Queen of Nothing

12. Psycho Bitch

We roared down my street, the lamps gleaming, the houses quiet. He stopped in front of my house, and I didn't ask how he remembered. Of course he remembered. I hated that he did.

I slipped off the motorcycle, unclipped the helmet, handed it to him. He held onto it, concentrating really hard on the visor. He wanted to say something to me. I knew this about him.

"Well, thanks. For driving me home."

He shrugged, "No problem."

We stood in silence some more.

"O-okay," I murmured, before turning on my heel to leave. His arm shot out, curled around my arm as he pulled me to him. His face was a hairbreadth away from mine, his eyes boring a hole into mine. I felt his breath on my cheek, felt his chest rise and fall against mine. We were so close, too close. Yet nothing in me wanted to move away.

His eyes searched mine, and I felt it again, the vulnerability, the way his gaze cast a light on all of my cracks, the parts of me that were chipping away. I wanted to run so badly, but he held tight, and I stood rooted to the spot, mesmerized. Was it like this when we were younger? The intensity, the unspoken words, the way neither of us could quantify what shimmered in the air between us?

This was an intangible, wild, insane thing that took flight over the past couple of hours. Why couldn't I remember any of it? All of him was familiar to me, like a thing I could step into any time, but the emotions were new. Raw, unguarded, complicated.

Neither of us could move, and neither of us could look away. I waited, apprehensive, to see what he would do. Push and pull.

Then, without saying a word, he reached into his pocket, and pressed something cool and hard into my palm.

I gulped. My demon surfaced, whispering, he doesn't care about you, in my ear. He never will.

This is all an act.

He's trying to get to you.

"Milo, I have to go," I strained against him.

He let me go, his arms slumping to his side. Then, he set his jaw, put the helmet back on, revved the engine to life. Before speeding away.

I turned my palm, to see what he had put in it.

It was a bottle cap. With that damned mandarin etched on the underside.

---

I laid in bed all weekend. I didn't do my laundry, didn't cook a single meal, called out of all of my shifts at Casa Nova's. All I could do was replay the conversation I had with Milo in that taqueria. Over and over again.

Over and over and over again.

Packets of cheap ramen littered the kitchen countertop. Clothes were strewn everywhere. My phone was in a permanent state of do not disturb, texts from Katie and Zara flooding my messages. Apparently I had been elected onto homecoming court.

Apparently, I hadn't cared enough to show up.

Apparently, half the school had seen Cole run after Lily. Apparently Cole was sleeping with us both. 

Apparently, I didn't have any energy to deal with it. My laptop was on the dining table, with a million tabs open. I knew what the searches were.

Gia Dasari

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