Mercedes
I CALLED MOLLY after work on Tuesday and asked if she wanted to hang out. I hadn’t expected her to drop all her plans and invite me over there and then, but that’s exactly what she did.
Molly’s house was impressive. Like Rourke’s, it was huge and had that pungent smell of money, though it wasn’t nearly as impressive as his place.
I had picked up some junk food on my way over, to which she thanked me at least a dozen times. It wasn’t necessary. I was grateful for the friendship she was offering me. I wasn’t the easiest person in the world to be around.
Growing up, I tended to stick to myself anyway. There wasn’t much point in laying down roots and making deep connections with people when I could be moved on at any moment in time.
It wasn’t like I was completely antisocial; I had friends in my old schools, but I had just learned from an early age to depend on myself. But that didn’t mean I didn’t appreciate having Molly as my ally in this town.
I was also pretty certain she was a little nutty, but I liked her crazy. It complimented my crazy, and I had a feeling I would be sticking to this strange girl like glue.
We’d been sprawled out in her living room for the past couple of hours, talking shit and watching back to back episodes of Teen Wolf.
Turned out, Molly and I had a lot in common. We were both single, both seventeen, both social outcasts, and liked pretty much all the same movies and TV shows. We were also both brought up by single parents, although, Molly’s mother had passed away when she was a child, while my father was a John Doe.
“Do you want another coke?” Molly asked, eyeing the empty can on the floor next to the couch I was lazing on.
“Sure, thanks.” Lazily, I raised my thumb, eyes glued to the screen. “Hot damn, that boy is beyond beautiful?”
Molly giggled. “Who; Jackson or Scott?”
I scrunched my nose up in disapproval. Was she blind? “Stiles!”
She disappeared from the room, returning a few minutes later with two cans of Coke and a bag of potato chips.
When Molly handed me the can, my eyes landed on the marred skin covering her wrist, but this time I couldn’t pretend I hadn’t seen it. “What happened there?” I asked, eyes locked on her hand. If this girl was to be my friend, I couldn’t ignore the evidence that she might be cutting.
Molly smiled sadly. “I was wondering how long it would be before you asked.”
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I added awkwardly. “But I’d be a shitty friend if I didn’t tell you that there are other ways to deal with stress. You don’t need to hurt yourself, Molly. And I know we barely know each other, but if you ever need someone to talk to…” I shrugged. “I’m here.”
“Thank you?” Molly offered with a rueful smile. “But I don’t self-harm. Those scars have been there since childhood,” she continued to say. “I was pulled from a house fire when I was nine.” Molly pulled up both sleeves of her long-sleeved shirt, revealing charred, crinkly, reddish, purple skin. “My legs look the same.” She pushed her sleeves back down again.
“Oh.” Mortified, I began to apologize profusely. “I’m such a dope. God. I’m sorry. I thought… I don’t know what I thought –”
“Mercy, it’s okay,” Molly replied with a gentle smile. “Actually, it’s really sweet of you to care.” Grinning she added, “I can assure you I have more than enough burns and scars on my body already. I have no plans on adding to them.”
Jesus. “I’m so embarrassed,” I muttered, red-faced.
“Want to change the subject?” she offered kindly.
I nodded in relief. “Please.”
“Great. Let’s talk boys,” Molly suggested happily before sinking down on the couch beside me.
“Boys?” Pulling myself up, I repositioned myself so that I was sitting cross-legged and facing her. “What boys?”
“Rourke,” Molly offered with a knowing smile, mirroring my actions. “You like him, don’t you?”
“What? Are you crazy? Of course not,” I quickly protested, cheeks burning.
That only caused Molly to laugh. “Oh, you so do. The second I mentioned his name, your eyes flashed with something.”
“Yeah,” I shot back. “They flashed with horror.”
“Maybe,” she teased. “But I think there was something else there, too. Attraction?”
I pulled a face at her, unsure of what to say in response. I couldn’t exactly say Rourke wasn’t attractive. It was damn obvious the guy was beautiful in every way. “He drives me crazy,” I finally settled on staying.
“Yeah?”
“And he’s an asshole,” I offered lamely, clutching at straws.
Molly nodded knowingly. “He can be.”
“All of the time,” I grumbled. “He can’t stand me, Molls. Like for reals can’t stand me. Rourke spends most of his days glaring at me.” I shook my head and exhaled a weary sigh. “It’s like he’s judged me based on every bad decision his father has ever made.”
“And that bothers you?” she offered in a gentle tone.
“Well, yeah,” I muttered. “Of course it bothers me.”
“Why?” Molly smiled. “What does it matter to you what Rourke Owens thinks?”
“Because I want him to like me ba –” I slapped my hand over my mouth before I finished the sentence. “Oh my god, you’re good,” I breathed, looking at Molly with reluctant admiration.
“I know,” she chuckled. “It’s a gift of mine; exposing other people’s true feelings.”
“I don’t want to like him, Molly,” I whispered, feeling a huge chunk of shame and resentment land on my shoulders. “He’s a real dick to me.”
“But?”
I had no idea why I was opening up to this girl. I wasn’t the type of person who confided in… well anyone. It wasn’t me. Never had been. But Molly? She obviously had one hell of a gift, because I found myself pouring my heart out to her.
“But when he’s not being a complete dick ninety-nine percent of the time, I see something in him.” I sighed heavily before forcing myself to say the words I dreaded to acknowledge, “Something I think I like.”