Finding 17

three

Sadie – Saturday Morning

Waking up felt like crawling through wet concrete.

My mouth was dry, head pounding like a drumline was living behind my eyes. The duvet was twisted around my legs, my jacket still on, and my boots tossed beside the bed like someone had yanked them off for me.

I blinked at the ceiling.

My room.

Home.

How?

I sat up slowly, stomach churning, the inside of my skull trying to collapse in on itself.

Memories came in short, blurry flashes. Buddies. Music. Garrett's hand on my waist. The burn of vodka. Laughing. Dancing. Gibsie—angry?

My heart thudded too loud. I checked my phone.

13 missed texts. 2 voice messages.

All from Garrett.

I opened the first one.

Babe, I'm sorry about last night. Didn't mean to stress you out. You just got kinda messy, and your brother freaked. That wasn't on me.

Next one.

You were having a good time. We were fine before he got in your head. Don't let him ruin what we have.

Voice message:

"Sadie, c'mon, you were into me all night. Don't act like I did something wrong. You didn't say no, babe. You just—were drunk. It wasn't that deep."

I froze.

Something in me recoiled. The way he said it. The tone. Like it was my fault for... what? Being wasted?

I pulled the covers tighter.

I remembered his hands. On my back, under my jacket. On my thighs. Pushing. Persuading. Like a game of poker I didn't know I was playing. Like saying no would've made me a bitch. Ungrateful. Dramatic.

But I had said no, hadn't I?

I couldn't remember.

That scared me more than anything.

⸻

Downstairs, I could hear the clatter of someone making tea. Probably Mam. Probably pretending she didn't notice I came in barely conscious last night.

Or maybe she really didn't.

I stayed curled in my bed, heart too loud, thumb hovering over Garrett's name.

I didn't know what I wanted. An apology? A redo? For him to make it make sense?

Or maybe I just wanted to forget it all happened.

Just like with Mark.

That tight feeling returned—deep in my chest, the one that said maybe I did deserve it. For drinking too much. For wearing that top. For not walking away.

It couldn't be assault if you loved them.

Right?

Right?

————————-

My head was still pounding.The kind of dull ache that made me think, yeah, last night was worth it. I'd survived my first proper night out with the group, it felt like we were untouchable.

Commons room was chaos that morning, and our table looked like the aftermath of a battle. Half the lads were groaning into their sleeves, the girls were passing around bottles of water like life support, and I was tucked into Garrett's side, surviving purely on the warmth of him and a sausage roll he'd bought me.

"Jesus Christ, my head," Beck muttered, pressing his forehead to the table.

"You've only yourself to blame," Patrick shot back, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. "Who mixes vodka and tequila?"

"It was a Biddies special!" Beck protested weakly.

"It was rank," Shannon added, wrinkling her nose. "The smell alone nearly made me sick."

That set the table off laughing, even Lizzie, who was nursing her coffee like it might save her life.

"Eejit," Cal drawled at his best friend Beck, shaking his head. He slouched in his seat, his arm draped along the backrest, eyes flicking over the table like he was in charge of the whole thing.

Beck had become kind of part of the group, but most of the time stayed by Cal's side. I don't know much about him just that he doesn't really try in school. But he's a solid rugby player on the field.

"Better an eejit than you," Beck piped up, grinning as he shoved Cal with his shoulder. He was sprawled lazily in his chair, hair a mess, like he hadn't even bothered brushing it before coming in.

"Careful now," Cal warned, smirking, "I'll have you crying before first period."

"You always do," Beck shot back, making everyone laugh louder.

Even Johnny chuckled, though he looked like he might actually be sick if he laughed too hard. "Keep it down, for the love of God," he groaned, tipping his head back.

Gibsie let out a dramatic sigh, head in his hands. "I swear, I'm never drinking again."

Apparently, Gibsie had taken me home with Hugh and Claire came over with them and they did some after party shots.

"That's what you said last week," Claire reminded him sweetly, sipping her water with a smirk.

"And I meant it then too!" Gibsie said, which had everyone in stitches.
"I need to stop shouting," Gibsie moaned, slumping forward dramatically with his forehead on the wood. "My ears are bleeding."

"Your ears are grand," Cal said, smirking. "Your liver's what's crying."

"Eejit," someone muttered, and a chorus of chuckles followed.

Even I laughed, though it made my head throb worse. It didn't matter—I was giddy with it, the easy chaos of the group. Gibsie had always been the loud one in our family, the center of every room he walked into. For once, I didn't mind being in the noise, swept up in the circle where everyone seemed too busy ribbing each other to care how I looked or what I said.

Through it all, Garrett stayed quiet beside me, his arm steady around my shoulders. He wasn't really part of the group's back-and-forth, not like Cal or Gibsie who thrived in the noise. But he didn't need to be. He was here, and that was enough for me.

Cal's voice cut through again, sharp with amusement. "And Sadie—how's our little lightweight holding up? Haven't keeled over yet?"

The table chuckled, all eyes flicking to me. My cheeks burned, but Garrett's hand squeezed my shoulder.

"She's grand," he said coolly, his tone flat enough that Cal's smirk widened.

"Course she is," Cal drawled, biting into his breakfast roll. "Princess treatment and all."

I ducked my head, pretending to laugh with the others, even though I felt Garrett's chest tighten against me. Still, it didn't ruin anything. The chatter kept going, louder and louder, and I let myself sink into the noise. For once, I wasn't outside looking in. I was part of it.

"Lightweight," Cal muttered not loud enough for the whole group to hear, his lip curling in amusement.