Mess To Be Made

58

"Not in the mood."

            I was surprised that my voice came out steady, lightly coated by only a wisp of the smoke from the fire in my lungs at the sight of him. I somehow managed to pull my eyes away from him.

            Because he looked... perfect.

            That fucking asshole showed up looking perfect.

            His messy brown hair was purposefully tousled. His suit fit him like a glove-black slacks with a matching sports coat on top of a crisp white dress shirt, the buttons hidden by a slim tie.

            Royal blue.

            It took all my power not to look at him as I felt him near me. "That's a shame. You're my favorite person to dance with."

            My jaw clenched at the sound of his voice, the choice of his words. The shock of his sudden presence was already wearing off and red, hot rage escalated the fire in my lungs from a crackling ember to a roiling inferno.

            He was waiting for me to say something, but when it became clear I wasn't going to talk, he let out a heavy breath. The chair that Spencer had just been sitting in was now occupied by Tyler.

            "I-" he stopped himself, letting out another deflated sigh. "You look beautiful, Allie."

            Allie.

            I scoffed, trying desperately to ignore the sincerity in his voice that shot a painful stab straight into my chest, making my breath a little harder to catch.

            I shook my head, physically forcing myself to remember that he didn't get to say things like that. Not after this week.

            Not anymore.

            "What are you doing here, Tyler." My words were cold and broken. It should've been a question, but it wasn't.

            "I asked you to Prom, didn't I?"

            My eyes flicked to his, and I can't imagine they were welcoming by the hissing sound of my own voice when I replied, "You're a little late, don't you think."

            His hazel eyes narrowed, challenging my glare without hesitation. He wasn't backing down. "I can explain."

            "Don't trouble yourself." I stood, aiming to walk away. I barely made it a second step before his hand was gripping my forearm, pulling me into him so our bodies were flush against each other. His free hand slipped around my waist and I despised how my body betrayed me, easily melting into his embrace. It took all my effort not to snuggle closer, press my cheek against his chest, nuzzle my nose into the crook of his neck. Inhale his soapy scent.

            "Let me go," I managed to utter, my throat constricting in on itself. I couldn't imagine he didn't notice how I still seemed to lean into him slightly, contradicting my own words.

            His head dipped down, just low enough to whisper in my ear, "Do you really mean that?"

            "Yes."

            "You're lying."

            "You're a liar."

            "Allie, please-"

            "Stop." If the music still blasting from the DJ wasn't so loud, I think my voice would've echoed off the walls around us. The tingling sensation running through me felt like tiny needles prickling every millimeter of my skin. I was floating in some weird ether between anger and hurt. And staring at Tyler in front of me, when only an hour ago I still wasn't sure if I'd ever see him again, and devasted by thought... it was all too much, and all at once. Water began to well in my eyes. How my body still had tears left to cry beat me.