Page 19 of Warmer, Colder

“An—” I disconnect the line before she can finish her appeal.

Forget whatever I thought I just saw. Forget sleep. I know what needs to be done.

Rain batters the windshield, scattering the streetlights that become starbursts exploding before me, like dozens of north stars guiding me toher.

Becca, Becca, Becca.

Every minute for the last four-plus months has been consumed by her—her scent, her taste, her pussy hot and slick against my thigh. Those are the thoughts that I can handle, the ones I can manage. But then there are the ones that shatter all semblance of control and send me into destructive rage.

Becca’s lips on Nate’s.

Becca’s hands in his hair.

Becca’s body under his.

My nails tap a furious rhythm on the steering wheel as I wait at the light. Silently, I plead with my mind to morph the distressing thoughts into something better.

Becca’s lips on mine.

Becca’s fingers clutching my waist.

Becca’s whimpers of pleasure warm on my skin.

The reverie is broken by the obnoxious revving of an engine to my left. Doing a double-take, I size up the grey muscle car that’s pulled up next to me. I recognize the platinum hair that peeks out above the cracked window. What are the fucking odds?

My leg jostles erratically against the pink floor mat.I need to keep going. I need to get to her before he does.Side-by-side, we travel down the slick streets. The next red light mocks me as his car just makes it through the intersection while it’s still yellow.

“Come the fuck on!” I slam my fist on the wheel and pain flares through the side of my hand. It’s nothing compared to the knife sticking out of my heart. I slam my hand again just to distract myself from the searing wound in my chest. The tears clouding my vision make the stoplight bleed. I allow a few to fall—just a little exorcism of all the emotions building within me—as I wait for it to turn green, then take a deep inhale when it’s time to go. My foot is leaden on the pedal.

The road is an oily black as I speed down the residential streets. Luckily, there aren’t many people out. Three more lights, four more stop signs then I’ll be there. I could still catch up to him. Unlike me, he’s in no rush, driving leisurely, driving safely. But then I see it, a void of black clinging to the ceiling. With the distraction, the third red light catches me off guard; one moment I’m in control, then the next, the car jerks and the wheel becomes light in my hands.

“Oh, fuck,” I hiss. My mind goes blank for several seconds as I wait for the tires to catch against the street surface once again, and luckily, they do just a few feet into the intersection. I focus on the annoying ticking of my turn signal while I survey my surroundings. That could have been so much worse.

With shaking hands, I regain control of the car as the light turns green and complete my left turn without any interference from other cars in either direction.Maybe I do love how quiet the suburbs are.As I weave through the twists and turns of Becca’s neighborhood I drive slow and steady. After two more minutes, I finally pull up across from her house. Only Becca’s car is in the driveway, Nate had the same idea as me, parking discreetly in front of the neighbor’s house.

As I watch her let him in the front door, my plan slips from my precarious grip.

“Come on! Are you kidding me?” I scream into the steering wheel as my nails dig into the supple leather. I throw myself back against the seat trying to stifle the tears that hadn’t retreated as far as I thought. They were waiting on standby, as if to mock me for getting my hopes up. “Oh Stasi, did you really think you were finally going to get your chance with her?”They taunt.

“Shit, shit, shit.” I pound my steering wheel, my hand throbbing at the reminder of the familiar abuse. “What am I doing?” The words are as berating as they are questioning. As I suck in air, trying to even my breathing, I catch my distressed brown eyes in the mirror. My pupils are wide with hysteria, the whites a concerning red, my eyelids pink and puffy. I look away in disgust, revolted by who I see staring back at me—someone too close to that weak, disheveled, little girl who spent an entire summer beside herself checking her AIM messages incessantly and waiting until 9pm to sneak a phone call to an increasingly distant best friend.Pathetic.

I bring the headband to my nose once again, I inhale deeply.One, two, three; exhale. I repeat the process two more times, huffing the heady mix of peach and hair oils.

“Get a fucking grip, Anastasia.” I exhale the words to myself in a hiss. “This is your chance.” I point a warning finger at my reflection.

Taking the rearview mirror in my hand, I tilt it down and wipe the tear tracks from under my eyes and cheeks. With purpose, I unlatch the glove compartment and grab my emergency makeup bag. Thankfully, I have enough sense to invest in waterproof mascara, so the cleanup is minimal as I dab and blend my foundation.

The pattering rain is soothing while I go through the motions.

As I conceal the splotching on my cheeks and restore my makeup to its former perfection, I feel the grip on my control of my emotions tighten and my sense of self rebuild.

“Much better,” I compliment myself as I touch up my eyeliner wing. With a swipe of pink gloss—the one that tastes like her mouth—a smile returns to my face, and I pull my freshly blown-out hair forward.Perfect, perfect, perfect.

Now that everything’s as it should be, I restore the mirror to its original position. Taking a long, centering inhale, I shift in my seat and turn my attention to Becca’s window, the one on the side of the house, toward the back, past her brother’s room.She’s right there.

I crack the front windows, stop the wipers, and turn the key in the ignition, killing the engine. Closing my eyes, I allow the steadiness of the heavy drops of rain to center me as I try to pull together a plan.

When he leaves, I’m going to go over there and I’m going to tell her everything. Starting with who I am. Once she realizes that I’m her long-lost Ana, she’ll see that I’ve been right this whole time. We’re meant to be together. I know she’s afraid, but what’s safer than your childhood best friend?

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