Reverse Sublimation

It's been two days since the..."incident." I had gone through all of Friday's classes hoping not to see Brody in the hall – which, thankfully, I hadn't – and now it was Saturday. Meaning I would either be able to avoid that annoying boy completely or, if fate truly hated me, I would run into him in town in a predictably awkward situation.

To avoid the latter from happening, I decided to stay cooped up in my house all day. I could just stay in my room, do any homework that needed to be done, and hang out with my cocker spaniel, Bo. In other words, do absolutely nothing. It was the perfect plan; he would never find me here.

"Winifred!" my mother called from downstairs, and I cringed violently from the use of my full name. "Someone's at the door for you!"

I frowned; who could it possibly be? I wasn't as close to my friends since the breakup, and although we were still friends and we talked in school, I was always sulking too much to make the effort to hang out with them on my free time.

I assumed it must have been either Miranda or Kaitlin, my two closest friends – they were the only two that would make the effort to reach out to me. I had known them both for several years now so I decided not to change out of my pajamas, which consisted of a tank top and boy shorts. Slightly revealing, yes, but my friends wouldn't mind.

I sauntered over to the door slowly, taking my time. I saw my mom in the hallway, talking cheerily to whoever was at the door, but I couldn't see who it was. I walked over, full of curiosity.

"Mom, who is – "

And then I stopped dead in my tracks. Oh...my...Do I need to say it?

"Winnie, have you met this charming young man? He says he knows you from school," my mom said happily, stepping aside and revealing my visitor.

It was Patrick Brody. I wouldn’t have recognized him were it not for his goofy smile. Today he had donned a disguise just for this occasion: he was dressed carefully in khakis and a Ralph Lauren button down, and his hair looked as though it had actually been combed. He must have been aware that if he had been wearing the punkish, torn-up clothes he had been wearing the other night at the diner, my mother would never allow him into our house. But I knew that his clothes were nothing more than a façade to trick my mother; the deception did not work on me.

I suddenly became painfully aware of the clothes I was wearing…or lack thereof.

"Mom!" I screeched, and grabbed the nearest pillow off the couch to cover up my underwear, which, I noticed in disgust, Brody was intently staring at. "Warn me next time!"

At that I darted back upstairs, bright red in humiliation. I tried to ignore the fact that Brody was probably watching my butt as I ran.

I hastily put on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and, after taking a moment to wallow in self-pity in my room, I finally summoned the guts to go back downstairs. Normally I would never be able to face Brody again, but I knew that right now my mother was downstairs, laughing at my previous blunder and sharing my other embarrassing habits that I have at home. I had to interrupt her before she could tell Brody what songs I sing in the shower.

I returned to the front door, but neither of them was to be found. I heard voices from the living room; my mom must have invited him inside. Great. I entered the living room, struggling to refrain from blushing, and I found my mom and Brody sitting on the couch. She had offered him her famous homemade cookies – crap, that meant she liked him. I noticed that, surprisingly, Brody seemed to be engrossed in the conversation. Either he was trying to humor my mom (and was a fantastic actor), or he thoroughly enjoyed talking about me and finding out my darkest secrets from the woman who raised me.

"Okay, mom, that's enough from you," I spoke up, making my tone sound as if I was playfully teasing her, but I had an aggravated glint in my eye. She caught the hint that I wanted her to leave, and stood up to go.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Patrick," she said charmingly. She then turned to me: "He offered to take you out to dinner tonight, Win, and I told him you'd love to."

Thank you, mother, for ruining my life.

"I'm busy," I quickly lied.

"Oh, shush. He'll pick you up at seven," she said. The overly-sweet tone in her voice indicated that I better listen to her if I didn't want to get grounded.

My shoulders sagged. "Fine," I grumbled. Satisfied, she left the room, leaving Brody and me in solitude. I dragged myself to the couch facing Brody and plopped down. There was a long moment of silence, where I gave him the best death glare I could muster, and he returned my look with a triumphant smile.

"I hate you," I growled after a while.

"I know," he replied.

"How do you know where I live?" I inquired in the same menacing tone.

"We live in a small town. It's not hard to figure these things out," he answered.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I groaned. He raised an eyebrow in bemusement. "Torturing me," I elaborated. "Coming to my house. Talking to my mom. Seeing me in my underwear."

"That last part was your own fault," he laughed. "But, as for the rest...Well darling, I'm going to be frank with you. Your life sucks."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Gee. Thanks."

"No, I mean," he started, "you've got the money and everything. You got the wealthy parents, the big house, the designer clothes. And the looks, you can’t forget that you have the looks." He gaze trailed my body up and down, and I scowled. "But as for the living part of life, you're failing miserably. And, since I'm such a wonderful, good-hearted, and handsome person, I've decided to help you."

I looked at him incredulously. "Please," I said, not believing a word that came out of him mouth, "tell me you're kidding."

He grinned. "Dinner starts at seven," he said and stood up. He leaned over the coffee table that stood between us, getting dangerously close to me, and brought his mouth right next to my ear. I felt a folded piece of paper slip into my hand, and then in a low, husky whisper he said: "Don't be late."

At that, he pulled back and gave me one final, serious look in the eye, and then turned around and left the room. I heard the front door open and shut: he was gone.

[Enter Brody]

It was all part of the plan.

Getting her number, kissing her, inviting her to dinner – that, that right there, was his hook. She had just gotten out of a romantic relationship, and a new boy that acted interested in her would be too much for her to resist. Even if she didn’t want to admit it, he knew that she couldn't not show up. She would be too curious. He took an extra measure and acted innocent and sweet in from of her mother to make her like him, thus ensuring that her mother would tell her to go; Winnie couldn’t say no to authority.

Of course, he didn't actually like her in that way. Why? First of all, they were polar opposites. Second of all, she absolutely hated him. Besides (and Brody had to agree on Vicki with this one), messing with someone's life like this has potential to get completely out of hand. Getting emotionally involved would be dangerous.

Brody strolled down Eos Avenue, admiring the striking mansions looming on either side of the road. He felt satisfied with himself for doing so well; Winnie was likely still sitting on the couch, awestruck, trying to demystify his short yet impactful appearance. He smirked and began to whistle an out-of-key tune that lacked a real melody, making it sound almost like it came from a peculiar dream or even a circus, the tempo following the beat of his footsteps.

[Enter Winnie]

6:27 PM

The digital clock on my nightstand screamed at me in neon letters. No, I told myself. I'm not going to dinner.

I glanced down at the piece of paper in my hands, the paper that Brody had given me. I hadn't let go of it, not even hours after he left. The barely-legible letters scribbled on it read: Bacchus Road. See you there.

It was so informal, so plain, and yet so inviting. I had seen Bacchus Road a few times; located in the poorer part of town, it was a shady and almost-deserted street. I had never actually travelled down it, but that just made me all the more curious; what was on that road that made it a good place to meet? I felt a strange jolt in my chest, a feeling that reminded me almost of excitement, as if I was about to discover some forbidden secret. Maybe I should go, just for kicks – and if I didn’t like it I could just go home. I ventured over to my closet and began picking out a decent outfit to wear.

No way, I thought, snapping back to my senses. I took the clothes I had picked out, a floral-print dress, and threw it back in my closet with unnecessary force. He's a jerk, a manipulative jerk at that. And he's way too full of himself. He probably has a million girls but no girlfriends. He was dangerous.

And yet…I couldn’t stop feeling so tempted.

I glanced down at the paper again. And remember, don't be late. The message was written in a smaller font at the bottom, acting as a small reminder. I felt a shiver down my spine as I read the words over and over. Why was this having such an effect on me? I should go, just to get this stupid sensation off my chest.

No. I'm not that sort of a person. I can see right through the act, and I won't fall for it. By showing up I would be proving that his charm works on me. I could possibly even become just another girl to him, and in a week's time I'll be long forgotten and replaced with someone else. People like him use others to their disposal, and there's no way that I'd allow myself to sink to such a low level and be used like that.

I let out a long, frustrated sigh.

But what if… What if…

No, I told myself a final time, more stern now. No. There is no way in heaven or hell that I am going to show up to that dinner.

* * *

"I cannot believe I came here," I grumbled as I trudged along the dark street called Bacchus Road. The road was lined with small, dirty houses and abandoned buildings, which were downright creepy in the dark. I folded my arms across my chest tightly as I was hit with a cold wind coming off from the sea. The only nice thing about this road was that it was directly next to the shoreline, revealing a spectacular view of the ocean. The sound of the crashing waves and seagull screams filled my ears, drowning out the sounds from the rest of the town. I felt very isolated.

"I can't believe it either," said a mildly surprised but pleased Brody from behind me. I jumped slightly; I hadn't heard him walk up at all. "Good job on not being late," he added. "You're a bit early, actually."

I scowled. "Don't think it means anything," I said defensively. I couldn't let him think I was falling for any tricks of his; I had to prove him wrong.

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it," he replied, turning his head to the side and looking at me from the corner of his eye, as if he was portraying me in some different light. "Well, are you hungry?" He held out his arm, offering for me to take it.

I decided it wouldn't hurt if I succumbed to his charm at least a little bit. I had given in and showed up, after all; I might as well play along with his game. "Starved," I said, and I gingerly accepted his arm. He smiled approvingly and then, with a surprising surge of enthusiasm, started down the street at such a quick pace I had trouble keeping up.

"Uh...Where are we going?" I asked after a minute. I was curious as to why we were walking so hurriedly.

"You'll see," he said simply. I made a face; he was trying to be mysterious, and I didn't like it.

After ten minutes of walking (Bacchus road was far behind us by this point), we arrived at our destination: Andy's Diner.

I turned to him, my mouth agape. "Brody..." I snarled slowly. "This is where I work."

"I know!" he chimed happily. "This is where we first met, remember?"

"Yes, I remember, Brody," I said. "It was two days ago."

He smiled. "Good. Now, since I didn't get that bacon burger yesterday since you threw it on the floor, I'd like one now – "

And then, for the second time in the same week, I slapped him.

He looked shocked for a moment, but then his expression was replaced with genuine hurt.

"Ow," he said, and brought his hand up to his cheek.

I suddenly felt guilty. I thought he was going to act like he did last time and pretend he enjoyed it. "I...You deserved it."

"But I'm taking you out to dinner," he replied, looking like a sad puppy. "And I figured since you worked here, you'd at least like the food..."

"Um...sorry," I mumbled, creasing my eyebrows together. I wasn't really good at apologies. "Do you...still want to go in?"

Suddenly, as if my magic, his entire face lit up with a smile. "After you," he said.

I blinked, surprised that my apology had been so easily successful, and walked through the entrance with him following close behind. I scowled when I suddenly realized what he had done; he had manipulated me into wanting to go inside. He wasn't going to force me into anything, so he relied on trickery to make me do things willingly. I rolled my eyes, feeling very annoyed.

We were seated quickly, though I received several odd stared from my coworkers who obviously recognized me. They wondered what I was doing with "that boy," as I heard many of them refer to him while they were whispering behind our backs, thinking I couldn't hear them. Brody ordered the same exact thing he had when I was serving him. I went with the classic cheeseburger, fries and vanilla milkshake; it was the same thing I ordered every time. I never really tried anything new. We ate our food in silence, but finally Brody decided to strike up a conversation.

"So..." he said slowly. "You have a nice house."

"Uh, thanks," I said awkwardly, and felt like I should return the compliment. "You have a nice, uh, sweatshirt."

He chuckled and I blushed. He suddenly leaned across the table, resting his chin in his hand, and looked me directly in the eye.

"Okay, let's cut the crap," he said in a completely different tone of voice. I was taken back by the sudden mood swing, but something in the back of my mine told me that this didn't have anything to do with his emotions: he was just dropping the act. "You hate me. And, frankly, I don't like you either."

"Wow. You are charming," I remarked, hiding my mild surprise and rejection. He just smirked.

"I meant in a romantic way," he replied. "I don't mean to be leading you on at all."

"Well, you're doing a fantastic job," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Getting my phone number, finding out where I live, taking me out to dinner, kissing me...That's not romantic whatsoever."

"Good to know we're on the same page, Pooh Bear."

"Enough with the Pooh Bear. I had to endure enough childhood embarrassment by being called Pooh. Or poop-head. Or toilet."

"How about darling?"

"No."

"Doll face?"

"No."

"Hon—"

"No."

"Aw. Fine," he said and leaned back in his seat. The conversation ended there, and we finished our food in silence. Surprisingly, he managed to finish before I did, despite the fact that his meal was practically three times the size of mine.

"I don't get it," I said, finally speaking up. He looked up from his last bite of hamburger and gave me a questioning look. "Do you eat that much food every meal of the day?"

"Uh, yeah," he said slowly. "Is there a problem with that?"

I shook my head. "I just don't understand how you can eat so much and still be so cu—"

I stopped mid-sentence and stared at him with wide eyes. Did I seriously almost just admit that out loud?

"Say it," he said. A wide smirk was plastered across his face as he looked at me with devilish eyes.

"I, uh, don't know what I was thinking," I stammered, though I was sure my blush gave away my lie.

"Say it," he said again. "Come on, let me hear you admit it."

"N - No!"

"Doll face, please. We both know what you were about to say," he said, his haughty grin widening. "You think I'm cute, don't you?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I retorted stubbornly and folded my arms.

"...Fine," he said after a moment, giving up on the argument, but nonetheless looking as conceited as always. He held his hand up, motioning the nearest waitress to come over. "The bill," he requested from her. I offered to pay for myself, which he gladly accepted - I got the feeling he wouldn't have paid for me even if this was a real date.

"How much of a tip should we put down?" I mumbled, still not able to bring myself to look at him. The redness in my face still hadn't disappeared.

"Uh, zero percent," he replied. I finally glanced up and noticed that he was looking over both of his shoulders as if to make sure no one was looking. "Come on, let's go," he said hurriedly, and stood up. Before I could react he grabbed my hand and started tugging me towards the door.

"We're not even leaving a tip?" I asked in a rather loud voice, and he shot me a look that read 'please shut the hell up.'

"Nah," he replied, still relentlessly heading towards the door. "Waste of money."

"But I work here! I can't leave without putting down at least a few dollars. I work with these people!"

"Tough luck, princess," he replied, and by that time we were outside and already walking back down the street.

"Wow. You are an asshole," I said dryly. He was turned away from me and I couldn't see his face, but I could just imagine the Cheshire grin he had right now.

"Well, thanks for the 'date,'" I said sarcastically, and stopped walking. "It's getting late, though; I'd like to go home."

He turned to me, clearly confused. "But it's not over yet," he protested.

"What?" I asked with a frown. "Where else are we going to go?"

His infamous grin returned. "Back to Bacchus Road."

* * *

I had to go, of course. I tried to convince him that my parents were expecting me back, and I gave him a list of things I still had to do before tomorrow, but he would have none of it. I couldn't possibly understand what he enjoyed about that street so much. There was nothing on it.

"Exactly," he said after I brought up that point. "No one's there to stop us."

"Stop us from doing what, exactly?" I demanded. "Brody, we aren't going to do anything illegal, are we?"

"No, no," he said, and shot me a look over his shoulder. "I'm just going to show you how to have fun."

"Well that's reassuring," I said, rolling my blue-green eyes.

He chuckled once, but said nothing more. It was a few minutes before he stopped and, with a bit too much dramatic effect, he held his arms open wide.

"This is it," he said.

We were standing before the pier. It soared over the ocean, stretching for what seemed like miles; walking to its end was the closest you could get to the heart of the sea while still staying dry.

"Come on," Brody grunted and shrugged off my grip on his arm. He proceeded to jump over the wall of great rocks that separated the street from the beach, landing safely in the sand.

"Er..." I said awkwardly, and tugged on my dress. Brody, perceptive as he is, noticed this.

"Don't worry about flashing me," he said, grinning. "I've already seen your underwear today."

"I sincerely hope you somehow get hurt today."

He laughed, and I just glared.

"Alright, alright, fine," he sighed, finally giving in to my menacing looks, "I'll help you." At that he gracefully climbed up to the top of the rock that was closest to me, and offered his hand. I took it hesitantly, placing my hand tenderly in his. My gentle grip was overwhelmed by his own firmness as he guided my over the rocks.

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked in a mocking tone. As he spoke, another gust of cold wind hit me, and I involuntarily shuddered. I deeply regretted wearing only a dress. Brody glanced at me from the corner of his eye, as if he was debating something with himself.

"Here," he finally said, and shrugged off his hoodie and handed it to me. I looked at it skeptically, as if it was infested with disease.

"I don't want it," I stated, making a face.

"Just take it,” he sighed, sounding as though this wasn’t something that he did too often. After I made no movement to accept it, he just threw it at my head. It covered my face, momentarily blinding me, and I caught his familiar musk of jasmine and smoke. I pulled the sweatshirt off of me, prepared to shoot an insult at Brody, but I quickly realized that he was running down the beach.

"Hey!" I called after him, and began running too. "Wait for me!"

I was mad that he was running away from me, but I quickly realized that he was just racing me. Not wanting him to win, I sped up. Within moments we were on the pier, darting to the end of it.

"Ha!" he yelled triumphantly as he reached the end, and basically threw himself at the wooden railing. "Beat you!"

"You had a head start," I huffed as I came up next to him. I looked out to the sea; the sun had set a while ago, so there wasn't much of a view in the pitch-blackness except the sparkling of the distant lighthouse. "Here, you can have your sweatshirt back," I said after a moment, and proceeded to take it off and hand it to him.

"Don't need it," he replied, and I gave him a curious look. He then climbed to the top of the railing and stood on it, grinning out to the sea, and his dark hair was tossed wildly by the breeze. "Come on," he said, looking down at me. "There's no point in living near the ocean if all you're going to do is look at it."

"Brody, what are you - OH MY GOD!"

Before I could stop him, he leaned forward and let himself fall from the pier.

I heard a splash beneath me, and then his loud laugh over the sound of the waves. I leaned over the railing and saw him there, treading water, grinning back up at me.

"You're insane!" I screamed at him.

"Come on in, the water's great!" he called up to me.

"No!" I yelled back. "I'm going home!" At that, I began to turn around and walk back towards the road, ignoring the "Oh come on, Pooh Bear!" as he called after me. No way was I going to jump into the freezing cold ocean, especially at night. That was not intelligent whatsoever. I continued to justify myself as I walked further and further away from Brody, and I thought about how I was leaving him stranded in the ocean, and how he'd have to walk home soaking wet by himself, and how disappointed he must be feeling...

"Oh, this is just great," I said to myself. "Just freaking great."

And then, without letting me talk myself out of it, I turned around on the spot, kicked off my shoes, and ran back to the edge of the pier. I didn't stop or hesitate—I just hurled myself over the railing and screamed as I plummeted down to the icy waters that awaited me. When I resurfaced all I could do was giggle at my idiocy, my laughs chiming in with Brody's own laughter of surprise and amusement.