thirty-eight.

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A/N: Fun fact about this book, one of the names I was debating on before starting to write a colby brock fanfiction happened to be Reflection. I even made a few covers for it to test out its look.

Colby drove for Nik, Brennen and I.

One by one, we helped them with their things and brought them home.

It then turned to just be Colby and I.

Alone, as the drive back to the apartments were silent.

When we got parked, we didn't move for a second.

That was the opportunity he used,

to kiss me.

I slowly turned to him and he reached out from his seat,

grabbed my face,

and kissed my lips.

His soft lips were my drug, and I was an addict who needed to quit.

The kiss was so quick and short, I didn't have a lot of time to react but close my eyes and let it happen.

When he parted from me, his right hand hovered over my lips and caressed my cheek.

I looked into his deep, ocean blue eyes and said no words.

He looked back into my eyes and glanced down. A solid tear rolled down his face. I wiped it away, and kissed the place where the tear once was.

He kissed me once more with those sad eyes, all the passion and tragedy were admitted in.

When first knowing what I was in for, was scary. Like, in general, the whole situation was scary.

I was confident at first.

Imagine waiting in line as a kid, wanting to go on your first upside down roller coaster.

The anticipation, the excitement, the anxiety, just for this one ride.

That's how I felt at first, with the flirts and smiles and giggles and all that cute stuff.

Then, when you step into the roller coaster seat... and you get strapped in, you realize, there's no way out now.

You're not going to ask the ride operator to get out or else you'll feel the embarrassment in walking out.

You can't do that to life either.

Once I told Colby I actually liked him, damn I was then stuck.

No struggling with that roller coaster seat, you're not getting out.

Time to just suck it up.

I didn't realize the naive persistence I had acquired when following through with my actions.

Like wanting to go on the roller coaster.

You're strapped in, and once the roller coaster started moving...

Woah, you're in for an adventure.

Romance.

Romance is like that.

Soon after, we backed away and got out the car in a quick manner.

Colby Brock, what are you doing to me.

No seriously, tell me.

What are you doing to me?

/////

Now here we are, we stand in front of our apartment doors.

Alone for a night in separate rooms.

Separate apartments.

We stare into each other in a comfortable silence.

Though, it's taking an unpleasant turn because the staring is getting excessive.

I want to say something.

I want to tell him how much it hurts without him, but it will stop hurting once I move on.

I want him to move on.

But, would that hurt him too?

Will it hurt him as much as me?

I'm not him.

He needs to understand.

To know.

He deserves that, as much as it seems like I even hate him.

However, I want to comfort Colby.

I want to hug him.

I want to be there for him.

Give him kisses, tight squeezes, hold his hands, wrap my legs around his waist, touch his soft cheeks, knot my fingers into his hair, wear his over-sized clothing, cuddle under his blanket, be his security,

be his.

Though the only depressing words I could mumble were,

"Goodnight."

/////

I shut the door behind me and slid down the white wall of it.

I want to actually kill myself.

Figuratively, that is.

I'm so good with my words, sometimes.

Why couldn't I speak, besides the words 'goodnight'?

Why didn't I take the chance to tell him?

Why couldn't I just tell him all my feelings, all my wants and desires?

We had the time! We were safe! We were home!

We weren't at another location while our friends were in the rooms next to us.

We were...together.

He wasn't leaning on my door like back at the beach house.

I drop my jacket on my couch and head into my room. I let my luggage full to the ground as I fall onto my bed. I stare into the ceiling, the white, blank ceiling. It's almost midnight, and I don't have any energy. The energy I have left, however, is being used to not sleep because my brain is moving in so many different directions. It's bouncing off walls, and is confusing my cells to a max.

Sam... why couldn't I like you.

Why couldn't I tell myself, yes, he's the one for you.

Not stupid, Colby Brock!

Why, out of all people, Colby Brock!

I smack my balled fists into the comforter of my bed. I sit up to kneel and I look at my comforter.

Weeks ago, my best friend and my crush almost had sex in this bed and that could've all been avoided if I didn't hate Colby Brock.

I scream out in rage, at how messed up I made my life. I dig my fist in the bed, repeatedly punching it with the fuel that was left for me to burn.

I scream and yell to the point where my vocal chords were being stretched as wide as the ocean.

And here I was again, thinking about him.

His ocean eyes, his blue love.

Love.

That word will forever make me happy and miserable at the same time.

The thought of it made me happy.

The reality of it made me miserable, because I'm starting to believe I'll never get it.

I scream out one last time before breaking my boisterous volume into tears and cries.

One tragic masterpiece that will never be real art.

There is no prize, no way to see the true meaning. For there isn't.

The only description this masterpiece held is,

an alone, confused girl, with the loss in her eyes, the shatter in her heart, and the tragedy in her soul. The life she is driven by is played with fire, lead by an unpredictable script, puppeteered by thin strings, and directed by life and its friends.

I am a tragic masterpiece, and nobody will see it, except me.

I sob into my white pillow, tear stained hearts for my love.

This is probably the lowest point in my life. I'm a lone wolf, who is acting like a fucking puppy.

They're cute but helpless without its guardian.

This isn't me! I'm no fucking let down.

Just, it's so difficult to pick my head up, especially from this white pillow where I know I'm secure.

I slightly shift my body to peek at the clock on my bedside table.

1:04 a.m.

That's it.

I'm done, I'm leaving my apartment, I'm going to him.

Colby.

Your name runs in my mind 24/7, I'm surprised the thought of you isn't even tired from all those sprints.

Hell, I'm surprised how I'm not tired anymore. Suddenly, the energy I just lost was now regained. The salt in my body was just washed out, and I feel light-headed at the fact. Though, it's not a reason from stopping myself into talking to Colby.

I mean, I have no idea what I'm going to say and I'm usually good with this stuff.

I always,

always have a plan.

But nope.

Not tonight.

I stand outside my room's frame and steadily trudge my way to the front door. I gradually reach out with my hand and then quickly rotate the handle and pull the door to a straight open.

And out stands, Colby Brock, about to knock.

/////

"Colby...?" I whisper.

He gives me a weak smile, "Hey, how'd you know I was coming?"

"I-I was about to go knock on your door," I stammer.

He grins, "Guess I beat you to it?"

I look down and smile, "Kinda, kid."

"Can I come in?" He politely asks.

I nod, stepping out the way for him to enter my home.

He makes a big step in and shoves his hands into the back pockets of his jeans while looking around.

I shut the door and squeeze my lips to a tight line. His back faces me and I could see how awkward this was about to get. I am done with the silence.

"Okay, cut the crap, Colby," I wave in annoyance, he spins around to face me, "Why are you here?"

"To talk to you, obviously," He says in a duh tone.

"No way, really?" I sarcastically reply.

"Look, what are we, Ash?" He questions, coming more towards to my body.

"Nothing, Colby. We're nothing," I state, not daring to look at him.

"N-nothing! What?" He stammers, bewildered.

"Y-yes," I utter. "W-we're not together."

He inches much closer, my nose is so close to his at the way he bent down to be at my level. Yet, I still refuse to face him. Just seeing those ocean eyes of him will make me melt into a puddle.

He lifts my chin to force my eyes on him, "Say it again. Don't stutter it."

"You heard me the first time," I say, in a whisper.

"Say it again," He demands.

"N-no," I breathe in a stutter.

"Say. It. Now," He demands again, in an angry, raspy voice.

"We're not together," I state once more.

He breathes out heavily onto my face, and leaves me breathless as ironic as he just gave me his.

He takes his finger out from under my chin and leans backwards on the couch, but still faces me.

"I don't know what to do with you anymore," He suspires.

I cross my arms, "You don't have to do anything with me."

He places his hands over his face and he groans through, "But you see, that's the hard part!"

"You don't have to do shit, Brock!" I retort.

"No, you don't get it, do you, Ash?" He lowly shouts, removing his hands. His eyes were puffy and red, his palms were too white from being clutched too hard. "I want to do so many things with you, Neil. If you just let me, but I still can't even let myself!"

"Colby, you make yourself sound like you're the victim. Do you know how I feel? I want to do things with you too. I want a lot of things, things that I'm not going to get from you!" I angrily reply.

"Like what?" He challenges.

I feel my lips quiver and I try biting my bottom to stop its movement. I'm going to say it all.

"Everything, Colby," I shyly say. He stands straight once again, "I want to hug you, I want to hold your hands, I want to squeeze your body," He nears closer, "-I want to laugh with you, play with your hair, wear your over-sized shirts with nothing else," He comes even closer, "-I want to wrap my legs around your waist, cuddle under your blanket, fall asleep on your chest," and even closer, "-I-I want to be-"

He crashes his lips to mine into a long kiss with the lust and passion I am addicted to. I kiss him with my left strength, my remaining fuel, everything I had in the moment. His hands reach my waist and jawline. I hate myself for being so unworthy of his. I hate myself for making him someone I have hated. I hate myself for pulling him under the cold waters of mine. Then, I pull away to finish my sentence, he deserves to know what I had to say.

"able to move on from you."

----------------------------------------------------------

youre probably flippin the fuck out. shit my bad.

I was listening to lots of Kendrick Lamar, Oliver Francis, & Blackbear and they're fucking amazing for inspiration. The vibes... it's 1:47 a.m. on July 2nd and I just got so many epiphanies for this story. Be fucking prepared. I love you all. I don't just say it just because, I say it, er write it, because I mean it. I feel like my readers are the fucking BEST. Yes. Bless up.<3 WE HIT 17K+ READS LIKE WE SKIPPED OVER 16 WHAT??? WOAHHAHAHAHAH