Fight for You

I always loved hearing people talk about how hard high school was, like it was some rite of passage time era. They said that the person you were when you were in high school is going to be the shape of the person you would be for the rest of your life. I never understood that mentality. How could I possibly be the same person I am now that I was at fourteen? At nineteen, I wasn’t even the same person that I was three weeks ago. I look back on those four years as the most trivial years of my life. It was all about who was on the soccer team and how many awards we could win and who had the best clothes. It was a goddamn fashion show. They try to butter you up and tell you that this is the best time of your life and that you’ll make friends here that you’ll have for the rest of your life, but that’s another fresh bottle of bullshit that they feed you.

The truth of the matter is that you’ll make friends with someone that you won’t even talk to three months later. You have to have the best hair, the best smile, the best body, the best looking piece of candy on your arm. You need to run the fastest, jump the highest, throw the farthest, and score better than the person next to you. High school was one big reality show on MTV and everyone had a script and a dedication episode.

College was a different world completely; a real world. No one gave a shit how much you weighed, what your hair looked like, or if you wore the same shirt you wore yesterday. No one tried to cheat off you or stuffed you in lockers. No one made fun of you for being who you were or for wearing pajamas to class and not brushing your hair. Because the fact of it all was this: everyone was just as unsure of what they were doing and too focused on trying to reach towards their own personal goals to even care what was happening to you.

This was the place you made friends for the rest of your life. This is where you met your roommate and became sisters, transcending what you knew and putting all your faith in each other. This was where you met the person you wanted to be for the rest of your life, really decided what you were doing for the rest of your life. These were the real years that shaped who you were into the person you were meant to be.

I was in my second year of college when I met Spencer Dodson, walking with my roommate back to our dorm after our math class. Nora Tanner was tall for a girl, standing closer to six feet than she did five. Her hair was long and wavy; the color of honey rippling off the comb in slow waving movements and her skin was a soft bronze from the dwindling summer sun. She was beautiful in a very plain way. She looked like other girls, she wasn’t anything special, yet she still seemed to catch eyes like a magnet. And that’s just what happened.

A tall, broad-shouldered boy with pale blue eyes and ash blonde hair bumped into Nora and dropped his spiral at my feet. I reached down and held it out for him.

“Shit.” He chuckled, “I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Hey, it’s cool.” Nora grinned, pushing her hip against mine. That was her little signal for me to smile and look cute. She only did it if she found that a cute guy to her standards was talking to us. “Maybe you shouldn’t text and walk at the same time. I hear it’s hazardous.”

He laughed and nodded, “It would seem it is, seeing as I almost rammed you guys on your asses. I really am sorry about that, though.”

“It’s all good. You could make up for it by telling me your name, just so who I know who to report.” Nora pushed her hand through her hair and he seemed mystified by the simple gesture, grinning like a fool caught in her trap. I rolled my eyes.

“Spencer.” He said, “Spencer Dodson. And you are?”

“I’m Nora, this is Ember.”

“Hi,” I said to him, waving almost awkwardly.

It wasn’t that I was awkward or socially anxious, but when Nora was batting her thick eyelashes and flirting too obviously, it always made me feel weird, like I had suddenly became some third wheel. So, when the Nora or the potential interest decided to acknowledge me, I had to remember that I was actually there and not some random bystander.

Spencer nodded to me with a welcoming grin, looking me over like he was almost assessing me. It made me self-conscious. I had thrown my hair up into a messy bun and sported sweats and t-shirt that I had found at the bottom of the hamper. I didn’t brush my auburn hair before tossing it up, but I also wasn’t planning on running into some random pretty boy in the middle of the courtyard.

They talked for a few more minutes, excitedly talking about how they were in the same Economics class and how it was just so funny that neither of them had noticed that they shared a class. They talked about their teacher and they talked about the paper due on Tuesday. They talked about maybe sitting together sometime.

“Sure, I’d really like that.” Nora nodded with a coy smile. She was good at this game of flirtation and attraction.

“Hey,” he started rather excitedly, bouncing his gaze between the two of us with a wide grin, “So, it’s Friday and there’s this party tonight that a lot of people are going to over at the warehouse. You guys want to drop by? I don’t know if you’ve already heard about it or not, but it’d be really cool if you came.”

There was a warehouse across the large prairie where people tended to throw large parties. The school knew of it because after two in the morning campus patrol drove their little golf carts over and broke it up and confiscated any illegal paraphernalia with warning glares. They lived by that fool-me-once motto which I always appreciated, not that I ever got caught or knew anyone that did. It would get crazy and loud at these parties. There was an upper level that you could climb up to get away from the initial noise of everyone below and a lower level where everyone danced and conversed. It was usually decorated with bright, flashing lights and various couches and chairs along the walls on both levels.

Nora looked at me and nodded excitedly. “Yes! Yeah, we would love to go. I heard something about it earlier, but if you’re inviting us.”

“I am.”

“Then, call it a date.” Nora grinned and tugged my sleeve. “We’re in the McArthur hall, second floor. Room 218.”

Spencer nodded and looked at me again, his eyes lingering a few seconds longer than last time before flashing his eyes quickly back to Nora. “Sounds perfect. I’ll see you around eight?”

Nora confirmed the plans before tugging my hand and continuing on to our dorm building. Once we were in McArthur hall and climbing the stairs to the second level, Nora had already about chewed my ear off about how excited she was. She’d only been to one warehouse party. It wasn’t that you needed some special invitation, because there were parties there every weekend, and all you had to do was show up and walk in. It was more about the fact that she wanted to be invited to go there rather than just showing up, like this was some sort of important detail. To her, it was. I wasn’t exactly sold on it, though.

“I don’t know if I’m going to go.” I said slowly, shaking my head as I pulled out my lanyard to unlock the door.

Nora shut the door and dropped her jaw, shaking her head quickly. “No way, Ember. You always duck out on me whenever we get invited anywhere. You’re coming with me to this party and you’re going to have fun and that’s the end of it.”

“Nora,” I chastised with a sigh, shaking my head as I pulled my hair down. “I just don’t want to go.”

“But you never want to go.” Nora groaned, coming around and taking my wrist. “Have some fun. You’re passing all your classes, it’s Friday and none of your work is due until after three on Monday. Have some fun. If it’s lame, we’ll come back. I won’t even put up a fight. Just, come with me.”

I groaned, long and whiny as I dropped my head back and gave a whimper, “Fine. Fine. Okay.”

A few minutes after eight, a light knock against the door brought us back from our conversation about what tonight might hold and Nora’s expectations. She had styled her hair and straightened mine and decided on wearing a scandalous shirt, exposing her chest and somehow convinced me to put on one much similar. I wasn’t self-conscious, but I still wasn’t especially comfortable with going out to the warehouse at all.

Nora dragged me over to the door and opened it for Spencer, but he wasn’t alone like we thought he’d be. The person behind him was taller by a few inches. His piercing green eyes were the only visible feature to him besides the messy inky curls spilling over his forehead thickly. Spencer greeted us, but I found myself dumbstruck over those eyes, unable to blink away from them. They were dark emeralds, the fluorescence making them darker as he stepped from behind Spencer and moved to fill the doorway with him.

He was dressed in blacks and grays, his pale peach skin contrasting against the gray of his shirt, his hands looking almost powdered against his black jeans. His leather jacket hugging his arms, creating more of a distinction. His pale red lips were set in an unamused line as he raked his eyes over me, drinking in every detail as I did.

“Ember?” Nora bumped me twice hard, causing me to blink and look up at her.

“What?”

She grinned at Spencer before turning towards me. “You were spacing. You okay?”

I nodded quickly as I looked back up at Spencer’s friend. I felt the hard red blush creep into my cheeks and spread down against my nose as I flashed a smile to cover it up.

“Ember.” he said, his voice raspy but smooth at the same time, almost melodic. “I’m Rixon.”

I smiled and nodded to him. “Hi, Rixon.”

He grinned. The first time he showed off his emotion at all, grinning with a certain power that was almost palpable, thick in the air, and it caused me to grin wider. “Are we ready to go?”

I was the first one to step out into the hall, Nora following after me and hooking her finger on my bracelet so that I didn’t wander too far. I looked back at her and she winked at me before releasing. Leave it to Nora to think about nothing more than potential hook-ups. She was such a classic party scene girl, that she was practically a trope.

She hung back and walked close to Spencer, their conversation not a concern of mine as I walked beside Rixon. It was magnetic, the feel he gave off. He walked with such power and determination and purpose that just walking beside him down the off-white hallway made me feel important. He pushed the door open and let me walk first before dropping it back for Spencer to catch as he walked a step behind me.

He was quiet, but so was I. I didn’t know if he was quiet for the same reasons I was, or because he was an outspoken, quiet man. It almost felt like conversation could be unnecessary between the two of us. He walked beside me as we made it out of the building and walked around it, heading towards the vast vacancy of grass behind McArthur. He slowly lifted his hand and pressed it to my lower back, the pressure of it warm through my sweater. It felt right in a way that nothing ever had before, a gentle warm pressure that sent tingles up my spine and made me cross my arms as we walked towards the tall steely warehouse.

“Are you cold?” he asked gruffly, his chin turning down as he pressed his fingers into the edge of my spine.

I shook my head and pulled my sleeves down over my hands, biting the inside of my cheek. He retracted his touch and part of me felt hurt that he did, I was relishing in it beyond my comprehension. As he did, though, he pulled his black leather off and matched me stride for stride as we walked so far ahead of the other two that I forgot their existence.

He donned his warm jacket on my shoulders and returned his touch to the dip in my lower back. “Here.”

“No,” I said petulantly, trying to take it off, but his touch kept it pressed into my back, “You really don’t have to do that.”

“Only an asshole doesn’t shed his jacket for a girl when she’s cold.” He gave me a soft smile as he rubbed the leather into my back, “Though, if you don’t give it back, I will have to hunt you down to retrieve it.”

“Oh yeah?” I grinned, my tongue wetting my lips as I inhaled softly and drew in his scent. It was distinct, different, and delicious. It was pine and tree bark and grass, but with an overlay of masculine sweetness, like cherry cigarillos.

“Definitely.” His voice reverberated. I could feel it subtly vibrate his body in the depth of his pitch, his fingers curling into my spine. “I happen to be quite attached to my leather jacket, though I can appreciate how nice it looks on you.”

My cheeks burned as I tucked a lock of auburn hair behind my ear. Blushing was foreign to me. I wasn’t used to having a boy make the soft scarlet rise heat to my cheeks and push the grin wider. Rixon seemed to do it effortlessly, though. First, with the soft touch at my back, and again with the deep rasp of his smooth voice, complimenting me in a way that would be inconsequential when said by anyone else.

As we reached the warehouse, I finally risked a glance behind me to see Nora and Spencer walking close and laughing, arms linked as they flirted dangerously. I shook my head and turned back to face the building. Nora always seemed to dangle a tempting web, but it seemed that she’d finally found her match, someone just as playful and flirtatious as she was, touching and pushing and laughing almost like they had something to prove.

“They’re ridiculous.” Rixon murmured, his hair swaying as he shook his head. It seemed that he felt the same way, his best friend was a smooth talking lady’s man, and Nora knew how to wrap them around her finger tighter than circulation would allow. “Come, let’s let them play like the juvenile children they are.”

I giggled and leaned into his touch and let him steer me around. I felt the blush creep across my cheeks again for an entirely different reason. Rixon navigated around the building like he’d been here a thousand times, whereas I was left looking around dumbfounded and confused. I’d only seen the structure from afar because I had never really desired to go. Funny, I found it, how my perception changed instantly once I saw Rixon ready to go and head off. There was something that called me to him, in a weird way that I couldn’t understand truly. Something about him just felt right. The soft touch still on my spine, guiding me around felt right. The fact that he would grin, chuckle, and whisper something about the person passing in front of us felt right. The fact that he made me feel good about myself without even doing anything extraordinary felt too fucking right.

He pulled my hand towards the center of the floor where the music was so thick and pumping, my veins vibrated inside me and my eardrums popped. Rixon grabbed my hand to pull me close, but my body felt locked, uncomfortable. Everything was so right with him, but I didn’t do these sorts of things. I wasn’t into the party scene, jumping all around and dancing in the middle of the floor, grinding up on the body behind me. I wasn’t sure I could do it with him, even though he felt right, even though I really wanted to.

He felt me lock up. I could see it in the way his eyes, black in this lighting, searched over my face and took my hand to pull me out. He looked around, concerned almost before turning and shouting, “Let’s go somewhere a bit less crowded?”

I nodded eagerly, leaning to yell against his ear, “I would like that.”

All the bodies were pressed so close, it was hard to figure out where one ended and another began, the mass creating no room to wiggle out. I gripped the back of his shirt and felt his back tense where my fingers skimmed. Could I possibly have the same kind of effect on him that he had on me? The thought was almost as empowering as his confident walk.

He pulled me out the side exit and straightened to move beside me again at the loss of all the compressed bodies. I didn’t release his shirt until we were at the very edge of the security lights where the gravel ended and the grass began again. Rixon turned around to face me and moved his hand to hold mine tighter, correctly, fingers laced.

Those beautiful green eyes regarded me. His dark red tongue wetted his lips slowly as he watched me, our hands clasped but arms extended with the space between us. He grinned wide and shook his head softly.

“What?” I smiled coyly as I forced my eyes to stay on his and not look at our locked fingers. The way he watched me was so soft and sweet. I wondered how I hadn’t seen it before, how I hadn’t seen him before.

“God, has anyone ever told you that you have the most beautiful blue eyes?”

I giggled softly and touched my cheek as it burned; grinning wider, if that was even possible at this point. “No.”

“Then, you’ve been wronged your whole life, Em.”

I gave him a look and laughed. “You’re a smooth talker, Rix.”

He let his head fall back as he laughed with gusto, lifting those dangerous eyes back to mine. It was carefree. Everything about this was carefree and playful and flirty. I wondered if this was the dangerous addiction that Nora felt when she emotionally invested herself in a boy she fancied. Though, it couldn’t be. Nora didn’t look at all those boys the way I looked at him. And he didn’t look at me the way those boys looked at her. There was passion and desire and a raw sexual need to conquest her in a scandalous room where they were just begging to get caught. She engaged them much the same. Rixon didn’t look at me like I was something he wanted to bed and walk away from. He didn’t look at me like desire was something he had for me, either.

It was sweet and lively, the way he looked at me, like he was in a dark room and I was the soft glow of the moonlight. No one had ever looked at me like that before.

“So, what’s your deal?” he grinned as he crossed his arms and crossed his ankles, leaning into the tree.

“What do you mean?”

“You know,” he rolled his hand around in a circle like that was supposed to clear things up for me, “What are you all about? What makes Ember, Ember?”

I shrugged. “What a weird question.”

“Come on, there’s got to be more to you than pretty eyes and a shy smile. What year are you?”

“I’m a sophomore.”

“And what’s your major?”

I laughed and rubbed the back of my neck. “Uh, I’m still undecided.”

“Really?” he gave me a look that was scrunched up and smirking, “You have no ideas whatsoever?”

“Oh, yeah? And what about you, Mr. Perfect? What year are you?”

“This is my third year. I’m an English major, minoring in Psychology.” He grinned smugly, his fingers reaching to play with mine.

I made a face at him, “Shut up!”

He laughed and so did I as I let his fingers go. Wherever I went, his eyes followed, almost like they were trained. I pressed my fingers against the wide trunk and started to slowly circle it, his head turning to keep watch on me. I grinned when he couldn’t see and twisted to the other side quickly to watch me again.

“So, given your education in Psychology, what can you deduce about me so far?”

“I… can tell that you’re indecisive, appearing to be afraid of change or the foreign unknown.”

“Ooh,” I extended the noise, “You’re so smart.”

He grinned and nodded slow so he didn’t break the trance-like hold he had on my eyes. “Yeah, and I can also deduce by the way your eyes dilate and your blush spreads across your cheeks that you like me.”

I stopped at his side when he finished speaking, watching him with a soft smile before nodding once. “I do.”

He shifted closer to me, the sound of the back scraping his jacket almost distracted me, but the way his lower lip was plump and slightly wet couldn’t go unnoticed. I lifted my eyes to his as I slowly pressed my hands against the tree trunk and leaned toward him.

Rixon drew in a breath and whispered slowly as his mouth was close enough to feel his words on my lip, “Can you gather by the way that I watch you rather studiously and need to have my touch on you and lean closer… and closer… and closer,” his lips were practically on mine at this point, his breath gusting against my tongue, “that I like you, too?”

This was it. There was no thought process to document because all I could think about was his lips, his mouth, and the way his words tasted the closer he got to me. My heart pounded in my chest and I had never wanted someone to kiss me so badly before in my entire life. I didn’t want to talk anymore. I wanted our mouths to move and our tongues to stroke and our breaths to mingle.

I nodded slowly as his mouth closed over mine, the faintest noise escaping my throat.