The Boiling Point | ✔️

46 | the bittersweet

SUMMER

It took a lot of strength to leave Ashton and Charlie alone together, but I'm not exactly standing on moral high ground right now. I mean, who am I to stop her from talking to him? A total trainwreck, that's who.

I didn't put up a fight, and the mere act of looking at her sent a tsunami of annoyance through me, so despite Ashton's objections, I got out of there. Now, watching them through the window from the hallway, the tsunami slowly settles. Ashton's mouth is in a straight line as he listens to her. He's clearly pissed off. She's clearly grovelling.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I reject the call without looking at the screen, turning on my heel to make my way to the cafeteria. Once I've got some coffee, I stop in my tracks when I spot Nick at a table.

"I thought you went home," I say when I get to him.

He lifts his eyes from the paperwork he's filling out. "Was going to, but my mom wants me to sort out all this financial stuff for Ashton's bill. It's kind of a time-sucker."

I slip into the chair across from him. "Shouldn't your parents be handling that? You know, being adults and all."

"Technically we're adults, too, aren't we?" He picks up his own coffee. "So I'll do the grunt work and they'll come in with the check. I might have to be admitted for carpal tunnel treatment when I'm done, but it is what it is."

I watch him filling out the form, one of many in a pile next to him. He's back to his old self now. Calm. Stressed, but calm. As distraught as I was when I arrived at the hospital, it was nothing compared to Nick's state.

He wasn't shouting or crying, he was still calm but in a terrifyingly surreal sort of way. Like the worry he was feeling just broke the life out of him. On edge, covered in blood, and immediately collapsing into me when we hugged. Lola had to go and fetch her mom to explain what happened because he could barely talk. We sat there together for what felt like hours, waiting to find out if the person who meant so much to both of us had died on the operating table or made it through.

And now here he is, filling out monotonous forms, breaking his back for his best friend. I truly don't think there's anyone more loyal in this world than Nick Abrams.

I nudge his foot under the table to get his attention. "You're a really good friend."

"I know," he sighs through a smile.

"And it's why you didn't tell me about Charlie and Crystal, isn't it? Because you're a good friend."

He pauses before he sets the pen down. "I'm sorry. I wanted him to tell you. I wanted to tell you, but—"

"But all you could do was tell me to be cautious," I finish.

"Yeah," he mumbles. "I would've stopped him at that bonfire if I knew, but one minute he's there, the next he's disappeared with them, the next I'm shoving his head in the lake to get him sober. I never should've told him..." he trails off, clenching his jaw.

"Told him what?"

"To fess up to you or move on. I didn't think he'd move on right then and there, but that's Ashton for you. Fooling himself into being happy because he was miserable." He shakes his head as he fidgets with his coffee cup. "If he had just told you about his dad then it wouldn't have happened."

"No one forced him to go into the woods with them," I bluntly retort, feeling a sting in my heart from imagining it all over again. The three of them laughing, sneaking off from the others. Disappearing into the shadows.