by Elena Monroe
Either way, I had to get myself under control. I kept repeating her name like a mantra. I needed to remember what she meant, how much I hurt her, and how much my sobriety was connected to her now.
The girls and Aspen piled into Caden’s SUV, like even that was exciting. All day the party had been the center of the conversation. We lived in a small town, went to school with the same people, and our taste for something different during the break always had us reeling for more—except for me. I liked routine and mundane - it kept me in check. Wild and unplanned usually meant trouble.
I held my keys more easily, letting my fingers weave through them just to hear them chime against each other. I walked to my car, not bothering to say, “See you!” though where else would I be going?
Caden watched me get into my car, and I let my arms rest on the wheel, looking back at him purposely, until he broke eye contact. He was analyzing me like some kind of K-9 unit. His eyebrows looked worried, and I realized our friend group had been through a wreck caused by intoxication before.
Sympathetically, I shouted, “I’m good, bro. I’ll meet you there.”
It was funny how much one small sentences could ease someone completely. It’s what I should have done for Layla. Given her the one sentence she needed to hear.
The drive wasn’t bad, and thankfully I knew where I was going so I could pass following behind him. The whole way, my thoughts kept getting dragged back to the realization of how painfully sober I was—not really by choice, more of compromise.
If all went well, maybe a bump later could be my goodbye or even maybe a reward—either excited me.
Aspen’s house was one of those places that qualified as an estate. It spanned across the most property I’d seen a house acquire. My parents had money, but Aspen was a new breed.
We weren’t the first to arrive. Caden’s pledges were setting up and preparing, while Aspen showed us around. No one had been here before. I only had once, to visit him play rehab when he thought he was losing it without the supportive walls of that place. His mom was overly pleasant, and his father didn’t seem disappointed, but struck with sadness. While my “dad,” Richard, was permanently an asshole.
I kept checking my phone, like she would suddenly want to talk to me, only to flip it over and see a blank screen, mocking me by showing each minute that went by.
I didn’t blame her; I never did. The rest could stay unclear, but that was a pillar of truth.
I didn’t look up to even see if Caden was in the room before I spoke, “Did she say anything?”
He knew I was speaking to him through everyone else’s confusion. He stood up from aligning his pool stick, “She got her own ride. I only took B back to campus.”
My eyes snapped up to meet his, already feeling uneasy by that statement. I clutched my phone ready to break it. “She’s not even from here… who the hell gave her a ride?”
I expected someone to confess, but the room stayed quiet. I looked at Aspen, who had a crush on her before me, but he shrugged with wide eyes. He wouldn’t lie to me willingly.
Caden came over to me patting my shoulder. “Relax, man. B is bringing her tonight. Just stay cool.”
How was I supposed to “stay cool” when she wouldn’t even take a ride from Caden? He hadn’t mistreated her and was getting some kind of brush off. That left no hope for me. I got up abruptly, trying to run away from the anger and leave it in the room behind me. The anger was already attached, following me. I decided there was no better time to start drinking than now. I couldn’t bump any lines, but I could pour alcohol on my problems just as quickly.
The partygoers started to arrive, and it didn’t take long for the party to seem wild. I blamed the holiday break. Everyone was well rested and looking for trouble after being on their best behavior for their families. Somehow, it wasn’t like classes starting again, unless there were some rage and regret involved.
I sulked around the party, refusing to interact with anyone in particular. I was continuously sweeping faces for Layla. I really wanted to stand by the door and immediately grovel as soon as she walked in, but desperate wasn’t something I wore well. It would go against everything people made me out to be.
Relationships, love, caring, and genuine interest were all things I didn’t do—ever. For any reason. I didn’t even let myself wonder why I just let the world label me a “bad boy” for it.
B was hard to miss when she entered a room. She wanted the attention, and it was apparent, right down to the caked on makeup and revealing outfits. Guess to each their own. That was Caden’s type: distinct and clear what their interaction would be...
Layla was behind her, talking to someone with them—a guy with a hood covering up who he was. I got closer, trying to get to the bottom of his identity, when Caden’s body crashed into mine. My focus was ripped from my mission.
I felt his hand against my chest as he said, “Be cool, bro. Just be cool.”
I hadn’t done anything to merit the calm down talk as I scoffed at him. Confused, I barked, “What the fuck…?” which was all I could manage on short notice.
I watched the guy next to Layla push the hood back, and I realized why I was being safeguarded from getting too close. He was really trying to stop me from acting recklessly once I saw who she brought to the party.
The same guy who raped her: Hunter.
The same guy I drove three hours to punch in the face.
The same guy whose nose cracked below my heavy fist when he showed up in retaliation.
The same guy I thought I saved her from.
The same guy who Layla clearly forgave.
Caden’s hand pushing against my chest was warranted after all.
I refused to walk away until her eyes met mine, and my disappointment was evident. She didn’t turn around when B and Hunter did, in time to see Caden acting like a brick wall. I didn’t approve of myself speaking in this dangerous moment, but her name rolled off my lips with ease.
Caden tried to grab my attention, but she was all I was focused on. Her sun-kissed skin… her bright blonde hair… I just wanted to see her eyes, but instead, she walked away.
Hunter spoke without permission, too: “Just leave her alone, dude.”
My eyes snapped to him, after watching her walk away. “What the fuck did you say? That’s really cheap from the guy who rapes girls to get laid.”
I watched him tense, as everyone around us became invested in the outcome of this. I watched his fists clench, and I was calmer than I expected. I didn’t tense or prepare to fight; I just welcomed him to hit me. Anything to snuff out the nagging feeling of being sober.
Hunter bullied Caden to move, and I smirked, almost on cue. He wanted what I had, Layla’s love, and he hated me for it.
He stayed quiet, but I felt like arguing. “Truth hurts, huh? Jealousy doesn’t look good on anyone.”
Caden’s focus went to Hunter not getting closer than he already was. He growled, “What are we calling you? You used her and then dumped her. It’s okay. Good thing I was… there for her. Shouldn’t you be thanking me?”
I took one swift step, and I was pushing myself against Caden, now begging his fist to collide with me. Caden wasn’t talking to me; he knew I was a lost cause when I got this angry. I felt a hand wrap around my arm, and relief washed over me as I thought of Layla. Once I turned my gaze to the owner of the hand on my arm, disappointment felt like a ton of bricks on my chest, when I saw Palmer instead.
“He’s not worth it, Ollie. It’s not gonna win her back.”
Hunter was calmer now, not ravenously trying to claw at me or get through the brick wall, henceforth named Caden. Something about him being able to be calm instantly pissed me off. Caden backed off holding out his hands, like he would be enough to keep us apart, and a sense went off in me.
One giant step, and I felt my chest against Hunter’s leather jacket. He played into his image more than I did. I spoke menacingly calm, “If you… fucking touched her… I will
destroy you.”
His smug smirk, while he looked down, touching his lips, was enough of an answer. It was all but a yes. I pushed him before I walked away. Palmer didn’t bother speaking; she just followed me. I stopped in the kitchen and contemplated the contents that could get me drunk quickest, before I settled on the entire bottle of Jack Daniels.
I refused to go outside to cool down, like everyone suggested. I wanted my presence to linger, my anger to emanate off of me, and my intensity to ruin their good time. I kept searching for Layla in the crowds, in each room. I finally found her laughing next to B. She looked beautiful, not one hint of pain or anger. I leaned against the wall, just watching her from a distance. I could have been content if every time I blinked my eyes, I didn’t see the memory flash of her guest or his smirk when I mentioned touching her.
She pushed her hair to one side. The heat felt thick in each room, sticky in some. We were over capacity, and the only result of it was the heat.
A slew of dark pink bruises covered her neck. I knew exactly what they were and who caused them. They were hickies, from someone sucking at sensitive skin and resulting in an irritation like that.
I hadn’t given anyone a kissing bruise since high school. It was juvenile… and a waste of time. My efforts were better spent using my tongue.
“We break up, and now she’s a slut?”
Palmer didn’t expect me to talk, but she welcomed the exchange. I had been silent the whole time she followed me. I was the worst party company.
She tried to defend her, “Maybe that’s as far as it went.”
My eyes slanted, as I looked at her unbelieving. “It’s Layla. She fucking gets wet if I look at her too long.”
Palmer tried not to laugh, but the sound was the furthest thing from my mind. I walked over to Layla, standing behind her, looking at the marks I knew Hunter left. I leaned forward, saying directly in her exposed ear, “Fucking Hunter now?”
I expected an abundant amount of anger to overspill from her, but she seemed calm, as she turned to face me. “Why would it matter, Oliver? You couldn’t even survive a holiday break.”
Any reminder of my inability to hold onto people I love, instead of pushing them away, stung—so much so that I didn’t even know how to respond. My whole body tensed, even more than when I saw Hunter’s mark left on her neck.
She pushed by me, walking away just like before—just like I continuously did to her, abandoning her one day at a time, leaving her in complete silence. Everything about this moment triggered a panic I had to drive back down to remain unfazed. I followed her, determined to get out more than some sly remark.
Mid-hallway, she stopped walking away and turned around to face me. “What’s your problem? Are you gonna follow me all night?”
I planned to respond yes, but she left no room when she continued, “I already cried. I already did everything I had to; to let go of whatever kept pulling me to you. I’m over this bad boy bullshit.”
Bad boy bullshit? That was a low blow for someone who just recently developed the sass needed to talk back. My bad boy image wasn’t supporting some ulterior motive. Not this time. Not with her.
Nothing about Layla was a game—not taking her virginity or telling her all my secrets, or falling for her so hard it scared me back into numbing myself instead. She made me feel weak and strong at the same time—avoiding love’s tempting arms and giving in to old habits just to stay clear.
I resorted to what I knew best: cruelty. “Everything you had to…? Huh, Layla? Like fucking Hunter?”
I could visibly see her anger rising to the surface. Her eyes got intense, and her body so stiff I looked for signs of breathing. I watched her move another inch closer to me. “And I’m supposed to believe you spent the entire break alone? No Jade, Elizabeth, or whatever else you could get?”
Whatever else. Not someone.
I walked into her, until it forced her to move back into the wall behind her. I wanted it to be as simple as kissing her or touching her, but nothing that simple was ever worth having. I knew from experience, with the exact people she accused me of having sex with.
I let myself get so close if she inhaled too deeply she’d be brushing against me. “Look, Layla, you’re a big girl. Fuck who you want, but don’t accuse me of doing what you did to cope.”
She scoffed between us, rolling her eyes, “I know you, Oliver. You rarely go without.”
Now I felt the anger rising in me at an alarming pace. My desire to kiss and make up had been snuffed out. “I don’t need to fuck my way through forgetting. I spent my entire break self-loathing, because loving someone doesn’t go away by having meaningless sex, Layla. Didn’t Hunter teach you anything?”
Her hand shoved me like I would move. Her other hand clutched her Solo cup with too much force creating deep indentations around her fingertips. I took her obviously silence as my opportunity to walk away. There weren’t any winners when both of us were hurt, but it was worth having the last word.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket, pressing the conversation from two days ago, and typing. Did you hit the party? In need of rescuing.
I watched the three dots blink, waiting for her reply. I attempted to stay sober, and I succeeded until Layla all but admitted to letting Hunter touch her in a way I claimed to be mine. Her nervous hands, the way she’d whimper, her innocent eyes looking up at me, and the sounds that would pour from her lips—all mine.
Not anymore.
I sulked upstairs after convincing a pledge to move, just by looking at him with intent to hurt. I found an empty room and closed the door behind me; privacy was key these days. Caden’s big brother act was annoying enough without making it easier for him. I laid on my back, trying not to feel everything I was, but without my old habits, I was stuck in a tornado of heartache.
Finally, Jade’s text came through: I’m here… always fashionably late. Just in time for drunk college kids.
I didn’t bother with small talk; we both appreciated it. We both had goals to accomplish.
Upstairs. Second door.
I let my phone slip from my hand, as I let my arms spread out. My message was sent, and that’s all that mattered.
I kept picturing Hunter touching Layla, kissing Layla, on top of Layla. I was thrown into a memory that wasn’t mine. I didn’t even notice Jade arrive or even how much time had passed. I sat up and felt the moisture on my face from rebellious tears. I quickly wiped the residue away before she could see.
I couldn’t remember the last time I let tears overrun my eyes.
“Did someone ask for goodies? Ask, and you shall receive.”
She sat on the bed next to me, “I saw her downstairs with some guy. Guessing she didn’t run back to you?”
I glared at her, hoping she’d understand to shut up, but she kept talking, like the silence was too unbearable. I finally barked out, “You’re ruining my high. Shut up.”
I pinched a small amount in the groove between my thumb and pointer finger before I pushed my hand to my nose. This was how Layla was supposed to make me feel, not this off-white substance. Who was I kidding? I was just a pretty face with an ugly past and one of those was always going to be too much for girls like Layla.
I wanted to hate him, but I couldn’t. Oliver was as complicated as I was warned. And that warning had become first-hand experience.
He walked away, taking his scent that engulfed me with him. The heat coming from his body was no longer hitting me. The absence made me feel cold. He owned being hard and distant, designed to avoid getting hurt. His smoky eyes were not disappointed in me, but deeply hurt, something I’m sure few people accomplished.
I didn’t feel accomplished. I felt guilty for some unknown reason.
I wanted to go after him, but I decided against it. Instead, I found Hunter standing with everyone. Caden’s loyalty crashed against me as soon as I was close enough. He got up from sitting, “So is this the sequel? I only like originals.”
I expected t
his from him. I actually expected worse, but I was sure it was still coming.
Palmer laughed, not following what was happening at all. No one was filling her in. They were too busy looking at me for answers.
Finally, I blurted out, “No one is replacing other people, Caden.”
He smirked, like he had the winning blow ready, “Well, you were gone for two months. No texts, no calls. Now you show up with this bum-ass version of Ollie and no Ollie in sight. What are we supposed to think, Layla?”
Hunter’s fist was clenched, and I knew from my high school experience that pushing him never ended well. It usually ended with him leaving school for months in hopes a detention center loosened his fists. I let the back of my hand bump his fist purposely—a silent gesture that it didn’t need to end in blows.
I flexed my new strength, telling Caden, “What goes on between Oliver and me isn’t your business.”
Caden got as close as he did when he told me all the sins that kept him up at night. The same type of rage motivated him. Leaning down enough for our eyes to become level he said quieter, but not less angry, “Actually it is my business. While you ran away, I got to clean up the mess you left. I got to babysit and watch some tortured version of him walk around, looking like my best friend. He’s a recovering addict, Layla. Are you that stupid or that naive? A lot has changed since you left and hooked up with pretty boy.”
Just like his sins, these words felt just as heavy. I felt my body become dizzy, my heart sank, and the confusion of being mad at him or not became less clear. I swallowed hard, frozen, even though I begged my legs to move, to run.
It took looking at everyone staring back at me with their questioning, judgmental, protective eyes before I could pull away to move. I felt overwhelmed and even more confused than I already did. The music was amplifying my heart rate. I felt the alcohol create space between me and my ability to focus. I needed to escape everything; the cold chill outside wasn’t appealing. I made my way to the stairs.
A young, toned, skin-like-chocolate boy stood at the bottom of the stairs like a guard. He looked incredibly serious about his task, and it was intimidating.
