My shoulders sag as soon as I sit back in the car. The night is dark, and the air cold. The fogged-up windows hide me from anyone looking in and seeing me on the verge of a breakdown. I’ve had eight months to prepare. What the fuck am I talking about? I’ve had almost sixteen years to work out my shit, and I still can’t figure it out.

The guilt. The wonder. The want. Damn the stupid fucking want. I’ve replayed every touch, kiss and ounce of pleasure he gave me for two hundred and fifty days, and it’s been nothing but torture. I stupidly thought it was the goodbye we needed.

When I cornered him in the kitchen before he left, I thought I could rip the band-aid off and give in to the million fantasies he’s starred in and send him off with well wishes and close the door on whatever it is Drix and I were. For good.

I was wrong. So fucking wrong. It wasn’t needed. It was selfish, and I’ve been paying the price ever since. Every time I close my eyes he’s there, in my thoughts, my dreams, like a ghost I feel him everywhere, but as usual, he’s nowhere to be found.

When he left, the usual cracks in my heart were no longer small fissures I could control and fill. It broke. Whole chunks, dismantled, with serrated edges that could no longer be pieced back together. I thought I knew what hurt and loss was when it came to Hendrix, but it was really just an induction into the complete and dominating destruction of knowing what it would’ve been like to have him. Every single part of him, in every possible way.

The car door creaks open and Dakota steps in, placing a bag at her feet, she holds the gift with reverence on her lap. The drive starts in silence, as every part of me tries to recover from the small glimpse of Hendrix I allowed myself. Tonight he looked different, yet exactly the same. Freshly tanned, his body was languid, and relaxed. His eyes were a different story, the hate and hurt still burned as bright as ever. The only time he lets his guard down with me is around Dakota. I live for those moments. For years I’ve witnessed a boy turn into a man, to prove to the world that blood is thicker than water. For Dakota, he would lay his life down, and sometimes I don’t know if that’s why the pull to him is so strong. Going above and beyond, he put every injustice he suffered on the wayside for a gorgeous little girl that served only as a permanent reminder of all the reasons he and I never happened.

“Are you okay?” Dakota’s voice pulls me out of my own self-sabotaging thoughts.

“Yeah babe, of course.”

“You seem upset.” I know how observant my daughter is. I don’t know what she knows or what she thinks, but it’s the one thing I refuse to talk to her about. She’s a hopeless romantic and Hendrix is my secret for that reason alone. Knowing that my life would’ve been different if I didn’t fall pregnant, is not something I want to touch her. The guilt, the pressure, the expectation, and the potential disappointment is too much for her heart and shoulders to bear. Either way, it’s irrelevant and unnecessary. The only thing that would hurt more than a life without Drix, is a life without Dakota. She’s my everything, and I would do it all again, no questions asked. A hundred times over, I would cry a million tears, and relive every painful moment to have her here by my side. Everything about her is perfection, her heart and soul are flawless. The personification of what love is and how it feels to be loved, she’s been the bright days in my darkest times. She’s my saving grace and the older she gets, the wiser and sharper she becomes. I can’t keep much from her anymore, but this is a must. She’ll make it her business to make sure her mother gets her happily ever after, and as much as I want that for myself one day, I want her to stay in the world of teenage drama and carefree living for as long as she can.

“I’m fine. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t sleep late and you didn’t overwhelm your uncle.” With one hand still holding the wheel, I gesture to the wrapped box she’s holding, “What did he get you?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “He insisted I open it at home.”

“How was your dad, and Em?” Purposefully I change the subject, knowing how much Dakota loves speaking about her dad. It makes my heart tighten in happiness and gratitude that as a family we’re finally here.

“Dad tried to play it cool in front of Uncle Drix, but Em and I knew he’d been secretly counting down the days ‘til he got home.”

“Why am I not surprised. Your dad was always a vault when it came to his feelings,” I explain. “He would do anything to avoid talking about them.”

Rolling her eyes, she huffs in exasperation. “Aren’t all boys like that?”

“What do you know about other boys?”

“Nothing.” Her face flushes as she dips her head away from me.

“Dakota Michaels, is there something you need to tell me?” I ask animatedly.

“Nope.” She shakes her head before pensively looking out the window. “Nothing worth mentioning.”

Turning into the driveway, I switch the car off, and Dakota bolts to the front door, using her own set of keys instead of waiting for me. She’s months away from being sixteen, I’m not surprised a boy has finally gotten her attention, but what I am surprised at is her hiding it from me. Usually she can’t keep a single thought in, but I guess we all have our secrets.

“Dakota,” I call out as I enter the house. Reaching her room, I push open the door and watch her; legs crossed in the middle of her bed meticulously unwrapping her gift. Curious to see what he bought her, I pad over to the edge of the bed and sit quietly.

“Holy shit,” she squeals. She flicks through the pages of what appears to be a book of photos. “It’s so perfect,” she whispers. “If I made myself something this is exactly what I’d put together.” She looks up at me with such adoration and delight. “Want to see?”

“I don’t want to impose.”

She cocks her head to the side, looking at me strangely. “Impose? You’re my mum, you wouldn’t know how not to impose.”

“Excuse me,” I scoff. “Are you saying I’m nosey?”

Her side eye game is strong, and I laugh. I shuffle up beside her. “You’re right. Show me what he got you.”

Dakota’s little fingers turn each page. With such delicate precision, I watch her make sure she leaves no fingerprints on all the photos. “Uncle Drix showed me all the traditional tourist type photos over dinner, but I can’t believe he knew these were the ones I would love the most.”

“You’ve given him enough photography talks to last a lifetime, how could he not know?”

Mesmerised, she silently takes in the beauty of the hidden treasures of the world. While I feel Drix’s love wash over me.

Stone alleyways, locals hanging over their balconies, people wearing traditional dress; the photos are powerful and hypnotic. They’re also the exact parts of the world we discussed going and seeing together. A lifetime ago, he and I were going to travel to every corner of the globe. Close our eyes, point to the map, and fly.

Each photo has intricate details of different churches in Jerusalem, people at festivals in Rome, and an elaborate amount of street food in Barcelona. Hendrix brought fourteen-year-old me every inch of the world, and I fall. Farther. Deeper. Harder. Madly in love with him. As if the pain, the lies and the hurt never happened, I fall like it’s the first time all over again.

“I wish I was best friends with those Michaels twins like you are,” Bethany says. A little bit taller than I am, she rests her elbow on my shoulder and chews her gum loudly in my ear. Like every lunchtime, we’re all circled around the edges of the handball courts while all the boys try and outplay one another.

It’s a pit of teenage hormones, where the girls watch like vultures, and the boys perform for us. Showing off who’s funnier, smarter, and stronger. But it’s all a charade and completely unnecessary. All the boys know there’s only two of them all the girls want; Hendrix, and Jagger. My boys. My best friends.

I’ve lived next door to Jagger and Hendrix my whole life. Hanging out on the decrepit streets of Sydney’s South West, we became inseparable. Through the years the dirt and grime of our surroundings faded away, as we replaced them with a solid foundation of friendship, trust and loyalty. To everyone else they’re deprived of positive influences; rough, misguided, and unpolished. To me, they’re boys who stand proudly as men in spite of all that. They’re my protectors; walls of steel hiding their truths, and gladly accepting the judgement, and labels; waiting for the moment where they’ll show the world just how wrong she can be.

“I would be happy with either one of them,” she continues.

Since we all came back from our summer holidays, school has been filled with endless amount of conversations of who’s with who and who wants to be with who. Namely how the Michaels twins filled out, and how every girl is suddenly ready for them to be their first.

Looking straight ahead, I watch Jagger and Hendrix standing side by side, commanding all the attention around them. Animatedly they tell a story, throwing their heads back with laughter, and earning high fives and cheers from the boys who so desperately want to be them.

Their physical traits are too similar for anyone to notice how different they are. Jagger is night, and Hendrix is day. One can’t function without the other, and together it’s a beautiful blend of everything they have to offer. And the older we get, the more time we spend together the, harder it is to ignore.  

“I’m going to talk to them.” Bethany rights herself and starts adjusting her clothes; opening the buttons on her school shirt, allowing the top of her boobs to peek through. “Come with me,” she murmurs, her mouth open, and a cherry flavoured lip gloss circling her plump lips. Bethany is like a dog with a bone. A gorgeous dog with a bone that’s impossible to ignore. She can be obnoxious and annoying, but how she looks on the outside is enough to turn all the teenage boys inside out.  She won’t let her obsession go until she has a reason too, and for now, she’s dug her claws into the idea of her hooking up with either of them.

In the blink of an eye, irritation consumes me. “Do you have to chew so loudly?” I shake her arm off me and bend to pick up my bag.

“What’s your problem?”

“Nothing,” I lie. “I need to get to class.”

Just like everybody else, I’m consumed by those damn Michaels twins. An unexplainable sense of protection and possession draws me to Jagger. A desperate need to keep his beauty to myself because nobody else deserves it. But with Hendrix, it’s a selfish obsession. One where every day starts with applying subtle hints of mascara and lip gloss in the mirror. Wearing my hair a little different, my clothes a little tighter. A little shorter. For him, I’m desperate to cross lines and break out of the friend zone. But the fear of rejection and losing my best friend fuels my insecurities. It’s a matter of what I want versus what’s right.

Bethany walks toward him, and jealousy begins to simmer underneath the surface. I can’t watch her flirt with him, and him enjoy it. I need to leave before my blood boils, and my best-kept secret overflows from my mouth and into the wrong ears.

Turning away, I head in the direction of my next class. Even though I'm unsure of what to do next, I do know it’s beginning to impact our friendship. I’ve been avoiding him, instead of admitting my feelings, and it feels like the loss and change between us is inevitable.

“Sasha, wait up.” My feet move faster. “Sash,” he repeats, his voice closer, his body beside me in no time. “My legs are twice the length of yours, where do you think you’re getting away to so fast?”

“Drix. Hey,” I respond nonchalantly. “I didn’t hear you.”

He shakes his head and smiles. “Why do you even bother lying to me? What’s wrong?”

I shake my head and shrug, for the first time feeling defeated that he knows me so well. We step together in silence. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. Eventually, a loud sigh leaves my mouth. Resigned by his patience, the words tumble out quicker than I’d like, the familiarity of telling him everything coaxing the truth out of me.

“I just needed to get away from everyone, Bethany was talking my ear off and I wasn’t really in the mood for it.”

“Tell me about it, she was doing my head in too.”

I look at him expectantly, wanting more of an explanation.

“She’s just becoming so obvious.”

My eyes narrow together. “Obvious?”

“Yeah, you know? The arm touching, the fake laughing. It’s kinda hard to miss.”

“Oh.” I try to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

“The attention is nice, but it would be better from the right girl. Bethany’s more Jagger’s type.”

Stopping outside my class, I let my backpack fall to the floor and lean my back on the rendered brick wall. He stands beside me, his shoulder brushing up against mine. My stomach flutters at his closeness. “I thought a girl that looked like her was everyone’s type.”

He turns his head toward me, his golden brown eyes holding my attention. “Not mine.” His voice is steady and certain. His admission should mean nothing to me, and if he was anyone else I would read between the lines and take this moment as a hint; surrender to the attraction and tell the boy I’m in love with the truth.

I purse my lips together to stop the questions. Who is your type? What is she like? Could it be me? Instead, I spin the conversation as far away from me as possible. “I don’t think it matters who your type is, Bethany plans on wearing you down.”

“I’ll just tell her I’m interested in somebody else.”

“Are you?” I blurt out.

The side of his mouth rises in a slight smirk. “Maybe.”  

My gaze bounces between his mouth and eyes, and it takes all my restraint not to touch him. It wouldn’t be unusual, but it doesn’t come with the same innocence and freedom it used to. Biting the inside of my cheek, I lower my face and hide my shy smile.

“What’s that look about?” he queries.

I shake my head, refusing to look at him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.” The bell signalling the end of our lunch break shrieks through the hall, breaking our moment. He pushes off the wall, and begins to walk backward, away from me, and to his next class. He doesn’t say a word, but his stare might as well come with its own siren, because I hear it calling to me louder than any of the background noise that’s begun to surround us. He calls out, and I have no choice but to give him the attention he deserves. “We walking home together?”

“When don’t we?”

“I’m just checking, you know? In case something’s changed.”

He knows.

“Has it?”

He stops in the middle of the corridor like we’re they only two people. “Only if you want it to.”

He winks. My face heats up and my heart stops beating. Is he saying what I think he is?