American Sweethearts

62

I want to cry. My legs have already started to shake. Just looking at him makes me feel sick.

"Well, look who it is," he smirks.

"Tyler..." I breathe.

Don't panic. Don't panic. Don't panic.

"I thought you'd have moved out by now."

"What? No. I live here."

"I guess you didn't get the message then."

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Someone must've turned the music down, because all I can hear is the screaming tension between Tyler and I. The crowd of people have all stopped to look at us, but I don't care. I can't take my eyes off Tyler.

"I'm not moving out just because you're mad at me," I say.

"Well, you sure as hell aren't welcome here," he scoffs.

"I'm not leaving, Tyler."

"Then I will."

"No," I shake my head. "No one is moving out."

"You think I want to keep seeing your face every day? Why the fuck do you think I haven't been back here, huh? I gave you enough time to clean up your shit," he spits.

"Don't, Tyler," I give him a pointed look.

"Fuck off, Sarah!"

His words feel like a stab in the heart. I want to run and hide. I want to vomit. I want to crawl in a ball and let my anxiety take over. I want to be anywhere but here.

But I don't remove my eyes from Tyler. I swallow my hurt, and purse my lips. Tyler looks away, taking a swing from the bottle of whiskey on the coffee table.

"Alright, everyone, please leave," Lena calls, ushering the crowd towards the door. A few people begin to head outside, but Tyler stops them.

"Nah, fuck that," he snickers.

"Tyler, come on," Lena insists.

"If you don't want to be here, then fucking leave!"

"You don't want to do this now."

"I'm not doing shit! She is!" he points to me, a glare on his face.

I fight to keep my legs from giving in. Tears threaten to spill out of my eyes, but I'm not ready to give up. This is my chance. He's here now, and if I want to fix things between us, I need to act now.

"Tyler," I begin. "I just want to talk to you."

"You're talking now, aren't you?"

"No, we're yelling," I correct. "I want to talk about this properly."

"Yeah? Maybe you should've done that before you fucked my life up!"

Wait... what?

"What do you mean?" I ask. "I made one stupid mistake!"

"And now I'm on probation for another two years!"

"What?" I scowl. "I don't understand."

"I went to jail because of your bullshit, and now I've got to pay for a fucking parole violation!"

Oh, hell no. He cannot blame that on me.

"That isn't my fault!"

"Fuck yeah, it is!"

"No! You're the one who got drunk! You're the one who fought Christian! You're the one who-"

"Don't fucking say his name!" Tyler jumps out of his seat, taking a hasty step towards me. His jaw is clenched, his eyes spitting fire.