Daryl was mad at me when he had no damn right.
I had spoken nothing but the truth. Fair enough, I was high and my words were coming out a little less tactfully than normal, but it was still the truth.
Daryl's refusal to call it like it was pissed me the hell off. At least I was being honest. Living in the real world. He was on cloud cuckoo if he thought we could slide back into our old life by going to homecoming together.
Our lives were completely different now. It was one thing to hang out together, but falling into his world, a world that included mean girls with perfect bodies, was too freaking much.
"I didn’t realize asking you to a goddamn dance would be such a crime," he snapped. "Jesus!"
"It's not just about the dance, Daryl."
"Then what is it about?"
"Everything."
"You might wanna be more specific here, Molly."
"Fine. Do you know what your friends call me? You know; the ones you replaced me with?" I asked, feeling my own temper spike. "They call me Freddy Kruger," I hissed, not giving him a chance to answer, eyes blazing with hurt. "They've called me that for two years, Daryl," I added, forcing my voice not to crack. "You think that song was bad yesterday? Well, it wasn’t. It was the tip of the freaking iceberg compared to what they've said about me. So, quit it with this 'you're beautiful' crap, because I'm not buying it for a second. It's your guilt talking and that's cool, totally understandable, but don’t treat me like an idiot who can't see her own reflection in a damn mirror!"
His nostrils flared. "Molly –"
"It doesn’t even matter," I quickly continued. "Because I don’t care about any of it. I don’t care what the girls at school say about me because their looks will fade. Their outer shells will falter and dim until all that they're left with is their cold, dead personalities and the ugliness on the inside. And I'll be fine. These growing pains I'm feeling right now won't last forever. Because I might not look like much, but at least I can stand on my own two feet. At least I'm not afraid to be who I am, to admit how I feel. I pity those girls – the ones like Britt and Ash who belittle and berate me. They'll never be themselves because they're too busy being what they think boys like you want. So, they can have all of the fame and glory that comes with high school popularity, but just remember that I'm the lucky one. Not them!"
Jaw ticking, Daryl stared hard at me for the longest moment before breaking the tense silence. "I just want to make you feel okay again, Molly."
"I am okay," I lied. "I've been okay."
"Then maybe I want to feel okay again," he snapped, throwing his hands up. "Maybe I'm the one who hasn’t been okay!"
"You seem to be doing just fine," I shot back shakily.
"Oh, you think so?" he sneered. "Well, you're wrong, because I'm a goddamn mess! I haven't been okay a single damn day since that fire! Since you left my life and everything went dark!"
My breath hitched in my throat. "Daryl…"
"I loved you!" he roared, trembling now. "Jesus Christ, I loved you more than I have ever loved another person on this damn planet! You were my best friend, Molly. You were everything to me. Fucking everything!"
"I know." I choked out a sob, drowning in the pain of the past. "I felt the same."
"I was so fucking scared of losing you that night that I –" Clenching his eyes shut, he shook his head, almost as if he could force the images that were tormenting him away. When he opened his eyes again, they were laced with hurt and accusation. "You know what I did that night. So, don’t treat me like I'm the same as those assholes at school. I'm not and you know it. If I'm here, it's not because I pity you! If I ask you to be my date to a goddamn dance, it's not to ease my conscience! You know why I'm here, Molly. You fucking know what you mean to me so don’t belittle me and my feelings by calling me a liar!"
"I'm not calling you a liar," I cried, pushing my hands through my hair.
"No, you're just tarring me with the same brush as those conceited pricks at school," he sneered, looking wounded. "Hiding your body today? I know what you were doing, Molly."
"That's my choice."
"It's a stupid one," he shot back. "You think I'd treat you any different because you have scars? You think I would judge you because you're a survivor?" he roared. "I'm glad! I'm fucking glad you have those burns because if you didn’t you wouldn’t be here!"
"Don't say that!" I screamed. "Please –"
"Don’t say what, Molly?" he demanded. "Don’t say that I'm glad you're alive? Well tough shit, because I am."
Reaching for the hem of his tank, Daryl yanked it over his head.
"No." A pained sob escaped me when my eyes landed on his right shoulder. "Don’t…"
"See – " He closed the space between us, causing my emotions to spiral out of control. "We match." Taking my small hand in his, he traced the rough and uneven skin that covered his right shoulder. "We fit together, Molly." Our joined hands moved from his naked flesh to under my shirt, our fingertips dusting over every jagged edge that linked my misfortune with his. "Like a jigsaw."
"Daryl…" Tears trickled feely down my cheeks now. "I'm so sorry."
"Don’t be," he replied hoarsely. "I'd do it all over again for you." A pained growl escaped his lips and he roughly reached for me, pulling my body flush against his.
And then Daryl did something that absolutely floored me.
He lowered his face to mine and kissed me.