woman like me - j.f✔️

XXII

Day two of Justin completely ghosting her. And having a party less than an hour away just made it worse. She'd woken up at noon, eaten a small bit of lunch that her mom forced her to eat, and she geared up for the party. She'd showered, spent a while on her hair and makeup, and slid her dress and heels on.

Now she was sat in the living room waiting for Rowan to arrive. She hoped she never did, everything about tonight made Love want to vomit and crawl back to bed, but she put a happy face on for her girlfriend.

"Come on, Love," her mom whined, sitting beside her. She was on a late shift, Margot was at her aunt's, and her mom was forcing her to eat. She knew there would be drinking involved, and her mom knew she was responsible and didn't get absolutely hammered, but it was easy to get drunk when you're running off of no food. "Just have a little bit. You haven't eaten since lunch."

"Mom, I'm really not hungry." Love replied. "I don't even want to go to this party." Her mom slumped back and put the plate on the coffee table, giving up on feeding her daughter.

"Then why are you going?" She asked. Love asked herself the same question, but Rowan always appeared in her head. It made her happy and it saved an argument. If she went, even for an hour, Rowan would disappear with her girls and Love could slip out and go home. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy partying, it was the people. The toxic popular culture made her heave.

"It makes Rowan happy. But I'll probably leave after an hour or two." Love replied softly, hearing the doorbell ring. She'd gotten up, fixing her dress whilst her mom fluffed her curls up once more, and answered the door. Rowan was stood their in her black dress that she'd chosen just the day before, makeup plastered onto her face. Rowan was a beautiful girl naturally, and with makeup, but if wearing makeup made her happy, so be it.

"Hey, Ms Weston." Rowan called out, her mom waving and entering the kitchen as they left. The party was always held in Jordan Wright's home, as he had the biggest house of the whole team. And his parents were never home. All the money they earned was from their availability and how far they could travel.

It had been a few hours, Love held onto her solo cup tightly as she made the rounds through the large property. She felt unwanted eyes on her body, it was rare she'd even wear a dress. And seeing her features so prominent had caused attention that Love was so desperately trying to deter. Rowan was with the squad, and Love didn't want to break in and ruin their fun, so she left the house. She hadn't realised how much she had to drink until the cold air hit her. Her vision was hazed and everything was spinning, so she sat on the porch and took her heels off.

"Need some help?" She heard from behind her. Andrew Fischer. But everyone called him Dre. He was someone she'd see often at her home, and he was always polite and respectful. He tried to reach out to Love after the death of Kenny, but Love refused any interaction from anyone on the team. She overlooked Dre a lot, she knew how sweet he was, but associated him with the rest of his boys. It was easier that way. She didn't have any reason to talk to him, and he had no reason to talk to her. He wasn't part of the name calling and constant perversion, but she treated him that way, which she realised was wrong.

"Hey, Dre." She mumbled. "I'm fine." She wasn't fine. She was a long way from home, with no transport, and her best friend was avoiding her. And she was drunk out of her mind.

"You're not. Let's get you home." He stood in front of her, holding his hands out. She admitted defeat and grabbed them, her heels hooked around her fingers. She still had a hand in his, as they walked to his car. "Don't worry, I haven't had anything to drink. You know I don't drink." He was right. Usually teenagers will have at least one experience in their lives where they had an opportunity to drink, but Dre didn't need alcohol to have fun. And he's never had a drop of alcohol.

"Thank you, Dre." She slurred. They'd gotten back to her home, and he was walking her up to her porch. She had her bag with her; which held her keys, her phone, her wallet, and there was always mints in her bag too. Sometimes alcohol smelt awful in someone's mouth, so Love would politely offer out mints.

"I'll tell Rowan I took you home, goodnight Love." Dre spoke, leaving her safely inside her home. She closed the door, taking a slow walk up to her room, once again passing Kenny's room. She dragged her thumb over the 'K' etched into the handle, a tear falling from her face.

"I miss you, Ken." She cried. She was a sobbing mess in front of her brother's door, looking up at the handle. She was waiting for the door to open and Kenny to step out and give her a weird look, but that moment never came. She made the bold decision to open the door, letting herself in. And everything was how it should be.

It was messy, like someone was living inside of it.
Clothes hanging out of the drawers, a PlayStation controller on his unmade bed, and his shelf of trophies was close to collapsing from the weight of his victories. Seeing everything so normal made her bawl, and she sat on the bed. Growing up alongside Kenny made her childhood so much more fun to think about. She'd remember all the hiding places around the house and in the backyard, and the games they'd play together. They'd be secret agents, army crawling around the house and using imaginary walkie talkies, making static sounds and repeating 'over' after every sentence.

That was how she spent her night, sat in Kenny's room and crying. She'd observed his awards, and the large jersey hung in his room with 'Weston' on the back. They had a similar one in their living room, but it was his most recent jersey. The one in his room was from his sophomore year in baseball. There was no telling how much she missed her brother, and nothing could replace that bond.