Cherry Knots

He holds the cigarette between his teeth, puffing out rings of smoke. His eyebrows down and drawn together, and eyes narrowing down; he’s angry. A face of his that I fear the most as that’s when he is most destructive. Over the months of knowing him, I’ve grown less fright to it.

why am I still intrigued by him?

A small smirk curls up to his lips, “Why are you looking at me?” He still looks down with the cigarette between his slightly crooked teeth. I shrug, trying to hide the smile with my hair. That’s the effect Asher Sesling does to me without trying.

Asher Sesling: a boy who means something to me even if I mean nothing to him. I don’t know what attracted me to him. Maybe it is how his eyes stay the same; inflicted with a war that was too strong for him to defeat or the way he smells like a freshly burnt cigarette. There are so many possibilities but as I look at it harder, it is probably the person I become when I am with him. He is my safety blanket, the only stable thing in my life.

Walking in the streets of New York frighten me but whenever I walk with him, I feel safe; my safety blanket. I’m not a native to this place, only moved here halfway through the junior year. I lived in a large town in Pennsylvania until the beginning of the year. I still don’t know why I moved here but as I keep persisting my parents, they just grow angrier.

I found that during the day, the weather is hot while at night, it drops. I wrap the denim jacket around tighter and inch closer to Asher, hoping that maybe his warmth could get to me. But, what’s the point? He’s always cold, both physically and mentally. This is Asher; the boy with a dark personality and dark past.

“You cold there?” He shoots me a look with his ocean blue eyes. I bet his eyes weren’t like that, I bet they were calm and opening. His eyes now are just the entry to his cold heart. However, his eyes had a playful manner occasionally. It is only whenever he has a cigarette between his lips.

I nod slowly, “Yeah but I’ll get over it.”

‘I’ll get over it’; simple words that I say too often yet never obey.

“You won’t,” He knows me too well for my own good. He slips his leather jacket off, revealing his tattoos all over his arms.

He had those tattoos even before I met him but as I slowly gained a friendship with him, he continued getting more. I did ask him why he keeps getting them, he just simply says ‘why would I cut myself just to feel ashamed’. He just would finish at that. No full explanation but maybe it was the pain that associated with getting one.

When I first met Asher, it was my second day at Midwood High. I took a wrong turn and somehow I ended up in the school’s attic. Asher was there, sitting on a stool, smoking the first of many cigarettes I’d witness him smoke. To this day, I still wonder why I became intrigued with him at this moment. Compared to now, he looked so different.

“What the f*ck are you doing?” He looked up at me with small ringlets on his forehead. He looked at me coldly with his icy blue eyes. He wore black jeans and boots. His shirt was either ‘Led Zeppelin’ or ‘The Rolling Stones’. I don’t remember as my eyes were so fixed on the bruise forming around his cheek.

I stood still, one hand held the strap of my backpack, the other tightly on the piece of paper that had my timetable. I was scared sh*tless because this boy had such a horrid vibe on him. I usually listened to my gut but something told me not to.

“I-I,” That wasn’t a great first impression, “I got lost.” Too simple, so simple yet it was enough. I didn’t need to explain myself. I just had to say something. He threw the cigarette down to his feet, crushing it. I didn’t think that was safe, but if I was in his position, burning down a school did sound cool.

He wraps his jacket around me, bursting my trance about the past. This is the part of Asher I enjoy as not many people have seen it. Everyone thinks that he’s this big, bad boy who beats up the freshman, only dates biker chicks and is always in a bad mood. But the truth is, that’s not the full story about him. He only has beaten up people who wrong him and never a freshman. Asher doesn’t date. He just has had short-term flings with girls just to get the edge off things. Dating some biker chick is just his type.

“Ash,” He doesn’t like other people calling him ‘Ash’ unless it’s his mother and now, me. He looks at me. His previous glaring eyes just soften for a bit, “umm, how much longer until we reach?” It’s the last weekend of the summer break; the last summer break of our high school lives. One of the Jocks, Elijah Espey has thrown the party. I’ve been going to these parties since I’ve met Asher which has made me closer to him and the host, Elijah Espey.

Elijay Espey was the captain of the football team last year. He is highly likely to be captain again this year but another player, Owen Willis, has a higher potential to be captain. Elijah has the brightest orange hair I’ve ever seen. However, it’s the softest hair I’ve felt. His eyes are like they are two round sapphires that follow you around with every movement. His structured face is covered in different hues of freckles. He is only a few inches taller than me but his build is a broad-shouldered, athletic build.

“Few houses more” Asher answers me without looking at me. Asher can never be compared to Elijah. Asher has less of the boyish look but more manly. He’s almost 6′3 which is way taller than Elijah - well only 3 inches but taller. His hair is the shade of his clothes; dark. His body isn’t average nor muscular like most the guys. It’s toned and fit; something he doesn’t work hard for. The only physical activity he does is punch the punching bag in his garage and the wall in his bedroom.

We inch closer to the house that’s already in full blast. The part in Brooklyn we reside in is the housing area. Houses that look the same all around the place, American flags being flown, tight streets everywhere; this is a little part of Brooklyn.

As we get closer to the jock’s front door, I get an uneasy feeling in my stomach. It almost feels as if I shouldn’t go in as something would happen. A thing that I’ve learned while being around Asher and his friends is that if you ever get one of those gut feelings before you do something, you should fight because you never know where it can take you. However, for me, whenever I get a gut feeling or a bad vibe from somewhere, I back out. It’s something that I’ve been doing since I first came to New York. But something stops me from asking Asher if I can go home and leave.

We enter without knocking, side by side like we have since February. There is no point in knocking; no one would hear over the loud music. Elijah is very particular about his music playlist during his parties. It starts off with a slow upbeat song then it goes really quickly. He randomly enjoys adding in a sad song that makes everyone “Drake”.

I tap Asher’s shoulder, making him lower down to my height. His ear goes next to my lips “I’m going to go outside.” He nods his head slightly, causing me to lightly brush my lips against his ear. He goes up again yet his body still close to mine. This isn’t the first time he and I have been this close together. The first time we had ever been close like this, my heart was beating so fast. I swear he could have heard it; I think he had.

I slowly move through the crowd, trying to find the exit of this place. This isn’t my first time at Elijah’s house or party but it does get overwhelming at times. I do become fearful whenever Asher leaves me alone and vice versa. He has always been by my side as some sort of hidden protector but he won’t always be by side. This results in me leaving - like this moment- early so I learn to not depend on Asher’s protection and to show myself I can do this without him.

I do manage to make my way through the kitchen and to the sliding doors that reveal the backyard.

“Carmen?” I look up towards the sound of the voice; Mac. My name isn’t Carmen but people still call me that. Asher first called me “Carmen” after that Lana Del Rey song. He would link my life to every line of the song; another reason why I am so intrigued by the bad guy. He says “Florence” or simply “Flora” doesn’t match the person I am. People started hitching onto that nickname resulting in the special name no longer being special.

I slowly walk towards Mac; the first person I properly met at Midwood High School. Mac is someone who is so special to me as he was the first person I talked to and he introduced Asher and me properly. He’s both beautiful inside and out but like Asher, he hides the true him. He doesn’t lash out like Asher but contains himself. He’s quiet and keeps to himself. Whenever he gets angry, he never shows it and I honestly don’t know what he does with the anger. He brushes it off. Everyone describes Mac as mysterious and calm which is the perfect two words to describe him. He writes the most amazing poetry of all time. It’s a skill he never shows but when he does, it’s so unexpected.

Not only is he just a sweet guy, but he is also one of the most handsome boys at school. Mac has that beautiful tanned skin that’s tanned all year round. His eyes are the perfect shade of green. You read stories about how people describe someone’s eyes as a shade of green that meets the ocean with hues of gold. Mac Jimenez’s eyes are like that. His build is slightly the same as Asher’s just a bit more smaller and an inch shorter. His hair is the darkest shade of brown like mine but his curls are more precise and larger. I’m surprised that girls don’t gush about him like they do with everyone else.

“I mean Florence,” He sips his drink as I hug his side and he does the same. “Did you come here with Asher?” I nod which causes him to smirk against his drink. All these boys - even Wes - smirk. The same signature smirk at the same moments. I swear as he smirks, so is Asher and Wes. “Are you feeling okay? You aren’t acting the same way you do.” Mac concerningly holds my shoulders. I reassure him that I am fine and I’m under the weather, but to be one hundred per cent honest, I just feel empty. I don’t tell that to Mac as I don’t want his concerned face to be a scared face.

I look around the area while grinning at Mac “Where’s Wes?” Wes Youtz is the last person of Asher’s trio. He’s more known out of the three in a more famous way. Not because he’s the beautiful blonde but the prankster of the school. Out of all three guys I’ve been relatively more closer to Wes as we both just act the same.

Mac shakes his head slightly, “Nah, said he didn’t feel like attending,” He chuckles to himself softly, “said that he must think of the most epic back to school prank in the history of history.” I smile at the thought of the green-eyed boy hunched over his desk, scribbling notes and diagrams of the school. His hands running through his blonde hair multiple times as he realises that it is too impossible. Him reaching over to his phone to message a certain friend that anything is possible if you put your mind to it.

And at the cue, my phone buzzes.

I smile softly at Mac, trying to convey a conversation with him. As amazing as Mac is, he and I just don’t have a lot in common. He likes to be quiet and just do his business carefully while I want things to be done. He listens to completely different music to I. He’s more rock and I’m more sad indie. He likes to write poetry about rebirth and innocent beauty while I write stories on tragic romance. Mac’s reserved to himself and I’m too open to people. Yet, no matter how different he and I are, we usually have an amazing time together.

The next two hours become a huge fast-paced period. Mac and I just sat in the back of the backyard on the two sofas. We would talk occasionally; whenever someone comes out crying, throws up or screams something. I do quite enjoy his and I’s down times. Mac continues drinking while I just take a few sips of his. There is no point in drinking when I’m with Asher. I need to be sober in order to keep him safe from the harms of a fight or stupid decision that could affect everything. It’s always been like that. If I wasn’t here sober, then how will he get home in one piece?

Mac carefully places his empty beer bottle on the grass next to us. He looks at me so solemnly with his pale green eyes that pop against his tanned skin. “I’m leaving.” He gets up, using his hand and brushes his hair back. “Want me to take you home?” I smile at his offer and shake my head.

“I came with Asher and I always end up going home with him.” He gently rubs my shoulder and goes into the house, full of the sweaty bodies and smells of booze, sweat, and tears.

I look at the time on my phone to reveal the lateness. I don’t mind the dark but walking in it with a drunk teenage boy doesn’t really help with the fear slowly developing in me. I quickly message Asher asking where his drunk a*s is. It will possibly take a while for him to answer so I stay put. This boy has honestly changed my life the better y-

My phone pings; Asher.

Confusion runs through me. This is honestly so unexpecting from him on a Saturday night at a party. All summer long we went to a party multiple times a week and during that time, the shortest amount of time he answered my text was twenty minutes. This will be in the books.

Asher ~ Upstairs, the bedroom with the gold stars on it.

I know exactly whose room that is; Elijah’s twelve-year-old sisters.

My legs take control of my body and take me inside. There are more people since I’ve arrived but this happens when it gets at its peak time. I spot Elijah on the couch making out with some brown haired girl. Her hands run through his orangey red hair. I slowly go up the stairs, trying to dodge every single person going down. You can never trust any drunk boy at a party yet here I am, going upstairs to a drunk boy. Breaking my own rules since meeting Asher.

I honestly hate the effect he has on me.

My fist slowly knocks the light brown door with gold stars on. The door slowly swings back a little which is the perfect amount for me to slip in. A towering Asher is revealed on the other side. The lightly dimmed room doesn’t do much justice on his face. I look over to the wide-open window that blows the soft winds.

I look over at Asher again to notice that he’s closer to me. Cue the insanely loud heartbeats. His eyes are not red nor is his scent overlayed by the stench of strong liquor. This is confusing and concerning. My eyes search his entire face in a panic trying to match any dots there are in the pinboard in my head trying to understand what is going on.

His hand reaches over to face and his head inches closer “just say nothing.” His voice sounding soft yet deeper than usual. His orbs of blue disappear with the shield of his eyelids and so do my brown ones. I feel his hand touch my dark brown hair as we inch closer.

And with that, our lips meet.