What You're Not | ✔

13. Thirteen Again

A flash of pink caught my eye as Nikki weaved her way through the dancing bodies, holding our drinks above her head to avoid them being spilled.

"All they had was Sprite," she said handing me one of the cups.

I shrugged, not really minding. After taking a sip, I nearly choked on the taste. "This is not soda," I told her.

"Oops," she giggled, switching cups with me.

"So, who is this guy you're risking a whopping for?" I asked, sipping on my drink.

"Kamari, he was that party we went to last year," she explained.

"I'm going to need more than that."

"He was dressed up as Patrick."

I shook my head, still not remembering that Kamari person.

She planted her hand on her hip, looking at me like I was crazy. "How do you forget someone in pink body paint?"

"Oh, that Patrick!" I exclaimed, finally remembering the guy. "He was cute."

"No, he was fine!" she gushed. "So if you see Papa Smurf, please let me know."

"That Papa Smurf?" I nodded towards the blue guy standing with some other boys on the other side of the room. That guy really did love his body paint and being shirtless.

Nikki looked at him like he was a steak and she hadn't eaten in days. When the boy caught her staring, he nodded and flashed her a winning smile. She returned the smile and the second he turned away she asked, "How can you tell if you're pregnant?"

Laughing, I shook my head at her. "Go talk to him."

"Are you sure? I mean, I don't want to leave you—"

"Go," I said, pushing her forward. "And please, don't actually get pregnant."

She gave me a gracious smile, before walking over him. The room seemed to get smaller and warmer as I stood there alone. Nikki was giggling at something Papa Smurf said and I took that as an opportunity to slip outside.

The cool breeze was welcome as I stepped out onto the back porch. The music from inside dulled as the door closed behind me. Thankfully, no one was out there. Or so I thought.

"Hey, the back yard is off-limits," a deep voice said from the corner of the porch.

"Sorry," I said, turning around. "Jerrell?" I don't know why I was so shocked to see him at his own party, but I was. He was taller than last time I'd seen him and he let his hair grow out a bit.

I rush of mixed emotions flooded into me. All the good and bad moments between us were scrambled together, confusing me. Was I happy to see him? Did I want to hug him or run?

The last time I talked to him was four years ago. I was a drunk, crying mess accusing him of cheating. 

"Loren?" He stepped closer, examining me. A wide grin took over his face when he realized it was in fact me. "Wow, I haven't seen you since..." his words trailed off as his smile faded. The last time he saw me was right before the accident. "What have you been up to?" he asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Nothing," I said, for lack of anything better.

He took another step, watching me like he didn't believe I was real. "I tried to see you after I heard what happened," he said. "But your mom always said you were resting and I finally took the hint."

That surprised me. I had no idea he'd tried to contact me. I thought he had abandoned me, blamed me, just like everyone else. Even if the accident hadn't happened, I didn't think he'd want to talk to me, not after how I acted that day.

I took a page from my dad's handbook and decided to drown my feelings instead of dealing with them. I'd decided in my mind that Jerrell was going to break-up with me and wanted to give him a good reason to by getting drunk and starting a fight with a girl I thought he liked more than me.

That night started off bad and only got worse. All because I couldn't keep my feelings in-check. If I hadn't gotten jealous, hadn't gotten drunk, maybe the accident wouldn't have happened.

A sob escaped me before I even realized I was crying. I covered my mouth, trying not to completely fall a part in front of him and failing.

Jerrell's eyes widened in a look of panic as he watched me. Then, as if it was second nature, he stepped forward and wrapped me in a hug.

Instantly, I was transported to four years ago. A warm, fuzzy feeling bubbled inside me as bits and pieces of when Jerrell and I dated came back to me. The days before our fight and I stormed off. I'd almost forgotten how close we were. How much I liked him. He used to be one of best friends.

Sitting in his lap as we talked about nothing. The smell of him. The taste of lips. As all of these memories flooded in, all common sense flooded out. That's when I leaned over and kissed him.