“Follow me,” he gripes out.
Ace grabs my hand and pulls me up the stairs.I reluctantly follow him—he’s not giving me much of a choice with the firm grip he has.He stops in front of the first door and pushes it open.I glance in and see a passed out Morgan and Cassie in what I am assuming is Morgan’s bed.They look peaceful.Morgan is situated on his side, playing the part of big spoon to Cass’s little spoon.His arm is wrapped around her abdomen with his leg draped over her thigh.They look comfortable, as if they have done this many times before.I sigh, realizing it will be harder for me to get a bed.I may have to crash on the couch after all.Fine by me—I would rather sleep on a couch than argue with Ace about sleeping arrangements.
He closes Morgan's door and pulls me to his room.Perfect.He can sleep on the couch, and I will take his room.
I peek around the room.It has minimal furniture—a king-sized bed, tall dresser, and desk with the same dark stained wood.He has a large television facing his bed.The walls have some abstract art; I assume his mom picked that out.A cork board hanging on the wall catches my eye.It has miscellaneous stuff pinned to it.I move closer to see what's pinned to it and notice tickets to concerts we have all gone to.There are a lot of pictures of Morgan and Ace from high school and college.My eyes go wide when I spot the corner of the board.There is a picture of me pinned next to a copy of a poem I wrote in high school.The poem I read to him in a state of pain and embarrassment.The memory rushes back to me.
I walk into my house, mad as hell.I’ve been crying, but made sure to walk home, so I could cry alone.It was a rough day at school.We had to present our poems in front of the class today, but I was happy with mine.I love writing and have always felt I was good at it.Normally I excel at short stories and fanfiction, so I was confident in my poem.I shouldn’t have been, because as I read the words I poured my heart into to my class, Ashley Jacobs chimed in.She raised her hand and loudly asked the teacher if she should call the suicide hotline for me.“Her poem was morbid and frankly, I’m concerned,” she said, feigning sympathy.
Everyone in the class laughed and I was humiliated.The teacher quieted everyone down and thanked me for my “beautifully dark poem.”That didn’t stop the whispers for the duration of class.Luckily it was my last class of the day, so I left for home after.
I head to the stairs now to cry alone in my room, when he stops me.
“Ains?What’s wrong?”Ace looks genuinely concerned.I want to walk away so he won't see me like this, but I don't.His beautiful Adonis-like face stops me every time.He towers over me and lightly grips my forearms, holding me in place.
“I-I-I...had a bad day.I-um-I don’t want to talk about it.”I'm trying not to cry, but I'm too upset to stop blubbering.
“What happened?Did someone hurt you?”Anger seethes out of him.
“Just some kids in class.They made fun of me for the poem I wrote.”He pulls me in for a hug then and I melt in his arms.
“No one hurts you and gets away with it.”It’s sweet that he’s so protective, but I don’t want to draw more attention to myself.Ashley and Ace run in the same circles at school.
“I just want to go to bed.If you’re staying for dinner can you tell my parents I wasn’t feeling well and went to bed?”He confuses me by shaking his head no.He walks up the stairs, pulling me with him by my hand.
Ace is holding my hand.Goosebumps race up my arms when he pulls me into my room.
“Sit down.Read me your poem.”I try to object, but he cuts me off.“Now,” he says in a demanding tone.
I’ve read my previous work to Ace before and he has always loved it, but now I’m self-conscious from class.Especially since the poem is about him.I sigh and take a deep breath, pull the poem out of my backpack, and start to read.
The days roll by like a stagnant tide
Smothering my soul
I feel old
Never living life like I should
But the soul I crave is a tidal wave
That never crashes to shore
My shore
My voice is lost in the wind
And I am unable to find the words
I want to feel the impact of the water
But it never quite reaches me
The soul I crave just fades away
I take a long breath and look at him.His eyes are like saucers and he doesn’t move.I try to lighten the mood.“That bad, huh?”
He blinks rapidly.“That was beautiful.You.Um.Wow.Ains, you are a gifted writer.”