The Night We Met

Chapter Twelve: Strange Kisses

That night, Salem went to the park. She brought a bottle of Atticus's best rum and the journal Tobias gave her that held her thoughts when her mind became too much. 

All she has gone through, and she can only rely on her journal. The pages welcomed her irrational thoughts and crazy stories. She grew up in this fantasy world that only existed with pen and paper. When reality became too much, she ran away to the lined pages in her little blue book. Her pen would be on fire across the pages and the words just kept coming and coming and coming. 

That's what she intended to happen that night. She intended to sit with her back on against the trunk of the tree and let her mind run wild. 

Of course, since that's what she wanted, it didn't happen. 

As she sat down, a silhouette walked towards the swingset. Salem glanced at her watch. It was a little after 1 a.m.. 

"Salem?" he asked. It was Tobias. "What are you doing here?"

She stood and left her journal on the ground. "I was gonna get wasted and write," she said. "What are you doing here? You're never here this late."

Tobias smirked and had his hat on backwards. "Technically it's early," he said. 

"Oh my God," she laughed. "You get my point."

He shrugged. "Maybe a little," he said, sitting down on the swing. "I was hoping to get find some clarity."

Salem stood the swing next to him. "On what?" she asked. 

He scoffed but it was more of a laugh. "Everything, Salem." His face turned to the sawdust that filled the playground area. "You were the only real friend I had. Everyone else was obsessed with status, and making weight, and dating the best girl, and scouts, and all this other... shit. You are just you." He looked at her. "Even though people give you bullshit every day of your life and won't order drinks from you or beat you senseless, you won't let them win."

That was the irony, wasn't it? Tobias was going on about how brave and confident Salem was when in reality it was all fake. She pretended she knew what she was doing and she pretended that she thrived off of the hatred and malicious acts. All she wanted to do was get on an aeroplane and go to the middle of sub-Saharan Africa where no one knew or spoke her or her language. She wanted to be a completely different person, living in a completely different world. She hated her life. The only aspect of it she looked forward to was Atticus's brotherly taunting and the lunches on the fields with Tobias. 

She didn't want to be Salem. She wanted to literally anyone else. Anything would be better than what she is, what her mother made her. 

"I like you, Salem," Tobias said. "I really like you."

That caught Salem off-guard. "Huh?" she asked, looking at him. 

He sighed and readjusted himself on the swing so he could look at her better. "Over this past month... I got to know the real you. I've been wracking my brain trying to find a way to tell you without screwing everything up but--"

"Wait, Tobias," she interrupted. "Like you want to date me, type of like me?"

He laughed. "That's where I was going with that," he said. 

She blinked. 

When she read her books, there was always all this talk about butterflies and nervousness. Tobias leaned over and kissed her. Right on the lips. 

Right on the lips. And she felt nothing. But she should. Tobias was a great guy. 

She kissed back anyway. Her fingers tangled in his hair and she pulled the ridiculous hat off his head. They lost their balance on the swings and fell into a pile on the bark. It poked through Salem's hoodie and leggings. 

Her face was inches from Tobias's and her cheeks flushed. She studied the curve of his nose and the angle of his jawline. "We can't do this," she whispered, playing with his hair. 

"I don't care what people think," he said. 

Salem made a weak effort at a smile. "But I do."

"Why?" he asked not harshly. "No matter what you do they won't accept you because of your mother's religion and your name, so why try?" His lips hovered over hers again. "You never have to try with me."