Heat - 12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Once again, I come to to the sight of Asher squatting over me. “Well, that went pretty well I think.” He has rolled me over onto my back (no cigarette butts this time) and was even kind enough to pull on his shorts before rousing me.

I mumble “If that was good I’d hate to see what bad looks like” and roll over onto my side so I can curl up in a ball. My entire body is more sore than the time in middle school that my dad thought it was a good idea for me to try out for football and the coach made us do 100 pushups. I threw up then and I feel like throwing up now.

“Yeah, I’ve seen people poop themselves before. And die. You honestly did great. No pooping, no death? Excellent first time.” He pokes me in the belly and I realize my t-shirt has become more of a… I guess fishnet? But like a bad one. It’s mostly holes is what I’m saying. I pull what remains off, my shorts mercifully mostly spared (running shorts are weirdly expensive).

“You warned me about the death part, not about the poop.” I push myself up into a sitting position, sliding back to use the wall to prop myself up.

“Well. I was like, seventy percent sure you wouldn’t poop yourself and I wanted you to do it. I was at least ninety percent sure you wouldn’t die. Hey, it worked.” He sits down next to me, back to the wall and runs his fingertips over my face where I had been burned. I also rub my fingers across my face and he’s right, no sign of burns at all. Same goes for my arms which were themselves on fire a moment ago.

The room is still very warm with residual heat but I can see he has cracked a window and a relatively cool breeze wafts in over us. We’re quiet for maybe too long. I can tell he’s waiting on me to say something. I don’t know what to say or how to express what I’m feeling. That wasn’t at all what I expected. He was right, it didn’t hurt but it also didn’t exactly feel good either like he said it would. Well, maybe it did but it didn’t feel good in a way that is right. I felt like a whole other person and not a good one. I think I’m a little disgusted with myself. If I had the chance just now I might have done something I don’t even want to think about and that scares the absolute shit out of me. Am I capable of being that person? Has this been inside me all along and I just didn’t know? I don’t want to feel like that ever again. Eventually the silence gets to be too much and I just say “That was not at all what I thought it was going to be.”

He’s quiet for a while and then says “... yeah. Sorry. Are you ok?”

I resent the part of me that wants to lie to him. He’s always honest with me, but I’m almost incapable of saying I’m not doing well even when the truth is written on my face. I think I owe Mrs. Simple an apology. “No, not right now.” I say, finally.

“Ok. That’s all right. Do you want to talk about it?” I can see that I’m hurting him by not talking to him but I can’t help it. I think I need to figure out where my head’s at before I’m ready to talk it out.
“Not yet. Is that fine?” He nods and after a moment’s hesitation he puts an arm over my shoulders. I nestle my head into the crook of his neck and it fits perfectly. We lay like that for a while until I remember school. “Oh shit! We’re late!” I go to check my watch to see how late but the face of my plastic Casio has melted clean through. Maybe Asher has a point when it comes to the whole doing magic naked thing.“

Oh you’re right! Come on, I have a solution.”

…

I’m proud to say I only almost toppled the bike one time on our way to school. Asher’s ‘87 Harley Speedster has a rusted gas-tank, a slightly worrying whine when starting up, and over twenty thousand miles on the odometer but by damn can the thing move. Apparently the residential speed limit of 25 is just a suggestion on a motorcycle, because the two of us flew all the way across town in less than five minutes.

I hop off the bike and run into my place, stopping for a moment in the bathroom to splash my soot-covered face with cold water. My hair is thick with sweat and I smell like a campfire but there’s nothing I can do about it now. I pull more school-appropriate clothes on and race down the stairs where I nearly crash into Asher, who wraps his arms around my waist and kisses me deeply.“

What was that for?” I ask when he lets me breathe.“

You.” he says and his smile is tinged with something that makes my stomach swirl and my heart beat a little harder.“

"Ok, well” I don’t blush but I am tempted “we need to go.”

Back on the bike. I’ve never been on a motorcycle before. It feels like flying. My arms are locked around Asher’s stomach, half out of fear and half because it gives me an excuse to touch him. We zip around curves, leaning together.

In the end we make it to school with a few minutes to spare. There are even still people milling around in the courtyard “secretly” vaping in little huddles. One of them sees me and waves. “Hey Kenan! Haven’t seen you in a while. Come here for a second.”

The person calling me is Chris Yun, he’s been sorta part of my friend group for a few years but the two of us don’t hang out much one on one. So I’m a little confused as to why he’s calling me over. I look apologetically at Asher, who just says “You’re good, see you after class” and touches my hand conspiratorially. I move over and join the small huddle.

Chris takes a deep huff off his vape, passing it to the person next to him. “What have you been up to buddy? Haven’t seen you around in a while. Nice bike by the way!”

“Yeah, sorry I’ve been kinda busy.” How do you say ‘oh sorry I haven’t been a part of the daily vape circle, I’ve been caught up with depression, boyfriends, and magic’ in a way that’s chill and approachable?

“Whatever man, it’s cool I get it.” Oddly enough the way he says this makes me think it’s entirely possible he actually doesn’t get it. “You should join everybody at lunch today. We’ve all been missing you.” The vape has made it back around the circle to me. I look at it suspiciously for a moment before taking a small puff without inhaling. Yep, that’s weed. Getting high before class isn’t my style so I pass it on.

“Sure. I’ll be there.” I’m gonna have to face people eventually. Might as well be today.

“Nice” he says and takes an honest to god sixty second rip off the vape. He. Doesn’t. Even. Cough. Holy shit.

I make it through class without any outbursts, which still feels like an accomplishment. I still don’t see Asher in the halls somehow. I find myself really wishing I could talk to him throughout the day. I keep imagining what he would say. I do this sometimes, with my mom or my sister or even my dad. Try to imagine what they would think, how they would react. Trouble is, I still don’t know Asher well enough to really get his voice down. I want to know him that well, to store a little copy of him in my head. Is that what love is? Holding a little piece of someone inside of you, even when they are gone.

I try texting the number I have for him. “Just learned in bio that clams drink cum, thinking of you!” The text doesn’t even send. “This number can not accept text messages at this time.” What does that mean? Oh my god. Does Asher have a landline? This can not stand.

I enter the lunch room, my head swiveling. No sign of Asher. I collect my meal - two corn dogs, mixed vegetables, and a pudding cup - and stand in the middle of the lunch room just kind of looking around for him. Where could he have gone? This school isn’t large enough to have multiple lunch periods and I was with him all morning so I know he didn’t bring a lunch. I’m distracted from my frankly a little bit desperate search (Dating for a day and you already can’t be alone for a few hours? Really Kenan?) when I hear someone call my name from across the room.

Ryan is the one calling for me, sitting with a group of my old friends. I’m surprised by my own thoughts here, calling them my “old friends” instead of just my friends. It’s only been a month. Well. Only been a month that I haven’t spoken to them at all. I know I was drifting away before then. I think I’ve been drifting all senior year if I’m really honest with myself.

I carry my tray over to their table and sit down. Chris is here, next to Ryan and across from Senna and Marcus. I’ve known Ryan and Senna since elementary school and Marcus has been a part of the group since he moved to town in the seventh grade. Chris on the other hand is a relatively new addition, hanging out with us ever since he started dating Senna sophomore year. He’s a bit of a sideliner though and he has his own friends outside of the group (the vape circle) unlike the rest of us. He slides over a little to make room at the table and I slot in between him and Ryan.

“Hey man! How have you been?” Marcus is our group’s resident bear at 6’1, 280 pounds, skin several shades blacker than my own, and a big bushy beard he’s had since the eighth grade. He’s also a damn sweetheart. Maybe the singular nicest person I know.

“Yeah I’ve been ok. It’s been hard but I’m dealing.” If you call distracting myself ‘dealing’ (and you’re damn right I do).

Senna reaches over and places a delicate hand over mine. Her dyed-red hair hangs a little lower past her chin than the last time I saw her, dirty blonde roots peeking through. She’ll be picking another color soon if I know her. I give her a little smile of thanks. She’s never been one for talking, so ours is a language of gestures and expressions.

Ryan, cheek and collar bones a little too prominent (there must be a recital soon) says “You know we’re always here for you, whenever you need it. I’m always here for you.” He even thinks he means it. He would have meant it, once, before I fucked everything up.

“I appreciate that. Thank you all. I think I just need some time.” I feel sick and I want to run away. I should have never come over here, I thought I was ready but I was wrong. This lunch table is far too small, hell this room is too small right now. “Sorry, I have to go meet someone. I’ll talk to you again soon.”

As I am walking away, untouched tray in hand, I hear Marcus say “Fuck. That could have gone better.” The truth? I don’t think it could have.