“Who didn’t? Your parents?”
“No, the arson investigators. I took the lighter with me, you see. Even back then, I guess I knew you can’t leave evidence behind. Though it never happened again, because my dad sure as hell figured out it was me and he whooped my ass when he saw the fire reported on the news later that night. I loved seeing that news report, knowing I was the one who did it. Felt like a big secret that belonged to only me, but Dad knew. He always knew.”
I don’t know what to say. The fondness in Ash’s voice is obvious. He loved his dad. And he lost him. I want to ask how, when, why, but I keep my mouth shut.
“He gave up smoking that very same day too. I never saw him light up a cigarette again. All books of matches and lighters vanished from our house. Poof.” He snaps his fingers, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet. “Gone. Like magic.”
Is he making this story up? I don’t know. There are too many details…
“I could’ve ended up in jail,” he continues.
I snort-laugh, unable to stop myself. “Please. You were six.”
“Already a hardened criminal at six.” He smiles, his teeth shining in the darkness. “I think you like bad boys, Callahan.”
“Shut up.” I shove at him, my hand making contact with his thigh, and I marvel at how lean and hard it is. All muscle.
“See? You did that so you could touch me.” He laughs and somehow produces a pack of matches, pulling one off the tab and lighting it with a flick of his wrist. He holds the match up close to his face, the flicker and glow casting shadows across his sharp cheekbones. His equally sharp nose. His full lips. “I still like playing with matches.”
“I know. I remember the first time I met you, that’s what you were doing.” How could I forget? The sullen boy sitting on the bench, talking about pussy shots and lighting matches.
“I remember that too.” He stretches his arm out toward me, the lit match coming closer to my face, and I flinch when the flame flickers. “Don’t worry. I won’t burn you.”
Such a pretty lie that falls from his lips. “You already have.”
His smile falters and he brings the match up to his mouth, blowing out the flame. The interior of the truck goes dark, and it takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dim light that’s shining from one of the parking lot’s lampposts. “You’ve burned me too.”
How, I’m not sure, but I’m not in the mood to argue with him.
“The problem with fire is that it burns,” he says when I haven’t responded to him. “Hot and fast. Totally destructive.”
He could be talking about himself.
“Destroying everything in its path.”
Definitely talking about himself.
“Turning everything to ashes,” I add, sending him a pointed look.
Yes, I’m talking about you, Ash. And your name.
“Makes sense, right? That they call me Ash. That I like fire. I’m a goddamned cliché.” He stubs the forgotten cigarette out in the ashtray and then reaches for a pack of gum that’s sitting on the dash. I look around, noticing there’s a lot of miscellaneous crap on his dashboard. It’s actually pretty huge. “Want one?” He offers the pack to me. “In case for later?”
“What’s going to happen later?” I take a piece, glaring at him. “I’m not going to let you kiss me, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
He laughs. “I like how you go straight to kissing. Makes me think you missed it.”
“I kiss Ben,” I say primly.
“Is it the same, though, Callahan? Really?”
“Definitely not,” I say confidently. I enjoy kissing Ben.
Kissing Ash left me…unsettled. Restless.
Needy.
Sighing, he shakes his head. “I’m not the one who wants to kiss. More like you’re gonna want to kiss me.” He unwraps the stick of gum and shoves it into his mouth, chewing obnoxiously. “I won’t have to do a damn thing. You’ll be slobbering all over me in minutes.”
“Fuck you.” I delicately set the piece of gum in my mouth and start chewing, keeping my lips closed.
“Jeez, Callahan, nice language.” He’s laughing again. Studying me like I’m some big joke. And I want to smack him. Hurt him.
“You bring out the worst in me,” I tell him with a delicate sniff.
“Really? And here I thought I brought out the best in you.” His gaze drops to my lips, and I know he’s looking at them on purpose. Trying to get my imagination to go haywire so I’ll uncontrollably jump him.
Or maybe that’s my vivid imagination kicking into high gear. I’m not sure.
“It’s best that we keep our distance.” And that’s exactly why we haven’t spoke for the last year, I’m sure.
“Says who? Your faithful Ben?”
“Stop making fun of Ben.”
“I’m not making fun of him. He is faithful, right? He cares about you? I’m sure he’s told you he loves you. I bet he tells you that on the daily. The dumbshit probably means every word he says, too.” Ash shakes his head, shaking the hair out of his eyes. The movement causes his scent to waft toward me. Clean. Soapy, and I’m guessing it’s his shampoo. He smells like maybe he just got out of the shower. He most likely did. And I don’t want to think about Ash in the shower. Naked. Warm water streaming over his body.
Briefly I close my eyes, banishing the mental image from my brain. I press my lips together, remaining silent. No way am I going to tell him we haven’t said I love you to each other yet. He’d latch onto that and never let go.
“He’s what you were looking for last year, and what I’ll never be. You know that, right?” His voice is soft and I chance a look at him to find he’s already watching me. His eyes glow in the darkness, and the sincerity etched all over his stupidly gorgeous face makes my heart soften a little bit.
“I wasn’t looking for anything from you,” I tell him.
“Sure you were. You all do.” He pauses for a moment. “I made you mad.”
“What girl wouldn’t be mad when the boy who just kissed her said he couldn’t feel anything?” The words escape me before I can stop them, but fortunately, I don’t regret saying them. He should hear what I have to say. He should know how stupid he sounds.
“I still can’t feel anything.” His voice is deep. Low. I lean toward him to hear him better. “I think it’s gone.”
I’m frowning. “What’s gone?”
He taps the center of his chest. “My heart. I don’t have one. My chest is hollow.”
I have a sudden memory of a movie Mom loves. I can’t remember what it’s called. A girl takes in this weird guy who claims to have a baboon’s heart, and when I was young, I thought it was the stupidest movie ever. While Mom is sitting there crying over the end, saying how much she loved it.
Why would you love a movie that makes you cry?
And why does a sixteen-year-old boy say that he doesn’t have a heart? Does he mean he actually doesn’t have one? If that’s the case, he’d be dead.
“What are you? Some kind of psycho?” I sound mean, but I’m still hurting over last year’s interlude.
Not that I’d ever admit that to him.
His big brown eyes remind me of a puppy dog’s, and the longer he stays quiet, the more I start to think he’s putting one on me.
“You’re so full of shit,” I finally say with a shake my head.
He’s grinning, the asshole. “Did you really think I meant that? That I literally have no heart? I mean, come on, Callahan. You’d have to be the stupidest person alive to believe that kind of shit.”
“You definitely qualify for that,” I mutter, reaching for the door handle.
He’s on me in an instant. Hovering above me, I can feel his body heat, though we’re not quite touching. “Don’t leave.”
“Why not?”
“Just—stay for a few minutes longer. It can be our little secret.” He eases away from me when he must sense I’m not going to make a run for it. “It’s nice, playing catch up.”
It sort of is, but it’s also incredibly annoying. I can’t take him seriously, though I’m desperate to. I can’t believe a word he says.
I also can’t sit with a boy I used to like and pretend I have zero feelings for him. That would be…
A lie.
Ten