greeting.
   "You are...radiant."
   "Thank you, you're looking quite dapper yourself."
Noah's smile elongates, and he smoothly grabs her hand as he leads her down the block.
   "Where are we going?" Ana questions.
   "I figured I'd take you for a pre-date drink at Delilah's."
   "I love that bar," Ana sputters out a bit too excitedly. "Wait, what do you mean 'pre-date?'"
Noah turns his head toward Ana as they walk down the cobblestone street. A devious look spreads from his eyes to his lips and he quickly turns his head forward.
   "You will see, Ms. Ana. I have a night of wonder and mystery planned for you."
She smiles, yet again, and studies the left side of his face as he walks. God, he's perfect, she thinks to herself before oh-so-smoothly tripping over a dip in the road and beginning to fall to the ground. Before slamming into the unforgiving pavement, Ana feels her body caught by a pair of muscular arms and shoulders. She opens her eyes to meet Noah's, who is kneeling on the stone supporting her, looking truly concerned.
   "You fall a lot, don't you?" He jokes, helping her gain control of her balance back on her feet.
   "Only when I'm with you apparently."
They giggle and continue down the sidewalk.

The bar is buzzing with conversation, laughter, and music, all encasing the typical Saturday night at Delilah's. The two walk in through the crowd and settle themselves in at an empty spot at the counter.
   "What would you like?"
   "I'll have a Bud Light, please."
Noah's eyebrows arch in surprise.
   "Really?"
   "Yeah, why?"
   "Just thought you'd go for something...fruitier. Bartender, two Bud Lights please."
The bartender nods and walks away from them towards the drinks.
   "I'm going to run to the bathroom, will you be okay here?"
   "Yes," Ana says, "I'll be okay. Thank you."
Noah winks at her and makes his way across the establishment towards the restroom.
As Ana waits there alone, she feels a familiar pair of eyes on her from across the bar. She turns her head to try and see through the crowd and the dark lighting to find if what she's sensing is true.
Three seats down sits a man nicely dressed in a suit and tie, legs crossed, back leaning against the bar, with his eyes glued on Ana. Finally, she sees him.
Oh god, it's him.
Ana's mind begins to race. Did he follow me here? Does Noah know him? Is this all part of the plan? Am I safe? Of course I'm not safe, I need to get away from him.
Her thoughts are quickly interrupted by the bartender placing the two chilled bottles of beer on the counter.
   "Thank you," she mumbles.
She gets her phone out of her bag, checks the time, and places it back in. Before she can get up to make an escape from him, here's there. Next to her.
   "Hi, Ana."
She swallows hard, feeling nothing but a ball of anxiety and nausea in her throat.
   "Hello."
   "It's been a while," he breathes out slowly, allowing his words to circle her head and eat her alive.
   "Yes it has," she whispers.
He reaches his hand up and traces it along her collar bone, moving any stray hairs out of his path. He continues to the top of her dress, moving it slightly to the left, revealing the scar that consumed her every day.
   "I'll always be a part of you it seems, Ana. Don't you think?"
Her body is paralyzed under his touch and her words are nowhere to be found.
   "You're here with someone tonight?" He asks.
   "Yes," the staleness in her tone is biting.
   "That's not very nice of you, Ana. You're mine, remember?" His grip grasps a lock of her hair tightly between his hand and pulls it in close to his face. "You're. All. Mine."
His words send an electric shock of fear and pure hatred through her neck and down her spine. I've got to get out of here, she thinks, where is Noah? 
   "He's not here right now, Ana," He answers her unspoken question, "And he's not going to be."
He lets go of his firm grip on her hair and quickly grasps her wrist.
   "Let's go," He demands as he attempts to drag her from her seat.
   "No," she argues, planting her ground on the stool on which she's seated.
   "What did you say?" He growls, eyes alight with anger.
   "I'm not going anywhere with you. Not this time. Not ever again."
A wave of power surges through her body. She is in control. She can do this.
   "You're a piece of shit, John, and I'm not your property anymore."
The anger inside of him is palpable, he cannot contain it anymore.
   "You bitch," he snaps, and slaps her quickly and harshly across the face.
She falls from her seat onto the wooden floor. Noah sees this from across the room as he exits the bathroom.
   "Ana!" He shouts as he runs toward the scene.
   "What the fuck are you doing?" Noah yells in John's face.
   "Well I was about to be doing that," he says, hatred filling his words as he looks down at Ana, "But now I guess you can have the bitch."
A wave of anger overtakes Noah's body, his eyes focus and his jaw tightens as he raises a fist and connects it sharply with John's face.
John crashes to the ground next to Ana as blood pours out of his nose and mouth.
   "Stay away from her, fucker, got it?"
Noah reaches down and helps Ana to her feet. Before too much attention is brought to them, he grabs her bag and swiftly guides her out of the bar.

   "Are you okay? What happened?" Noah holds Ana at arm's length, not letting go of her shoulders from his firm grip.
   "I don't know what happened," She says between breaths. "He... he's..." She's unable to finish the sentence before collapsing into the welcoming arms of Noah. He allows it, no question, and squeezes her tightly against him.
   "Let's go, we can go to my place and get you some ice for your cheek."


Ana falls onto the cushioned bed, allowing all of her stress, fear, and anxiety to melt away. She feels the bed shift as Noah lowers down onto it. As she turns over, she sees he's taken off his shirt, and is wearing nothing but khakis and socks.
She smiles, for the first time in what seems like lifetimes, and allows herself to let go and cry.
He rolls her into his grasp, letting her tears run down his chest and onto his blankets. He moves the soft hair from her bare shoulder and sees her scar plain as day. As she sobs, he reaches down and kisses the scar. First, softly and sweetly, and soon melts into a passionate, loving kiss from her scar, to her collarbone, to her neck, up to her face. She stops crying, and instead opens her eyes in a mix of comfort and pleasure. He stops, looks into her eyes and softly kisses away the tears streaming down her face. When he's done, their eyes meet yet again and his deep, supple voice flows through her.
   "You are more than your scar. And you are more than your past."
And with that, her entire body ignites with unyielding need for him, provoking her to connect her lips with his. Their bodies intertwine everywhere; their legs, arms, her fingers grabbing at his hair and his fingers tugging at her clothes. "I want you," she breathes heavily as he connects his thick lips with her neck. "I need you," he breathes in return. His strong hands peel her dress of from her hot, wanting skin and his lips connect with it yet again. She moans softly as they melt into one another.
The room fills with a sweet, zealous passion, bringing them together and allowing them to momentarily forget  the past, present, and future.

The movement stops and the atmosphere settles.
Noah softly kisses Ana on her forehead and locks eyes with her deep, dark, inconspicuous eyes that he could see through like crystal clear waters. He places his finger tips gently on her scar and exhales slowly.
"You are radiant."
She smiles, and thinks that finally, her scar as a new meaning.

Raspy Breaths

The rain drips down the dusty windowpane and the cool breeze dances through the cracks in the old wood. I close my eyes and breathe in deeply through my nostrils. Smoke, I think, I smell smoke. I don't panic to find out where it's coming from because I already know the answer. I stand up and stretch my aching bones from sitting on the hard, wooden chest. My thick, flannel button down falls off one of my shoulders and the sleeves slip over my wrists, engulfing my hands entirely. I cross my arms over one another and shuffle my chilled legs down the creaky hallway. The door is open slightly, and I quietly push it open more to see Bryan sitting at his desk smoking a cigarette.
"You shouldn't smoke inside," I barely project through my dry throat. It feels as though I haven't spoken or swallowed in weeks.
"I shouldn't smoke at all, but I do it anyway, don't I?" He returns without turning toward me.
I slowly scuttle into the room, sliding my woolly socks over the hardwood floor. I approach him from behind and uncross my arms, loosening my flannel yet again. It sinks over my shoulder revealing my collarbone. I stretch my arms out to his shoulders and place my cool, bony fingers on his obviously tense muscles. I begin to massage lightly and feel him suddenly release the tension from his upper body.
"Hmmm," he moans as his eyelids close slowly.
"How are you feeling today, is it bothering you?"
"No," he breathes, "Not anymore."
He opens his eyes and turns toward me, forcing me to drop my hands to my side. He looks at me from head to toe and back, examining every inch of my disheveled stature.
"God," he whispers, "You're irresistible."
He grabs my head with both of his hands and kisses me on my lips, immediately sending a current of warmth throughout my icy body. He tangles his fingers throughout my messy hair taking control of my mouth with his tongue.
"Oh," I moan between kisses, and before I know it he's pressing me up against the wall. His left hand is sliding up my shirt and grabbing at my chest, causing my skin to prickle with goosebumps under his touch. His hands and the flannel rubbing against me feel heavenly since I'm not wearing a bra. I have absolutely no control over my body as he dominates me, claiming my body as his. The quick flare of passion is overwhelming, and suddenly he's pulling away and leaving me up against the wall with a heavy, aching feeling in my stomach.
"Bryan," I start, but he cuts me off.
"I'm sorry," he blinks, "I have to get back to work."
I stand there staring at him as he refuses eye contact with me, wondering if this is because the pain is coming back.
"Bryan, does it hurt agai-"
"Lucy, please, I need to do this."
I unclench my body and pull my flannel up onto my shoulder. I can feel my weak legs trembling from the built up pressure in my body. I break my stare with his closed eyelids and finally manage to move. I grab his pack of cigarettes and exit the room, closing the door behind me.
Why won't he let me help him, I think, walking back toward the windowsill.
I sit down on the unforgiving wooden chest and press my forehead up against the cool glass. After a moment, I look down at my hands and realize I still have his cigarettes.
Might as well join him, I think and take one out placing it on my moist lips. I flick the lighter a few times before it finally ignites and light the tip ablaze. I inhale slowly, feeling the tension in my stomach release and blow it out in thick plumes of smoke through my teeth.
"Mmmmm," I groan, closing my eyes and feeling the smoke envelop me in its arms, pretending they are his.

Introduction

Hello to anyone who is reading this.
I revised all my posts, attempted to put them in somewhat chronological order, and put all of the ones from my Meg Well Read blog. I think a few might be missing that I accidentally skipped over... but this is the majority.
I apologize for the earlier ones, they date all the way back to 2010 and are pretty horrible in comparison to my most recent ones. Regardless, I hope you enjoy them and I will continue to post them as I write more.
Thanks!
Meg

Light

"Sometimes I just feel like none of it's worth it. Like... like I'm an empty shell of a person and there's no reason for me to be here."
"How did you get these pills, Alice?"
"Someone at school."
"You're sixteen, how could you..."
"Dad, please. Just leave me alone for now."
"Ali, I'm sorry. I... I'll be right back."
I stand from her bed and uneasily walk toward the door. I seem to be seeing three of everything. Oh god, this is heart-wrenching. Where's Susie? It seemed so impossible that my sixteen-year-old daughter could be suicidal. But it's not impossible. It's not, and I know that. I can't leave her alone right now. What am I doing? I turn on my heel and barge back into her room and find her on the floor weeping silently.
"Ali, baby, please."
She's lying on her back on the hardwood floor with her eyes closed, arms and legs mindlessly sprawled out and tears streaming down her ice cold cheeks.
After a moment, she opens her eyes and looks at me. Nothing but sheer pain and grief in her eyes.
"Dad-"
"No, Ali," I cut her off, "Please, just listen to me. Can we sit?"
"Okay," she says dryly.
We sit lifelessly on the bed next to each other, and I brush a piece of hair behind her ear. I look into her eyes and see the pure sadness and hatred she must be feeling. This is real, I think, she's not overreacting. I need to help her. There is no pain greater than that which you see your daughter's ultimate unwillingness to be alive.
"I have a story I'd like to share with you, Ali."
She gives me a slight nod while blinking slowly, looking awfully exhausted and run-down.
"Okay, well..." My mind wanders. I'm pulled back to a time twenty years ago.

"You're fired. I'm sorry. But you have to go."
"Mr. Donaley I just don't understand, and either do you! I need this job!"
"Jonathan, we're going to ask you to leave now and if you don't we'll call security to escort you out."
"Okay. Fine."
I walk out of the building and it's freezing. The snow is coming down lightly but the air feels like daggers slicing through me. I fumble with my keys trying to find the right one for my car while walking through the parking garage to what was formally known as my parking spot. 
"Fired. I just got fired." I say audibly to myself. I can't believe it. I need to force myself to process it, but I can't. When I get to my spot, my car isn't there. 
"WHAT THE FUCK!" I scream, causing my voice to echo loudly through the vacant garage. 
I now have no job, no idea where my car is, and no money to get it back anyway. What else can you expect in the city, right?
"Fucking awesome," I mutter as I walk towards the exit of the garage, "It's gonna be a long ass walk home."
I walk through the city as mother nature blankets it with soft, fluffy snow. It's about six pm and already dark. I'll have to walk about three more blocks, cross the bridge, and then two more blocks and then I'll be home. Home sweet home. My shitty one bedroom apartment with barely any heat which, hey, I won't even be able to afford soon! Can't wait! 
It doesn't seem like that far of a walk, but in the crisp, rigid winter air, it's a journey. 
As I get to the bridge, I can see that it's basically empty. No one likes to spend a night like this outside when they can be warm and cozy  inside. With the exception of a few random cars and one psychotic biker, I only see one person. They're far in the distance from where I'm walking, but they don't seem to be moving. What are they doing? It's hard enough to stay warm out here while you're moving and exerting energy, but standing still? They must be nuts.
As I get closer, I can see that it's a woman and she's crying. Is she lost? Did she lose someone else? What is wrong? I'm only a few yards from her now and can see her much clearer. As the thickness of snow in the air clears before me, I can see that she is not standing on the sidewalk of the bridge, but over the edge. 'Holy shit,' I think, 'she's going to kill herself.'
"Excuse me?" I say without thinking, now only three feet away from her at most.
She practically whips around in shock that someone is on the bridge or even acknowledging her at all. Based on her current circumstances, I'm guessing she doesn't get much acknowledgement. 
She doesn't say anything, only whimpers in recognition. I have to say something else.
"Are you okay?" Dumb fucking question, jackass, clearly not.
She shakes her head rapidly as more tears stream down her cheeks. A car passes us quickly and in the swift second that the headlights shine over us, I get a clear look of her face. Wow, she is beautiful. Tragically beautiful. She's wearing a thick winter coat with a scarf and knitted hat. She has long, brown hair that is basically frosted from the snow and her face looks like that of a porcelain doll. She's flawless. 
'Well, clearly not, jackass' my subconscious screams at me. 'Do something.'
"I can help you," I coax, stepping closer to her but not too close to scare her. "I want to help you." These kind words must be alien to her.
"You can't," she almost whispers, her voice raspy and hoarse. 
"Why not?" I ask.
"You don't know me," she says, which causes more tears to run down her milky face.
"I'd like to," I say wholeheartedly, "You're very beautiful." 
I can practically see her stop breathing. She blinks at me a few times before responding.
"Thank you," she mouths to me, but no sound comes out.
"Would you like to go for a coffee?" I ask, somehow forgetting that she's not really looking for a date but for something else.
A look of confusion and surprise spreads across her face. Damn, it's cold. I can feel myself beginning to shiver and my teeth chattering. I step closer towards her and decide to take a risk. I put my gloved hand over ungloved hand that's holding onto the metal railing. "Please," I whisper, and a tear from her cheek falls onto my leather glove. It seems impossible to me that she could still be crying because of the temperature, but then I'm proven wrong by my own tears falling from my eyes. Why am I crying? I look into her eyes and I have my answer. 
I'm crying because this is a woman I know I could truly love, and I may not have the chance.
As she's looking into my eyes, tears still flowing, she closes hers, squeezing them tightly. She moves a little to the right and carefully turns around so she's fully facing me. She pulls her legs up over the railing and climbs over so she's only inches away from me. 'She's safe. You did it.' my subconscious whispers. Impulsively, before I can stop myself, I'm kissing her. I pull her close to me, and regardless of how cold she is her body heat feels so good radiating onto me. The kiss isn't exactly passionate, although it kind of feels that way, it's just more of a thank you. A promise, even. 
I pull away and slowly open my eyes to see she's looking at me.
"I got fired tonight and I don't know where my car is."
And for the first time I hear her laugh, and I swear to god it's the most heavenly noise I've ever heard in my life.
"My mother just died," she says after she stops laughing. "Cancer." No one's laughing now.
"I'm... I'm so sorry," I say. 'Don't cry,' I have to mentally tell myself, 'Be strong for her.'
"I feel a bit better now," she whispers, and kisses me. 
When she pulls away I can't help but smile. It's a smile that spreads all the way up to my ears, and I finally see some color flush into her face.
"Coffee?" I ask.
"Yes, please."
We begin to walk off the bridge in the direction I came.
"I'm Jonathan, by the way."
"I'm Susie."

By the time I finish the story, I realize I'm in Alice's room and I'm crying. So is she. She's staring at me with a little more life in her eyes than before.
"It was... mom?" She asks.
"Yes, Ali. It was mom."
She begins to sob now, uncontrollable sobs that cause her to collapse onto my lap, her muscles numb with pain and her heart finally allowing her body to release the ache.
"I'm sorry, dad," she says in between sobs.
"Don't be sorry, Ali," I reassure her, unable to contain myself as well. "Twenty years ago, if your mother had jumped off that bridge I wouldn't have met her. Hell, I may have even killed myself too. And in that case, you wouldn't have been born, and either way your mother and I would be miserable or dead. You need to see how important you are," I can barely speak I'm crying so hard. I haven't cried this much since that night twenty years ago. "You are our reason for living, Alice, you are always someone's reason for living. And one day, you'll be someone else's, too."
I allow her to cry in my lap for what seems like forever but is probably only a half hour. After she is done, she falls asleep in my lap. I think I follow.

It's probably midnight now, and I wake up in Ali's bed with her laying next to me, sleeping a soft, deep sleep.  I quietly get up from her bed and look at the clock. Yup, 12:15. I walk out of her room and head downstairs. There's one dim light coming from the kitchen where I can hear Susie making coffee. She must have gotten home while we were sleeping. I enter the kitchen and see her in her robe and slippers, just as beautiful as the day I met her. I can't stop myself, not that I'd want to, from throwing myself at her completely. I grab the back of her head and the small of her back as she turns to acknowledge me, cutting her off from any 'hello' I was about to receive. I kiss her with more passion than I think I've felt in years. God, I love this woman, and it took so much for it to be re-imprinted into my mind. I am so, so lucky to have not only one, but two incredible women in my life. I didn't save Susie that day twenty years ago, she saved me, and I am pouring all of those feelings and more into this one, single kiss.
When I finally pull away, I stare down into those two beautiful eyes I've loved since day one.
"I love you," I whisper, not looking away from her for a second.
"I love you, too, Jon." She's smiling. "What's wrong?"
I pull her into my arms.
"It's a long story, I won't bother you with it now. I just need you to know how much you mean to me, and how happy I am you're alive."
A light bulb must click on in her head, and another half smile spreads across her face.
"I have you to thank for that, Mr. Morris."
"Quite the contrary, Mrs. Morris." I kiss her again, but this time it's soft and lovely. "Let's go to bed."
I switch off the kitchen light as we head up the stairs and I can faintly see from the living room window that the city is being lightly blanketed with a sheet of soft, fluffy snow.