Flynn - a kissing booth fan fiction

Problems

"Elle," I say quietly. "Look, it's okay. He'll get over it." I reach out to touch her arm and she turns on me angrily.

"What! Why did you come downstairs? I told you to stay inside!" She says through gritted teeth, pushing hard against me. "Like you wanted to make things worse!"

I can't stand the look of hurt and anger on her face and I look away for a second. Elle takes a step back and glares at me.

"What is wrong with you?"

Her question kills me. It wasn't even half an hour ago that she made me think she believed in me, even after I told her I was broken, and now she's blaming me for everything. I'm angry, both at the situation and the way she's reacting. I'm not the one who left her.

"You can not pin all this on me."

Elle shakes her head, all the faith I saw in her eyes earlier now long gone.  Her voice is cold. "Just leave me alone."

"No problem," I reply, turning on my heel and walking over to my bike. If Elle doesn't want me around, I won't be. I can't bear to look at her as I ride away. I'm angry that she's pushing me away and I can't stand to see the way she's looking at me anymore.

I ride around pretty aimlessly for an hour or so before finding myself pulling into the parking lot for the Hollywood sign. Before long, I'm sitting in my usual spot, but it doesn't bring a great deal of comfort today. Thoughts of Elle swirl around in my head. A hundred different versions of her face, most of them smiling or laughing, flicker behind my eyes.

And then the image of her face today replaces them all. The last time I saw her, when she looked at me like I was worthless and told me to leave her alone.

Fuck. Why did that hurt so much? How did that one expression seem to erase all the others?

I pull at stems of grass near the path, tearing them into small pieces before throwing them aside, only to start the process all over again.

I replay this afternoon's events over and over again, trying to work out where it all went so wrong, what I could have done differently.

Heading home as the sun begins to set, I have no more clarity than I did when I sat down, just an overwhelming feeling of failure sitting heavily in my stomach.

Dinner is pretty strained from the beginning, Lee and I both mostly silent, him glaring at me and me avoiding his gaze by staring at my plate.

I'm about halfway through my meal when Mom sets down her knife and fork.

"Okay, enough. What's going on with you two?"

"Nothing," I mumble, not meeting her eyes either.

"Are you serious?!" Lee's voice is loud and strained, causing all three of us to look at him. "How can you say that? How can you just sit there after everything you've done?"

"Everything I've done?" my knife and fork clatter onto my plate. "Lee, you're the one who punched me, remember? You're the one who treated your best friend like trash and left her crying in the driveway when she begged you not to go."

"Woah!" Dad breaks in, leaning towards us from where he's sitting at the head of the table. "Lee, you hit Noah? What the hell happened?"