Page 2 of Warmer, Colder

With the hushed release, the chaotic energy that’s been strumming restlessly inside me finally vacates my body. In the moment of peace, the cozy blankets tempt me. What I wouldn’t give to be able to lay here and bask in the serenity of achieving one more step in my plan, but I’m already pushing my luck.

After a few more centering breaths, I waste no time in turning the pillow over, righting my clothes, pulling on my shoes, and slipping back out the window.

The warm summer air clings to me, intensifying the flush of my skin; I welcome it. There’s nothing that could ruin this night as long as I stay focused. As long as I capture that kiss I need to compound the spell and strengthen our bond. Aphrodite willing, I’m going to get my girl back at last.Just a little longer Becca, I’m coming for you.

Chapter 2

Becca

June 6th, 2014 – Becca’s 23rdBirthday – 187 Days till Death

I stand at the edge of the room like a prop, an accessory to my own party. I’m not the guest of honor, I’m a mannequin dressed up just right for their enjoyment. Whether I’m here or not, it doesn’t really matter. The night will go on, they’ll have their fun, and they’ll remember it all more fondly than I will. It’s why I feel both heavy and hollow—the weight of expectations and the emptiness of always fulfilling them no matter what.

That is the Becca Murphy experience.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned to excel at—well, besides everything—it’s being who people need me to be. And tonight, that’s the excited birthday girl.

As humans, we tend to wax poetic about birthdays. They’re sold to us as something that always needs to be celebrated, and each year, it needs to be bigger, better,happier. Birthdays are the start of a new chapter, a new year of growth. They’re supposed to be exciting, aren’t they? Then why is it that, instead of elation, there’s a twenty-pound rock opening a yawning pit in my stomach? The acidity escaping through it is climbing up my esophagus, eating up the laughter and easy conversation I was supposed to be enjoying tonight.

Or maybe it’s just that I’ve had too much to drink. Yes, that’s it; I’m already on my third glass of champagne. I should stop after this one, but it’s not good form for the host not to partake in the festivities.It’s also not good form to actively avoidyour guests or worse, break their hearts.

Trying to be a good sport, I take another sip of the champagne from my birth year that my parents gifted me. But, instead of the crisp flavor of refreshing liquid luxury, the sourness of my mood transfers to my tongue. It tastes off; not off like flat, off like the sinking premonition of something terrible. Worse than what’s already happened, and everyone knows it, too. Eyes above wide eager grins sit heavy on me with expectancy.Smile, birthday girl. Take another drink. Have fun.

And I had planned to—have fun that is. I’d bought myself this little dress in my favorite color, lavender, to bring out my eyes and compliment my pale skin that’s barely seen the sun this summer break since I’m still taking classes and searching for the perfect internship opportunities. I’m even wearing heels; Meg insists I should show off my long legs on any occasion. Meg.Her eyes are the heaviest, watching me over her red cup.You can’t ignore meand you certainly can’t keep secrets from me.

Her words—her actions—are the reason that my birthday party went from something I was kind of looking forward to something I desperately wanted out of in the span of minutes.“Bec, can I talk to you really quick?”she’d asked. Of course, I said yes. She’s been my best friend for years. I was expecting my gift in private or a sentimental shot. I didn’t expect to have her confess that she’s in love with me, that our friendship isn’t just platonic for her.Not anymore.

Up until that point, I’d never been afraid to tell her anything. Meg had seen me at my worst in high school when I was still taking advantage of the comforts of being on the outskirts of Chleo Bower’s clique. It had been shamefully easy to remain inher good graces and enjoy the perks that her status provided. That is until Chleo had laid into Meg so badly that I simply couldn’t stand by and allow her to act like a tyrant anymore, especially not when my brother was giving me those eyes from across the lunch area.You can’t keep sitting by and allowing her to walk all over everyone.Of course, he was right.

Meg and I had been inseparable ever since. And thankfully, she welcomed me into her friend group with open arms; it was just the four of us against the world for the last four years. But tonight, Meg likely divided us forever and Brittany and Theresa don’t even know it yet.

With a soft voice and empathetic eyes, I’d tried to let her down easily.I just don’t see you like that. I love you, as a friend.

What I got back was anger and a sense of injustice.“Why not? Why not me?”

“I don’t date girls.”

“Jesus, Bec. We’re still doing this?”The tears in her eyes were half a decade’s worth of accusations.

“Doing what?”The ‘don’t make me do this, not after what happened’ was silent, but we both knew it was there, the heavy presence of that truth always threatening to resurface from my past. As my best friend who’s known me for years, you’d think we wouldn’t have to go there.

“You know what. Why are we still playing pretend? I thought we were best friends?”

“We are.”

“So, tell me the truth. Is it girls, or is it me you don’t like?”

“Both. You know that.”You’d think I’d be numb to this absurdconversation. I’ve said it a million times, to her, to Chleo Bower, to all the kids who wrote shitty things in my yearbook in seventh grade, and to every guy I’ve dated.

“I used to think you were so brave. But I’m tired of letting you lie to yourself and to me. You think you’re so perfect, you haveyour whole life figured out on paper. But you don’t know shit about yourself if you think that’s true. You’re not brave at all, Bec; you’re a fucking coward who’s always going to be running from her past.”

The undeniable finality of the slamming of the door behind her had been a punch to the gut and I’m still reeling from it. From our conversation, her accusations. It’s left me unstable on these uncomfortable heels instead of my usual Converse. I’m acutely aware of just how short my dress is in them, of how much of my legs are showing.I’m so exposed, and it’s her fault.

Fuck. This. Night.

Fuck birthdays, and best friends, and putting on a charade for other people.

I drain my glass of the remaining champagne, the carbonation going down rough and trying to come back up like the sting of the fracturing of my friendship. I’m on my way back to my room to change when I hear the most obnoxious sound known to man.

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