Page 19 of Toxic Wishes

“You’re joking.?” I say with my head tilted to the side.

“Nope” he popped the p at the end. “You either hit this blunt with me or get a tattoo to seal the deal. Your choice.” He grabs his lighter sitting in his console and lights the blunt. I watch him as the song With or Without You, by U2 starts playing, as if fate is speaking to us both. I watch him as he sucks in the weed and blows it out through his nose.

Blake will be a rockstar one day. I don’t know when, and I don’t know how. But I know he has way too much suave-ness not to be loved by this world—almost like a modern-day Elvis. Let’s hope he doesn’t let the drugs beat him in the race to the finish line like the King of rock-n-roll did.

As we sit silently, I want to ask him what happened to the Fallen Angels band. I ran into Edison at school the other day looking all pissed, so I asked him what was wrong, and he just told me, the guys can’t keep their dicks in their pants, and my girlfriend is a cheating hoe-bag. His words exactly.

My guess was on Duke, but then again, Blake was known to have a new girl on his shoulder every month, so he’s just as guilty. I have seen Blake talk with a few girls in the hallways, but I try to consciously not look at them as I attend to and from my classes. Lessening my chances of witnessing more than just seeing him talk to girls. I know it would kill me to see Blake kissing those dreamy, prissy, blue-eyed blonde girls that ruled the school, but maybe if I had a piece of him on my skin, I wouldn’t be so paranoid about those girls meaning more to him than I did.

“Okay, fine, I’ll get the tattoo, but only if I can get it colored pink. Having a tattoo on my body forever is a big commitment, and I would at least like to spice it up a bit with color if I’m looking at it every day.”

Smoke fills the car up, and I’m not sure if the smoke is starting to make me feel dizzy or how Blake is looking at me. His eyes scorch into me so deep that I can practically feel his gaze burn through my soul. My heart started to pound rapidly behind my chest as he continued to look at me with those paralyzing eyes, forever etching his face into my mind. My head felt lighter, and it almost felt as if I was floating. The music plays in the background, but all I can hear is my beating heart and shallow breaths. Then, in one swift movement, he unbuckles his seat belt and positions himself to face me, leaning over the console so his face is inches away from mine. He’s so close I could taste the weed in my mouth. My blood boiled, and my body buzzed.

“Blake?” I say more as a plea than a question.

He wraps his hand around my neck, pulling me closer. I gasp. He looks down at my lips. I could feel my chest move up and down as my breathing quickened. My heart was racing now, causing my blood to warm every inch of my body, and it was the only time I felt alive since the day I was admitted to the hospital.

“This isn’t a promise, Abs, if anything, this is the certainty of me breaking one.”

Music is love in search of a word.” — Sidney Lanier

8

Blake

“Music is love in search of a word.”-Sidney Lanier

Her lips were toxic to the touch. But in a good way. She tasted warm and cottony. Dream-like, but also piercing. Puncturing my existence, exactly like a venomous wish that I knew most likely wouldn’t come true. She was troubled and gorgeously addictive at the same time. I kissed her hungrily, thrusting into her mouth. I wanted to do nasty things to her. Erasing the thought of Toby ever crossing her mind. It scared me a little. These thoughts started last year and my hatred for Toby continued to grow, but I shouldn’t be worried about him right now.

Our tongues swirled together, and she tasted like bubble gum and sugary icing. If we stayed this way forever, it could erase all the pain. There’s so much I wanted to say to her. Colt and his girlfriend were getting way more serious than I ever thought possible since they barely saw each other, and now he was too busy to even take a piss without putting it on his schedule. I was sure Melissa would get fed up, but she hasn’t. She’s still sticking around, and regardless of my brother's absence, marriage has been brought up twice already.

Colt suspected I was using, so he started dragging me to therapy twice a week, along with doing drug tests twice a month. He patted me down to make sure I didn’t sneak any synthetic pee each time he tested me, sitting outside the bathroom door like a fucking guard dog. He was home much more often than not during the off-season, so this was no problem for him to do. In answer to his BS, I started drinking more. Plus, I found a way to flush out weed from my system in one week. I just had to make sure I wasn’t smoking all the time like I used to. And the fact I was pretty lean made it easy to flush the THC from my system as long as I worked out and sweated every day. I may not be good at English, but I sure and hell was good at bullshitting.

I had relapsed and done cocaine and meth occasionally when I wanted to feel absolutely nothing, which is precisely what I wanted to feel since the honeymoon phase of my dad and Stacey was dying down already. They always argued, which meant Dad was on edge more than usual—making him more of a dick to be around. I was starting to think Colt was right about Dad all along, and instead of me being able to confide in Colt I kept it all bottled up. Colt was too busy playing pro football, along with Captain save-a hoe by always stepping in to play the role of my dad instead of my actual dad. Everything seemed so hopeless, at a boiling point, like it would never get better. And catching more feelings for Abs is a bad idea right now. But I couldn’t help but hold onto her thick, luscious hair as we groped one another in our makeout session.

Abigail groaned in my mouth, and I tightened my hold on her neck. I was so hard, and she was so soft. Our kiss grew deeper, more passionate. I allowed myself fifteen more seconds before I broke it off. I etched her taste into my memory. Fresh. Sweet. Innocent. Another nibble, Another tongue stroke, Another kiss. Then I let go, forcing my dick back down in my pants with a blazed smile on my face.

“Happy birthday, My toxic wish.”

9

Abigail

“Music is a weapon in the war against unhappiness.”-Jason Mraz

It turns out it only took one kiss for me to feel entitled to act like that psycho-girl and break all the rules. Not that we had any, but we had a system down at school. A pattern, if you will, that worked until it didn’t, until now. I got a taste, and I wanted more. I wanted his toxins to release inside me and continue to give me that high he left me with in the car on our birthdays.

We rarely talked to one another on school grounds, if ever, minus lunch, since it would confuse people and cause them to gossip, which we both hated. Having any negative attention on us would be the talk of the town, so our system worked in our favor. We were friends in secret, and I was okay with that. But today, I wanted to talk to him and ask if he wanted to start a new band. Not for anything serious, mainly for fun, an excuse to be around him again. I found out the rumors were true about the Fallen Angels. Not only were they true, but everyone had fucked each other over in one way or another. It was sad because I know how much Blake relied on Duke, Brooks, and Edison not only for passing time or to help him not think about drugs but he looked at them as brothers, family even, and so did I. It’s probably why he was the only one who never went behind their backs and fucked any of their girlfriends.

I sucked in a long breath as I watched Blake open his locker to put his history and science books inside. And take out his English book.

“Hey,” I say right as he shuts the door. He ignores me as he searches for something in his backpack, and panic runs up my chest.

“I said hi.”

Slowly, he lifts his gaze to meet mine and furrows his eyebrows before quickly saying.

“What are you doing?”

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