Two and Twenty Dark Tales (31 page)

Star Light Star bright,

The first star I see tonight,

I wish I may, I wish I might,

Have the wish I wish tonight.

– Mother Goose

I
lean my elbows on the railing of the deck, the sound of the party loud on the other side of the sliding glass doors. I stare up at the sky, navy blue streaked with the dark gray of hidden clouds. It’s serene out here: the soft wind, the half-moon hanging low. If I could forget that I’m at a party with my boyfriend—sorry, ex-boyfriend—and the new girl he’s dating, life would seem almost peaceful.

But that would be a lie.

Aaron has been gone for two weeks. Not truly. No, I can turn and see him through the glass doors if I want. He’ll still be slow dancing in the middle of a rowdy party, holding Rachel close, murmuring in her ear. But witnessing that would tear me apart—expose every last inch of my pain, fear, and loneliness. So I came outside to the quiet night. Just me, the sky, and one lone star.

I smile sadly, remembering the rhyme from when I was a child. “Star light, star bright, the first star I see tonight,” I whisper. “I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.” I debate a minute, trying to narrow down all of my hopes and dreams to just one thought. But I’m still broken with heartache. Heartache that will never heal.

“I wish I were dead,” I say, and lower my head into my hands. It’s all so hopeless, even if I know that sounds trivial. But Aaron is only one of the pieces of my shattered life—albeit the biggest and most jagged shard.

The tears have barely escaped my eyes when I hear a soft laugh.

“Wow. That was pathetic.”

I gasp and turn to see a stranger leaning against the house. His eyes are bright green even in the shadows, his skin pale and smooth. My first reaction is to cuss him out, embarrassed that he heard me reciting a stupid nursery rhyme. But I try my best to hold on to any appearance of sanity.

“Not as pathetic as creeping up on unsuspecting victims,” I reply.

“Ouch,” he says, touching his chest. “You make me sound like a serial killer.” When he smiles his dimples deepen, and in that instant I think he’s possibly the most attractive guy I’ve ever seen. Then again, I once thought the same thing about Aaron.

“Until you ruined it,” the stranger continues, “this was a really good night. But now you’ve made me so sad,
I
might just leap from this deck.”

I laugh, his morbid humor fitting my mood exactly. “I won’t stop you.” I step aside, giving him a clear path to the railing. He shakes his head, refusing my offer, and walks out from the shadows.

“I’d rather not,” he says, taking a spot next to me on the deck.

“I’m Lauren,” I tell him. “And you are?”

“Peter.”

“Really? Not something trendy or cool?”

“Nope. Just Peter.”

We grow quiet, staring toward the glass doors leading into the party. I notice Aaron in the crowd, his blond hair damp from sweat, his arms draped over Rachel’s shoulders. The familiar sense of loss overwhelms me, and I lower my eyes.

“I don’t do this every day,” I tell Peter.

“Talk to handsome strangers?”

I look sideways. “Well, that. And wish myself dead. It’s just been that sort of night.”

Peter nods. “I know those nights well.”

Somehow, I doubt that. With his looks and his apparent charm, I find it hard to believe that Peter has found himself on the short end of the dumping stick very often. I, on the other hand, have been whacked with it.

Aaron and I had dated for two years, even though the last three months had grown a little cold—at least on his end. To deal with the breakup, I tried to convince myself that I never really loved him at all; that maybe I just liked having a boyfriend. Other times, I thought I’d die if I never heard him whisper that he loved me again. My confusion was only solidified when he started dating Rachel in the open—a sophomore. A cheerleader. A goddamn stranger to him.

It’s only been two weeks and he brought her here—to Rex Lively’s graduation party. Flaunting her in front of everyone. In front of me.

I think again,
I wish I were dead
.

“Are you hungry?” Peter asks, brushing his fingers across the bare skin of my arm as he tries to get my attention. His touch is ice-cold, but at the same time, completely refreshing. Maybe it’s just been too long since I’ve let anyone get this close to me.

“Not really,” I respond. “I don’t think I have much of an appetite right now.”

Peter nods at this and then slips his hands into the pockets of his jeans. I take a moment to glance over him, his dark hair, his plaid button-down shirt, and the black string he has tied around his wrist. I wonder what it means, and I think to ask him, but he lifts his gaze to meet mine.

“We could just go talk,” he says. “After all, you’ve ruined my night. At least entertain me.”

I laugh. “And why would I want to do that? I don’t owe you anything.”

His easy expression slips away. “No, you really don’t. But I won’t leave a suicidal girl at the railing of a third-story deck all alone. This just seemed like the easier way to get you inside.”

At the thought of going back into the party, my stomach twists. “I can’t do that,” I say. “There are people in there I don’t want to see.”

“I could raid the linen closet and knot some bed sheets together so we can shimmy down.”

I peer over the railing, but then shake my head. “Maybe we’ll just rush the front door.” I slip off my heels to let him know I’m serious. He looks more than a little entertained.

“We could make him jealous,” he offers.

I freeze. “What?”

“Your ex-boyfriend.” He points toward the house. “That’s who we’re fleeing, right?”

“How did you know that?” I can’t keep the humiliation out of my voice.

“I just did.” He shrugs. “So how about it? One slow dance to rule them all.” He grins, the darkness behind it mischievous, even a little sexy. It’s petty and stupid to try and make Aaron jealous, especially when he doesn’t care.

So I’m surprised when I say yes and slip my shoes back on before taking Peter’s hand to pull him forward.

***

A new song starts to play the minute we get inside. The beat is fast, the thumping of the bass drowning out most of the words. It’s hardly a slow song, but Peter takes my arm and spins me until I’m pressed against him. I can feel the stares of the people around us, even hear a girl murmur, “Who’s Lauren with?” Just being noticed is enough to make me smile. I’ve felt invisible at school—as if Aaron had taken more than my heart when he broke up with me. As if he’d taken my entire existence.

Now I’m real. Here with Peter, I’m someone to see. And when he leans forward to whisper, his breath cool on my ear, a shiver runs down my back and I think that I don’t have to be so sad anymore. That maybe tonight I can start over and let go of Aaron. Let go of my past before it crushes me.

“Now dance,” Peter murmurs. I close my eyes as he wraps one arm around my waist, his other hand sliding into my hair to rest protectively on the back of my neck. We’re so close—not even really dancing, just… being.

The song drifts away, the people drift away. For a moment, there’s peace. Peter is a sense of calm that I haven’t felt in so long. It’s like I’m finally safe with him, whoever he is.

“My parents are getting divorced,” I say softly, keeping my eyes closed so I don’t shatter the illusion of us being alone. “And they’re so angry all the time. They’re so angry at each other that they don’t even see me anymore.”

“Shh…” Peter soothes, his fingers gliding over the skin of my collarbone. When I open my eyes to look at him, he’s there—beautiful, even in this crowded, sweaty mass of people. His dimples deepen. “Do you have a car?” he asks.

***

Peter asks if he can drive, and since I’m still feeling slightly heady after our dance, I toss him the keys. A soft smile plays on his lips the entire trip down the freeway, and it isn’t until we pull onto the city street that he looks over at me.

“I’m a good dancer,” he says with a smirk.

“So good.”

“If that party hadn’t been horrible, I would have kept you there all night. Maybe until they kicked us out. You were being sweet.”

“I can be sweet,” I tell him, slapping his shoulder.

He feigns shock. “This from the girl who said she wouldn’t stop me from taking a dive off the balcony?”

“I do believe you called me pathetic.”

His expression falters slightly, and he turns back to the road. “I didn’t mean that. I just get sick of hearing people complain sometimes. I don’t think you’re pathetic now.” He rubs absently at the black string tied around his wrist, and I furrow my brow.

“What’s that bracelet for?” I ask.

He glances at it, as if surprised it’s there. “To remind me of something I have to do later. I’m forgetful sometimes.” He turns to me and smiles. “Get caught up in the moment.”

“Am I distracting you?”

“Oh, Lauren.” His voice is low and gravelly. “You have no idea.”

Tingles spread over my body, and I almost lean over and kiss him. But before I even notice we’ve stopped, he’s unhooking his seatbelt. “Let’s go dance some more,” he says, and gets out of the car.

I’m laughing as I climb out of the passenger side to meet up with him, but I freeze when I see where we are. “The cemetery?” I ask in disbelief.

Peter turns back to look at me, standing under the iron archway of the historic cemetery in Old Town. Most of the headstones have been reduced to unreadable stumps of marble, weeping willows bent and crying over the graves. It isn’t scary, not really. I’ve been coming here for years—actually sat under the tree by the mausoleum to write my college admittance essay. I’m just stunned that Peter would bring me here. This place was my secret.

“Are you afraid?” he asks, putting his hands on his hips like he’s challenging me. “I swear they won’t bother us. They’re a pretty quiet group.” He grins, and I roll my eyes in return.

“How are we going to dance without music?” I ask, walking toward him. “Unless you plan to hum the entire time?”

Peter widens his eyes. “Now that would be weird.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and clicks through his song selections until one starts to play. He waits to see if I’ll argue, and when I don’t, he holds out his arm for me to take.

We walk under the archway of the cemetery to the curved tree near the mausoleum. Peter sets his phone on a nearby grave and once again sweeps me into his arms, more playful than he’d been at the party.

“I love it here,” he says. He twirls me around, and then puts his hand on my back to dip me low. “I come here sometimes to write.”

“No way,” I tell him as we settle into a gentle sway. “You don’t strike me as a writer.”

“I am. Depressing stuff, mostly. I tend to fall in love with tragic things.” He smiles. “Go figure.”

I tilt my head, meeting his vulnerable gaze. So he has experienced heartbreak before. Maybe we have more in common than I thought. When the song finishes, Peter takes his arms from around me to scroll again through his phone, finding something with a faster beat.

“It was more than an ex-boyfriend,” I say to his turned back. “Aaron by himself isn’t a reason for anything, let alone death.”

At the word, Peter turns to face me. “Then why?” he asks.

I shrug. “My parent’s divorce—the fear of how it will change things. They’re different people now, and my childhood, it’s as if they’re saying it was all a mistake. Sometimes I wonder if I was the mistake.” I shut my eyes, the feelings tight and heavy in my chest. “Then there’s college,” I continue. “I worked my ass off to get into Albany.” I look at Peter again. “The same school as Aaron. And now… I don’t even want to go. It would be awful. Nothing’s going right. Nothing is working out the way it was supposed to.”

“What about tonight?” Peter steps closer and I instinctively reach for him, my arms around his neck as he runs his eyes over my face, pausing at my lips.

“I would say my night has definitely improved,” I tell him. “And you? How did you end up all alone on the deck of a party?”

“I was looking for someone. But I found you instead.” He sweeps a lock of my hair behind my ear. “I think I’ve been searching for you for a long time—only I didn’t know it. In case you’ve never noticed, Lauren,” he says, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Most people suck.”

I laugh. “But not us?”

“No,” he says with conviction. “We’re the awesome ones. We’re the few who leave ourselves vulnerable—never faking our feelings, always trusting even though we shouldn’t.” He rests his cheek against mine, moving us slowly with the rhythm. “People like us deserve love, only we never find it,” he whispers. “Because, like I said: Most. People. Suck.”

He turns, and his lips brush against mine. They’re as cool as the night air, but inviting. My heart begins to race, and suddenly I want him to devour me. I knot my fingers in his hair as he kisses me harder. The world around us seems to spin and I think something so crazy, so impossible, that I have to pull away from him, stumbling over the uneven earth.

Peter’s cheeks are flush, his green eyes darkened with desire. He licks his lips, a slow smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. And I realize… this is love at first sight. This is that stupid, never-actually-happens feeling they base movies on.

Dear God, I’m in love with him. The relief breaks through my chest as I realize that I never loved Aaron; he never made me feel so wanted. So normal. So perfect.

Peter steps forward, grabbing my hips to pull me close. He buries his face in my hair, his lips grazing my ear, my neck. “My soul mate,” he whispers. Then he laughs and pulls back. “I’m doing it again. You must think I’m a total freak.”

“I would,” I say, tracing my finger down the collar of his shirt, pausing to play with the top button. “Except I feel entirely the same way. So either we’ve got some serious chemistry, or one of us is a figment of the other’s imagination.”

Peter leans in to kiss me, soft and sweet. Then he takes my hand and twirls me around. On the third pass, he stops to kiss me again—holding me close as our tongues meet, his fingers sliding over the bare skin just under the hem of my shirt. Soon it’s like I’m on fire—I want to give him everything at once. Want to be with him forever.