Forbidden Embers

I caught the smell of him before he said a word. Cheap perfume and weed smoke, the kind that clings to clothes and hair and skin no matter how much you scrub. He came up behind me in the hallway, his hand sliding around my waist, fingers digging into the fabric of my uniform blouse like he owned me.

“Missed me, certinha?”

I turned. Lucas grinned down at me, that lazy, crooked thing he did with his mouth that made girls in our class whisper about him in the bathroom. He knew it too. He knew everything about the effect he had on people. Especially on me.

“You’re late,” I said.

“Worth the wait, right?”

He kissed me. Quick. Hard. His tongue against my teeth before I could decide if I wanted it. I let him. I always let him.

The bell rang and he pulled back, winked, and sauntered off toward his classroom like he had all the time in the world. He didn’t. He was late for third period every single day. Teachers stopped writing him up. What was the point? Lucas Oliveira was untouchable. Everyone knew it.

I pressed my fingers to my lips. Tasted smoke.

My best friend Marina caught me at lunch. She slid her tray across the table and gave me that look, the one that said she was about to say something I didn’t want to hear.

“You’ve got that face again.”

“What face?”

“The one where you’re trying to convince yourself you’re happy.”

I stabbed my fork into my salad. “I am happy.”

“Sure.” She bit into her apple. Chewed slow. “Did he tell you about Friday?”

“What about Friday?”

She raised an eyebrow. “The party at Eduardo’s. His parents are out of town. Half the school’s going. Lucas is definitely going.”

I hadn’t heard about it. That stung more than I wanted to admit.

“He probably forgot to mention it,” I said.

“Right.” Marina’s voice went flat. “He forgot.”

I didn’t argue. What was the point? She’d already decided what she thought of him. Everyone had. My parents had. My teachers had. The whole damn town had their opinion about Lucas Oliveira and the good girl who couldn’t seem to stay away from him.

They didn’t understand. They saw the leather jacket and the cigarettes and the way he looked at other girls when he thought I wasn’t watching. They didn’t see the way he held me when I cried. The way he’d whisper that I was too good for this place, too good for all of them, too good for him even. They didn’t see the soft parts.

Maybe I was the only one who did.

Friday came faster than I wanted.

I told my parents I was sleeping at Marina’s. The lie slid out smooth as butter. My mom looked at me over her reading glasses, her mouth a thin line, and I knew she didn’t believe me. But she didn’t stop me either. She was tired of fighting about Lucas. We all were.

I wore the black dress. The one I bought online and hid at the bottom of my closet. It was shorter than anything I’d ever worn. The fabric clung to my hips like it was afraid to let go. I looked at myself in the mirror and didn’t recognize the girl staring back.

The girl with the dark eyeliner and the bare legs and the want written all over her face.

I walked to Eduardo’s house because I didn’t have a car and Lucas said he’d pick me up but then he didn’t show. My phone buzzed at 10:47. *Already here. Come find me.*

The house was loud before I even reached the door. Bass thumping through the walls. Voices overlapping. Someone had thrown up on the front lawn. I stepped around it and pushed inside.

The air was thick. Hot. Full of bodies pressing against each other. Red cups everywhere. Empty bottles on every surface. I moved through the crowd, searching for his face, feeling smaller with every step.

I found him in the kitchen.

He was leaning against the counter with his arm around some girl from the year below us. She was laughing at something he said. Her hand was on his chest. His hand was on her hip. They were close. Too close.

I stopped.

Lucas saw me. His grin didn’t waver. He said something to the girl and she slipped away, disappearing into the swarm of bodies. He pushed off the counter and walked toward me like nothing had happened.

“There you are,” he said.

“Who was that?”

“No one. Just a friend.”

“Her hand was on your chest, Lucas.”

“She’s friendly.” He laughed. “Relax, certinha. You know you’re the only one I want.”

He pulled me into him. His mouth found my neck. I closed my eyes and let the heat of him wash over me. Let myself believe it.

Someone called his name from across the room. He pulled back, his hand finding mine, and led me through the crowd toward the back of the house. We passed a group of his friends. They were sitting on a couch, passing a joint between them. One of them, Rafael, looked at me and smirked.

“Look who finally showed up,” he said. “The virgin princess.”

Lucas laughed. “Be nice.”

“I’m always nice.” Rafael leaned forward. “You ever gonna let him hit that, or are you saving it for marriage?”

My face went hot. Lucas’s hand tightened on mine.

“Shut up, Rafa.”

“Just asking. You’ve been together what, six months? Seven? A guy’s gotta wonder.”

Lucas didn’t answer. He tugged me past them, through the back door, into the yard. The air was cooler out here. Cleaner. I could breathe again.

“Don’t listen to him,” Lucas said.

“He’s not wrong.”

He turned to face me. The porch light caught his face, the sharp lines of his jaw, the dark of his eyes. He looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time.

“You want to?”

My heart stopped.

“What?”

“You heard me.” His voice dropped lower. “You want to? We can go upstairs. Eduardo’s parents’ room. No one will bother us.”

I should have said no. I should have said I wasn’t ready. I should have said a hundred things that were true and right and smart.

Instead I said, “Okay.”

His smile was slow. Triumphant. He took my hand again and led me back inside.

The upstairs hallway was quieter. The music was muffled here, a distant thump beneath our feet. Lucas opened a door at the end of the hall and pulled me inside.

The room was big. A king bed with white sheets. A dresser with a mirror. Closet doors half open. It smelled like cologne and something musty. He locked the door behind us.

And then his hands were on me.

He kissed me hard. Hungry. His fingers found the zipper of my dress and pulled. The fabric fell away. I stood there in my underwear, shivering, watching him watch me.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he said.

He pushed me onto the bed. The sheets were cool against my back. He climbed over me, his weight familiar, his mouth everywhere. I closed my eyes and tried to feel what I was supposed to feel.

Desire. Want. Something.

But all I felt was the cold air on my skin and the distant thump of music through the floor.

He stopped.

“What’s wrong?”

I opened my eyes. He was looking down at me, his brow furrowed, his lips parted.

“Nothing,” I said.

“You’re not into it.”

“I am.”

“You’re lying.”

I didn’t answer. He rolled off me, onto his back, staring at the ceiling. The silence stretched between us like something alive.

“You’re always like this,” he said.

“Like what?”

“Tense. Closed off. Like you’re somewhere else in your head.”

I pulled the sheet over myself. “I’m trying.”

“Trying isn’t enough.” He sat up. Rubbed his face with his hands. “I told my friends we’d been together. You know that? They ask me what it’s like and I have to make shit up because I don’t actually know.”

“You told them we’ve had sex?”

“What was I supposed to say? That my girlfriend won’t let me touch her?”

The words hit like a slap.

“I let you touch me,” I said.

“Not like that. Not really. You just lie there and wait for it to be over.”

I wanted to disappear. Sink into the mattress and never come back up. He wasn’t wrong. That was the worst part. He wasn’t wrong.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to want me.”

“I do want you.”

“Then act like it.”

He reached for me again. I let him. I let him push me back onto the pillows and I let him touch me and I let him kiss me and I tried. I tried so hard to feel something real.

But my mind kept drifting.

To the girl in the kitchen. To Rafael’s smirk. To the way Marina looked at me when she said his name. To the way my mom’s mouth went thin when I lied about where I was going.

I thought about the future. About college. About getting out of this town. About whether Lucas would still be here when I came back.

I thought about whether I even wanted him to be.

Afterward, he fell asleep.

I lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of his arm across my stomach. The music had stopped downstairs. The house was quiet. Somewhere a phone buzzed.

Mine.

I reached for it. A text from my mom. *Are you okay?*

I typed back. *Fine. Love you.*

She didn’t respond.

I looked at Lucas. The soft rise and fall of his chest. The way his mouth hung open slightly. He looked younger when he slept. Softer. Like the boy I’d fallen for in the first place.

But that boy was getting harder to find.

I slipped out from under his arm. Got dressed in the dark. Left the room without looking back.

The hallway was empty. The stairs creaked under my feet. I let myself out the front door and walked home in the cold, my arms wrapped around myself, my heels clicking against the pavement.

I didn’t cry.

I wanted to. I could feel it building somewhere deep in my chest, a pressure behind my ribs. But the tears wouldn’t come. They stayed locked inside me, waiting.

My house was dark when I got there. I crept through the back door, up the stairs, into my room. I closed the door and leaned against it.

My phone buzzed.

Lucas: *Where’d you go?*

I stared at the screen.

Lucas: *Babe?*

Lucas: *You good?*

I didn’t answer.

I got into bed, still in my dress, and stared at the ceiling until the sun came up.

Saturday morning was gray.

I woke up to the smell of coffee and the sound of my parents talking in the kitchen. Low voices. Careful. The kind of quiet that meant they were talking about me.

I stayed in bed. Stared at the crack in the ceiling I’d been staring at for seventeen years. It looked bigger now. Like it was spreading.

My phone buzzed again.

Lucas: *You ignoring me?*

I set the phone face down.

I got up. Showered. Put on jeans and a sweater. Made myself walk downstairs like nothing was wrong.

My mom looked up from her coffee. Her eyes scanned my face. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.

“Morning,” I said.

“Morning, baby.” Her voice was soft. Careful too.

My dad was reading the newspaper. He didn’t look up. He never looked up.

I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat at the table. The silence was thick enough to choke on.

“How was Marina’s?” my mom asked.

“Fine.”

“Did you girls have fun?”

“Yeah.”

She nodded. Took a sip of her coffee. I could feel her watching me. Could feel her wanting to ask more. But she didn’t.

My dad folded his newspaper. “Your boyfriend called here last night.”

My stomach dropped.

“What?”

“He called the house phone. Around midnight. Said he was looking for you.”

“I was at Marina’s.”

“That’s what I told him.” My dad’s eyes met mine. Hard. Flat. “He didn’t seem to believe me.”

I looked down at my coffee. The surface rippled from my shaking hands.

“He’s not good for you,” my dad said.

“I know.”

The words came out before I could stop them. I didn’t even know if I meant them. But they hung in the air, heavy and true, and I watched something shift in my father’s face.

“Then why are you still with him?”

I didn’t have an answer.

My phone buzzed again. And again. And again.

I turned it off.

The rest of the weekend passed in a blur. I stayed in my room. Read a book I couldn’t concentrate on. Watched the rain streak down my window. Ignored the seven missed calls and twelve texts from Lucas.

By Monday morning, I felt like I’d been hollowed out.

I walked to school alone. The air was cold. The sky was white. Everything felt muted, like the world had turned down its volume.

Lucas was waiting for me by the front gate.

He looked rough. Dark circles under his eyes. His hair uncombed. He stepped in front of me and I stopped.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“I’m going to be late for class.”

“I don’t care about class.”

He grabbed my wrist. Pulled me around the side of the building, into the alley between the gym and the science wing. The ground was wet. The smell of damp concrete filled my lungs.

“What happened Friday?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. You left. You didn’t answer my texts. You turned your phone off.”

“I needed space.”

“Space from me?”

I didn’t answer.

He stepped closer. His hand cupped my face, tilting it up so I had to look at him. His eyes were dark. Desperate. I’d never seen him look like that before.

“Talk to me,” he said. “Please.”

The word hit me in the chest. Lucas never said please.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t know if I’m with you because I want to be or because I’m scared not to be.”

The words came out raw. Honest. I watched them land on him like blows.

His hand dropped from my face.

“Scared of what?”

“Of being alone. Of disappointing everyone. Of disappointing you.” My voice cracked. “Of finding out that this is all there is.”

He stared at me. The silence stretched.

“I love you,” he said.

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Then why do you make me feel so small?”

His face crumpled. He looked away. Ran his hand through his hair. When he looked back, his eyes were wet.

“I don’t know how to be good to you,” he said. “I don’t know how to be the person you deserve. But I want to try.”

I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to believe him.

“I need time,” I said.

“How much time?”

“I don’t know.”

He nodded. Swallowed hard.

“Okay,” he said. “Take your time.”

He walked away. I watched him go, his shoulders hunched, his hands in his pockets, and I felt something crack open inside me.

I didn’t know if it was relief or grief.

Maybe it was both.

I made it to first period with two minutes to spare. Slid into my seat. Pulled out my notebook. Stared at the blank page.

Marina passed me a note. *You okay?*

I wrote back. *No.*

She looked at me. Her eyes were soft. She reached across the aisle and squeezed my hand.

I held on.

That afternoon, I walked home alone.

The sky was clearing. Patches of blue breaking through the gray. The air smelled like wet earth and something green. Spring was coming. I could feel it.

My phone buzzed.

Not Lucas. A number I didn’t recognize.

*Hey. This is Mateus. From chemistry. I was wondering if you wanted to study for the test on Thursday.*

I stared at the message.

Mateus. Quiet. Smart. He sat two rows behind me. We’d never spoken outside of class.

I typed back. *Sure. When?*

*Tomorrow after school? Library?*

*Okay.*

I put my phone away. Kept walking.

The street was empty. The trees were starting to bud. Somewhere a bird was singing.

I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t know if I was breaking up with Lucas or giving him another chance. I didn’t know if I was saying yes to Mateus because I wanted to or because I was running.

But for the first time in months, I felt like I was moving.

Even if I didn’t know where I was going.

My parents were both home when I got there. My mom was cooking. My dad was reading in the living room. Normal. Ordinary. The kind of afternoon I’d taken for granted a thousand times.

“How was school?” my mom asked.

“Fine.”

She looked at me. Really looked. The way she used to when I was little and I’d come home crying from a scraped knee.

“Is everything okay, baby?”

I thought about lying. I thought about telling her I was fine and going up to my room and pretending the weekend hadn’t happened.

Instead I said, “I don’t know.”

She set down the spoon. Turned off the stove. Came over and wrapped her arms around me.

“You don’t have to know,” she said. “You just have to keep going.”

I buried my face in her shoulder. Breathed in the smell of her. Garlic and soap and something that smelled like home.

“I love you,” I said.

“I love you too, baby.”

We stood there for a long time. My dad came in and put his hand on my back. No questions. No advice. Just his hand, warm and solid.

I didn’t cry.

But I came closer than I had in days.

That night, I lay in bed and stared at my phone.

Lucas had texted again. *I miss you.*

I didn’t reply.

Mateus had texted too. *Looking forward to tomorrow.*

I smiled. Small. Uncertain. But real.

I set my phone on the nightstand. Turned off the lamp. Closed my eyes.

The ceiling was dark. The house was quiet. Somewhere outside, a car passed, its headlights sweeping across my wall before disappearing.

I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring.

But for the first time in a long time, I was curious to find out.