A. Walters - Lead Me Not

“I love him, Aubrey. We’re going to be together forever,” she said with the passion of inexperience. I rolled my eyes again, not believing her in the slightest.

“What’s the rush, Jay? Why can’t you just date around and see who you like? Why does it have to be all blood and guts?” I asked, wishing she’d shut up already so I could get back to my reading. I had a mountain of homework to get through, and the longer she stood there talking about her stupid boyfriend, the less time I had to get it finished.

“He’s the only one who gets me. You just don’t understand,” she wailed, stomping out of my room and slamming the door. I honestly didn’t understand her constant need to rush things, why she had to jump in with both feet before she had even learned to swim. But Jayme had always been in a hurry to live. In a hurry to love.

In a hurry to die.

I hadn’t seen the way Jayme had slowly started to change every tiny thing about herself. Eventually she stopped talking to me altogether. We became strangers living in the same house as she pulled further and further away from her family and into the world of Blake Fields and his friends.

And I hadn’t noticed she had gone anywhere until it was too late.

Until the night Jayme Marie Duncan never came home.

Until she was found asphyxiated on her own vomit in an alleyway outside a notorious druggie hangout, overdosed on drugs I pretended she didn’t take.

I noticed then. When it didn’t matter anymore.

* * *

“Just take it one day at a time,” I whispered to Renee as she started to drift off to sleep, exhausted from crying her soul out.

Renee nodded, her eyes drooping shut. “Thanks, Aubrey,” she muttered before falling asleep.

I lay there a long time afterward, staring at the ceiling and thinking about all the ways my life had gone wrong, and how now, when I thought I was finally getting it right, I was poised to screw up all over again.

I wondered what Maxx was doing. Was he out up to something nefarious and shady? Was he stoned out of his mind, overdosing in a gutter?

I thought about him selling drugs to those people in the club, and how smug and entitled he had seemed. I hated that man.

But then my mind switched gears, and I thought about Maxx telling me about his brother and worrying that he’d fail him. I couldn’t ignore the pull of him and the way he made me want to help him. How easy it would be to fall down the hole with him.

I rolled onto my side and stared at the bruised face of my friend. She and Jayme were all mixed up in my head. And they were twisted with the memory of Maxx when I confronted him about Compulsion. The way he had split himself open when he realized I had seen him. He had been devastated.

He had broken.

And goddamn it, I wanted to gather up all those pieces and put them in my pocket. I wanted to make sure he could put himself back together again.

I would never be able to turn away from Renee.

And I couldn’t turn my back on Maxx.

aubrey

i had been up most of the night with Renee while she alternated between crying and screaming into her pillow. Her phone had started ringing around midnight. At first, we ignored Devon’s persistent calling. But around the fifth time, I turned it off, and Renee didn’t argue. Her red, swollen face had been set with grim acceptance.

When I got up the next morning for my lecture, I checked on Renee and was glad to see she was still asleep. I had convinced her to skip classes today and rest. She was worried about running into Devon and embarrassed for people to see her face.

I assured her the bruises could be covered up and the swelling in her lip would be gone by morning. Renee had seemed mollified by that and had finally stopped fretting about it.

After her initial admission about Devon’s abusive behavior, she had stopped talking about him altogether. She stated she wasn’t ready to hash out everything, and I begrudgingly backed off.

Stepping out into the crisp air, I took a deep breath, letting it fill my lungs. I wrapped my coat a little tighter around myself and started walking down the street. I noticed a bunch of painters heading around the back of my apartment building.

I overheard several of them grumbling about “fucking kids and their stupid graffiti.” Curious, I followed them and came to a quick stop. I tilted my head back and took in the gigantic painting along the back wall of my building.

“What the hell?” I mumbled to myself. It was amazing. Absolutely stunning. But it was also extremely disturbing.

Because someone had painted a beautiful sky raining . . . blood? There were two people, a man and a woman, each with bright blond hair, holding hands, walking along what looked like a macabre version of the yellow brick road into a stormy sea while the gorgeous clouds above their heads unleashed a torrent of blood around them.

The ground was a mass of interconnected Xs, giving away the artist’s identity. I should have known. The style was one of a kind.

But why had the mysterious street artist painted this on the back of my building? Because again, this clearly had nothing to do with Compulsion. This was a painting meant to say something else entirely.

The painters were putting up their ladders and opening up tins of white paint. They were getting ready to cover it up. And the thought of them destroying it made me feel panicky inside.

“Wait!” I called out just as a middle-aged man with a potbelly and a bald spot swiped his paintbrush over the blissfully happy couple in the picture. He looked over his shoulder at me in irritation.

“Do you have to paint over it?” I asked, realizing how ridiculous I sounded.

“Look, lady, the landlord hired us to fix this shit. Not our call. So why don’t you let us get to work,” another guy said, dipping his brush in the pot and bringing it up to the wall, smearing white over the vivid colors.

I didn’t say another word. I backed up and watched as the painters slowly eradicated the beauty X had clearly spent a lot of time creating. I felt as though I were witnessing a murder. It seemed a crime to undo something so beautiful as though it had never been there at all.

Feeling strangely sad, I forced myself to walk away, unable to stand there another moment while the men so callously covered up the picture.

Normally, I would meet Brooks for a coffee before my first class on Friday morning. But he hadn’t responded to my multiple texts. So I made my way to the coffee shop just off campus by myself.

I hated feeling lonely, and this morning I felt it acutely. I hated feeling that there was something going on with Brooks and that he was purposefully keeping his distance. I was going to have to confront it head-on eventually, but with everything that was happening right now, I selfishly didn’t feel like expending the energy the situation required.

I got my caramel latte and a muffin and sat down at my usual table by the window. I pulled out my notes in case there was a pop quiz and took a small sip of my hot beverage. I spent some time people-watching.

It was then that I saw a familiar set of broad shoulders and a head covered in a gray beanie coming into the coffee shop.

I thought hard about slinking down in my seat to avoid being seen, but then I thought better of it. Why should I hide? There was nothing wrong with him seeing me, even if just the sight of him caused me to flush to the tip of my toes at the memory of our encounter in the hallway.

As if sensing me there, Maxx’s eyes met mine. I raised my hand in a halfhearted wave, wiggling my fingers.

He smiled that smile that lit up his face.

He is so coming over here, I thought to myself as I waited on pins and needles for him to get his coffee and make the trek to my table.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked, his eyes dancing at our inside joke. But unlike the time he had asked that question in the library, I offered the chair—not without hesitation, but with a lot less of it. I couldn’t help that I still had misgivings about being seen with him. My lips tingled and my heart smacked against my rib cage, but I felt an undeniable wariness.

Maxx pulled off his beanie and dropped it on the table. He picked up his mug and blew off the steam before taking a sip. I sat there, staring at him, my tongue tied up in knots.

“So, thanks for leaving me stuck with Kristie, by the way,” he joked, taking another sip.

I laughed nervously, cutting my muffin up into small pieces. “Yeah, sorry,” I muttered.

“Sorry? I’ll leave you to talk about ‘solidifying your support systems’ for an hour and see how you feel.” He was being relaxed, teasing me with a twinkle in his eyes.

He looked happy.

It took me aback for a moment. I wasn’t used to seeing him this way. I had grown accustomed to the tortured brokenness hidden behind an overly confident exterior.

But today Maxx was laid-back, as though by acting casual, he was trying to make me forget how he had fallen apart. How he had shown me a side of himself that was scared and unguarded.

This time when I laughed, it was real. “That sucks. She can go on a bit,” I conceded.

“You think?” Maxx scoffed, reaching across the table and snatching a handful of my crumbled muffin.

“What is it with you and stealing my food?” I asked as he chewed.

“It just tastes better when it’s yours.” And there it was. The sexual innuendo I had been waiting for. But it didn’t irritate me the way it once would have. Instead, it set my skin on fire.

Two girls passed by our table, and I noticed the way they glanced down at Maxx and flashed their best flirty eyes at him. But his eyes never left my face.

I squirmed at being the center of his intense attention. “So, about Tuesday,” he began.

I held up my hand, stopping him. “Do we really need to talk about it?” I asked, mildly mortified to be talking about our encounter in the middle of a coffee shop, where anyone could hear us.

Maxx’s face darkened, but then it cleared. “I was just wondering when we could do it again?” he asked, and I jumped at the touch of his hand, reaching under the table to touch my thigh.

“Um . . . ,” I stuttered.

His fingers traced lazy circles on my jeans, inching slowly upward. I covered his hand with my own, pinning his palm to my leg.

Maxx chuckled and removed his hand. “Well, I’m game whenever you are,” he stated breezily, as though talking about the weather. I got the impression that my lack of response had hurt him. And being the person that he was, he covered up the hurt with unaffected seductiveness.

Before I could respond, Maxx got to his feet and pulled his beanie on. His hand briefly touched my shoulder before he gave me a smile and left. The entire exchange had lasted five minutes, and I was left confused and annoyingly turned on.

That boy was bad for the heart.

* * *

I wanted to see him again. Even though I knew I should ignore the urge, I didn’t. Who was this girl with such a lack of impulse control?

I pulled my car into the parking lot of the abandoned department store where Compulsion was happening tonight. My legs wanted to run toward the booming music, but my nerves held me back.

Now that I was here, I wasn’t entirely sure what I had been thinking. The Maxx Demelo who belonged here wasn’t necessarily the man who belonged with me. He scared me. He terrified me. He fascinated me.

I tucked my cell phone into my purse and looped it around my arm, securing it close to my body. My heart thudded in my chest almost in time to the bass, which I could hear bleeding into the night air.

I headed toward the line of people who waited just as they waited every single time Compulsion came alive—wanting their chance, hoping they were enough to be given it.

I approached the front of the line and watched as more and more people were turned away. I never understood why some were allowed inside and others were told to leave. There didn’t seem to be any rationale to it. Randy, the scary doorman, always seemed to relish the tiny bit of power he had as the gatekeeper.

But after that first night, when Brooks and I had been turned away, I hadn’t had a problem. I know I would never look the part. I still didn’t fit in with the people who came here, but it was as though I had a magic pass that I wasn’t aware of.