Every Rose by Lynetta Halat

disgusting. He’s twenty-fucking-six years old, Lorraina!” I back up with each of his hatred-spiked words, fighting the urge to cower. He keeps advancing, but his voice gets soft. “You’re a baby compared to him. A very sheltered one, I might add.”

“Oh, really. You think my growing up with my dad was sheltering, huh? You don’t know the half of it!” I turn to walk away, but he grips my shoulder and spins me back around.
    “I mean sheltered when it comes to human nature, Lorraina. You are far too good a person to believe that he means you any harm, but I’m here to tell you that any MAN who would date a young GIRL has anything but good intentions.”
    “He loves me. He wants to marry me one day,” I protest, and it sounds weak even to my own ears. He hones in this in an instant.
    “What does your mom say?”
    Oh! He’s got me there. I see in his eyes that he knows it, too. “She doesn’t know,” I whisper. More forcefully, I add, “And don’t be the one to tell her, OK?”
    “I can’t stand by and watch him use and discard you,” he says resignedly while shoving his hands into his hair
    I fold my arms across my chest and cock my hip. “Well, you’re in luck!” I snap. “You don’t have to. We aren’t even a part of each other’s lives anymore. I don’t know anything about the man you’re turning out to be other than you are reminding me a lot of my dad, and you don’t know anything about me. We just need to wish each other well and forget about each other.”
    My comment hits home. He knows that I value my dad about as much as I value pond scum. I regret it immediately. He nods his head and looks me up and down for a minute as though searching for something or committing me to memory. He jerks his head once in a final nod. “Alright, I’ll see ya around then.”
    My voice turns apologetic as I watch him back away from me. I never wanted to hurt him. I try to move towards him. “Michael, I—”
    He throws his hands up, warding me off. “No, it’s all good. Take care, Lorraina. See ya around.”
    I watch him hop into his friend’s waiting car; and they speed off, leaving me standing in front of my work. I wipe angry tears from my face. Fine, if that’s the way he wants to play it. Then, fine.
    Yeah, he tries to warn you and tell you that he left you alone for all the right reasons and you blow him off and talk to him like he’s garbage. You compared him to the absolute worst possible specimen of humankind that you’ve had the displeasure of knowing. You chose a complete loser over one of your oldest and dearest friends. Smart. Real smart.
    I close my eyes and shake my head, trying to dislodge all these thoughts. I’d paid dearly for that choice, too. Would Michael forgive me for those choices that I made so long ago? How could he if I still hadn’t forgiven myself?
    Chapter Twelve
    Don’t Look, Just Leap
    I gather my belongings and move over to the stools at the counter so that I can be closer to Michael. He’s playing an infectious melody that I find myself humming. He raises his brow at me and smiles into the microphone, closing his eyes and reveling in his song. How did I ever resist him? Was he always this confident and self-assured? I think there were bits of him that were but not quite like this.
    I take out my journal and jot down the names of the songs he’s played during his second set, making myself a soundtrack for our first night together. It reminds me of the few gifts he gave me back when we were friends. He’s only ever given me three presents. Two of which were mixed tapes that he’d made while I was in eighth grade. They’d burned along with the rest of my things, however. The other was a tiny little pewter cross hanging on a strip of leather that he used to wear. I knew where that was even though I hadn’t looked at it in forever. Maybe I could make some kind of gift for him from this soundtrack.
    He opens his eyes and sees me sitting at the bar. He looks