Fireworks

4| Not The Right Time

When the ignition starts, my head automatically switches to dramatic music. And at this very exact moment, "drivers license" by Olivia Rodrigo starts to play. How fitting. It's almost like the whole universe is mocking me.

Oh, stop it, Ophelia.

I rarely drive, but when I do, I do it as if I'm in some sort of music video or a scene when the main character's crying and wallowing and being overdramatic. I'm not sobbing though...not yet, anyway.

And you're probably with that blonde girl,

Who always made me doubt.

Oh, wow. The universe really is mocking me.

My phone, which is on the passenger seat with the screen facing up, illuminated a part of the car. I stop at a red light and pick my phone up, checking to see what it is. Just a bunch of messages from the group chat of just me, Rowan, Sierra, and Gael.

Sierra: Where are you?

Sierra: Your location's on.

Rowan: Yeah, your brother's wondering why you took his car and left.

Gael: You all right?

And then above the group chat is a contact with a text message sent just now.

Jonah: Can you tell me where you are? I can't find you anywhere.

I start typing back a reply:

O: Needed a breather. I'll be back. :)

Lifting my gaze, I see that the stop light's still red, and I go on Instagram to kill time. I go through the stories that exhibit Jonah's party—the dancing, the food, Xiao's face—and I smile a little to myself. I'll admit, I'm a good coordinator.

I come across Jonah's story, and my heart flutters at his first slide. It was a picture he took with me before the party started. He draped an arm around my neck and pressed our cheeks together. He smiled that golden grin of his, and I was smiling too with my nose scrunched. He captioned the picture, A big thanks to my favorite Bartlett.

Beat that, James.

I tap to move on to the next slide, and I feel my heart stop and drop. The butterflies in my stomach leave, and instead my stomach twists into a knot. I feel the color drain from my face.

In front of me was a picture of Jonah and Caryn. His arm was wrapped around her perfect and proportionate waist, and her hand was pressed possessively on his abdomen—a sign that clearly shows that he's her property. Or so I hope she thought. They were both beaming happily, and I feel so jealous to the point that I could feel it climb up my throat, attempting to escape in either a form of an exasperated scream or bile.

I hate to admit it—no, like, I really hate to admit it—they look good together. Their eyes sparkle, they have perfect smiles, and they have flawless features. I go back to the photo he posted of me and him, and I look nothing close to the epitome of perfection Caryn is.

And it sucks. I hate how I'm not as perfect as her. I hate how I can't look as good next to Jonah as she does. I slowly feel the confidence I had about the idea of Jonah and I in a relationship fade away until it's back into a pipedream. Going back to my chat with Jonah, I delete my text message, and I see the red light turn green. Pressing on the gas pedal, I head to the nearest park.

The sun's nearly done setting by the time I get out of James's car, and it feels weird going to a playground dressed all fancy. Kind of sick though...

I sit on the swing and lean my head against the chain, exhaling deeply. This...this is catching a breath for me. I've been doing this since middle school. I'd walk to the nearest playground, sit on a swing, and breathe. I look up at the sky and watch the sun set and the sky darken. The orange and the pink swirls in the sky slowly diminish into a purple and then a dark blue.