My Sweet Bully

Releasing me, she twists and grabs both of Ben’s hands, yanking him out to the floor. I watch them for a minute. He twirls her around, grabbing her by the waist, and tugging her into his chest.

Her smile is infectious, and I find myself smiling along with her. They look so happy together. I want that. I want to smile like they are. I want to laugh like they are.

Pulling my phone from my clutch, I check the time, and see I’ve already been standing there for almost half an hour already. Huffing under my breath, I check the table number on my ticket. Moving through the room, I find our table tucked in the back corner and sit down.

For a school dance, I’m actually impressed with the décor. The white linen tablecloth has small flowers embroidered on the fabric, sewn right into the material so that you can’t see it unless you’re up close.

Running the pads of my fingers across the surface, I trace the edges of the petals. A shadow stands in the entrance, causing me to jerk my head up. My heart races as I focus on the figure. Jumping to my feet, I step forward, but stop there.

It’s not him.

Taking a deflated step back, I drop back into my seat. Resting my head on my hand, I can feel the tears as they start to bubble to the surface. I need to blink, but I can’t. I don’t want to cry tonight.

No tears tonight. Not tonight.

Twisting my head in my hand, I find Amy and Ben slow dancing together, disgustingly sucking face as if no one else is in the room. Rolling my eyes, I grab my purse, and launch from seat.

With tears streaming down my face, I run out of the gym. I can hardly breathe, my chest is on fire, and I feel like I want to throw up.

He made me a promise, and he broke it.

Tearing the door open on my car, I throw myself into the front seat, and slam the door shut. I’m sobbing, sobbing so hard I can’t catch my breath. Gripping my steering wheel, I grunt loudly as my fingers bear down to the point my knuckles are white.

Screw him! Screw him!

“Screw him!” I yell it out loud to myself, tears rippling down my cheeks, and falling into my lap.

The satin fabric of my dress is speckled in dark spots, stained in sadness. Amy warned me he was no good, shit. Max warned me himself that he was the bad guy.

But I refused to listen, refused to hear what even he was telling me. I’m a fucking idiot for thinking what I felt, what he felt—what we felt— was different.

I deserve an answer. I deserve an explanation.

Lifting my eyes to the rear-view mirror, I look at myself. Red rings trace the very edges of my lids, the soft skin underneath is puffy and tender. Black eye liner is trickling down my face like streaks of tar, and mascara is smeared like dirt.

He owes me more than this. He owes me answers.

Throwing the car in reverse, I slam down on the gas and back out of the parking spot. The tires squeal as they grip the pavement, kicking up rocks. A few kids in the lot throw their heads up, and stare at me as I fly out onto the road.

I’m not letting him do this to me without giving me a good reason. I deserve to know why. To know why I’m crying on a night that’s supposed to be meant for magical endings, and fairytale kisses.

Not painful tears and broken hearts.

Pulling up to his house, it’s dark inside. The driveway is empty, there are no lights in any of the windows. Tapping my thumb against the wheel, there’s a moment of hesitation, a single beat of my heart where I debate just turning around and leaving.

Maybe he doesn’t deserve me. Maybe I’m better than any explanation he can offer.

I’m better than this, better than being stood up like I don’t matter.

The thought sits idle on my brain, and I want to believe that whatever he might say means nothing to me. But I can’t lie to myself. I want to know. Even if the truth will hurt, even if it isn’t what I want to hear. I just need to know.

Climbing out of my car, I don’t even take the time to shut it off. I’m not thinking about anything except getting an answer. I want him to see me. I want him to see my face, my tears, to see that his actions, and choices hurt others.

Max hurt me.

The engine hums in the background like a buzzing in my ear. My dress scrapes the ground as I storm up his driveway, catching on jagged pavement.

Every step feels like a million pounds are on my back. I’ve never felt so emotionally drained in my life before. I thought taking the stand was hard, but this walk to Max’s front door is worse.