26 of 50 Songs and Chapters Dedicated to the Friend I Lost Too Soon

It got immensely darker in the outside world, but I was too deep into my emotions to be disturbed. I didn't care if the sudden further-darkness meant my death, physical pain on top of what I already felt, or if it was possibly something good disguised as the dark. It didn't matter anymore. A replay of what I flew away from was all I could focus on.

For what the moment was, hidden away in Jewee's car as the only place I could find as safe-keeping, I felt like a little girl again. The little rebellious girl that knew she would have to go home after a runaway to tell her parents they were right, but for me, that wasn't an option. I wasn't a little girl anymore, and there wasn't any home to go back to.

It's been destroyed, and that meant that on the tip top of my head, I had to accept that my parents were right. That I shouldn't have came here, even for a book that I thought was my entire life, because no one ever knows how stuff like that unfolds. Entering this world, I've entered so many highs, but just as many lows, and while experiencing one of those lows, triggered by something that shouldn't be a big deal whatsoever, I regretted being here.

But I'm starting to learn that I always think it's better on the other side, and that's my mistake. I act like once I receive something that I've always dreamed of, that things will automatically become perfect and that everything will fit into place. That never happens, and there's always going to be a flaw where I imagined it to be perfect.

It's stupid really, to think that there's a perfect place in an imperfect world, but we fantasize about it anyway. If anyone's like me, we can't help ourselves. It ends up a bad thing because the negative truth hits hard, like a gunshot wound to the chest.

Then, unexpectedly, it became bright in one aspect at least. The overhead light came on, and the ding that signaled a door was open went off for five seconds at most, until it shut again and the darkness seeped back through. To my right was Jewee. I didn't get one look at him, but I could tell based of his presence. I didn't have to look at him to know.

"Drive," he commanded.

I chuckled. What a joke that had to be for so many reasons I don't even want to touch base on, but I had to on one of them at minimum. "You can't just leave the party. It's your party, Kyler. You're the host. What are you thinking? You're just going to leave a bunch of people you've only recently met in your house? Offensive actually, thinking about it, since you didn't do that to me at first. Do you trust them more than--."

"Just drive."

"Oh my god, you're serious. And I've never driven at night. We're both going to die," I want to rage, but it come out under my breath. Still, I'm putting the car in drive, the headlights guiding me through his street that is empty at this time of the day. "Where are we going?"

"Go on. I'll instruct you when you need it." He props his feet up on the dash, taking a breather. I guess he was being truthful that as chaotic as he is, he is quite the introvert, and hosting a party wasn't necessarily his forte. Understandable, especially if they've turned out for him as it's turned out for me today.

I accepted his lead, following after his exact instruction. Rights and lefts constantly surprising me when I let myself assume I knew where we might be headed from the little I knew about Vegas, and that more shockingly took me from the big traffic-y roads that were packed and full despite the time, to a tiny alley-way that concealed us from the rest of the world. The doors remained locked, and he didn't ask me to click them open. The two of us just sat there together in the middle of nowhere. Not a word was exchanged from either one of us.

"Alright! I give up. What the heck is the purpose of this, Gray?" I caved in. I couldn't wait forever, and he acted like if I didn't push it, he wasn't going to tell. Being in the unknown wasn't my thing, whether what he was doing was going to kill me or resurrect me back to full health, and while the quiet lingered I couldn't focus too hard on the good or the bad that would come from it until it came. I threw myself in entirely, and I was about to find out if I was going to need CPR or not.

Jewee was nose to nose to me. I could smell his breath -- minty, from several pieces of gum he's been chewing the whole night at the party, which he did to keep his nerves on the DL, and I start to grow self-conscious about mine. What was he doing and why was it out of the blue? I've never seen him like this before, or maybe I have. With Talia just a moment ago, but I've never felt him like this before.

He was grabbing my hair, a skim of his index fingertip brushing by my earlobe.

I can hardly breathe, but it's out of euphoria. An euphoria I didn't think I was supposed to have, and that I didn't know how I had. Everything happened so fast.

"Princess," he says. The gap between us is closing in, right when I think it couldn't. Couldn't for what I was to him. A friend at the very most. "I fell victim to pressure and it--," he scrambled for the the right word to say. He didn't want to admit to hurting me, and I'm glad he did because I shouldn't care about it. "It affected you," he continued. "And I'm going to make it un-affect you."

Wow. Smooth.

"We're in a place where nobody can find us way passed midnight. It's pitch black out there. There'd be no eye witnesses, and not one person would be able to hear me scream. That's what it takes for you to 'un-affect' me? Are you going to kill me? Am I going to die? Should I be running away?"

"What's with you and the term 'death' today?" Jewee sighs a happy sigh. One that wants to giggle at how obnoxious or dramatic he thinks I'm being. He finds me hilarious. "You're not going to die," he mumbles, barely opening his mouth.

He presses his lips against mine. He's kissing me right after he kissed Talia, yes, but this was out of his own will. Not after he's acted out a bunch of lines that were originally on a piece of paper.

Does that make this better or worse? Who am I actually kissing? Is this technically more Talia than him? This got more confusing the further it went along.

I'm frozen. I've barely known how to kiss as is, but with how things were going, I forgot how to kiss entirely. He's taken the wheel far more than he's supposed to, as it's common knowledge this is meant to be a two person thing, but he initially appears to be kind of cocky about it.

I can taste it on him, without moving a muscle -- without even having to try. He's happy he's been able to be the boss for as long as he has been. The process it took to get here, and now this -- it's added, added and added to his ego.

Jewee's attempting to teach me. He's acting as a tutor that I never wanted, and he's making sure everything goes the way that he likes it to be. I feel like he's telling me when to breathe, how to hold my head, when to back away, when to return, when to loosen up and when to dive in with my whole soul, but on top of every single one of those rules, he makes a specific rise above: don't stop, and by means of heaven, hell, land and sea do not push him away. That's a decision that only he's allowed to make.

I don't close my eyes. I can't get myself to. His eyes aren't closed either, though. I could see them, glowing like the sun in this cave of a car. We're staring at each other -- him in a the way that proved he was shocked I wasn't responding, and me in the opposite -- in shock that he was initiating this to begin with.

There was something about it that made me wish I kept my eyes shut, I've come to realize. I felt bad for not responding to him. His shock made me feel bad for him.

Or maybe I felt bad for myself. Who in this world could leave the Jewee Gray Kyler hanging? I couldn't resist what fell right into my lap. That would be purely idiotic, regardless of the circumstances. I fight for what I want, and in comparison to what I've been spending the recent months doing -- fighting my own body for my life, that shouldn't be that much, should it?

I jump in. I respond. His smirk against my teeth feels like a challenge. He knew I couldn't resist somehow, and since I've caved in, I have to make sure he knows who he's up against. The experience versus the non-existent experience didn't matter. With the right adrenaline, I figure things out when I need to. I can do a lot better than he can. I don't care what training and advantage screenplays have given him.

He pulls away. I don't allow him. He's not in control like he thinks he can be.

Once upon a time we were people who lived to annoy the other one. We were the two people who couldn't both be happy at the same time, and in some sense, that goes on. Only one of us could be the dominant one at a time too. A competition was competition, and I don't back out of getting victories.

I hate him. I hate him. I hate him, that Jewee Gray Kyler, but not in the way I used to. If this was a week ago no less, we would be at each other's throats, but in the present, him hoisting me up as I slip up against the window, his hands temporarily on either side of my shoulders. His right skims down the side of my body to rest at my waist, but it's creeping back up toward my hair, this time at the back of my head, that he can't get himself away from.

That's what he's most attached to, confirmed. He probably can't even explain why himself. He may not even notice it. He doesn't know what kind of guy he is.

I like that, but I'm in denial. I'd never admit it out loud. I couldn't, and yet the mystery that he is to himself makes him a mystery to me too -- a mystery that I dream to get to the bottom of, and that I somewhat got the chance to do to a certain extent. It's the factor that's making everything being done here a hallucination or some sort of illusion.

Am I dreaming again? Does my mind have every intention of punishing me?

It must be. That has to be what this is, huh? That's the only logical explanation. This wouldn't just happen in my lousy life.

But his lust is so real -- how?

He's telling me to come closer, with the movement of his lips and not the sound, but I back off, telling him that he has to come to me. He does, surprisingly easier than I thought it would be, and I find myself being held more by him than gravity itself. The car is cold, but he's warm, and I'm instantly heated everywhere, from head to toe, with all credit to be given to how we connected.

When he leaves me alone, sitting back into his seat, feet propped back up on the dash like he was on the way here, I feel instantly cold again. It's deja vu, but a kind that brings me back to a place where this hasn't happened yet, and that makes me somewhat convince myself that it didn't, even though it surely did.

"I knew it," Jewee says aloud proudly. He's out of breath, but he says it proudly.

I don't know what he means by it, but it doesn't feel good. I feel icky all over, and I'm at a dead end when it comes to what to do about it. I've forgotten how to speak just as I had forgotten how to kiss, and this had nothing to help me remember. I couldn't have let him play me, could I?

Could I?

No, no. That's impossible.

I hope.