A-Cherry-on-Top

Requested

A summer fling with Draco would include:

  • He’s the new boy; all white blonde hair and flinty gray eyes, a pointed jaw and pale, pale skin blurred by chlorine constellations as he lingers at the pool edge
  • “Who’s that?” you ask, press your elbow into Pansy Parkinson’s ribs as water splashes onto the pavement and music bangs against garage doors. “The new boy.”
  • And you swear that his eyes flicker over to yours, linger for a summer slick second on your skin before darting away again - all live wires strung between your ribs
  • “Draco,” Pansy says, lipstick smeared around her mouth in a blurred red cloud as she clutches a plastic cup to her chest. “He’s from England - I heard, goes to a really fancy private school.”
  • “Draco,” you repeat, words dulled beneath top-forty tremors
  • The name tastes like cherry soda in your mouth
  • The over-large watch on Pansy’s wrist reads three o’clock when you head home, heart heavy and the straps of your heels clutched between your fingers as the pavement scrapes against your bare feet
  • There’s a car pulling up behind you, all burnt wheels and Presley on repeat and a voice - all smooth syllables and a thick English accent - calls out, “Need a ride?”
  • You glance back
  • See the new boy - Draco - face blurred by headlights and stoplights, all blinking red
  • A smile playing at the edge of his mouth as he bites on the end of a cigarette
  • And maybe it’s the burn of vodka, the thrill of the night, the fucking shock at the base of your spine as he stares at you
  • But you’re saying, “Okay,” and his smile is being eclipsed by a smirk as you slide into the passenger seat, leather sticky against your thighs
  • “Draco,” he says, taps his finger against the stick shift
  • “I’m-” you start, are swiftly interrupted by the rev of the car and the green of the traffic light
  • “I know,” he says -
  • And it feels like they’re drag racing
  • So this is how it goes,
  • You see him again at the beach, waves crashing onto craggy shores and sunburn stinging on your shoulders
  • He recognizes you, ankle deep in spin cycle sea foam, raises an arm and rakes his eyes over your red-striped bathing suit
  • Fourth of July fireworks exploding between your toes and hazy days are melding into melancholy weeks; knees knocking as you sit on curbs with popsicles sticky against your fingers, the pink neon sign on the all-night-diner blinking like his smile, flashing like ambulance hearts as he holds a gun to your chest and demands your heart -
  • You never have had a firm hold on it
  •  and wilting like summer ghosts, lying on the road in the early morning with laughs thick in their mouths and music buzzing in their ears
  • Liquor stores and drive in movies, hands so close that they can almost touch
  • So this is how it ends,
  • Summer drowns at the bottom of a swimming pool and they watch from the top of a creaking ferris wheel
  • All Draco’s fingers on your jaw and his eyes on your mouth
  • All notebook hearts with your names drawn through the center and stitched through with an arrow as he presses his mouth to yours -
  • It’s a summer of dead hearts

Hey there, everyone! It’s your friendly, neighborhood Maisie stopping by to say that I hope you’re having a great day! I’m so excited for tomorrow, because I’m helping the hospital I work for decorate for Christmas! I just found out that we don’t have a Sunshine Club over there, which is so sad so me, so I made one! If anybody would like to come along and help put some smiles on the faces of people who really need it– pretty please with a cherry on top let me know!

Move on, leave, run away, escape this place… but don’t forget about me, about us, about this town. Always remember where you come from so you can appreciate how far you’ve come.
—  c.j.n.
You claim to love her, inside and out, but the only time you call her beautiful is when it’s 3 in the morning and I’ve already turned you down.
—  girls tell each other everything, c.j.n.