𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

𝐬𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧

and when I call,
you come home
-Phoebe Bridgers

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

The drive back to campus is quiet.

I can't bring myself to look over at Tenny, not after reading that letter. It's like I'm too scared for him to look at me, now, because what if I see it? What if I can see it, in his eyes, that he still looks at me like I'm something special. Or even worse, what if he doesn't?

What if, to him, I'm only Violet, now.

And whatever he thought he'd seen, it's not there anymore.

So, I stare at the road. The dotted white lines and road markers. I turn up the radio, and the music drowns out the soft sounds of his breaths. And it almost feels okay. Almost.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

January 2016,

Me and Tenny got into a fight.

He overheard in the halls that I'd spent New Years Eve with Gavin Peters. I had followed Gavin into an upstairs bedroom, and we didn't come out until morning. Tenny said that wasn't the problem—he was only upset he'd heard it from someone else first, but I knew that was a lie.

Me and Tenny, nothing had happened between us. He slept in my twin-sized bed and I traced circles onto his back until he fell asleep. But that was innocent—two friends having a sleepover. Nothing happened. Nothing could happen. But that didn't change the fact that something was happening. Tenny looked at me differently; it was all over his face.

And he was hurt. Because of Gavin fucking Peters.

We were sitting at a park bench, watching two girls with braided hair run around the playground. I wondered if he remembered getting his eyebrow busted open underneath that willow tree. "You deserve better than him," he said. "I don't understand why you lower yourself for that guy."

"What and you're better?"

He shook his head. "No." And then he added, almost in a whisper, "Probably worse."

The trees were bare, and the air was cold. Wind ripped through our clothes, and I hugged my waist. "You aren't any worse than Gavin Peters," I said, finally. But Tenny just watched the girls take turns jumping off the swings. "You'll still come over later, won't you?"      

Tenny chewed on his bottom lip, like he might've really told me no. I grabbed onto his hand, laced my fingers through his until he nodded.

And I actually thought that made everything okay.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Dalton is already waiting for me outside of my room, when I arrive back at Pittman. He grabs my suitcase and gives me a kiss. "I've missed you," he says. "How was your Christmas?"

"Good, and I missed you too."

I head inside, surprisingly eager to hear about Frankie's week, but she's nowhere in sight. The room looks relatively untouched, and a bit of panic creeps up my spine. I hadn't heard from her all week, but I assumed it was because she was busy with Andres. I turn to Dalton. "Have you seen Frankie?"

"Nope, but you should call her," he says. "I thought we could all head over to Tipper's and catch up. What do you think?"

"Uh, yeah, sounds good." But I'm already dialing Frankie's number. She answers on the third ring and I immediately relax. "Frankie? Where are you? Are you okay?"