Chapter 25

Prom night

Age Eighteen

Tonight is all wrong.

This dress is too tight, my hair keeps sticking to my lip gloss, and Chris isn't here.

Am I a horrible person for being more interested in my best friend, rather than my boyfriend, whom I'm currently dancing with?

Maybe.

"Are you not enjoying yourself?" Luke's question catches me off guard, and I turn to face him.

"Huh?"

He furrows his brows. "You keep scanning the room," he says. "Are you bored or something?"

Or something. "I'm just trying to find Chris," I explain. "He said he'd be here, but I haven't seen him yet."

Luke scoffs, shaking his head. "Maybe he went off and hooked up with someone, and he doesn't want you cockblocking him."

My stomach twists at the thought. Is that what I do? Cockblock him? I've never seen Chris with a date or another girl, if I discount that whole thing with Taylor. But is Luke right? Does Chris want a night away from me?

My brows furrow as I glance over my shoulder at the door again. "He said he'd come," I repeat, hoping it's true. "I invited him."

Luke grabs my arm, forcing me to face him, a scowl etched on his face. "You're here with me," he reminds me.

I narrow my eyes. "I know that. But he's still my best friend."

Luke laughs, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. "Is that all?"

"What?"

We stop dancing and he pulls back, shrugging. "You're acting like you're more interested in hanging out with some random guy than being here with me. I'm your boyfriend, Gabi."

For all of two weeks. Chris has been my best friend for six years.

Luke isn't wrong, though. I am distracted. Being here with Chris would have been so much better.

But… he didn't ask me.

So, I said yes to Luke.

I don't know why I did. I was sad, and lonely and just wanted to feel wanted. And Chris didn't want me.

"I'm going to go find Chris," I tell him firmly.

Luke scoffs. "Of course you are."

"Stop being an asshole."

"Stop acting like a slut."

My eyes widen, and heads turn as Luke's words draw attention. "Excuse me?"

"I've heard rumors about you, you know?" He shakes his head, licking his lips.

"Rumors?" I repeat, my heart banging against my chest at the accusation. "Like what?"

He scoffs. "Like the fact that you jump from one guy's bed to another. Only once. After that…" He trails off, shaking his head. "You become a fucking nun."

I can't find any words. My throat tightens as I swallow, my heart racing.

"Is it him?" Luke demands, narrowing his eyes at me. "You use guys to make him jealous, don't you?"

"You're crazy," I say, rolling my eyes, itching to get out of there.

"Yeah," he laughs sarcastically, giving me a disgusted look. "Crazy for getting mixed up with you when I knew exactly who you were."

My heart pounds as I move closer, poking his chest with my finger. "You don't know a thing about me."

No one does.

The only person who really knows me is...

"I bet Chris does," he sneers, each word hitting a nerve. "I bet he knows all about you." His eyes roam over me, and he shakes his head. "I was waiting for tonight so you'd finally get on your knees for me, but it looks like that's not happening. So I guess we might as well call it quits."

My blood goes cold, and I take a step back. "So you're breaking up with me?" I ask, desperate for this to be over. I should have never said yes to him. I should have just stayed home. Anything would have been better than this.

He shrugs. "I can find another girl to fuck who isn't as much of a mess as you are."

I lift my head, take a deep breath, and turn towards the exit. Pushing open the doors, the cold air hits my skin, sending goosebumps across my arms. I wrap my arms around myself, standing alone in the dark parking lot.

Where do I even go?

Jane's in Redfield, Chris isn't here, Mom's gone, and all that's waiting for me at home is just empty, cold darkness. And my father.

I sit down on the sidewalk, stretching out my legs, feeling the chill on my arms. My hand finds my phone in my pocket, and I pull it out to dial Chris.

My fingers hesitate over the button, Luke's words echoing in my mind.

What if he's with someone else right now?

"Leaving already?" Chris' voice startles me, and I turn to see him joining me on the sidewalk, taking a sip from a flask.

My heart quickens, coming alive as soon as I see him. He glances at me, offering his flask with a smirk. His eyes are weighed down, and his crooked smile lets me know he's drunk.

Without thinking, I accept the flask from him and take a sip, feeling the alcohol burn down my throat.

"Where's your boyfriend?" he asks.

"Where were you?" I ask him, handing back his flask.

His fingers brush against mine briefly as he takes it, and drinks. "Around," he replies with a shrug.

"Around," I echo, thoughts of him with other girls swirling in my mind. My heart aches at the idea, but I push forward. "With who?"

Chris shakes his head, his dark, curly hair falling across his face. I have the urge to brush it back, to run my fingers through it and stare into his chocolate-brown eyes.

"I just needed some fresh air," he deflects, completely avoiding my question.

Was he alone?

"Me too," I reply with a sigh, my shoulders slumping. "It was getting stuffy in there."

"Yeah," Chris mutters, his jaw tense. "It definitely was." He takes another sip from his flask and looks at me intently. "Where's your boyfriend?" he asks again. "Does he know you're out here alone?"

I exhale heavily. "I don't think he'd care."

Chris furrows his brows. "Why not?"

I lick my lips nervously. "Because he broke up with me."

"Oh."

I nod, glancing at the flask in his hand. He passes it to me without a word.

"Turns out he just asked me to prom to sleep with me," I say bitterly before taking a large gulp.

"What a piece of shit," Chris says, shaking his head.

I hum, swallowing the alcohol. "Apparently there's a rumor," I continue.

"A rumor?" Chris asks, concerned. "About you?"

I face him with an amused laugh. "And you."

His frown deepens, blinking a few times, and I continue with a laugh. "Apparently I'm a slut who uses guys to make you jealous." I bite my tongue, meeting his gaze. It's not the whole truth, seeing as I only discovered my feelings for Chris recently, but Luke wasn't entirely wrong. I didn't say yes to Luke's prom invitation because I liked him. But it was more about my frustration that Chris couldn't see how I felt about him.

Chris swallows, his expression flashing with anger. "He called you a slut?"

I shrug, taking another sip from the flask. "Not just him, apparently." The burn of the alcohol sends a shiver through me. "I don't know, maybe they're right, I—"

"Don't," Chris interrupts firmly. I turn to him as he grasps my wrist, his face twisted. "Don't call yourself that. Don't agree with those assholes. They don't know you."

I swallow hard, feeling a lump in my throat. "But you do."

"I do," he agrees with a nod. "I know everything about you." Memories of him comforting me the week after my mom's funeral come rushing into my mind. I think that's when I started falling for him. When I realized no one makes me feel like he does. "And you're twenty times the person of anyone in there," he adds, his thumb caressing my wrist.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

My heart knocks so loudly I think he'll hear it. I feel my pulse race with each second that passes with his eyes on mine.

His fingers trace the scars marring my wrist, each touch sending a shiver through me. My breath catches when I realize he's spelling out a word.

Truth.

Or.

Dare.

A smirk plays on his lips when he's done, and looks at me, waiting for a response.

My lips lift as a smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. "Dare."

He takes my hand in his, and lifts off the sidewalk. "Come with me."

Ten minutes later, we're standing at the boardwalk, looking out at the ocean and the carnival we love to come to sometimes. My eyes are immediately drawn to the cotton candy, and popcorn stand. I haven't eaten all day, and now with my belly full of whiskey, I'm hungrier than ever.

Chris lets out a soft laugh, pulling out his wallet. My heart jumps. I didn't even say anything. I didn't have to tell him, or ask him. He just knows.

"The blue one, right?" Chris asks, his eyes locked on mine.

I nod, a smile spreading across my lips. This terrible night had turned around the moment he sat next to me on that sidewalk. "How did you know?"

Chris shrugs casually. "I have a special place in my mind reserved for all things Gabi."

"Yeah?" I grin. "What's up there?"

A laugh escapes him. "So much."

"Like?"

He hands over the cash to pay for the cotton candy before passing me the stick. "Everything."

"Come on," I say, taking a bite of the cotton candy, letting it melt on my tongue. "Give me an example."

His jaw tenses briefly, but he sighs. "Your favorite foods, favorite drink, favorite movie—anything with Channing Tatum," he says, making me laugh as he stuffs his hands in his pockets. "The way your eyes hood when you're drunk or tired or hungry." I swallow the cotton candy, staring at him intently. Chris swallows too, shrugging slightly. "The color of your eyes, the smell of your hair, the shape of your lips." Our eyes lock, and I inhale sharply. "Your favorite songs, and which ones to play when you're sad. How you like your back tickled…" My eyes start to well up, and his gaze remains steady as he shakes his head. "There's so much, Gabi. So much in here."

Wetness coats my eyes as I try to blink it away, letting out a soft laugh. "You must have a big brain."

He chuckles warmly. "Huge. All filled with information about you."

I blink back tears, laughing along with him. "You're an expert on Gabi?"

His smile soothes my nerves, and he pulls me closer, lifting my chin to meet his gaze. "A+ student, without a doubt."

My smile widens, and I allow myself to glance at his lips, just for a moment. Or two. Or three. I don't know how long I stare, wanting to lean in and press my lips to his.

"Come on," Chris interrupts, his brows furrowed. "We should get home."

"No," I reply, a frown tugging at my lips. "I don't want to. Not yet." This night has been everything I've ever wanted, and more. I'm not ready for it to end.

Chris sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Where do you want to go?"

Anywhere with you . I scan the carnival until my gaze lands on the empty Ferris wheel. "There," I say, pointing at it.

He gives me a searching look. "Are you sure? It's pretty high."

I roll my eyes. "I'm not scared of heights," I assure him. "And besides, what's the worst that could happen?"

"You could die?" he suggests with a raised eyebrow.

I wave him off dismissively. "That doesn't scare me." I see his jaw tighten, his expression hardening as he looks at me, and I swallow my words. He remembers how little it scares me, and I don't want him to look at me the way he did that day.

Like I was weak.

A mess.

Broken.

"Let's go," I insist, tugging at Chris's suit jacket until we're both seated inside the Ferris wheel cabin.

The doors close, and I hold out my hand expectantly. Chris doesn't hesitate, he smirks and pulls out his flask, passing it to me. Unscrewing the lid, I tilt it back and open my mouth, but my eyes widen in surprise when only a few drops trickle out. "What the—" I turn the flask over, shaking it. "There's no more," I complain with a pout.

Chris chuckles. "You drank the whole thing."

I shake my head, wincing as the world starts to blur slightly. "It was your flask," I argue, holding it out toward him.

He laughs, taking it from me. "I had like two sips before you took it away and finished it."

"That's not true," I say, poking his cheek lightly. "You were drunk when you found me."

Chris laughs, but it fades into a sigh. "I needed to be."

Frowning, I watch as the Ferris wheel starts to move again. "Why?"

He shrugs, his gaze distant. "Hurts less."

"What does?"

He sighs again, meeting my eyes. "Everything."

As the Ferris wheel starts to move again, I sway into Chris, feeling the alcohol swirling in my stomach. "Whose idea was it to come on this?" I groan, leaning against his chest.

Chris chuckles, opening up his arm to wrap around my shoulder. "Yours," he reminds me.

"Oh, right." I glance out at the view of the carnival below, a small smile playing on my lips. "It's really nice up here, though."

"Yeah," Chris agrees, his arm tightening around me. I look up at him, our faces just inches apart.

His Adam's apple bobs as he locks eyes with me. "You look really beautiful tonight, Gabi," he murmurs.

It's only us in this little pod, and my heart flutters, a smile curling on my lips in response. "Really?"

He shakes his head slightly, his lips pressed together. "So fucking beautiful."

The compliment sends a warm rush through me. "First time you've said that," I point out.

His brow furrows. "That's definitely not true."

I hold his eyes. "You've never told me I'm beautiful," I counter. I would have remembered if he had.

His frown deepens, and he continues to caress my cheek with his thumb. "I think it though," he admits quietly. "All the time."

My heart races even faster. "You do?"

He nods, a hint of sadness crossing his features. His hand drops from my cheek, running through his hair instead. "Shouldn't have said that," he murmurs to himself.

"Why not? I liked it."

He glances at me, his eyes softening as it drifts down to my lips. They part involuntarily and—

"Ride's over."

I lift my head, realizing our pod is back on the ground as the doors open. Untangling myself from Chris's embrace, I turn towards him. But he's already rising from his seat, and walking out.

"You're going to break a leg," Chris whispers urgently.

"I'm fine," I mutter, though I'm anything but. How does he manage to do this every night? Climbing through my window while I'm completely wasted isn't exactly working out smoothly.

"Put your foot… Christ . Just let me help you."

"I've got it," I insist, but Chris grips the pipe outside my window with one hand and hoists me onto the window ledge with the other.

"Are you okay? Jeez, that bear's huge."

"I know," I grumble, struggling to push the oversized white teddy bear that Chris won for me at the carnival inside my window. "Why the hell did I pick this thing?"

"Because with you, it's go big or go home," he replies with a chuckle. "Just get inside."

"I'm trying," I whisper-hiss. "This damn bear won't… Got it," I announce as I finally manage to shove the bear inside.

Swinging my legs over the ledge, I shuffle closer and attempt to smoothly land on my feet. But I end up falling flat on my face.

"Jesus, Gabi," I hear Chris sigh when he swings his legs over my window ledge. "You're wasted."

"I'm not," I protest weakly, but the way my legs refuse to cooperate tells me he's right.

His chuckle warms me from the inside out as he pulls me up from the floor, smoothing my hair back. "You definitely are," he says, his smile so beautiful that I wonder how I ever looked at him before without feeling this flutter inside me.

"I'm not," I repeat. "I'm just… so… tired," I mumble, my eyelids fluttering closed.

He chuckles again, and I feel his lips press against my forehead before he lifts me up into his arms and places me down on the bed.

I crack open one eye, seeing Chris gazing down at me with that soft smile on his lips. "Do you mind if I stay over tonight?" he asks quietly.

I shake my head, settling myself on the edge of the bed. "I love having you here," I admit.

Chris nods, loosening his tie. I take a moment to appreciate how good he looks tonight. The only other time I saw him in a suit was at my mom's funeral, but my mind wasn't really present then.

Tonight, though, I'm soaking in every detail.

I want to ask him for the pictures we took in the photo booth, so I can relive those moments, but I don't want to stop looking at him. I couldn't stop staring at him in the photo booth either. We were squeezed together, me sitting on his lap, both of us drunk out of our minds. I held his face in my hands and just stared into his brown eyes. I wanted so badly to lean in and kiss him. But then the flash went off, snapping us back to reality, and the moment was over.

He chuckles, glancing at the corner of my room at the pile of clothes I have thrown. "You still have my old baseball cap?" he asks.

"Of course," I say with a shrug. "I told you I was keeping it."

He scoffs. "I'm going to want it back at some point," he says, arching a brow as he pulls off his suit jacket.

"Never, Hudson," I say, seeing him smirk as he bends down to untie his shoes. I really love having him here. I love how comfortable he is in my room. How whenever he's here, it feels like home. I tilt my head at him. "Why do we never hang out at your place?"

He snaps his head towards me, frowning. "Why do you ask?"

I shrug. "Just curious."

His brows knit together as he blinks. "I prefer it here," he admits.

"Really?" I say skeptically. "Even with my dad around?"

His jaw clenches slightly. "He's a piece of shit. But you're here."

You're here.

He says that as if he'd follow me anywhere. As if he'd dive headfirst into a fiery lava pit if I was at the bottom.

"I've never seen your room," I point out, a little curious. I've always wondered about it. What color are the walls? Does he have any art hanging up? Where does he keep his video games?

"It's nothing special," he replies with a shrug, crossing the room to play a record. The vinyl scratches as the song starts, filling the room with music.

I lean back on my hands, watching him. Why is he so secretive about his house? The only time I've been over there was to ask him to come play when I was twelve. His dad answered the door, clearly annoyed, but a few minutes later, Chris came outside, with his hood pulled up, and told me to call him next time, and he'd meet me at my house.

"Have you brought other girls over?"

He glances at me. "No."

"Never?"

"Never."

A sense of relief washes over me at his response. But my mind is still swirling with questions, and before I can stop myself, I blurt out, "Would you ever bring me?"

His jaw tightens as he walks toward me. "No," he answers firmly. "That's the last place I'd take you."

"Why?"

He doesn't answer, instead he pulls back the comforter and sheets on my bed. "You're tired. Get in."

My neck twists as I look up at him. His expression is tense, and I lick my lips nervously. "Aren't you going to help me out of this dress?"

The muscle in his jaw tightens again, and he shakes his head. "You're fucking wasted," he murmurs. "I shouldn't have let you drink that much."

"It helps me think less," I tell him with a frown. "I don't feel that hollow feeling in my chest as much when I'm drunk."

He frowns. "Your mom?"

Among other things . But I nod, my nose tingling with the signs of tears building in my eyes. "It's so hard," I say, my voice cracking. "Waking up and not seeing her."

"Fuck." Chris sinks onto the bed beside me, and pulls me into him, wrapping his arms around me. The moment my head hits his chest, I break down, bawling my eyes out. "I'm so sorry, Gabi."

"It's not your fault," I manage to say, shaking my head.

"I'm still sorry." He tightens his hold on me. "I'm sorry I didn't do anything when I knew what was going on." His voice becomes thick.

"I asked you not to."

"It doesn't fucking matter," he replies, pulling back slightly to hold my face in his hands, locking eyes with me intensely. "You're too damn important for me to have let that shit go on." He shakes his head, and my heart pounds harder and harder. "It killed me seeing how much it hurt you. I can't bear to see you hurt again."

"I won't," I say, keeping my eyes on his. "I promise I won't do it again."

"Once is more than enough," he grits out, tears brimming in his eyes as he clutches my face. "You mean too fucking much to me. If you ever..." He trails off, squeezing his eyes shut, unable to finish the thought. "I don't know what I would ever do if you—"

I don't think.

I don't think I even breathe before I lean in and press my lips to his. His hands loosen on my face when I kiss his lips for the first time.

He's frozen at first, maybe in shock or something, but I don't let go. I keep pressing my lips to his, softly kissing me, my shoulders deflating when he doesn't move.

But just as I'm about to pull away, a low groan escapes Chris's throat when he opens up and kisses me back.

He's kissing me back.

Chris is kissing me.

His hand tightens on my face, tilting my head back slightly. "Gabi," he murmurs between kisses, his voice laced with pain. "Wait. Fuck. What are you doing?"

I shake my head, pausing to breathe as I grasp the back of his head, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. "I don't know," I mumble against his lips.

I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know what will happen when this ends, or tomorrow. All I know is that I want this. Right now, right here. I want him.

He hums, pulling back from the kiss. "Gabi. You're drunk."

I shake my head again, my eyes heavy with desire, wanting to kiss him again. "I'm not," I murmur, leaning in again, but Chris stops me, his grip firm as my eyes lift to meet his.

"You are," he says, his lips pressed into a thin line. His brows furrow, and a flicker of sadness passes over his face as he brushes his thumb across my cheek. "You don't know what you're doing," he murmurs. "You don't want to do this."

What if I do?

I don't say that, though.

Being rejected once is enough for me.

My shoulders sag, and I pull away, turning to wipe my eyes. "You're right," I say, trying hard not to make my voice crack. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."

"It's fine," Chris murmurs, his breath heavy. He tugs on my arm, turning me back to face him until our eyes meet. "You were sad, and drunk, and...fuck." He squeezes his eyes shut, pulling at his hair. "Let's just go to sleep, okay?"

I nod, sniffling as he pulls me down onto the bed. "You'll stay?" I ask, desperately hoping I haven't ruined everything. I need him now more than ever.

"Yeah," he assures me, lying down beside me and pulling me close, my head resting against his neck, my safe place . "I'll stay."

I close my eyes, snuggling closer to him, feeling his fingers begin to trace gentle patterns along my back. My eyelids are heavy with exhaustion, and I must be dreaming when I imagine his fingers spelling out:

I love you.