Mess To Be Made

3

A/N: I know this chapter is a little slower / more about character defining and development. I hope you still enjoy!

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I got way more drunk than I intended to. Truthfully it wasn't even that I drank that much. What really messed me up was the bowl Brian convinced me to smoke with him, Chad, and Mikey Feller, Whitewood High's resident drug dealer.

A predictable crowd showed up at Sean's throughout the night—mostly Brian's stoner friends and some other guys Sean knew from the Varsity Basketball team. 

At this point, I was used to being the only girl in the room. Aside from hanging out with Lindsay and Rachel, I sometimes preferred being around guys instead of girls—as long as I wasn't dealing with boys trying to hit on me every five seconds. But that was one of the many reasons I loved being at Sean's house. There was an unspoken rule that I was not to be fucked with here. 

Talk to me as a person, not a piece of meat, and treat me with respect. Otherwise, get the fuck out.

About a year and a half ago, Sean threw this guy named Jacob out after he wouldn't stop bothering me, pressuring me, touching me...no matter how many times I moved away or asked him to stop.

"What's the big deal," I remember him saying as his hand moved from my knee up my thigh, even after I'd pushed it away several times. We were on the same couch I was sitting on now and I remember the distinct smell of whiskey as he moved closer to me. "It's just sex. And you fuck everyone."

"Don't."

I don't even remember saying it or hearing it come out of my mouth. But clearly it was loud enough to catch Brian's attention, who was chatting with a group of guys a few feet away.

It seemed like only seconds passed, but it had to have been longer, as Brian confronted Jacob, prompting Sean to run over asking, "What the fuck was going on?"

It all happened so fast. I was tipsy, so that might've played a part. But I specifically remember Sean's fist colliding with Jacob's nose.

Brian quickly pulled Sean away before he could get another swing in. Now Chad was there too.

"Get him the fuck out of my house," Sean bellowed in a voice I'd never heard before. It held pure rage, but I could hear a hint of desperation, helplessness. 

My heart physically hurt as I pressed my hand against it, trying to focus on my breath. He just punched a guy because I couldn't take care of my goddamn self. He was the most incredible friend, and here I was—hurting him. Literally.

Brian continued to restrain Sean as Chad pushed Jacob up the staircase.

Maybe that was how the unspoken rule came about. Cross the line, get punched in the face.

"Al." I still remember the way Sean looked—his blonde hair ruffled from the altercation with Jacob and his chestnut eyes, holding so much concern as he squatted in front of me, scanning my face intently. "Are you okay?"

I was shaking, but I rolled my shoulders back and sat up straight, planting a careless smile on my lips. "I'm fine, Sean. No need to be dramatic and go around punching people."

A flash of hurt crossed him that made my stomach flip to the point of nausea. God, I didn't deserve him, as a person or a friend. He just punched a guy in the face and I couldn't even muster up a genuine thank you.

"I mean," I started.

Sixteen year old me was struggling, frustrated, overwhelmed. Trying to hold it together. And failing. Miserably.