Harlow

 

 

We sit Sixteen Candles style on my bed; Josh and I, and a candy bar between us. The crinkly, red wrapper shines in the candlelight like bold fire. Encased inside are sweet and sugary twins laid side by side. One for him. One for me.

“Happy birthday to you,” Josh sings softly, his mouth quirked in a crooked, self-deprecating grin. “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to Harlow. Happy birthday to you.”

I press my fingers to my lips, shaking my head in amazement. “Wow. Thank you. That was really something.”

“You’re welcome.”

I drop my hands and the act into my lap. “I’m being sarcastic.”

“No, I know. I can pick up on basic social cues, thanks.”

“You can’t sing, Josh. You remember that, right?”

He chuckles. “I sit here and serenade you with my heart and soul, and that’s the thanks I get?”

I take his hand in mine, squeezing it hard. “If that was your heart and soul, you have a darkness in you that I didn’t know about.”

“You are such a bitch.”

I laugh, releasing him. My palm feels instantly cold. Neglected. “You’ve known me for eighteen years. You don’t get to act surprised by that tonight.”

“How does it feel?” he asks semi-seriously. His tone is light but his eyes are intent on mine, watching for micro-emotions that might flicker across my face without my consent. “Do you feel any different being a legal adult?”

I take a deep breath as I glance around my room. It’s the same cell I’ve been in my whole life, this house my prison since the day I was born. But as of one minute ago when the clock struck midnight, the locks magically dissolved. I could walk out the door right now and there’s nothing my dad can say or do about it.

It’s an impossible idea to understand.

“I feel like I should,” I confess to Josh hesitantly, “but I don’t. Not yet.”

He nods in understanding. “You will. Tomorrow when you leave for good, you’ll feel it.”

My stomach knots, rising into my chest to compress it painfully. “God, I’m so nervous about that.”

“Are you worried about what your dad will do?”

“What can he do?” I ask, honestly wondering. “I’m eighteen. I’m free.”

“But you don’t feel it.”

“No.” I look down at the Twix between us, my fingers toying with the rigid edge of the wrapper. “Or maybe I do and I just don’t know it. I’ve never been free before so how the hell would I know what it feels like?”

“Do you feel relieved?”

“No.”

“Hmm.”

I look up at him expectantly. “What’s that? What’s with the ‘hmm’?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I feel relieved that you’re getting out. I thought you would too.”

“You’re relieved I’m getting out but you don’t like the way I’m doing it,” I call him out.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “Something like that.”

“Exactly like that.”

“It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“Since when?”

He sits up straight, leaning back from me. His eyes are everywhere but on my face, roving the room for something to anchor himself to. There’s such a mix of emotions that rides this current, one we’ve been down so many times before. Sometimes it’s hard to keep your bearings.

“What do you want me to say, Harlow? I think Devo is an okay guy, but do I think it’s a good option to jump on the back of his bike and go be his old lady after only a few months of dating? No. I don’t.”

“I know that.”

“Then why do you keep quizzing me on it? I’m never gonna give you a different answer. I don’t like it but I can’t do shit about it, so… that’s it. It—that’s that. Right?”

“Right,” I mutter half-heartedly.

I’m annoyed that we’re talking about this, but I brought it up, didn’t I? I always do. I don’t want to talk about it but I can’t stop asking him to. Like a kid with a bruise they can’t stop pushing on. Pressing into the purple coloration to test the sting of it.

The subject hurts as much tonight as it did three months ago when I beat it into my skin, telling myself that this is my exit. This is my only way out.

Josh is looking at me now. Studying me. He licks his lips before softly offering, “If you’re not sure, you don’t have to go to the club with him. I mean, he just pledged an MC. It’s not like pledging a frat. They’re pretty intense about it, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, you’re right, but I need to get out of here.” I rub my tired eyes with the heels of my hands. “That’s about the only thing I’m sure about.”

“You could get your own place. Pops would help you.”

“I can’t afford it and neither can he. My dad has made sure I have exactly zero dollars to keep me dependent on him.”

“You can come live with Pops and me.”

“It’s just next door. I’d still see him every day. I want distance. Like, a lot of distance.”

“I know, but it’d just be a couple of months until I turned eighteen too. Then we could move across town and get a place of our own.”

“Devo would never go for that. I can’t live with another guy while I’m dating him.”

“So, stop dating him.”

That’s new. Everything up to this point has been rote, a script we follow very precisely every time we talk about this, but that – the suggestion that I dump Devo – is a massive deviation. I’m not totally sure what to do with it.

I frown, opening my mouth to reply.

Nothing comes out.

Josh nods in understanding, reading my silence better than a book. “Yeah, alright. You won’t leave Devo, you can’t live with me, and you can’t stay here another day. You don’t have money to get a place of your own and you won’t take any from Pops. You don’t have any girlfriends to go live with because you’re shit at making friends.”

“I’m not shit at making friends,” I laugh.

Josh smirks. “Oh really? Then why am I your only one?”

“Because I struck gold with you. Why would I look any further for a friend?”

“That’s good. Nice one.”

I smile. “You like that?”

“Yeah, it was very smooth.”

“I’ve learned from the best. Pops is the biggest sweet-talker in town.”

“And even he couldn’t talk you out of leaving tomorrow.”

My face droops with my spirits. The lightness that was rising around us falls like ash from a fire, slow and delicate. Destroyed.

“I have to go,” I insist irrepressibly. The words are out of my mouth before I can choose them, but I feel them. I know they’re true. And so does he.

“Yeah, I know,” Josh relents gently. “I just don’t like the way you’re leaving. I won’t see you anymore, Harlow. And that’s fucking horrifying.”

“We’ll see each other.”

“When? While you’re working inside the bar I can’t get into or when I’m on campus going to class?”

“In between. When I call you up and say, ‘Hey, Stratford, I haven’t seen you in too long. Wanna split a pizza in the park and talk shit about all the rich kids you’re going to school with?’”

He smirks, a half-smile that I stretch to infinity in my mind, wrapping myself in its warmth. “I could be into that.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do. We won’t lose each other, Josh. I promise.”

He doesn’t look convinced. He looks as worried as I feel, but he lets it go. He sits forward, reaching around to his back pocket before pulling out a small, purple envelope.

“Here,” he says, giving it to me; nearly shoving it in my hands nervously. “I got you this.”

“I thought the candy bar and the company were my birthday presents.”

“It’s your eighteenth birthday, Low. You deserve more a sugar high.”

I feel uncomfortable holding the envelope between my fingers. Pops and Josh are the only people in the world who have ever given me presents. My dad doesn’t believe in them. My mom wasn’t around long enough to give them. I’m not good at taking them. They’re like compliments; I don’t deserve them.

“Just open it,” Josh pushes gently. “It’s nothing huge. I know better than that.”

I gingerly rip the top of the envelope open. When I tip its contents into my palm, they fall heavy and cold, jingling like silver bells at Christmas. I stare down at the keychain he’s given me, confused.

Josh reaches out to turn it over in my hand so I’m looking at the face of it instead of the back. “I know they’re not your initials, but you always said once you turned eighteen you were changing your last name ‘cause you didn’t want your dad’s. So Pops and I agreed to give you ours, if you want it.”

I can’t breathe. I can barely see as tears fill my eyes, pooling distortion across my vision. The keychain is small and silver with two linked letters filled with a beautiful green stone.

HS

Harlow Stratford.

“Josh,” I croak, my throat thin as lace.

“It’s not a big deal,” he promises, heading off my freak out. “It’s not a ring or anything. It’s just… you’re already our family. And if you’re going to get a new name anyway, you may as well have ours.”

My whole life, my dad has told me that I’m shit. That I’m ugly. I’m stupid. I’m worthless. That he’s the only one who will ever love me because, really, what’s there to love? As I’ve grown up, I’ve learned that’s not entirely true. Men love me because I’m beautiful. I’m hot and fun to look at. To touch. And I’m good at touching them. That’s where my value lies and that’s what I’m comfortable with. That’s the truth I can handle.

The truth I’m not so comfortable with, the one that staggers me every single day, is that Pops and Josh love me for something else. Something more, something I can’t see. They say I’m funny. That I’m kind. That I’m smart and strong. Maybe they believe that and maybe they don’t, I don’t know, but it’s a fantasy I’ve never been able to buy into. Especially now as Josh offers me everything I’ve ever wanted in my whole fucked up life; a family.

I can’t stomach it. I can’t understand it. And I definitely can’t accept it.

“Josh, I—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts gently. “Seriously, Harlow, don’t. I’m not taking it back. Keep it or trash it, it doesn’t matter. Do whatever you gotta do with it to be okay. But don’t even try to give it back to me ‘cause I’ll never take it. I’ll never retract the offer.”

 I don’t know what to say or what to do. How do you thank someone for something like that? How do you manage the blaze of emotions that run through you like fire through tinder? I can’t, I never could, so I push it away. I put the keychain on my nightstand. I turn my back on it, telling myself to forget it. To leave it when I go in the morning.

Unaffected by my insanity, Josh lifts the candy bar between us, ripping the wrapper down the middle. He offers me both bars.

I smile, taking one. “Thanks.”

“You can have both pieces. I’m not very hungry.”

“Me neither.”

Josh nods, not looking at me again. He does that when he’s working on something. He avoids eye contact as he sorts things out, processing every big idea and plot that runs through his mind at warp speed. Josh is smart in ways I could never dream of. In ways that should make me feel dumb by comparison, but he carries that cleverness so lightly, it doesn’t weigh down on the people around him. He doesn’t lord it over you like an asshole. Like I would if I had it.

“What time is Devo coming?” he asks suddenly.

“Nine. I think.”

Josh nods silently, accepting what he can’t understand.

Devo is pledging The Devil’s Due motorcycle club. They operate out of a bar on the outskirts of town. My dad used to go to go there all the time, mercifully leaving me with Josh and Pops so he could drink himself stupid, but he was banned five years ago for starting a fight he couldn’t finish. Bear, the President of the club, finished it for him. Broke his arm and part of his right eye socket before tossing him out on his ass.

That was the first time The Devil’s Due caught my eye. The second time was when Devo rolled up on me in the grocery store with that Prospect cut on his back, a sexy smirk on his lips, and an education on choosing the right avocado from a mountain of leathery, black mysteries. I stood there with him for ten minutes gently squeezing produce and reminding myself to breathe every time he smiled at me.

I made him guacamole at his apartment that day. He made me come on his couch that night. We’ve been together ever since.

And Josh has hated every second of it.

“It should be me,” he tells me now.

I frown, shifting my fingers nervously on the bar in my hand. It’s melting under the heat of my skin; slick and saccharine. “I don’t know what you mean,” I lie quietly.

“It should be me getting you out of here. Not Devo.”

“It doesn’t matter who does it as long as I get away.”

“It matters to me,” he argues obstinately.

“Devo is—”

“It’s not just how you get out, but who you get out with,” he continues, barreling past my defenses. “It should be me. You and me, Harlow. Together.”

Goddamn, I can’t handle this. Not tonight. Not now. I feel dizzy as his words bounce around inside my head, pinging off my skull painfully until the backs of my eyes burn. My stomach rolls, sending bile up high into my chest.

“Josh,” I whisper pleadingly. “This isn’t… We can’t talk about this again.”

“We’ve never talked about it before.”

“It feels like it’s all we talk about.”

“You know, I get that feeling,” he agrees brusquely, “because it’s all I think about. And I know you think about it too, but we never talk about it.”

“What is there to say?”

Josh laughs, but the sound is so far from happy I think it’s more of growl. “You’re leaving in the morning with Devo, so I guess there’s nothing.”

“I can’t…” I take a deep breath, closing my eyes. Finding focus in the darkness inside. “I can’t be with you, Josh.”

“See, it’s shit like that that makes this so hard to deal with.”

“Like what?”

“You can’t be with me. You aren’t saying you don’t want to be.”

I open my eyes, meeting his head on. It’s hard. It’s one of the hardest things I’ll do today, on one of the longest and most arduous days of my life, but I owe him that. I need him to see what I’m thinking. What I’m feeling. I need him to understand all the things that I don’t.

“I don’t know how to talk about this with you,” I confess weakly. “I’m not like that. I’m not like you.”

“Like what?”

“Healthy. Smart. You can say exactly what you want and what you mean and you’re not afraid, but I’m terrified. I’m scared of everything. Especially you. That’s the problem. That’s why I can’t go with you and why I’m leaving with Devo. I don’t give a shit if things go wrong with Devo. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care and neither do I. But if it was you… with you, I would—” I swallow hard, trying to sort out my head that’s spinning wildly, thoughts flying past like debris in a tornado’s eye. As soon as I spot them, I lose them. I’m not fast enough to grab them. To understand them. I never have been. “You matter. You’re the only one who matters.”

Josh’s brow creases, his handsome face drawing in on itself. Introverting and pulling me in with it.

I want to touch him. I want to hug him and ask him to hold me. I want to close this distance that’s building between us with each passing minute. With every inch the sun creeps closer to dawn and this next part of my life threatens to begin. The part without Josh woven into every moment. I’m not sure how to live that life yet, and that’s part of why he scares me. He’s too important. Too integral to my survival. I can’t risk him on a whim. On a feeling that’s been building in my belly for the last four years; that burns and hums every time he comes close. I can feel it now, even as I pretend I can’t. Denial is my only weapon against Josh. Against him and the way my heart clamors to be close to him.

I look around the room for somewhere to ditch this candy bar that’s practically dripping down my fingers. Josh sees me searching. He takes it from me, leaning back to toss it into the trash can under my desk. When he sits up straight, he’s licking his fingers clean of the molten chocolate coating them.

I cringe, unwilling to clean my own hand the same way. Like a fucking animal.

“Give ‘em,” he grunts, already pulling my hand into his space.

He singles out my index finger, lifting it to his lips. He licks it slowly, dragging his tongue along the millions of nerves beneath my skin. They come alive under his touch. They send a signal singing through my veins, up into my brain where it bursts like fireworks against the backs of my eyes. I feel lightheaded. Ethereal.

Hot.

He licks another finger clean. Hot air from his mouth kisses my cold, wet skin as it leaves his lips, sending a chill down my spine. I shiver visibly, unable to hide it.

He sees it. He sees everything. Every tortured, torn, desirous thing scrawled across my face and beating in my breast.

“I wish it was you,” I whisper, my voice trembling with the truth. “You have no idea how bad I wish it was you.”

His eyes soften. “Then why? Why can’t it be?”

“Because I’d ruin you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re going to college. You’re going to get out of this town and get married and buy a house and an SUV, and I’m not the girl you do that with.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want to do those things if I can’t do them with you.”

“But you deserve them.” I clench my fingers tightly around his. “You deserve better than me.”

Josh tugs on my hand. He pulls me in close until his face is only inches away. He’s looking down into my eyes and I’m gazing up into his like I’m staring at the stars, and I think how beautiful he is. How beautiful I feel when he looks at me like that; like I’m so much more than I am.

“Nothing on this earth is better than you,” he vows.

Before I can breathe, he kisses me. It’s deep and slow. It’s tender and tight, like there’s an avalanche behind it, carefully kept in check. But for now – snowflakes. Downy soft and different every time. Every movement of his lips against mine sends a new current through my body. I’m shorting out, falling apart, and his arms are wrapping around me. Pulling me against him. Dragging me out of myself and into his lap where I fall willingly. Eagerly.

My legs wrap around his waist. His hand takes hold of my ass, lifting me up. Pulling me in tighter against him until we both groan into the warm, wet of each other’s mouths.

“Harlow,” he whispers desperately.

I recover his mouth with mine, silencing him. Encapsulating us in this moment, this snow globe that’s cocooning us from the rest of the world. Nothing and no one else matters but the staccato of our breaths. The erratic beat of our hearts. The flurry falling around us.

Josh’s control is slipping. When I pull his shirt up over his head and smooth my palms over the rough hair peppered across his chest, he loses a foothold. His mouth becomes more demanding, laying claim after claim as his hands tug at my clothes. They disappear as if by magic and before I can blink, I’m under him. I’m looking up at his face pinched with concentration, determination, and something softer. Something needy that I feel in the center of my stomach, like a string tied between us, tugging at the same place in both our bodies. Our spirits.

He rises slowly. He falls even slower. Steady and unrelenting, inch by precious inch expanding inside me. Filling me to the brink and then some. My breath rushes out past my lips to make room for him. Tears well in my eyes, spilling down the sides of my face. I let go of everything I don’t need. Every fear, every anxiety, every doubt about my body and my being and my life. I cast them out one by one as he lays down over me, covering me and bleeding into me, refilling those empty spaces with so much more. So many emotions I can’t put name to but I can’t deny.

He curses as he moves inside me. My body tightens. His fists push hard into the mattress on either side of my head, his long arms like columns holding up the sky. He stares down at me with this sort of half-smile/half-grimace that melts my insides until I can’t remember what it felt like to be me without him. I reach for him, for the stars, and I hold his face in my palms as he brings us both closer, closer, closer. Slowly, almost painfully. Perfectly.

“This is us,” he promises me. “This is the way it should be. Always.”

“I wish…” I hesitate, my body starting to burn. My breath leaving me. “I-I wish…”

“Fuck, Harlow. You’re tight. You’re coming, aren’t you?”

“Ah!” I cry, my back arcing off the mattress. “Josh. Josh.”

“I’m here. I’m right here with you,” he chants.

I cling to his face, staring up helplessly into his eyes as my body blows apart beneath him. He pushes one hand into my hair, dropping his forehead to mine as he drives into me quickly.

“Always,” he grunts. “Always. Always.”

I wish I had breath to answer him.

I wish I was enough for him.

I wish I didn’t love him like I do.

I wish, I wish upon a star…

I wish I wasn’t leaving in the morning.