The Boiling Point | ✔️

12 | sunlight

ASHTON

In the parking lot of the corner store, Dad lights up a cig while I settle in the passenger seat. He never lets me drive. 

"Real easy on the eyes, that one," he says, revving up the truck. "You nail her?"

"Nope."

"Good." He points back at the store. "Girls like that, those fresh-faced pretty little things, they're the most dangerous. Fuck the soul out of you and hang you out to dry. Trust me."

My eyes wander to the faint reflection of myself in the street-lit window, the dark hues on my skin distorted but visible. 

I've never trusted you in my life.

"Noted."

I catch a glimpse of Summer in the store as we drive away. I hate that he met her. I hate that he knows what she looks like. I hate that her name has left his mouth. I'd keep them on different sides of the earth if I could, just how I keep my life across the bridge we're driving on separate from everything else. The further apart the better.

With how dark my mindset has been in these last couple days, it feels like all my thoughts have sunk deep into murky waters. And while those thoughts of Summer are still persistent, they're not in the depths with the rest. She's above the surface. A sliver of sunlight breaking through.

A reminder that there's a way out.

❖❖❖

I examine my face in the bathroom mirror at school. At least I can fully open my eye since most of the swelling is down now.

At this point, it's habit to mask whatever I'm feeling and wear a carefree disguise in front of people when this shit happens. But sometimes I slip up, like yesterday. I let my mood affect my focus. I can't let that happen again. 

Nick finishes at the urinal and washes his hands, eyeing me in the mirror and shaking his head.

I make a start for the door. "Don't say anything."

"I wasn't going to."

"You were thinking about it."

"Ashton, you're nineteen." He exhales, making me pause. "You don't have to live there."

It's impossible to count the number of times I've had this type of conversation with Nick.

"Yeah like he wouldn't drag my ass back if I lived anywhere else in this town." I swing the door open. "C'mon, I'm starving."

The beginning of fall is unpredictable in Cloverbrook. Some days are boiling and some days it's like stepping into the tundra. We take advantage of the hot weather and eat lunch in the courtyard, along with a dozen other students who have the same idea.

Nick quietly listens to me and Diego in a heated debate about the ultimate cooking shows and movies (the top contenders are The Bear, Chef, and Burnt) before Ryan storms over and slams his tray between us on the wall.

"Geez, what's up your ass?" Diego shifts over.

"I just struck out with Charlie. Rejected, flat out."

I almost do a spit-take over my fries, trying to reel in my laughter as Ryan stares daggers. He couldn't be further away from her type. Honestly, if I knew then I would've warned the poor guy before he threw himself to the sharks.

"I'd like to see you do better." He growls.

"Oh, you would, huh?"

Mine and Diego's laughter dies down. If I play this right, I could really make this work in my favor.