Olivia

I think I've officially discovered what death feels like. Or being stranded in the Sahara. That sounds more like it. Deprived of water for days on end, inhaling sand to the point that the walls of my throat could probably smooth a jagged piece of wood.

Water.

I desperately need a sip of water. And maybe an aspirin. Or twelve. In fact, how many can I safely drown myself in without actually experiencing the notions of death?

I peel my eyes open, easing them into the light as my head begins to pound. Yep. Middle of the desert, baking away in the sun. Maybe I'm actually in hell.

My hand begins to move, clinging to the firm ripples beneath me. This is definitely no sandy blanket I'm currently draped across. My body begins to shuffle slightly, taking in the heat and comfort my limbs seem to be entwined with. Although my insides feel like they're being fried at the center of the earth, my skin seems to be on fire for a whole other reason.

I slowly open my eyes further as my hand travels across the dips and valleys of the hard muscle beneath me. Wait.

I spring up, looking across the room at the shelf of various trophies. Crap.

My eyes fly back down to the bed, the one where Max still lays, firmly asleep. My little makeshift barrier sprawled across the floor. When the hell did that happen? My eyes shoot back to Max. The sheet just barely draped across his body, revealing the very muscles I was just unknowingly caressing, enjoying.

No. Nope. Not enjoying.

Maybe a little.

A whole lot.

Oh my shit, am I still drunk?

I slam my hands to my face, covering up the very obvious tint of red now taking over. This is so bad. All of those feelings from last night are supposed to be gone. Vanished. Vamoose. Why aren't they gone?

I spread my fingers a little, glancing back down and tracing the path of his abs, the way his hips form the perfect little trail to...

I need to get out of here.

Making sure to keep my movements quiet, I quickly stand. The last thing I need right now is him waking up while I'm still trying to undo all of the flustered shit swarming around my chest right now. Residual drunkness. That's what I'm going with. Like a hangover side effect. Making me feel all of these things that shouldn't be there.

I take one more breath, glancing briefly at the perfect form behind me. I mean, honestly, has he always looked like that?

I whip my head around, reaching for my shoes before I slowly step into the hall. I hesitate briefly, listening closely for any sounds. It's still early, the sun just now peeking over the horizon. If I'm lucky enough, everyone will still be asleep.

I slowly creep down the hall, craning my head into the bathroom on the way, worried for some weird ass reason someone might be standing there. When I reach the end of the hall, I pause, glancing across the living room. Coast is clear. My eyes lock onto the door as I take one breath and beeline straight for it.

"You have a good night?"

"Shit!" I jump, throwing my shoes in the process.

Brynn laughs, shaking her head before bringing her mug to her lips. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

My hand is clenched to my chest, attempting to bring my frantic breaths to a still. "I'm sorry. I, um," I begin, not really sure exactly what I'm supposed to say right now.

"I know," she smiles behind her mug. "Max thinks I don't stay awake when he's out. But I'm a mom. I can't sleep until I know he's home safe."

I nod, the pieces all clicking together. "So, you know that I, that um..."

"That you had a bit too much to drink last night?" she questions, placing her mug on the table as she stands.

"Yeah," I let a deep breath fall from my lips. No point in denying it.

She smiles, making her way to the cupboard and pulling out an extra mug. She holds it out and I nod, slowly walking to the table to join her.

"You know," she begins, pouring the coffee into a large mug. "I was young once, too. And not that I like to admit it, but I may have used Tyler's room as a place to sleep off a bad night. Now..." She sets the mug in front of me, sliding the creamer across the table. "I'm not necessarily condoning the drinking, but I am glad you were safe and that you felt safe coming here."

I nod slowly, bringing the liquid heaven to my lips.

"But," she starts up again. "You make this a habit, and I will be filling Sam in on everything."

My eyes shoot up. "Trust me, this was a one time thing. I never want to touch alcohol again."

She laughs, sitting back in her seat as a look of acknowledgement falls upon her.

"Brynn?" I question, watching as her eyes pull back to mine. "Why did you choose me for this part? Why not give it to Rachel or Desiree? Or hell, I'm sure Cassandra would be pulling this off better than I am."

"I wouldn't go that far," her eyebrows raise as a smile begins to form. I can't help but laugh at her honesty. She never was a fan of the poor girl. "Olivia," she breathes out now, leaning forward and cupping my hand in hers. "I chose you because you're right for this role. I know that, and each one of those girls know that. Why do you think they've been giving you the stink eye?"

"Because they know I'm not worthy."

"Because they're jealous."

"Why would they be jealous of me?"

"Because they saw what I saw up on that stage on audition day. Because they know it's only a matter of time before that girl shows back up, stealing the whole damn show."

"How do you do it?" I question, falling back against my seat. "How did you get up on stage and perform for so many people? Being up there is so intimidating."

"Theater was always the easy part," she says, pushing her mug aside to completely pour herself into this conversation. "Theater was all about playing a part. Diving into someone else's life. It was like the audience wasn't actually watching me, you know?"

I don't know, but I do see the excitement in her eyes. "So you were never scared up there on stage?"

She sits up slightly, her hand helping to push her body forward. "There's always that moment, right before you step out on stage where the butterflies take flight. I get this swarm in my gut, but there's also a sense of adrenaline to it. And that's always what I choose to focus on. But singing music? That's a whole other realm of nerves."

"How so?" I ask, suddenly finding myself wrapped around her every word.

"Singing is personal. People aren't watching a character, they're watching you."

Everything she's saying is clicking into place. Performing. It's not about people seeing me, it's about them seeing a performance, an act.

I look back up, thinking about where she's come, who she is today as an artist. "When did you start writing your own music?"

"I always wrote down what I felt," she answers quickly, like it's automatic. "But one day, after finding myself being silenced for far too long, I decided to speak up. Started to sing my own words."

"That must take a whole lot of courage to get up there and share your writing with the world."

"It does. It's terrifying. It's kind of like opening your soul for the world to look in and judge. Not everyone is going to like it, which is hard to take in sometimes. If I put it out there, it's because I love it, because it's a piece of me."

"Is it worth it? I mean, if people are always going to be putting you down, why do you keep doing it?"

"Because it sets me free. I know that through all of the hate, there's at least one person I've connected with out there somewhere. And if that's all it ever is, one person, then that's enough for me."

It sets her free.

Her words fall deep into my gut, brightening up all of the uncertainty and clouded confusion. I know what it is I have to do. I know what's been holding me back.

***

After a much needed shower, and a quick bite to eat, I convinced Max to take us somewhere, location being withheld at the current moment. He hasn't said a whole lot as we sit in the quiet of his truck.

"I'm sorry about last night," I say quietly.

His eyes quickly shoot over to mine before falling back to the road. "You have nothing to apologize for. Actually, I'm sorry for how everything turned out."

"You don't need to be sorry either."

It's quiet, the sound of the wheels against the pavement providing the only ounce of noise.

"Hey, Max," I say now, turning my head to face him. He glances my way, letting me know to continue. I take a small breath, gaining the strength I need to ask my next question. "You and Cassandra..."

"We're done," he cuts me off, catching me by surprise. He doesn't even know what I was going to ask.

"Oh," I nod, unsure of exactly how to respond.

"I, um..." he begins, running his hand across his jaw. "I realized I was distracting myself," he hesitates again. "I was using Cass to do it. Something I didn't quite understand until last night. It wasn't fair to her. I ended it, for real this time. That's what you saw when I was leaving the room with her."

I nod, thinking about the words he chose. A distraction. What does he need distracting from?

"Can I ask you something now?" he questions, conveniently changing the subject. I give him the same glance, letting him know he can ask away. 

"You and Theater Guy...what's going on there?"

Theater Guy? I think about last night, all of the events that played out when my thoughts land on Nate. "Oh, you mean Nate? He's a friend."

He smiles, shaking his head before looking at me briefly. "Why do you do that? Why do you so easily place everyone in the friendzone?"

"I'm sorry?" I ask, completely confused by his comment.

He exhales, coming to a stop at the red light and turning his body to face me now. "I've never seen you date. Hell, I've never even heard you talk about a guy. Why?"

I nod, I get it now. I know where this is going. And I've given this speech to myself and Ryder a thousand times. "People don't really want to date the Virgin Mary."

Deciding to save myself for marriage isn't exactly a popular choice these days. The thing is, I've seen sex used as a means to an end. A last resort, a tool for survival. I don't want to experience anything close to that. I don't want to feel used for a moment's pleasure. I don't want to be a name on someone's list.

I want it to mean something. I want it to be given to the one person who I can confidently promise forever to. The one person who I know will cherish it as much as I do. If there's a man out there willing to wait for me to start my life, my career, before ever getting between my legs, then I think that's a man I'll want to give everything to.

"The right guy isn't going to be worried about trying to get you naked."

"You're right. The right guy won't worry about that. Only problem is that no guy in high school is looking to start a relationship with marriage as their goal. Which means dating me is a waste of their time. They don't get anything out of it."

"They get you."

I can't help but laugh. "Yeah, well, somehow I don't think that's enough."

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Act like you're not the fucking prize. Like being with you would be a chore. Any guy at that school would be lucky to have you, sex or not, you're worth waiting for."

I sit up now, turning to face him. "That's easy to say, Max. But I don't think there's one guy at that school that cherishes a solid connection over the possibility of getting laid before their twenties. Come on, your own track record proves that."

"So, because I've had sex I'm suddenly one of the douche bags?"

"That's not what I'm saying," I let out a breath, my head falling to my hand.

"Then what are you saying, Liv? Because it seems to me like you're making a lot of excuses. Ones that aren't exactly connecting dots."

My hand drops as my eyes pull back to his. "Really? You're saying you didn't want to have sex with Cassandra? With Emily? With Desiree? With–"

"That's not what I'm saying," he cuts me off. "Look, guys are going to want to have sex with you. They just are. But that's not the only thing running through our mind."

I can't take him seriously, dropping my eyes and giving him a knowing glare.

He laughs, the point he was trying to make now fading away rather quickly. "Okay, it's pretty much always on our fucking mind, but what I'm trying to say is that it's not the only thing on our mind. Come on, do you really want to be in a relationship where a guy doesn't desire you that way?"

He has a point. "No, I don't."

"Okay, so why not give a guy a chance to show you he can be interested without it ever leading to sex?"

Because I'm scared.

I look away, unable to give him the honest answer. My eyes catch the turn off. "Turn there," I point, thankful that our destination is now in view.

"The cliff?" he questions, pulling off the street and following the small road.

"Yeah," I nod.

"Don't tell me you've changed your mind about jumping?" he asks with far too much anticipation in his tone.

"No. We're not jumping," I reply. He parks the car and I grab my bag before pushing the door open. "I have something else in mind. Something just as terrifying."

He watches me, the heat of his gaze causing those silly flutters to flourish in my gut. I push them away, sliding from the seat of his car and making my way up the trail.

He follows behind me. Talking with Brynn today made me realize something. I'm terrified for people to see what's still shattered within me. To truly know my demons. Because once they see the charred edges of my heart, they might not want anything to do with it.

I make my way to the top of the cliff, breathing in the fresh mountain air, the scent of pine and wildflowers taking over. Taking a seat, I run my fingers along the various pops of color. "I love these flowers," I say, not thinking about what I'm about to do. "They never shy away from the winter snow. Covered in layers of white, hidden from the sun, you'd think they would wither away. But they don't. Despite every storm they keep coming back. Resilient. Beautiful."

Max sits down beside me, the warmth of his shoulder rests peacefully with mine. "I've never really thought of them that way."

I smile, picking one of the sprays of pretty white, delicate petals. "I've had a lot of time to think," I admit. "Probably to a fault."

He's quiet, his gaze on mine. "I'm not seeing any faults from where I'm sitting."

His eyes search mine, and I let him. Taking in the beauty of those eyes, of the soft embers of brown and the ease of which they carry so much adoration. My chest expands, my hands a shaking mess. I look away, a breath fills my lungs as I twirl the flower within my grasp. "If I could, I'd make a whole bouquet out of these flowers. Scatter them across the dining room just to feel a bit of that resilient strength."

"Liv," Max reaches for my hand, his thumb glides along mine. "You have so much strength inside you. I wish you could see what I see when I look at you. If you could see even an ounce of what I see, Liv..."

"I brought you here for a reason," I cut him off, my heart beating out of my chest. I take a small breath as I reach into my bag, pulling out the book Max gave me for my birthday, the one he's already written the music to for various words. Words I've never shared with him.

Next, I pull out one of my journals, gently laying it across the one he gave me. I let my fingers slide down the cover, feeling the grooves of the page, letting this moment give me strength to do what comes next.

"I brought you here to read something to you," I whisper, afraid to give the words any more power, terrified they'll actually be heard.

I glance over to him, just in time to see his eyes grow wide, a light filling behind them. "Are you sure?" he hesitates, watching me as I glance back down at the words.

I rest my hand on the page, feeling the emotion behind them, the pain and hope that lace through every verse. I close my eyes, feeling the crisp breeze in the air, listening to the gentle laps of water falling to the small pool below. When I open my eyes again, I let them fall to him.

"I'm sure."

He nods, giving my hand a gentle squeeze before he sits back, waiting for my words.

I look back down at the page taking a deep breath as I begin to read...

"Broken. Scared. Forced to hide.

Hidden beneath the covers, behind a locked door. Hidden behind the locks of hair swaying as a shield. Hidden from you, from them, from the secrets and lies.

We all hide sometimes.

We all have demons among different faces.

Some are dark, pulling strength from the shadows.

Others walk among us, no fear of the light.

We all hide sometimes.

You hid behind the cloak of a hood. You hid in the silence of grief and disturbance.

But I saw you.

I saw myself behind the mask you wore. I saw the pain reflected in your eyes. I saw the fear behind your clouded gaze. Your demons dancing with mine.

I hid in plain sight. Taking cover in the rules. Finding shelter in compliance.

Dirty lies behind guarded eyes. Shattered trust and splintered walls. Broken and shaking I was left alone.

In hiding...

In hiding.

Until you saw me. Came crashing through my walls. When you held me with those eyes. Your arms open wide.

You found me...

You found me."

When I finish the last line, a weight releases its grip from my shoulders. The twisted straps across my heart unraveling as I slowly lift my eyes to his. There's a glisten to them, one I think I have in my eyes too.

"Liv," he whispers, reaching his hand back out to find mine. "You found me, too."

I can't help but smile, the heavy swirls of emotion now leaving me, trailing down my cheeks as I laugh. It feels so fucking good to let those words out.

"We found each other."

His free hand glides to my face, wiping away the tears that have escaped, the weighted emotion fleeing me. He holds his hand against my cheek, his thumb gently grazes my skin as our eyes grasp to one another.

"That was truly beautiful, Liv."

"Thank you," I whisper, holding onto this quiet moment just an ounce longer. Memorizing the gold flecks of his eyes. The way the brown of his irises circle the dark pupil at the center. The way his palm feels warm against my cheek.

I take a small breath, letting this moment slide by, meld into the next. "I was thinking maybe..." I begin, watching as his hand slowly drops back to his side. "Maybe you and I can work together to turn it into a song? I mean, I know it needs some work creating a chorus and building a sense of rhythm, but I think, together, we can really turn it into something."

He smiles now, brightening up the whole damn cliffside. "Yeah?" he questions. "You want my help?"

"I really do."

"Yes. I'd love to help you turn this into a song."

My smile matches his, a sense of weightless joy surrounding us both. I may be swirling in conflicted feelings, still working overtime to keep certain ones at bay, but for now, I need to focus on nailing this scene on Monday. And to do that, I need to continue to let Max chip away at my walls. If that means falling for him in the process, then I just might find myself falling for my best friend.