Gravity by Amanda Miga

girlfriend to get attached. I don't want to get to know
her any more than I already know. For as long as I've known her,
she's always been separate from those other groups; she’s a part of
our circle. But now, she's rehashing some old shit; revisiting all
of her insecurities. She's scared of what will happen to some of
her old friends. She still talks to them. What would they think of
her if they're messed with at the party? She scared to be with Pete
and she thinks she loves me. I don't want to be part of her
identity crisis. She knows the deal—we fuck—that's it.
    "You're basically saying you don't care."
    "Why would I?" She's thinks she loves me.
Fuck that shit. "They're right, Cher. Who cares?"
    "I care."
    Why am I still in this shitty car? "Well, I
couldn't care less." I pull the door handle.
    "No." Cher leans over and her hands grab my
thigh. There's desperation in her eyes, I've never seen before. She
doesn't want me to leave. I still haven't given her what she wants,
but caring for is her boyfriend's job. "Please." Her voice sounds
anxious. She's always so beautiful and composed, but now her face
is red and seems so vulnerable, she's falling apart. Who knew she'd
be attractive when she begs.
    No. I have to get a grip. "I can't do this
anymore. Pete's my best friend."
    "Then you don't want me to tell him." Her cat
eyes are staring hungrily. The weak girl from a moment ago
vanishes. Her hands are like claws digging into my thigh. "I was
going to tell him if this doesn't work out."
    This? This isn’t anything. Bitch.
    Cher reaches under her skirt and pulls off
her panties. She's still offering herself even though she'd rather
talk about her problems. She wants me to be close. She'll do
anything. I can only get so close. She should know by now I don't
roll like that. I glance at her panties which she throws in the
backseat. I can't think of a reason anymore. She still wants to do
it.
    I shut the door and shift over on the seat to
make room for her. I unzip my jeans and pulls them down a bit. She
climbs on top of me.
    She's trying to not to cry; trying to hold it
together. This isn't what she wants; she wants to talk and she
wants me to listen. I can see it in her eyes, she wants me to care
for her, but I can't. A serious relationship with me is
impossible—she knows that. I look away from her eyes and thrusts
inside of her even though she's silently crying. I turn my lips
away when she attempts to kiss me. She'll give her all to me
anyway. I will still get what I want without giving her what she
needs in return. If this is what I have to do to keep my best
friend, Pete from knowing; if this is what will shut her up, then I
won't stop.

Chapter Eight
     
    Alex
     
    After school I head to the music room. It’s
the one thing I don't do with Jake, Pete or Cher. It isn't hanging
out at the coffee house, drinking beers behind the school or
fucking in the parking lot. It certainly isn't like Jake's
parties.
    It’s a sanctuary from everything that's
supposed to matter. Mrs. Rubio allows free range on all the band
instruments and stereo equipment. It’s not a club—at least not
officially, but it should be. It’s more like a music lover’s
paradise; a place to share ideas, to collaborate, to make music,
sing and dance. If I could be myself, it’s here in the music room
with these students and Mrs. Rubio. Evenings here are long and it's
usually a party in itself. Today, I'll stay as long as I can before
Jake's party. I need to clear my head.
    Walking down the noisy hall is the only thing
between me and the sweet sounds that drowns out everyone’s thoughts
including my own. Mrs. Rubio’s piano calls to me like the Pied
Piper. The noisy hallway of students and teachers soon leave my
ears as I open the door to sweet relief. The large room echoes the
musical bliss in such a way it refreshes my mind from the burdening
static of living outside of this room.
    The same faces smile when I enter. Music
lovers tuning their