I flopped onto my bed and lay there, staring at the ceiling fan spinning lazy circles above me.
I wanted to rewind the whole summer.
Back to before the videos.
Before the pool parties.
Before I said something so stupid it followed me like a curse.
Back to when Frankie used to text me first.
Back to when Laura laughed with me instead of at me.
My phone buzzed again. Group chat.
Jake:
We need to meet
Jake:
Today
Jake:
Frankie’s not answering
Bubba:
You don’t say?
Bubba:
We’re radioactive
Archie:
Then let’s start acting like cleanup crew. Not another explosion.
Jake:
Are we even salvageable?
Archie:
We’ll find out.
I didn’t reply. Not yet.
I just stared at the screen, thumb hovering.
And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t know what to say. So I just closed the message thread.
I stood under the shower until the water ran cold. Didn’t matter. I stayed there anyway, forehead against the tile, letting the water pound my shoulders like maybe it could wash the last three months off me. Like maybe it could scrub out the stupid grin I’d worn at Bubba’s party or the sound of Laura’s voice screaming down the phone.
It didn’t.
By the time I dragged myself out, my fingers were pruned and my reflection in the fogged-up mirror looked like some guy I didn’t want to know. Hair damp, eyes bloodshot, jaw clenched. No swagger, no jokes. Just me.
