Matches | √

Chapter Eighteen

fracture | the cracking or breaking of a hard object or material

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3/15/17

"BROOKS WAIT!" I call after my friend as I make my way down the hallway behind him.

His body stills at the sound of my voice as it bounces off the empty locker walls. I jog over to him until I'm standing right behind him. I want to reach out and place a hand on his shoulder. I want to tell him it's not what he thinks. But he knows exactly what happened because it was clear as day the moment his brown eyes locked on Asher and myself stumbling out of a closet. A closet where Asher touched me and kissed me in ways that suddenly makes me feel dirty and shameful.

"What?" his gruff voice whips out at me without turning around. I flinch at the harsh tone. A tone I'm unfamiliar with because Brooklyn doesn't speak to me like this. Never has.

I wet my dry lips trying to find the right words to fix this moment. To fix the way his brown eyes turned cold on me. Eyes that always watched me with happiness turned to pure sadness in a single instant, and I hate that I caused that.

"Please," I beg, wanting him to turn around. Needing him to face me. Needing to know I haven't completely lost him. Lost my friend. Lost the person who nowadays makes me feel most normal. Most like me when I've begun to hate the new person I've become.

He slowly rotates on his heel until his gaze narrows in on me and his eyes grow hard with anger. The warm brown of his irises freeze and darken, and my heart begins to ache at his cold demeanor.

"You're just friends, right?" he questions, sardonically calling back to our last conversation at the coffee shop about Asher.

My eyes burn with unshed tears as my eyes flutter with the need to hold them back. "Can we please just talk?" I plead.

"I don't want to talk with you right now Mae," he states with an edge of disgust. As if he can't believe I would ever be with someone like Asher Lawton. He thinks I'm too good to be with someone like him. Whereas the rest of the world sees it the other way around, I'm not good enough for the town's prince.

"It's not what you think it is," I tell him though the moment the words leave me everything turns bitter because they're a lie.

He scoffs. "Sure," he drawls as he crosses his arms across his chest.

I pause afraid to admit the next words. "It's more," I tell him faintly, opening myself up to the truth I've been so eager to bury.

"It's Asher," he chuckles dryly. "He isn't capable of more. Don't be dense," he says letting his anger not only cloud his eyes but his words.

His words hit my chest and sink under my skin making me frustrated and heated all at the same time. "You won't get it," I say with a shrug blowing off his words completely. I won't give him the satisfaction of showing him he's pissed me off. That maybe just maybe his words rang a bell in my head awakening me to the fact that he may be right. "No one will," I add dropping my gaze to the tile floor.

"Don't act like this isn't more than him manipulating you," Brooklyn says, causing my eyes to lift back up to his. His brown eyes still are frigid, but the edges begin to melt with gentleness as they take in my face. "Don't fall for this Mae," he whispers.

My chest feels heavy with his words. My head wants to acknowledge them; my heart wants to ignore them. I stand in front of my friend confused and on the verge of breaking down, because I've never wanted someone like I want Asher. But I'm also acutely aware of how bad he is for me. "Just please don't tell Franny," I request simply. The only words I can bring myself to say at this moment.