provoke | stimulate or give rise to
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2/19/17
"DO YOU LIKE this top?" my mother's voice rings out from behind me inside the crowded store.
I turn around and shrug at the shirt hanging between her fingers. "It's cute," I admit. Really cute actually. The black top is trimmed with lace and is elegant and simple at the same time. "But I don't need anything new," I tell her in attempts to brush her off as kindly as possible.
My eyes flit around the store. A store I've only come in a few times with Francesca and maybe once with my mother. It's a small boutique at the more expensive end of the town's shopping mall. Plus it's something that we can't and don't need to casually spend money on.
"I've had some good bonuses lately," she tells me with a wave of her hand. "That means we can splurge," she insists with a smile.
"Yeah, but we don't have to," I tell her. I'm not one for showy clothes. I've always been simplistic in what I wear. Never one for bright colors or patterns or embellishments. Never one to stand out in more ways than one.
"But I want to," my mother tells me as her smile begins to fade. "You're leaving for school soon and this is our time together Mae," she says, hitting me with words that instantly pull at my heart. She just wants to spend some time with me before I leave this fall. It seems so far away as the New Year has just arrived, and yet I know it will be here before I realize.
I nod with a small sigh. "I know," I relent.
My mother wraps an arm around my shoulder pulling me in. The familiar smell of her perfume fills my senses and places my nervous heart at ease. "Well let's at least go and look at prom dresses," she suggests with a wide smile.
An embarrassed flush coats my cheeks. "I don't even know if I'm going to go," I tell her honestly, quietly.
"It's your senior prom Maeleigh," she chides. "You're going," she tells me with a pointed look. My mother is all about life experiences, and is thankful for my best friend for pushing me outside my comfort zone in life. If it weren't for Francesca I would be a complete loner just going through the motions of high school.
"But no one is going to ask me," I state awkwardly. My mother is fully aware of the lack of any male attention in my life. But for as small as I feel in life, saying these words to my mother makes me feel almost pathetic.
"So," she shrugs easily. "Then you go stag," she reasons, pulling me along with her to exit the fancy boutique. I roll my eyes at her outdated lingo, but nonetheless follow along.
My teeth pull at my bottom lip in deep thought. "I guess," I draw out though the idea doesn't sound fun. Senior prom is something everyone looks forward to around here. Francesca has been going since freshman year, but this year is the one she's been looking forward to the most. Where as I've been secretly dreading the event that once again proves how irrelevant I am to my senior class. To everyone.
Together my mother and I maneuver our way to the other side of the mall where the prom dresses are. Well, the prom dresses we can afford to be more specific.
As we make our way over my mother excuses herself to the bathroom. I wait outside the store, which is already overflowing with giggling girls and their mothers. My body sags against the wall near the store as unwanted anxiety courses through my veins. I don't want to be here. I don't want to try on dresses today. I don't want to go to a dance all by myself.
"Hey." A deep voice calls out from beside me. One I instantly recognize, one that causes a chill to run down my spine and warms my blood all at the same time. A voice that calls after my heart in a way that it shouldn't, a way that makes me want him more. The same voice who this past week has been messing with not only my head but my body as well. Kissing me in stairwells and touching me in empty classrooms.
I turn my head slightly to take in Asher Lawton. Take in his tall frame, lean body, and permanent smirk that resides on his handsome face. He looks like he does every single day, and yet every time I see him butterflies erupt from within me as if I'm seeing him for the first time half naked and frazzled in his bathroom.
"Hi," I respond slowly, letting my lips turn up in a small smile. I hate that I smile because I should hate him. He went on a date with my best friend two nights ago. After messing around with me all week. He went on the date he promised her at the party.
And after the date he snuck into my room, high, and he kissed away all my anger. His body took all my anger and turned it into flaming desire instead.
"Shopping for a dress?" he asks with a small tilt of his head motioning to the bustling store next to us.
"Yeah, why not?" I tell him not wanting to show the weakness and slight fear that fills me about having to go alone to the biggest event of my high school career. But in front of Asher I never want to appear soft, never show that I can't handle his attitude and serve it right back in waves.
"Didn't know someone asked you already," he says casually though the way his eyes flare with a jealous fire make me know it's anything but casual. His gaze sparks the need to not show any faults once again. His dark flame filled eyes raise a flickering heat within me that only awakens when he's around. When he's jealous. When he wants me.
"You don't know a lot about me," I tell him as I cross my arms across my chest. I don't have anything to show off, but the small movement does draw his eyes to my chest causing a glimmer of power to fill my bones and make me feel strong. Empowered. Desired.
"So someone's asked you?" he questions with a raised brow. His dark eyes now locked intently on me.
"Not yet," I admit slowly putting just enough importance on the words to allude to something that isn't there. Isn't going to happen. But Asher makes me want to fight back, stand tall, and seem like I know what I'm doing when I don't have a clue.
"Yet?" he asks with a slight emphasis.
"Who knows who will ask me," I push forward. Letting myself pause before taking the plunge I know will drive him over the edge. "Maybe Brooks," I say with a shrug and slight smirk that mimics the devilish one that seems to always coat his perfect lips.
His dark eyes narrow at my words. His jaw hardens, and his fingers clench and unclench at his sides. I pushed the right buttons. Dark glittering excitement rushes through my veins almost intoxicating me on the feeling of making Asher feel this way. "Brooks, really," he spits with a hardened tone.
"Yeah," I breathe with sparkling eyes locked on his stormy ones.
A hand pushes through his dark locks with an untamed energy. The same one that seems to always course through the air whenever we're around each other. But this time it's different, it's darker, and I want more. "Is that supposed to bother me?" he questions harshly.
I chew on the inside of my cheek to hold in the smile that wants to break out across my pink lips. "I don't know," I state truthfully. "Does it?" I question with a slight push and narrowed eyes as I lean away from the wall and stand up straighter. I want it to bother him the same way it bothered me when he went on the date with Francesca.
Asher takes a small step towards me as if he can't help himself. As if gravity herself has written it into our bones, our souls. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, lips that I'm at perfect height to watch, love, and worship.
His mouth opens to speak, to say something snarky or dirty or both rolled up into a witty statement that will turn me into mush at his feet.
But before he can even get a word out another voice cuts him off. A woman's voice.
"Who's this Asher?" she asks, coming up from behind him. My eyes lock on the stranger who now stands by his side. She's older, well put together, and has the exact same nose as Asher. It's his mother I quickly piece together taking in her expensive clothing, jewelry, and perfectly manicured nails attached to a couple thousand dollar purse.
His body turns rigid at his mother's words and presence. "No one," he answers, dropping his gaze from mine.
Two words. That's all it takes to tear me down, to crack my exterior, and to break my heart. The boy that once made me feel so strong, so powerful, has effectively sliced me into irrelevant meaningless pieces. In front of his mother of all people as well. My hands clench and my nails cut into the palm of my hands in efforts to keep the hot, stinging tears at bay. I won't let him see me break. I won't give him that power.
But he knows he has the power. He knows who he is and who I will never be.
Asher's mother slaps her son's chest in chastisement. "Well excuse my poorly mannered son," she reproves before smiling at me with perfectly straight white teeth. "You are not no one," she tells me with a kind smile that reminds me of the one her son rarely lets anyone see.
She reaches her hand out to initiate a handshake. "I'm Maeleigh," I respond quickly, tearing my eyes away from Asher and shaking her delicate hand. Something instantly roars from within me wanting to make her like me. Wishing our mother's were best friends that spoke about Asher and I one day getting together. But that's not me, will never be me. That's Francesca.
Her eyes brighten. "Oh what a lovely name," she compliments earnestly. "I'm Diana Lawton," she replies, tucking a wisp of shiny blonde hair behind her ear.
"Nice to meet you," I state keeping my gaze on her because in my periphery I can see Asher with his hands tucked into his pockets shifting from foot to foot staring at the ground. Am I really that embarrassing? Do I really mean so little?
"I'm assuming you go to school with my son," she begins continuing to converse with me while her son stands with stiff hunched shoulders next to her. "Are you a senior as well?" she inquires.
I nod easily. "Yes," I respond.
"Where are you going to be attending college this fall?" she questions next with kind eyes as if she truly wants to know more about me. More than even Asher has asked in our few exchanges I've suddenly realized.
I pause for a second because I haven't really told anyone about my choice. All of my scholarship information just finally came in, and after a long conversation with my mother about money and distance we accepted the financial aid and made everything official. "DePaul in Illinois," I finally say, hating the way my eyes flicker over to Asher waiting for my words to affect him in some way. Any way that tells me I mean something to him.
But he continues to stare at the ground and not make a sound. Pretending like he wasn't just in my bedroom the other night touching my body and kissing my lips.
"That's so great," Mrs. Lawton gushes. "I pushed for this one to go out of state, but Central Florida is a great school so I can't complain," she tells me as if even though she wished her son had looked elsewhere she's happy he's close to home. Close to her.
"Who's this?" my mother's voice speaks out from behind us causing me to almost jump in surprise.
I place a calming hand over my chest from the shock. "This is Asher and his mother—" I begin to introduce with a raspy voice and thumping heart.
"Diana Lawton," she introduces herself, cutting me off and sticking her hand out towards my mother.
I watch my mother's face fall just a bit before flashing a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Oh," she breathes. "Nice to meet you both," my mother says whilst shaking Asher's mother's hand. "But we best get going, busy day and all," she tells them as she wraps an arm around my shoulder and begins to turn me towards the store.
"Of course," Mrs. Lawton responds. "Well y'all have a great day," she says before turning away with her son by her side.
With that my mother and I enter the store and aimlessly look through racks on racks of puffy overly priced satin dresses. I push away the questions I have about my mother's behavior to meeting Asher and his mother, because all I can truly focus on is the way he ignored me. The way he dropped me without a second thought.
My mother keeps trying to engage me and pick out different dresses for me to try on, but my head is not in the right place to care about a dress for a dance I don't have a date to.
I hate the way my gaze continues to linger on Asher's back through the store window until I can't see him anymore.
Because no matter how much I want Asher to look back at me as he walks away, to flash me with those eyes I continuously seem to drown in, he doesn't.