Bottled Up

The Text

I clambered out of our car and quickly took shelter in my room, shutting the door behind me. I didn't want to be interrogated again, like I had been in the car.

I flopped onto my bed. At least it was a Friday - that was a blessing. I wouldn't have to face anyone all weekend unless I had to.

I whipped out my phone and scrolled through the texts I was ignoring in the car.

Melody: happy birthday Trin!

Carly: ya, hope you had a rockin' sweet sixteen!

Lauren: I heard you punched Nate today - twice!!! Is it true??

Becka: WHAT?! Why would you punch such a pretty face!!

Liz: guys shut up. She's obviously busy if she isn't responding.

Melody: you're right. Happy birthday though, Trin.

I groaned. People already knew about my punches? Of course they did, I told myself. It's not like I was being very discreet. I sent a quick private thank you to Melody and Carly, along with a gracious message to Liz before shutting off my phone. I wasn't in a texting mood.

Melody was my second best friend. She was a senior - pretty much my only senior friend. I hoped she was the only senior I would get to know. I was unfortunately wrong.

How - how on earth could Nate... NATE! be my match? I silently screamed and hit my face into a pillow. The top of my head bumped the wall in my tantrum, giving me a question from my mom. I rubbed my head while I assured her I was fine.

"Alright - dinner will be ready soon! Help me set the table?" she posed it as a question, but I knew otherwise. I looked at the stupid bottle around my neck and yanked the chain off of my neck. I wanted to smash it - but that would probably be premature. Maybe I'd give Nate a chance - I'd only just met him...

The words brown sugar rolled through my mind. I threw the bottle angrily at my bed.

Taking a mere three steps out of my room, I felt the weight of the necklace back around my neck. It was just infuriating.

I put on a calm face and took the silverware, plates, and napkins to the table. Plate, napkin, fork, kife - plate, napkin, fork... I slam the knife a little to hard. The metal clangs against the glass tabletop and I cringe.

"Trinity?" My mom calls. "Everything ok?" she walkes in with a salad bowl in her hand, mixing around the greens with a large spoon. I sigh and place the knife in the right spot before leaning against the wall and looking at my mother.

"I'm fine. It's just-" I clench my fists and stomp one foot on the tile, biting back the pain that shoots through my heel. My mom returns to the kitchen, asking my to follow. She puts down the salad and places a hand on my shoulder.

"Tell me exactly what's got you in such a fluster."

I sigh. "I found my match today."

My mom jumps in surprise, a grin breaking out through her face. "Honey, that's wonderful! You should be excited!"

"No! You don't understand!" I pull away from her hand and spin around in a circle, letting everything that happened throughout the day spill. I catch glimpses of my mom's face - her expression is unreadable.

When I'm finished with my rant, she stands there, her hands clasped in front of her, her mouth sealed.I blink at her. "Mom?"

She sighs and continues mixing the salad. "We'll talk at dinner."

I blink at her again. I just told her my match is an ass, and she just blows it off until dinner. I want to scream some more, pound my fist into the wall until the neighbors phone to see if everything's ok. I want to yell that that's not how it works. But I don't. I take a deep breath and take the salad bowl to the table.

When my dad came home, he gave me a bear hug and we all sit at the table. Around five minutes go by before my mom gives a heavy sigh and looks at me.

"Trinity there's nothing you can do." She said simply. "The bottle is never wrong. It's practically destiny."

"Well what if it was wrong just this once? Nate? Absolutely not. Especially not after today, mom."

My dad looked back and forth at us as we argued. Finally, he put his drink down rather hard on the table and clasped his hands in front of him.

"What the hell are you two talking about?"

My mom nodded at me and tilted her head in dad's direction encouragingly. I sighed dramaticlaly and went into the story for, like, the tenth time today. My dad held no expression the entire time, which was sort of unnerving. When I was finished, I pushed my plate away, no longer hungry. I then excused myself and shut the door to my room. My phone screen was lit up with text messages.

I'm sorry, Trin!

I blinked. What - who's sorry, exactly? And for what? I didn't recognize the number immidialey, but as I looked closer, I noticed it was - Melody? I began to type a message back when my phone buzzed again, this time from a completely new number.

Guess who got your number :))))

I take that back. I knew exactly who it was. Suddenly, Melody's text made sense.

You gave him my number?!? I texted to her. She didn't respond - probably good that she didn't. I might have said something I could regret.

C'mon now, don't ignore me. Nate texted. Melody was the only senior - the only one who had his number. I cursed under my breath and tossed my phone onto my desk. I realized my yearbook was still lying open on the table. Nate's face stared up at me, his smile only slightly more genuine than a smirk.

Look, I'm sorry, ok?

I read the message from where I was perched on my bed. He wasn't sorry - he just wanted me to respond so that he could humiliate me more. I hated him more than anything, at this pont, and I wasn't going to give him what he wanted.

Please, Trinity. I'm sorry.

No, you're not, I wanted to say. You're just stupid and manipulative and -

I was stupid today - God, will you please just respond?

I smiled, just a bit.

Trin: Not used to being ignored by a girl, are you?

Nate: I didn't come here to be ridiculed.

Trin: Hey, you're the one that wanted me here. What do you want?

Nate: I want you to know I'm sorry

Trin: No you're not - you're sitting at home all smug, smirking at your phone. I'm not an idiot, Nate.

Nate: debatable.

I didn't respond again, and the silence made him restless.

Nate: no okay I'm really actually sorry - you should believe me. We're meant to be, after all.

Trin: I gag at the thought.

Nate: oh, please. You love me ~

Trin: I'm just swooning.

Nate: whatever. See you tomorrow, match ;)

I never responded - rather, I clicked off my phone and flopped into my pillow. I could hear my parents voices through the wall - snipets of their conversation made sense. She hates him. He's a jerk. Things like that. And then I heard my dad - but their matches.

Thanks for reminding me, dad. Love you too.

I groaned into my pillow and pushed all the thoughts away, prefering to read than obsess over something I couldn't change.

Or could I?