Blood Orange

I stare at myself in the mirror. The faint music is dooming through the room as I grip the sink so hard my knuckles turn white. What am I doing? Why can’t I just be happy and enjoy this? I hate this so much. Why did they throw this stupid party? I mean, I know why, but why? I hate parties; I thought I made that clear.

No, no, it’s okay. They’re your friends, Xander. They could have ignored your accomplishment altogether. I screw my eyes shut, letting out a groan. I need to be grateful for this, my new position as team captain, for this party, for this family. I’m so lucky. I’m so lucky. I’m so lucky. I’m so lucky.

I am.

So.

Lucky.

The words will always feel rotten in my mouth. Is it really luck? How lucky am I to have something I don’t want?

I take a deep breath; yeah, it’s fine. I’m fine. When I open my eyes again, I’m instantly betrayed by my reflection–my jaw is tight, and my eyes are dull. I try to ignore the piercings on my face, but I can’t. It’s their purpose to stand out and overshadow the other worse features on my face.

I want to leave, but it’s my house. I shake my head and push off the sink; I was probably in here too long. What if they’re waiting for me out there? Maybe I could slip into my room without them noticing, say I’m tired after practice.

I slip out of the bathroom and walk down the hallway, where the music is loud, just like my friends’ laughter. I poke my head out and see everyone.

Wait, where’s–?

“Hey.” Ethan’s voice comes behind me.

“Hey…” I say, turning around almost slowly.

He smiles at me, and all the guilt comes to my throat.

“Congrats on becoming team captain; everyone knew it would be you,” Ethan says with a sense of pride that I didn’t deserve.

“Oh yeah, I suppose so.” I don’t deserve that either.

Ethan shifts awkwardly, twisting his ring in circles, then licks his lips. “Crazy question. Maybe I’ve been in the head about it, but, um, have you been avoiding me?”

Yes. I don’t want to, but yes.

“Um, no,” I said quickly, “just been busy.”

“Oh, with what.”

“Stuff.”

He huffs, “Come on, don’t leave me hanging here.”

It’s my turn to shift awkwardly, moving my hands behind my back and cracking a knuckle.

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but we normally tell each other everything,” Ethan says, his lips slipping from his natural upturned smile to a downward one.

Not everything. Almost everything. I wish I could tell you everything.

Tell you that avoiding you feels like I’m being stabbed, but before the blade is pulled out, my body heals around it. It’s a constant act that I don’t deserve to stop.

Stab. Heal. Pull. All day. Every day.

Tell you how much I love you. Tell you that I’m not the only one who does.

I wish I could tell you it’s part of the reason why

“Xander?”

“I don’t think we should be friends anymore.”

The words slipped out, and Ethan’s face fell.

No, actually, it’s like a blank page. He lost all his amusement and joy in his face.

His light brown eyes stared straight at me.

“You didn’t do anything if that’s what you’re thinking, okay.”

“Then why? I mean, you have been avoiding me, so I guess I can’t say it didn’t come out of nowhere, but…” It did.

If only he knew what happened at the carnival. Talk about what really came out of nowhere. But yet, that’s another thing I can’t tell you.

I shift my eyes over his head to the end of the hall.

I could hear our friends laughing.

I can hear her laughter.

“No, Ethan, you didn’t. It’s just…” I cracked another knuckle, “I just realized some things.”

“Things?” he smiles, but his eyebrows are frowning, “What things.”

“Like we don’t really have anything in common since you quit ice hockey.” What a bullshit excuse.

“So what? We have other things in common than that, like our music tastes, specifically rock; Evanescence is literally our top favorite band.”

“Wow, one thing, you rest my case,” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets and forcing a smirk.

“When did it matter? We have been fine for the last 6 years. Now that’s not enough for you anymore?”

A silent “I’m not enough for you anymore” hangs in the air. His scent turned sour, or maybe it was mine. Ours? It’s hard to tell anymore. Our scents are still mixed even after two days of not being in the same room.

I moved my gaze from the photo on the wall to him again. He’s already looking, and our eyes lock. It felt like a force keeping me there. His eyes, the perfect shade of brown—my favorite shade of brown—move, searching my face like he couldn’t believe what I was saying.

I couldn’t believe what I was saying. But I can’t stop now, I have to see it through.

“Yeah, it’s not,” I let myself look away, slightly shifting my body away from him. “Our friendship is kind of dull compared to our other friends, don’t you think?”

Dull?

DULL?!

WHAT AM I SAYING? WHY AM I DOING THIS?

I can feel my own heartbreak; it’s constantly shattering. My world is ending, and I’m the one hitting the doomsday button.

I glance at his face again, the blank expression replaced with something worse. His eyes are glossy as his pursed lips, the tip of his eyebrows slightly curly up, and the natural way he swayed from side to side stopped. I’ve only seen that face a couple times but never at me, only when his parents are involved. The look of sad devastation and defeat.

And something else I haven’t seen.

Something I now wanted to erase from my memory.

“No, I didn’t think that, and I know you didn’t think that before.” his lips quivered, his voice almost whispering.

“Actually, I always had,” I said, nodding, “but I just overlooked it, and I can’t anymore.”

He didn’t say anything, so I continued, “I’m not saying this to hurt you; I’m just being honest.”

Ethan nods, “I get it,” then crosses his arms, “I’m just some guy to you.”

I shrug as if the shoes fit. But it doesn’t. It never will, even after cutting parts off. Ethan will never be some guy to me, and I hate it. At least now, I didn’t before.

He’s everything to me. I want him. I want to continue loving him forever, but I can’t.

Serenity loves him, maybe as much as I do. Definitely can love him better than I could. She gets him on an artistic level I never could.

Sure, I paint, but they create. I haven’t created anything inherently new—nothing enough to make someone cry or feel seen, hardly anything to be admired.

“Then why did you kiss me just two nights ago?”

I look down the hall, grab his arm, and quickly pull him into my room.

I closed the door and took a short breath before turning around to face him. What lie should I tell him? The one time I didn’t think things through, it led me here: lying to my best friend, possibly the love of my life. God, I’m hopeless.

I relaxed my shoulders just to immediately tell them, and “I was drunk wasn’t thinking straight.” A forced chuckle came out my mouth, “um no pun intended.”

Ethan recrosses his arms; the water in his eyes is gone now, and the crease between his perfect eyebrows is more prominent. He’s seeing right through me. I can feel it.

“Bull, you didn’t drink not once. I was with you almost the entire night.” His voice is now more strained, and his eyes narrowed in.

He’s right. Why did I think he wouldn’t remember that? It was his first kiss.

My first kiss.

Our first kiss.

I always think about it; I repeatedly replay it in my head, and it’s only been two days. Our reasons are different, but he’s a hopeless romantic; I bet he hates that I took his first kiss. I don’t know why I did it, knowing what I knew. Not only did I hurt Serenity, but I hurt him, too. I knew it was stupid and wrong, but I couldn’t resist.

It was like all my self-control went out the window. All my selfishness came up to the surface at the worst time and place imaginable.

“Do you regret it?”

“Yes.”

no.

I don’t regret it. I want more. I need more.

I think that’s even worse.

I want to choose you so bad, Ethan. I swear I do. But if you don’t choose me back, what if you really just want her? I couldn’t live with another person choosing her over me, so I might as well just take the choice away.

Then it’s on my terms, and I really can’t be hurt by it.

“What if I told you I don’t?”