On the Otherside of Town

Chapter One: Aurora's POV Fuck! f**k! f**k! My life is unraveling, right here, in the shitty trailer bathroom, clutching this stupid test. Good fricking job, Aurora. Another epic screw-up, barely had to try. I’m such a goddamn mess, a f*****g disaster magnet. I’ve managed to derail my entire life in one night. Not that I was some f*****g genius bound for greatness, but damn, I had a plan. An actual, concrete plan: save up every crumpled dollar from Sally’s Burger Shack and bolt out of this hellhole. Paris, the Eiffel Tower, trains through Europe, maybe even lions in the Sahara. I was gonna see it all. But here I am, broke, seventeen, and holding a stick that could tell me my life’s over. The whole thing—the world trip, the freedom, that tiny flicker of hope—all hanging on two stupid lines. I never thought I’d be one of the kids who made it out. I was never the smart one, or the pretty one, or even the lucky one. Just me, Aurora Danvers, angsty teenage slut from nowhere, USA, who can’t keep her legs closed, and all for the wrong people. Trailer trash. Poor, with no chance of anything better. The girl from across the tracks with dull brown hair, skin the color of bad decisions, tiny t**s, and zero curves. Only good thing? My green eyes. Everything else? Forgettable. Until Micah James—God’s gift to high school, the guy every girl wants—decided I was worth his time. And damn, when the hottest guy around suddenly shows interest, what are you supposed to do? Say no? Like I was ever gonna do that. I was no virgin, I mean if your dad coming into your room at night to show you how much he loved you counted as an experience, then sure I was no stranger to being under a guy. He was my secret escape, the one bright thing I had, even if it was mostly late-night “study sessions” that were anything but. Until that Thursday night. I let him in—all the way in—like an i***t, totally unprepared. We’d never gone all the way before. Most times, it was just me going down on him or making out until things got intense. But that night… Look, when Micah James tells you he wants you—wants you so badly it’s like he can’t hold back anymore—you don’t stop to think. You just melt, let every defense slip, and before you know it, you’re pulling off your panties, ready to let him have every part of you. (Flashback) Thursday night. Micah’s house was on the other side of town—the kind of place with a security gate and a two-car garage, his dad’s BMW parked out front like a permanent trophy. His room was tucked away in the back, far from his parents, who were probably off at some charity dinner or whatever rich people did on a Thursday night. I walked up to his door, my hands sweaty, my heart thudding. I’d never admit it, but every time I stepped into his world, I felt like an intruder. Some small-town nobody in a place that reeked of money and everything I’d never have. Micah had invited me, and I wasn’t about to say no to him. Micah James—to the hottest guy in school, He was the kind of guy who knew exactly what he looked like, how every girl’s eyes followed him when he walked down the hall, and he thrived on it. So when he’d started talking to me, it felt like some weird dream. We didn’t talk much; talking wasn’t really his thing. I was the girl from across the tracks with a messy past and hand-me-down clothes. What could we possibly have to say to each other, but somehow that had worked for us. Our late-night “study sess” was mostly silence, and then maybe some half-hearted excuse to get me in closer, until it was the two of us alone, like now. His room was just as I’d expected—stacks of sports trophies, posters of bands he probably didn’t even listen to. he went to sit on his bed, phone in hand, glancing up as I slipped through the door after him. I slid down onto the bed next to him. We sat there, close but not touching, the air heavy with that awkward silence that only ever happens when you’re hyper-aware of someone else’s presence. My stomach twisted as I thought about what I’d come here for. I’d been over it in my head a hundred times. “You’re so beautiful, Aurora,” Micah murmured, his voice low and warm. I was now straddling his lap, his hands firm on my hips, pulling me closer. His words sent a strange heat through me, his lips found mine, and soon we were locked in an intense kiss, his tongue slipping past mine, wrestling for dominance.My breath caught, but I didn’t dare pull away, not wanting to break the moment. But, as always, he broke the kiss first, his dark eyes meeting mine. “I want you now,” he whispered, his voice low and thick with desire. His hands tightened on my hips, and something in me stirred—a deep, aching need I hadn’t felt before. No guy has ever made me feel this horny and wanted… at least not any guy that had the right to. His voice was rough and filled with need. His hands gripped my hips tighter, guiding them in slow, teasing movements against him. A deep ache flared inside me, and I couldn’t stop myself from moving, rolling my hips in rhythm with his. It was instinctive, sensual—too much. *What am I doing?* The thought was fleeting, overshadowed by the way his hands felt, how he whispered my name. “I mean it, Aurora… I wanna be inside of you so bad,” he murmured, his lips trailing down my neck, each kiss igniting sparks that warred with a flicker of shame I couldn’t seem to shake. I tried to push the feeling away, focusing on him instead—on his touch, his voice, the way he said my name like it was sacred. His hands on my body so making it so hard to think straight. The guilt, the shame—they were there, simmering beneath the surface, but I shoved them away, once again focusing instead on the way his hands moved over my body. “Do you wanna?” he asked, his breath hot against my lips, his voice husky and insistent. He slipped his hand under my dress, fingers brushing my thigh and against my skin as he slipped my underwear off. My heart raced, a mix of nerves and anticipation as I felt him tug at his jeans with one hand, the last barrier between us. “Wait… shouldn’t we…?” I started, my voice barely above a whisper. “Shouldn’t we what?” he asked, his tone sharp, like the question had annoyed him. His hands froze for a moment, hovering as if waiting for me to kill the mood. “Never mind,” I muttered, shaking my head. I felt stupid and awkward, like a little kid trying to play at being an adult. I turned my head, embarrassed, but he grabbed my face, forcing me to look at him. “Just relax,” he murmured, his lips brushing against mine. Before I could say anything else, I gasped as he pushed himself into me. Pain and pleasure shot through me in equal measure, making my body tense before I slowly adjusted. His hands gripped my hips, guiding me as he rocked us together, his movements unhurried but deliberate. "What was I thinking, sneaking into Micah’s house and following him into his bedroom?" It wasn’t like we hadn’t done things before, but it had always been in secret places, rushed and never like this. I should’ve known what he wanted when he brought me up here. I should’ve known this was where it would lead. I should’ve been ready, but I wasn’t. He grunted, snapping me out of my thoughts as he shifted us, somehow ending up on top of me. His body pressed into mine, his movements growing faster, rougher, until he stilled, groaning low as he came inside me. His weight collapsed on top of me, and I felt the uncomfortable fullness of him still inside me. “Thanks, babe. That was f*****g amazing...babe,” he muttered, his voice lazy and satisfied. He kissed me again, quick and careless, before rolling off and heading to the bathroom. I heard the shower turn on, the sound of water drowning out the heavy silence in the room. “Hey,” he called out from the bathroom, his voice casual, almost distant. “You should probably go. My parents are gonna be home soon. I’ll call you, okay?” I stared at the ceiling, his words sinking in like a stone in water. Without another word, I got up, found my clothes, and slipped out the door, the sting of reality sinking into every part of me. I felt hollow, why did I ever think this would be any different? (End of Flashback) And now? Radio silence. Nothing. And still no damn period. f**k. I’m a week late, staring at this plastic piece of s**t in my hand, hoping, praying, but feeling that familiar, creeping dread. The timer goes off. Time to look. Shit. There it is. Two lines.