Just Friends

chapter 1

I didn't expect my Saturday night to be ending with a ride on a bike home.

Not a ride on my bike, though. It's a ride on one of those pink, girly bikes. You know. The ones with the sparkly strings attached to the handlebars? Yeah. A bike I can only assume belonged to a nine-year-old Ash.

It was the first thing I could get my hands on while she, dazed out of her mind, rushed me out of their house with one question—

"What the hell just happened?"

I don't know.

Even as I trust myself enough to let go of the handlebars and just pedal, the events of ten minutes ago playing again and again in my head, I still don't know. But I knew the moment after it all took place that I couldn't stand being in the same room as them.

My cheeks grow hotter the more I think about it. My heart's still racing, too. What I did was pretty fucking stupid, to say the least, but I was only taking his advice and putting it to good use.

The rest of the ride home is quiet, dark, and the roads remain empty. The only source of light reminding the world of Parkview Avenue's existence shines from our front porch. As soon as I make it close enough to the front yard, I swing one leg after the other off the bike and then chuck it in the grass. The front door's already unlocked, and when I step inside, I see Scott and Ma watching TV, his arm wrapped around her shoulder.

Scott doesn't react to my presence—not that I was really expecting him to—but Ma does. She takes a peak over her shoulder.

"How'd it go?" she asks.

I kick off my shoes.

"Good."

Then jog upstairs to my room, slowly closing the door behind me so it only makes a soft click.

Between my one-word response to her question and the random ass bike out front, it's only a matter of seconds before she'll be at my door with questions. So I plop back on my bed, blink once, twice at the ceiling fan, and ponder what those questions might be.

Then there's the first knock.

It's soft. Like she's unsure of herself. But when I don't respond, she knocks again. Harder. Then creaks open the door, allowing herself in without my permission.

I don't sit up to look at her. If I did, I'm pretty sure she'd be able to tell just by the look on my face what the problem might be. I just feel the end of my bed sink with her weight. She pauses a couple of seconds before clearing her throat. "You okay?" Pauses a couple more seconds, then asks, "Whose bike is that?"

A super long silence immediately comes between us. It gives me time to repeat her question in my head. I've only been able to repeat questions in my head for the past hour or so, anyway.

Whose bike is that?

What the hell just happened?

Why the hell did you even think doing that would be a good idea?

I picture what would've happened had I not done that. Things would still be normal, I guess, but the feeling that kept weighing down my heart and soul would still be there.

I want to tell Ma so bad about what happened. She's the only one there is to tell, anyway, 'cause I'm pretty sure Ash doesn't want to hear from me ever again.

Finally, I close my eyes and swallow the lump stuck in my throat. I open my mouth and take a deep breath in. Then exhale.

"It's Ashton's, Ma," I blurt out.

"Whose?"

I clear my throat. "Ashton's."

"Oh," she whispers. "Did something happen between you two?"

Sort of.

I sit up straight and look at her. She stares at me beneath furrowed brows and concerned eyes. Then she rests her hand on my knee as I attempt to open my mouth in hopes that words will just—fall out.

"I did something really stupid, Ma," I say.

She snickers. "It can't be that stupid." She gives my knee a good pat before placing a hand on her belly. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

And with that, I take one breath in, one breath out, and start from the very beginning.