Sydney
If I were being honest with myself, I knew I wouldn’t have made it across the road before the car made a flat bread out of me.
And honestly?
Maybe I needed it.
Maybe a week or more in the hospital would help erase the party from my brain.
“Don’t let their words get to you, Syd.
They’re all asslicking idiots.” Meave had said, holding my hand as we waited for her driver on the lawn.
But their words got to me.
They always did.
And the minute I got back to my room, I yanked off the alcohol soaked sweater and shoved it somewhere I didn’t want to remember.
I took a shower, then I curled into bed and tried to force myself to sleep.
But I only ended up crying even more.
I woke up the next morning feeling like an elephant was sitting on my eyes, and I wouldn’t have forced them open if the party hadn’t flashed in my mind.
“The outfit was thirsty after all.” His voice echoed in my head.
I wanted to scream.
Their laughter had stuck with me as I sat in the backseat of Maeve’s car, tear stained eyes, and all sticky from the wine on my skin.
And the way they all stared, and Tyler’s smirk?
“God, I hate him!”
But I hated my body even more!
Always making me look like a whore and a joke at the same damn time!
The bed groaned as I sat up, staring at the wall.
The party incident was going to make a reputation for me, and I could feel it.
But thankfully, the universe had decided to not be so cruel, and ministered to the school to let the day after Halloween be school free.
My head still throbbed from the crying, but my phone buzzed beside me.
Maeve.
“Tell me you’re having a hangover, because I am.” Her text read.
That was supposed to make me laugh.
But if anyone deserved hangover, it was my body from all that wine it survived.
“How are you feeling?”
I typed back.
“I’m fine.
Feeling like shit a little, but I’ve been through worse.”
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
Sad face emoji and then three dots again.
“I know what will cheer you up.
I have a list of items.”
Of course she did.
Sweet, enthusiastic, little Maeve.
Always trying to fix things with plans and glitter and movement.
As if more events could undo what happened.
“Hit me.” I replied.
Then she sent a long ass list including something about manicure and make over and then two tickets to see some movie later that evening.
I wanted to scream from fatigue, but I just smiled weakly and typed.
“Yay,” before tossing my phone across the bed like I wished it was Tyler Sinclair.
My mouth suddenly felt dry, and I realized I hadn’t ingested anything since the previous afternoon.
So with a groan, I dragged myself out of bed, pulling on one of my oversized home sweaters.
The ones I wore away from eyes like the ones at school.
It was loose, stopped just above my knee, and allowed me move freely around the house.
I knew my hair was a mess, and I looked like I’d lost a fight with a gorilla.
But I only allowed myself one mirror check a day, so I’d save that for when I had to see Maeve.
Slowly I shuffled into the hallway, passing Brooklyn’s room.
Her door was slightly open.
I’m sure she had a blast last night.
She’d come home later that night, and while I hugged my knees under my duvet, she trudged silently to her room.
I took a step down the stairs, and voices flooded in from below.
“I’m sure he’s lying in bed sick right now.” The voice laughed.
That was definitely Micheal.
“I think he hooked up with Tracy, though.”
”He wouldn’t dare.” Brooklyn argued.
I just let out a breath and continued down the stairs, resolving to just get myself a glass of water or milk and then crawl back up to my room.
“You think it’s going to be the first time, Brook?”
I paused.
“Right?” Micheal laughed, and another voice joined.
No.
Still, my stupid legs carried me the rest of the way down.
Our eyes met.
Tyler.
And just like that, every muscle in my body forgot how to function.
He was leaning against the kitchen counter like he owned the place, a mug and plate of toast in front of him.
Brooklyn sat on one of the stools, and Micheal sprawled lazily beside her, ice pack peeking from under his short sleeve.
Tyler didn’t look surprised or guilty, or even anything.
He just stared at me like I was some mildly interesting thing on TV.
And then I realized.
My gaze dropped.
I tugged at the sweater, even though I knew it couldn’t go any lower.
But my mission was simple—get water and disappear back up the stairs.
So I did the best I could to avoid their eyes and made for the kitchen cabinet.
“Morning, Sydney.” Micheal chimed, way too cheerful.
“You look…alive.”
”Barely,” I muttered, trying not to stretch too much as I reached for the glass.
I could feel Tyler’s gaze burn into my skin, and something told me if I wasn’t in the comfort of my room soon, I might regret coming down completely.
“We’re heading out later for some redemption.
Food, maybe a drive.
You should come.”
”No, thanks.” I said immediately, turning towards the faucet.
“Come on.” He pressed.
“It’ll be fun.”
”I’m good, Micheal.”
”Sydney doesn’t need food.
She’s bigger than that.”
I froze.
My grip tightening around the glass.
Brooklyn snorted.
“Besides,” Tyler continued, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Your car isn’t that spacious.”
Before I understand fully, Micheal let out a laugh.
“Bro.”
My gaze landed on Tyler.
His lips were pulled into a smirk.
But for once, I didn’t feel embarrassed, or scared, or exposed like he always made me feel with his eyes.
All I felt was anger.
Raw anger.
Anger from the alcohol in my hair, anger from having to throw a blanket over my mirror so I didn’t stare at it, anger from every laugh I’d ever received.
Even anger from having ketchup stuck to my butt.
And even though I looked like such a fat monster already, I glared at him.
“You don’t always have to say something, you know that, right?” I said, my voice sounding strange in my ears.
“You need to stop talking down on people just to massage your stupid ego.”
The room went silent from shock, all eyes on me now.
Then Brooklyn shifted.
“It’s just a joke, Sydney.
It’s not that deep.”
I turned to her and watched her flip her hair, then shift her gaze back to her phone.
Tyler didn’t speak or apologize, or even react.
Just stared at me with that unreadable look that I so wanted to rip off his face.
Micheal still looked amused.
Or was it stunned?
I couldn’t tell.
All I knew was I’d opened my mouth and said something to Tyler Sinclair.
Wait, I’d just—
I turned towards the stairs and climbed it hurriedly, still holding the glass of water in my hand.
“God, such a buzzkill.” Brooklyn muttered after me.
But I just rushed into my room and shut the door behind me.
Only then did I realize my whole body was shaking.
And before I could stop it, hot tears spilled down my face.
Because, yeah, Tyler Sinclair thought I couldn’t fit in the backseat of a damn GLE.