As We Burn

Eight.

I wake from a much needed dreamless sleep to the sound of rain tapping against my window and a throbbing headache. I tap the screen of my phone on my bedside table which lights up and tells me it's only just after seven o'clock in the morning. I'm trying to remember what time I fell asleep when the memories of the night before crash over me; the party, coming home, Crispen leaving...Crispen coming back. The kiss. I physically wince, secretly hoping he's already left for the day. I don't have class until two today, but maybe I can escape to Ava's for a bit to avoid any awkwardness. Ava. I quickly grab my phone again and check the messages she sent me, hoping she wasn't too upset last night. I'm surprised and afraid to see she texted me almost six times:

Are you okay?

Fuck Mathias, honestly. Don't let it ruin your night!

Please let me know you're safe when you see this <3

Parker, where are you??? There's a huge fire, everyone's leaving, I don't know what's happening.

Someone said you left with Crispen, so I'm hoping that's true, this is all so fucked up.

Home now. Call me ASAP.

My stomach drops onto the floor. Another fire? The time of Ava's text reads 1:34 AM - I was in bed at this point, shortly after my dispute with Crispen. If I had stayed at the party, I would have witnessed it - again. What are the odds of witnessing two fires in less than a week? Laurelwood really needs to work on it's fire safety education. I dial Ava's number, and it rings a few times before she picks up.

"You're alive," she says in a raspy, dry voice.

"I'm so sorry Ava, I just saw your messages. Are you okay?"

"Other than being severely hungover, yeah I'm good. Last night was..." Ava audibly groans.

"I know, we have a lot to talk about - want to meet at the café on campus in a few hours?" I ask.

"Sure, give me a few hours to recover though. Maybe around eleven?"

"Sounds good. Again, I'm so sorry I didn't text last night, but I'm glad you're okay."

"It's all good, Parker, seriously. I'm just glad you're safe. Leaving with Crispen, though? You've got some explaining to do," she laughs groggily. "I'll text you when I'm at the café."

Ava ends the call and I lay back down in bed. I have about three hours until eleven, and I don't want to run into Crispen. A sharp pain in my temple motivates me to pull myself up and out of my cozy, warm sheets. I'm still slightly dizzy as I pull on sweatpants and a shirt. Quietly, I turn the knob of my door and peer out into the hallway. Crispen's door is closed, and the house is quiet aside from the rain outside. I make quick, short steps to the bathroom and close the door behind me. In one of the drawers I find ibuprofen, and swallow two blue pills back with some water from the tap. I peer into the mirror, and can't help but nearly laugh at my reflection. My face is blotchy, red on the side I slept, and my tears from last night have left streaks of my silver eyeliner down one side of my face. My dark hair sticks up in every direction, like someone in a cartoon who's just been electrocuted. With this, I decide to strip my clothes off and start the shower. It takes me an embarrassingly long time to figure out how to work the different handles, but once I do, water spurts out from directly above. I jump back, but not quick enough to prevent getting wet; cool water sprays on my bare arm, causing me to let out a small yelp.

After a few seconds, I step into the streams of now warm water, which feel beautiful as they wash away any remnants of the night before and loosen up my aching joints. I feel somewhat exposed, as the only door to the shower is made of clear glass. I wash and condition my hair, cleanse my face, and then realize my bottle of body wash is almost completely empty. I look at the bottles of product on the inset shelf and see a dark green bottle of eucalyptus and spearmint body wash which must belong to Crispen. With no other option available, I grab the bottle and pour some of the creamy soap into my palm. It smells sharp, fresh, and earthy. I lather the soap over my body and the aroma engulfs me. With closed eyes, I recall the scent from last night, from Crispen's bare chest pressed up against mine. I can't help but wonder what may have happened, had I not stopped Crispen. Would he have taken things further? Would we have gone to his bedroom? I can feel my body responding to my imagination, and when I open my eyes, my cock is raised. I close my eyes again, using my hand as a substitute for what I imagine as Cripsen's. Would he touch me like this? The thoughts spark a dangerous heat deep inside of me, a deadly curiosity not unlike the night I stood under the burning building in the woods, watching the hungry flames completely demolish the structure. What would it be like to be completely consumed by Crispen St. Clair? I stroke myself faster, flashes of the ink on his skin, the flex of his bicep, the wink he gave me, and his lips against mine, completely sending me over the edge as my entire body erupts into white hot fireworks. I stand dizzy under the running water, catching my breath as my come drips down onto the tiles. I splash water over the mess and clean the soap from my hands. I turn the water off and grab a towel from the rack on the wall, patting myself dry. A sad feeling creeps over me, and I try to piece apart what I'm feeling. Guilty. I feel guilty. Guilty for becoming exactly what Crispen assumed I would be, for letting him kiss me right after he insulted me. Guilty for realizing that no matter how hard I try to deny it, I want him with every fiber of my being.mDeep down I know that submitting to my desires would be a betrayal of self, betrayal to the promise I made to protect my agency. Maybe if Crispen was different, I think. But he isn't - and it's not my responsibility to modify his behaviour. I've learned that the hard way. For now, I will have to accept that I find him physically attractive, but that's as far as it goes. I can't control biology, after all.