The Burning Inside
Marissa lay there, her head propped up by a pillow. Her face being softly illuminated by the tv. She was wearing one of his t-shirts, an old Metallica t-shirt he got at their concerts a few years back. She looked good.
Volchok stood there, in his underwear holding a glass of water, just watching her. A million thoughts raced through his head but none of them could stop him thinking about her. He loved moments like these whenshe'd come over, justto hang out. They didn't even need to have sex. With Marissa he could just watch her, doing the most mundane things. She had him, she had him wrapped around her little delicate fingers, and she didn't even know it.
He could never tell her though. Like the boy who cried wolf. His reputation had ruined whatever real chance he had with her. Was she with him to get back at her mother? No, he knew that couldn't be it. She loved her mother, that Julie Cooper lady, but Marissa didn't care enough to go through this much trouble. He hoped that there was another reason why she hung out with him.
Sometimes, Marissa would come over, and just lie next to him. He knew she was there but he was afraid to open his eyes, he was afraid, like a dream, she would disappear.
Marissa's eyes looked up at him. He stepped forward and gave her the glass of water. She took little sips of it, the glass refracting the light into her eyes. they glowed.
Volchok, got into his bed and kissed her softly on her cheek. Marissa pulled back slightly and gave him a look. A look he was getting more uncomfortable with everytime she gave it to him. Her eyebrows would cringe ever so slightly and it conveyed a question that he asked himself every time he thought about her. 'What are you doing?'.
Everyonebelieved Marissa was using him. Everyone thought he was using her, but she did something to him. He changed somehow and it bothered him. He could never say it out loud. The words, the way he truly felt about her.
Volchok reached over towards the little crate that was his bedside table, and picked up a tin. One of those vintage old cigerette tins. He'd picked it up at a local market that's only open on weekend afternoons. It had rust lining the cover and the faded beige paint was crumbling in certain places.
"You wanna smoke?" he asked Marissa.
"Mmm hmm." was all she said. He pulled out the papers and the finely chopped weed. He knew marissa hated bongs, so when she was around, he'd roll joints, just for her.
"Cigerette." he said, Marissa pulled one out from her deck and passed it to him. He was surprised, he didn't know she carried a deck with her, he only thought she smoked when she was around him. It bothered him a little, he didn't want her getting hooked or anything. He mixed the tobacco and weed together and rolled the joint, using a rolled up bit of cardboard for a filter. He sparked it up. The rough smoke burned his throat slightly, the strong taste of weed lingered on his lips. Marissa didn't smoke like him, She took long drags, and she'd hold in the smoke for ages until exhaling. He thought it was strange. Didn't it burn her like it burnt him?
His body relaxed and his mouth started to dry out a little. Marissa passed him the glass of water without him asking. she knew his habits like he knew hers. He didn't care what anyone said, something about them worked. Somehow through this organised chaos, she was his beautiful mess, and he was going to be there to watch over her.
"So how long were you with Lil' Bitch for?" he asked, smirking.
"We were on and off for a while, and his name's Ryan." Marissa said, still staring at the tv.
"So it wasn't that serious?" Volchok wanted to know.
"I wasn't with him very long, but what we had, meant something." she said. Volchok understood. He understood completely.