He takes a sip from the bottle in his hands, “figured you’d rather be out here like me. It’s tough seeing someone you’re in love with act that way with someone else.”
My eyebrows shoot up, and I start to panic, “I- I’m not in love with him.”
“Yeah, sure.” He gives me a side eye before rolling the bottle between his hands, “I said that too.”
But I’m not in love with Johnny. Sure, I like him, and want to spend most of my time with him and have him look at me like I’m the only girl in the world and— oh shit.
I think Lucas might be right. This stupid crush has slowly become... not a crush.
“How do you deal with it?” I ask him, giving up on the whole charade. Lucas already sees through me, I don’t know how but he does. “Him and Claire, I mean.”
He doesn’t say anything for a while, and as the sun finally sets over the horizon, he grabs a beer from beside him, handing it to me.
I take it from him, smiling softly, and twist the top off. He scratches at his cheek, tinted red from the wind, but doesn’t seem to be affected otherwise.
“He’s probably the nicest guy I’ve ever met,” Lucas finally says. “When we’re off the ice, he’s all smiles and charm, but as soon as we step onto that rink, he’s a realasshole. He plays hard, but he’s so damn nice that you can’t even hate him for it.”
“So you don’t care because he’s… nice?”
He chuckles, “no, I still care, it kills me actually, but the guy’s so damn likeable it makes it hard to hate him for it.” I take a sip of my beer as he speaks, hoping that maybe it’ll help calm these nerves. “I punched him once, hard enough to almost break his nose, but after that initial anger, I realized that he and Claire are nothing more than friends.”
I look back, seeing the two of them still laughing in the living room, and try not to go a little crazy at the sight.
“They get each other in a way I don’t understand, but just like I have Blair,” he tips his head, motioning to the house, “they have each other.”
You know, from all the things I heard about this group, Lucas was always portrayed as this asshole who didn’t care about anything. I’m beginning to see hedoescare about something… he cares about the people closest to him.
“Thanks,” I tell him, placing the bottle on the step. “Should we go in now?”
Lucas shakes his head, “nah, it’s quiet out here, and I think you’re one of the few people in this group that’ll enjoy the peace with me.”
My hands grip the counter of the downstairs bathroom. I stare at myself as short, uneven breaths fog up the mirror.
Someone slipped another letter into my jacket. I don’t know how they keep doing it without me noticing, or how they know when I need them the most.
Tonight has been fun, but even in a room full of people, I somehow still feel alone. Johnny hasn’t left my side all night —which I’m grateful for— but even though he calms my nerves more than I thought possible, I still seem to feel like no one can see me.
This note was different from the others. I felt seen before, felt like they understood me… but now I feel like they’re inside my head.
I just want to know who they are, and why they’re so set on making me feel just a little less alone in the world. They comfort me, but they also make me angry. I don’t deserve to feel understood, seen, heard, loved, cared for… I deserve to feel like I’m rotting inside.
Because realistically, I am.
Johnny is like a band-aid on a bullet hole. He’s a temporary solution to my problems, a temporary solution to the pain and hurt I feel every day because my other half was ripped away from me.
And just like I don’t understand why this mystery person is in my life, I also don’t understand whyJohnnyhas chosen to be in my life.
He’s such an amazing person, someone who deserves more than a girl like me. I’m fooling myself if I think that I’ll ever be enough for Johnny Davis. I’m fooling myself if I think these newfound friends won’t see me for what I really am, even if I want nothing more than to be part of this family.
Slowly, I unfurl my fingers from the counter and re-read the note that’s crumpled in my fist.
I feel alone too… But there’s a place for us all, even where we least expect it.
eight
DAVIS
Vodka burns its way down my throat as I stare at Lucas across the living room. Every part of me is on fire, every part of me wants to walk over to him and punch him in the fucking face.
