Sour Sweet Love

Chapter Twenty One

                AVOIDING Declan wasn't the easiest thing to do, but I managed it in the days that followed. It was Wednesday morning and I was in my dorm room, wrapped under a cocoon of blankets. I was dejectedly considering the fact that our art assignment was due in presentation in a few days. 

I lay on bed, staring at the dull white ceiling. I was in no mood to go to class, so I decided to ditch for the day. Christmas being next week, Molly had told me that she was leaving today.

After a few more minutes in bed, I rolled over for some more, indulging in Netflix. The morning uneventfully passed by with my fantasizing over The Arrow—Olicity for days—and then The Flash—West-Allen for days—and then me preparing a gift for Molly. I had bought it during the monotonous days that followed: a photo frame. In it was a photo of Molly and I: my arms around her shoulders with passionate grins on our faces. 

Memories never fade was inscribed on the frame.

I placed the frame atop my nightstand, freezing in the next moment when I heard a giggling sound. My eyes darted towards the door. It was precisely then that I saw the back of Molly's head—her dangling blonde curls—and Liam; he pressed her against the wall in a gesture of intimacy. My jaw dropped open and I stared at the two of them in utter confusion.

Upon seeing me, Liam pushed her away.

"Babe," Molly said. "What's wrong?"

When Liam answered with silence, Molly turned on her heel to where his eyes were: on me. Then she disintegrated. "Avery," she gasped. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

"I don't know," I snapped, glowering at her. The extremity of the situation had yet to sink in. "Shouldn't you?"

"I decided to take the day off. And I just happened to crash into Liam, so—"

Then it hit me.

"You were the one," I stated, recognition seeping in. "You were the girl Liam left me for all those years ago."

Molly gulped, guilty as charged. It was in her silence that I found my answer. Then I wondered how I had missed it. So it was her, I thought, wondering why. How? How was it that the girl who had stolen my first love from me was no other than my best friend?

I glanced at her face that had slackened with remorse, but she was just remorseful for having gotten caught. If she hadn't, she would continue this. Liam would continue this. "And you," I told him, suppressing the tears that seeped into my face. "What was that bit about people deserving second chances, Liam? You're a dickhead."

"Avery, we—" Molly began.

I grabbed the friendship frame from my nightstand and shoved it onto Molly's chest. She caught it with an uneasy gulp. "You know what, Molly," I said in the calmest voice I could conjure. "Memories never fade. And this one never fucking will." With that, I grabbed my sweater and bolted—away from there, from Molly and Liam, and from what I knew of my life then.

I wound up in the school's junkyard with my back pressed against a brick wall. I stared at the sky, shouting, "I'm the unluckiest girl in the world!" The screaming helped. Unfortunately it was not enough. "I don't want to go with home," I blubbered incoherently. "I don't want to go—"

A familiar voice spoke up from the distance, garnering my attention. "You said the same thing last year, Avery," she said—Joey.

"I know," I replied. "I don't want to go. But I don't want to be here either. So where do I go?"

"Anywhere you want, love," she said. "The world is in our fingertips."

"That's a myth," I retorted mindlessly.

"Not quite."

"I'm not in a position to ask Mom for a loan," I told her. When Joey faltered, I added, "I'm sorry. I just saw Molly with Liam—just awful images still stuck in my mind of the two of them together."

She raised an eyebrow, walking closer toward me. "Molly and Liam? Seriously?

I nodded.

"So it was her all along," she speculated, placing the pieces together effortlessly.

"Seems so."

"So now your crush on Declan doesn't seem so bad," she said, the corners of her lips twitching into a smile. "It seems reasonable, love. And maybe that explains this," she concluded, reaching into her pockets for a paper that she eventually dropped onto my palm. 

"What is it?" I asked.

"I'm not entirely sure," she explained sheepishly. "It's just—Declan told me to give it to you. And he was urgent about it so open it."

I did.

"What does it say?" Joey pressed.

I bit my lip in contemplation, staring down at the piece of paper. "That he wants to meet me." Then I glanced at Joey. "Is this a sign?"

She released a fleeting laugh. "Are you looking for a sign?"

I nodded.

In fact I was.