Facade

“Yeah, us and the hundred other people in your house.”

“Eh. You learn to block them out.” She looks at me, like she’s not sure what I said, so I lean closer to her. Put my mouth by her ear. “I said you learn to block them out.”

She doesn’t reply to that. Instead, Delaney turns to my ear and asks, “How’s your hand?”

“I don’t know. Do you want to check it for me?”

We’re fucking close and she smells good. Apples and ci

“Sure… I want to help you.”

Her answer’s strange, but I don’t let myself think about it. Don’t let myself try and figure her out because I’m not sure I want the answers. Instead I nod and grab on to her shirt, right by her side. She jumps a little but doesn’t struggle as I lead her through the mass of people in my place. She tries to stop at the bathroom, but I keep going. Lead her to my room, unlock the door, and close it behind us.

“I’m only checking on your hand,” she says.

“That’s all I asked you to do.” I grab my first-aid kit off my dresser and sit on the bed. I glance at my pillow to make sure Ash’s shirt isn’t showing.

Delaney stands there, looking around. “Did you just move in?”

Through her eyes, I can see why she’d think that. I have a small bed, a table, and a dresser. There’s one desk lamp on the table that I use at night and a few notebooks stacked on my dresser. Those are the only things in my room that are out in the open.

“No. My interior decorator’s a little backed up.”

Sadness creases her eyes when she looks at me. I hate that fucking look, but still I find myself saying, “My sister used to go to this field when she was younger. She brought me there once. All I could see was what looked like weeds to me. No flowers. Just weeds. Dead ones at that. I asked her why she came and she told me to keep following her, so I did. Right in the middle of the field was one tall flower. Almost like it came from fucking nowhere. I told her it was lonely. She said it was beautiful. That there was nothing wrong with being strong, alone.”

I didn’t agree with Angel then and I don’t now. I’m not even sure why I told Delaney that. It doesn’t really have anything to do with my room because there’s nothing beautiful showing here. And I’m not strong in my loneliness.

“You really are a poet,” is how she replies.

I shake my head. “That wasn’t poetry. I don’t know what it was. I’m fucked up. If you don’t hurry and check my hand, I might pass out on you. Unless you think of a way to keep me awake…”

I can tell by the set of her jaw that I’ve disappointed her, but it doesn’t matter. I’m used to it. It should be no different with her… and yet it is. I do care that I’ve let her down, but I don’t know how to fix it, how to step out from behind the mask.

Delaney sighs and sits on the bed. She’s so gentle as she takes my bandage off that I can’t help but study her. People aren’t usually careful with me. Dad wasn’t careful when he beat my ass, unless you count being careful not to leave marks that could be seen.

Ash was the only one who was ever gentle. He used to get pissed if I’d kill a bug. We would bring spiders outside to set them free so he wouldn’t cry.

I close my eyes, willing Ash out of my mind. I just want a break, some kind of fucking reprieve from myself and my past.

“All done,” Delaney says. Somehow she’d inspected my hand and wrapped it again without my noticing. “The swelling’s going down. It’s starting to heal.”

“Let’s get out of here.” I don’t let myself think about the words.

She looks at my hand and bites her bottom lip.

“I thought you were going to pass out.”

Got her. “Then I guess it’s your job to keep me awake.”

“What about all the people in your house?” Delaney asks as she follows me out.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m here or not. They’ll still have a good time.” We get to the sidewalk and I hate it. Every time I stand out here, I remember pulling up and seeing Cheye

“Think fast.” I toss my keys and Delaney catches them easily. “You gotta drive. I’ve been drinking.”

“What about your friends?”

“I don’t think they’re drinking, but they’re not out here or going with us.”

I hear her chuckle. I can’t see her too well despite the streetlight. It makes me wonder how she caught the keys so easily.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Isn’t it rude to leave them? And Cheye

“Colt’ll know you’re with me.”

“But—”

“Why did you come here tonight, Casper?” I cut her off.

“To see you… I want to be your friend.”

“And you’ve seen me. If you want to see me any more tonight, this is the way to do it. You can go home if you want. I don’t blame you, but my thoughts are going to eat me alive if I stay in there right now.”

That’s never been the case before. It’s always worked to put the pipe to my lips and inhale the smoke. To be around music and people so loud they drown out the voices in my head. Right now, I can’t do it.

Delaney steps even farther into the dark toward the driver side of my car. “Which way am I going?”

We drive out to the middle of nowhere, up above town where you see the lights of the city. Not that there’s a whole lot of city down there, but enough activity shines below to make it feel like I’m a hell of a lot farther away than I am.

Delaney kills the engine and I push the seat back so I’m practically lying down. Silence fills the space between us, half comfortable and half wanting to shove me out of the car.

“So you wa

“Don’t make it sound like that! There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be friends with you.”

“That’s not what most women want from me.”

“I’m not most girls.”

I don’t reply to that because I have a feeling she’s right. More silence bears down on us. She takes a couple breaths and I feel the mood changing. “Listen, Adrian. I—”

“Are you in school?” I ask. I don’t want to hear whatever she was going to say. Don’t want to keep hearing her say that she doesn’t want me or whatever the hell else she pla

And maybe I’m manipulating her in a way, too, throwing that back at her, but I can’t make myself stop.

I hear her breathe. It’s sexy as hell and for a minute I pretend I really do get to touch her. Kiss her lips and take off her shirt and explore every inch of her with my mouth. It would be an even better way to lose myself than talking.

“No… I’m not in school. Just the job.”

“Why not? You’re not into college?”

“I definitely want to go. It’s just not something I’m able to do right now. My brother Maddox and I… we have a lot we’re dealing with.”

Without seeing her eyes, I know that’s part of what haunts her. I want to ask but know there’s no way in hell I’m telling her about myself, so I don’t.

“What about you?” she asks. “You don’t want to be a writer, or whatever?”

I remember being younger, burying myself in books and school to take me away from everything else. I used to fucking pretend I lived in the stories. Or I was one of those characters with enough balls to do something about my life. I used to dream about being Edmond from The Count and how I would make it through all the shit life threw at me and come out of it better. “Life doesn’t work like dreams…”

“What?” she asks.

“I said, nah. No college for me. Cheye