While life around my house was getting better, and my mom seemed to be back to her normal self, one day I found myself searching for the key to Melody’s room. After rifling through my dad’s office drawers, I came across the right one. Now I stood in her open doorway, looking at all the familiar things. Most of her stuff was packed up in boxes, but a few stray pictures and miscellaneous items sat upon the desk and dresser. Even some of her clothes were still hung up in the closest.

Somehow in my moment of gazing I managed to switch on the light. It flickered twice before fully illuminating the room. Her lavender walls somehow looked faded, and maybe it was because they were bare, or maybe just simply because she was no longer there to fill the room with life. Her constant presence only remained in the photos around the house and this room. Once and a while I would find one of her bobby pins in between the couch cushions or lying on the floor, but besides that all reminders of her were confined to this one room.

Taking in a long shaky breath, I willed myself to move forward. With each step I felt my chest tighten and the world squeeze around me; almost as if I were being strangled. I reached Melody’s window and pulled it open so that some fresh air could fill the stuffy room. Never had I referred to Melody’s room as stuffy. It was usually the most comfortable place in the house to be, and she always had some yummy smelling candle burning. But without her, the room was just another room; just another space taken up by clutter and dust mites.

I could picture Melody the night of the party. I was sitting on the bed while she was getting ready. “Why don’t you listen to me when I tell you how gorgeous you are?” she had said.

My chest squeezed even tighter at the thought. What if things would have been different? What if I could have convinced her to spend the night with me? Once and a while I was able to get her to bail out on a party. We would spend all night watching movies and eating junk food. Why had I even agreed to go?

Before I knew it, I was on the ground, my knees pulled tight to my chest. I took in as much air as I could, which wasn’t much at all. Breathe I told myself sternly. You will not have another attack!

And suddenly, just as I took another desperate breath of air, a dark shadow appeared in the hallway. I looked up from the floor expecting to see my mother who must have arrived early from yoga class, or my father who must have gotten off work early, but it was neither.

Colton?

Colton moved from beneath the doorway and towards me in slow strides. He kneeled next to me and calmly rested a hand on my shoulder. I tried to control my breathing; I didn’t want him to see me like this…so helpless.

“Just let it out Sutton,” he said quietly, reaching up towards my face.

His thumb caught something on my bottom eyelash, and it was then that I realized my eyes were foggy with tears. Wet, hot salty tears. And then suddenly they were rolling down my cheeks in huge drops, each leaving a warm trail behind. I could breathe. The more the tears came, the more I could breathe. My body shook as he pulled me into his lap. Everything I had worked so hard to bury deep down was all coming out, and in front of the strongest person I knew.

Every wall I put up was coming down in this once instant.

I don’t know how long I sat with Colton on the floor in Melody’s room, but we stayed seated long after the tears were gone. Colton was stroking my arm with his thumb when I finally said something. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled away and looked at me carefully. “For what?”

“For breaking down, for crying all over you like some—“

“Like some human?”

I watched Colton carefully, taking in the small freckles that dotted his nose, and his pink lips that were pursed together. His blue eyes bore into mine as I tried to find the right words, but nothing came out. I didn’t know how to reply or what to say.

Eventually, he reached up and pushed a few strands of my hair away from my face. “It’s okay to cry, it’s okay to be sad.”

“But I need to be strong for my mom, for Melody.”

He sighed. “Sutton you’re the strongest person I know.”

In that moment, all I wanted to do was reach up and press my mouth against his, but something stopped me. The thought of his lips against mine drowned out all the thoughts about Melody, but I couldn’t always count on Colton. If I counted on him too much, then something bad would happen, just like it did to Melody. I counted on seeing her every day. I counted on her cheerful personality and bubbly attitude.

And now she was gone.

If I counted on Colton’s lips to make me feel better, and his arms around mine, soon enough he would be gone too. Colton being who he was seemed like enough to get me through the day, I didn’t need to bring any romance into the picture.

“I don’t feel very strong,” I finally said.

His body against mine felt warm and comforting, and as soon as I pulled away a small shiver racked my body.

“I know a strong person when I see one, trust me.”

I nodded my head and wiped my face. “How did you get in here?”

He chuckled. “Well we were supposed to hang out, but when I got here you didn’t answer the door so I climbed up your balcony.”

Typical Colton. I allowed myself to laugh for a second, but Melody still clouded my mind. “Let’s get out of here,” I said standing from the wooden floor.

I helped Colton up, and once we were in the hallway I locked Melody’s door behind me. After telling Colton I’d meet him back in my room, I went downstairs and placed the key back in my father’s desk drawer. Instead of going right up to my room, I made my way to the powder room to splash some cold water on my face. I switched on the light and stared back at a red eyed, puffy faced girl.

The water felt nice against my hot skin, and after wiping my face with a towel I was making my way up the stairs. When I entered my room, Colton was sitting on the bed with a piece of paper in his hand. I knew exactly what he was holding even before I got a good glance at it.

“I’m thinking five and seven, but really it’s up to you.”

Rolling my eyes, I took the paper from his hand and examined both five and seven.

5. Get a tattoo, and not the washable kind.

7. Buy lingerie.

Neither of those were at the top of the list, especially number seven AND number five, but I knew since I wrote them, they had to be done.

“What about six?”

He looked down at the paper and shook his head immediately. “No way in hell are you driving my baby.”

His “baby” or motorcycle must have been parked right outside on my driveway. “Oh come on, you’re the one who said you would help me cross off everything on this list. Don’t be such a baby.”

“But it’s illegal! I mean, you don’t even have a license to drive a motorbike!”

I laughed. “When has the law stopped you?”

Right then and there I knew I had him beat. “Fine,” he said stubbornly, “but then I get to pick out which tattoo you get.”

“Okay,” I agreed stupidly.

As we made our way out of my room, I stopped and glanced at Melody’s door. I could picture myself in her room again, curled up on Colton’s lap. I hadn’t even cried at her funeral, let alone the night I found out she was dead, yet somehow Colton was able to make me break.

Taking a deep breath, I willed myself to forget about Melody for a little while longer so tonight I could have some fun.

**

Colton was right to be worried about me handling his bike. At first it was decided that I would drive to the tattoo shop, but after almost driving off the street and into a pole for the fifth time, I gave up. Technically I had driven a motorcycle, just very badly and for a short amount of time.

By the time we made it to his friends place called “Ink Master” I was totally regretting my decision to add number five to my list. I would have used the whole “parental consent” to get out of it, but since Colton knew the guy, I was off the hook.

“Okay so the whole you get to decide the tattoo thing is totally not fair. I mean, if I’m going to have this thing on my body for the rest of my life, I think I should be able to choose what I get.”

We stepped into the shop and the little bell above the door chimed. The walls were painted black, but you could barely see any paint. Pictures of different tattoos covered almost every inch of the wall making it almost impossible to think. Wow this place was overwhelming.

“I mean, you don’t even have a tattoo so I think—“

“Yes I do,” he interrupted.

“You do?” I asked sounding surprised.

He nodded his head. “Well show me them,” I said impatiently.

Rolling his eyes, he turned and lifted up his shirt. I’d seen Colton shirtless before, but I never noticed any tattoos. On his right side, in swirly loopy looking letters were two names: Charlotte and Bella, his sisters. It was a small tattoo, with one name rising just barely an inch above the other, but it still counted as one.

I took my eyes away from his bare side and he pulled his shirt down. “There, and yes I get to pick which tattoo you get.”

The smirk on his face made me nervous. What if he picked something gaudy and gross? I mean I would never agree to walk around with a damn butterfly across my face, and there was no way in hell I was getting a tramp stamp.

“Well at least tell me where I’m getting the tattoo.”

“I was thinking somewhere your parents wouldn’t notice like maybe your hip or something.”

It was a good idea, and no way in hell were my parents finding out, so I nodded my head in agreement. “Fine now let’s just get this damn thing over with.”

Hey everyone. This one’s a bit emotional…but for some reason I was feeling kind of emotional. I just got one reading “Just Listen” and “The Truth About Forever” but Sarah Dessen. They were both really good, and I recommend them to all of you. Usually I read more adventure fantasy stuff, but I thought both the books conveyed some real raw emotion, and really made me think about some things. She’s an amazing writer. So go to the local library and check them out. But NEVER apply to work at your local library, because it sucks! Haha, yeah I got a job at the library like a month and a half ago and it’s honestly the most boring thing in the world. All I do is shelve books and shelve read, which means reading to make sure the books are all in the proper order. Anyway, love you all!

Peyton