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I think Aunt Naveah wishes Oaklynn was more than a friend.
“Oaklynn is a nice girl,” she’d say to me, trying to sound convincing.
She is, but she’s not Riley.
She’s not my Goldilocks.
The lonely girl on the bench, with yearning in her eyes.
Oaklynn doesn’t make me want to draw her out, but Goldilocks? Yeah, she was practically calling to me. To sketch the curve of her face and the fullness of her lips.
“Why won’t you come in with us?” Oaklynn whines, bringing my attention back to her.
She places her hands on her hips, tapping her left foot haughtily. She’s a stage-five clinger, this one. “C’mon. It’ll be fun.”
Irritated, I sit on the curb of the parking lot and cross my arms over my chest. “You wanted me to come, so I’m here. But only because my aunt asked me to not because I wanted to. I’m not joining you for anything else.” I nod toward her little group of friends, who are eyeing me up and down suggestively and then giggling among themselves. “You have your friends. Go have your fun.”
She makes a frustrated sound in the back of her throat and then stomps away. I watch as they enter the haunted house and then let out a relieved sigh. Finally, some silence from her constant squawking.
I take my phone out of my pocket and scroll through my apps, selecting the puzzle game I’ve been playing for a few days now. I’ve been stuck on level 98 since yesterday.
Just when I’m about to unlock the next level, my gaze catches a flash of blonde hair and my attention is quickly diverted to her.
The world stills, and my chest warms at the sight of Riley.
Only for it to fill with ice when I see her rushing across the field in panic, her face flushed and tears running down her cheeks.
I’m instantly on my feet and marching toward her with purpose. Is she hurt? Did someone say something to her again? I’ve seen the sneers they give her, heard the things they say behind her back or to her face, if they’re bold enough.
I watch as Riley crumples in the middle of the field, her knees hitting the grass as she lets out a choked sob. She’s crying…why? Who fucking hurt her?
Once I’m closer, I’m careful not to spook her. My chest tightens at the sound of her broken cries and I have the strong urge to pull her into my arms — to keep her safe from anyone who dares to hurt her.
I’ve never felt this way for a girl before. It’s a foreign feeling, the way my heart hurts at the sight of her hurting. The way I’m enraged on her behalf.
Riley brings out a side of me that I didn’t know I was capable of, didn’t know I had.
Her arms are wrapped around her waist as she hugs herself tightly, her eyes squeezed shut. “Riley,” I say her name cautiously, squatting down beside her.
She lets out a tiny squeak, her head snapping up in response. Her brown eyes are big and glassy with tears. Her hand flutters to her chest in panic, but then I see the moment she recognizes me. Her eyes soften. “It’s you,” she whispers shakily.
It’s almost like I can’t stop myself; there’s a fierce need in me to reach out to her.
To touch her. To soothe her.
My hand comes up, and my fingers brush against her wet cheek, wiping the tears away. Her soft skin is cold from the chilly breeze. I cup her face, and she leans into my palm, as if she’s seeking warmth from me. More tears spill from her eyes, and I wipe them all away.
“Shh, it’s okay,” I croon gently. I want to ask her what happened, I want to know the cause of her pain, her tears. But I don’t ask, because that’s the last thing she needs from me right now. “You’re okay, I got you. You’re safe.”
Riley sways unsteadily toward me, and I do the only thing that feels right in this moment.
I take her in my arms, and she buries her face in my neck. She’s not crying anymore, but her tiny sniffles are breaking my goddamn heart. I pull her into my lap, and she settles against my chest. So small in my arms, so fragile…
I’m quickly filled with a wild thought — I want to keep here, in my lap. For as long as I can have her. For as long as she wants.
“Why are y-you here?” Riley finally croaks, after a long minute of silence.
“I was forced to come,” I tell her honestly, my arms tightening around her waist. I like how her softness feels against the hard, rough edges of my body. “But I think I was meant to be here tonight.”
