heaven knows what a girl can do
heaven knows what you've got to prove
i think i'm paranoid - garbage (1998)
May 8th, 1998
Driving home last night was nerve wracking. I was hoping Father wouldn't be waiting up for me and by some force of God, my wish was granted.
Pulling up to our pretty, gated and ivy covered home felt different than all those times before; after having seen the type of neighborhood and cramped house Briella and the girls live in, my neighborhood suddenly felt much more polished and I felt much more privileged.
The final knockout from Harry replayed in my mind as I drove home, as I tiptoed through the front door and up the stairs, as I undressed and tucked myself into bed, and as I laid awake for far too long.
Briella only invited you out tonight, because she thought it would be cool to be the one to corrupt Victor Deville's daughter.
I'm aware of the fact that I'm not the greatest at reading people and don't have much experience with a social life, but I didn't realize I could be this oblivious.
I didn't pick up on any signs when we were in the moment, but as I laid in bed, my mind wandered to the way Briella promised to get me back by midnight and then followed up that promise by immediately pushing a drink in my direction at Mango's, and then as soon as I gave in, ditched me for the dance floor.
But then I also remember the way she loosened me up on that dance floor, the way she held me steady around my waist on our walk back to the car, and the way she rooted for me when Harry gave me attitude back at their house.
So yeah, maybe she did invite me out tonight only to use me and boost her own reputation.
But if what I experienced tonight is what it feels like to be used, maybe I want to be.
I know I'd never get to experience a club like Mango's or such uninhibited dance floor happiness if it weren't for her invite. Maybe I'm using her just as much.
And on that thought, I prayed for forgiveness as I fell asleep for the second time that night.
I'm startled awake the next morning to the sound of my bedroom door slamming against my blush pink wall. My eyes fly open to the sight of Father standing in the doorway with an eery, restrained calmness and I can tell that with one wrong move, he'll explode.
"Good morning, Father." I hum sleepily, rubbing my sore eyes to peek at my alarm clock, which reads 8:42 AM and would have gone off with a beep in three minutes time.
Maybe if I act as tired as I feel, he'll go easy on me.
"I heard you come in last night. 3:57 AM." He cuts right to the chase, looking closer and closer to losing his composure. "Coming home four hours after curfew is unacceptable."
Good thing I came in three hours and fifty seven minutes after curfew, then.
I prop myself up on my elbows and muster up my best apologetic, puppy dog eyes. "I'm sorry, Father. I didn't realize the study session was an all-night library lockdown event. It actually didn't end until 4 AM, but I managed to leave a little early. I was hoping you might still be up when I got back so I could explain that to you right away, because you know I hate when you worry, but you weren't and I didn't want to wake you."
The lie rolls off my tongue so effortlessly that I have to physically restrain myself from expressing a look of surprise at my own quick wit.
Is it even worth it to add this lie to my list of things to ask God's forgiveness for? He has probably already turned his back on me after the night I had last night.
Father's forehead smooths out after he lets my explanation sink in and his eyes soften back to what I'm used to. He walks over to my bedside and places a warm hand on the side of my head, softly stroking my hair.
"I understand. You're such a good girl."
My mind flashes to a piece of last night; drinking water and Connor calling me a 'good girl'. I can't remember if it was the way he was looking at me when he said it or the words themselves, but it caused my stomach to do a flip. But here and now, with Father saying those same words, I feel nauseous and unworthy.
He doesn't seem to catch the uneasiness I feel inside, because he continues with a soft smile, still stroking my hair. "You didn't answer my calls. I got you that Nokia for a reason."
"No mobiles allowed in the library." Another lie slips out.
He hums at that, looking just above my head in deep thought as his fingers continue to twist back forth in my blonde locks. "No more late night study sessions. Sound fair?"
I nod immediately. I'll agree to anything to get him to drop this conversation and get off my back.
"Good."
And with that, he drops his hand, turns back around and exits my room without another word, closing the door gently behind him as my 8:45 AM alarm goes off.
As I get ready for school, drive up to Berkeley and take my Psych exam, my mind is still reeling from last night, more and more moments coming to me, and the more I remember, the more I can't believe that was really me.
I rode in a car with the top down across the Bay Bridge. I danced in the middle of a crowd at a gentleman's club. I stood up for myself in front of my friends to a scary boy. I let a handsome boy hold me; Connor held me tight and helped me to the couch; I cringe thinking about how his hands could have so easily grazed the small of my back.
I also cringe thinking about how I really believed myself capable of walking back to my car from Briella's place when I had zero idea of where I was. It's weird that the reason I ended up making it home last night was thanks to Harry.
He could've left me to my own devices. Why should he care if I walked off and got lost trying to foolishly walk to that Park and Ride? I suppose this means he's not a terrible person, but he's still far from being a good one.
I wish I didn't remember one of the things Harry said to me, about how he tried to wake up Connor to drive me to my car, but Connor refused, insinuating that Connor isn't the gentleman I've perceived him to be up to this point.
Although, if someone was shaking me awake at 3 AM asking me to drive someone to their car, I'm not sure if I'd respond too kindly to that either.
After downing some Tylenol for my terrible headache and before leaving the house this morning, I checked in on my AIM account and was giddy to find that I was invited to a group chat titled 'SPICE GIRLS AND ALSO CONNOR'.
Briella4Eva (9:36 AM): Last night was bomb. Any chance you can hang out at our place again tonight, Rapunzel?
Briella4Eva (9:37 AM): Small get together, no rager or anything, promise.
pussyluver19 (9:37 AM): Ooooooooooh! yeah yeah yeah! Jaiden and Ren are coming over tonight! You gotta meet them! - sporty spiceeee
Briella4Eva (9:37 AM): Probably Keegan, too. I think you'd like him, Rapunzelllll ;)
pussyluver19 (9:38 AM): hmmmm idk...Connor and our Berkeley Babe seemed pretty handsy last night if you ask me
BombshellByrd69 (9:44 AM): Nova, you seem like the kind of girl who's into monogamy and if that's a correct assumption, then my advice is to STAY AWAY FROM CONNOR. You're welcome.
sublimepunk420 (9:45 AM): woah woah woah - are you calling me a whore, jenalyn?
PrincessDi97 (9:46 AM): Nobody's calling anybody a whore.
BombshellByrd69 (9:46 AM): Yes.
sublimepunk420 (9:47 AM): also how come I don't get to be a spice girl???
BombshellByrd69 (9:47 AM): Because you're a whore.
PrincessDi97 (9:48 AM): OMG guys stop b4 u scare Nova away. Hope you're alright, sweetie! Did your dad go easy on you??
Briella4Eva (9:51 AM): Oh shit. Forgot about that. Are you still alive, Rapunzel????
I was blushing as I read through the group chat thread, taken aback by how openly they all talked to each other. Also, from the way everyone is messaging on their own accounts, I must have been mistaken in thinking that the computer in their living room was the only computer in the house. Maybe they're better off than I assumed.
SuperNova76 (9:58 AM): Good Morning, everyone! Thank you for inviting me to this group chat. Father was upset, but I managed to get off easy. I probably won't be able to hang out tonight, though. I've gotta play it safe.
Half of me really means what I tell them, but the other half of me is a bit overwhelmed from my night and skeptical of Briella and Connor after what Harry said about them last night. I don't want to jump into this friend group so blindly. The last thing I want is to get attached to people who don't genuinely care for me and my well being.
pussyluver19 (10:00 AM): get off easy, you say? got any tips...? :p
BombshellByrd69 (10:00 AM): Nessa!!!! Stop that right now!!
sublimepunk420 (10:01 AM): and you say i'm the whore
I was about to close out of AIM, my backpack on my shoulders and ready to get going, but another message pinged on my computer right before I exited the application.
It was a direct message outside of the group chat. From Connor.
sublimepunk420 (10:02 AM): did you fuck him?
I gasped when I read it, momentarily confused about who he would even be asking about. But then, of course, there's only one person he could be asking about and that left me even more baffled.
SuperNova76 (10:02 AM): What? Of course not! Why would you ask me that?
sublimepunk420 (10:02 AM): just asking, sweetheart. wanted to know if i needed to beat the shit out of him or not.
But why would he even think that?
I didn't really have the time to ask any questions or have a conversation, because I needed to get to campus to take my exam, but one more message pinged before I left.
sublimepunk420 (10:03 AM): he asked me to tell the girls that I was the one who took you home btw. just in case they say anything to u
Again, I was flabbergasted. Why would Harry feel the need to lie to all the girls about giving me a ride? Is he that determined to convince everyone that he's completely heartless?
Well, I didn't have time to respond to that, but those direct messages from Connor are swirling around in my brain as I walk into The Wall to visit Dylan after class, as promised.
"So, how was it?"
Dylan's voice tears me out of my internal spiral and it's like I'm pulled out of the 15 hour haze I've been stuck in. The Tylenol only did so much this morning and his booming, energetic voice zings straight to my temples. I refrain from massaging them, not wanting him to think that anything is wrong.
"How was what?"
He looks at me for a second, a half-smile on his face. "Your psych exam."
Oh, right! I just took my psych exam.
"Oh, yeah," I slip behind the counter, drop my backpack down on the ground and sit on my stool, "Good, I think."
I hope. I was not planning on taking that exam with a hangover, but hopefully I'll still squeeze by with an A- at the very least.
"Mm...are you forgetting something?" Dylan asks and I perk up, looking him in the eyes for the first time since I walked in, looking for any signs that he might be aware of what I really was up to last night.
But, he couldn't know. Could he?
"Uh...I don't think so."
He smiles, pressing his lips tightly together and shaking his head at me like I'm in trouble or something.
"What? What is it?"
"It's Friday. Our new Monday shipment was delivered this morning."
I gasp. I'm such an idiot! Nothing should have distracted me from today's shipment. I've only been counting down to it for the past three months!
"Did it come?" I hop off the stool and try to look around him and under the counter to see if the shipment box is in its usual spot.
He smiles down at me like he knows something I don't and blocks me every time I try to peek around him for a better look.
"Stop that!" I scold him, a matching smile on my face, but he just grabs my shoulders to make me stay still.
"Yes. It's here." He slowly reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a bright orange cassette tape. "For you."
My jaw drops and I can't help but jump up and down a bit as soon as I wrap my hands around the tape and have it in my very own possession. It's finally here and it's mine!
Garbage is a newer rock band with a woman front and center and they released their debut album back in '95. Dylan introduced them to me right when they first debuted and their album has to be in my top five most played albums of all time.
And now, I'm holding their new music right in my palm.
Version 2.0.
I need to play it immediately. Will music blasting through my Walkman make my headache worse? Probably. Is that a risk I'm willing to take to hear new vocals from Shirley Manson after three long years? Absolutely.
I squeal quietly to myself as I turn around to return to my stool, unable to take my eyes off the pretty new tape. Before I take my seat, I dig my Walkman and 10 bucks out of my backpack, turning to Dylan who's already eyeing my money with a stern look.
"How many years is it gonna take for you to realize that I'm never charging you for music?"
I pout a bit, dropping the money back into my backpack with a little shrug. "It would be impolite not to at least try."
I catch him shaking his head at me and then turning to nod politely at a customer entering the shop, but I'm not paying much attention to my surroundings anymore. My headphones are on and the tape is inserted and I lean back against the wall behind me, willing myself to drown the world out as I listen to the new music.
I get several moments of peace, blocking out the world around me, soaking in the new lyrics, but it only lasts into the second song of the album.
Bend me, break me, breaking down is easy, all I want is you...
"...are you doing back here? It's two in the fucking afternoon." I hear Dylan's voice rise harshly and open my eyes, pulling my chunky headphones to the side so one of my ears is free to listen.
I follow his angry gaze over to the new customer that just strolled in, looking around with two hands in his black jeans.
Harry.
"I'm just here for CD's. Is that not allowed?" Harry asks in a level tone, staring Dylan dead in the eye, challenging him to turn away an innocent customer.
I watch Dylan open his mouth like he's about to say something, send me a quick look over his shoulder and then close his mouth again like whatever he wants to say, he can't with me here.
So, with that he just shoots Harry a glare as Harry walks lazily through the store, up the side aisles that are still visible from the counter, looking back at Dylan every once in a while with bright, amused eyes.
Dylan eventually turns to me after staring Harry down as if that would get him to leave. I pull my headphones off altogether and pause my music.
I never did ask Dylan why he told me to stay away from Connor and Harry that day they stopped in here and I'm just now realizing how guilty I should probably feel for hanging around them last night; for sleeping at Connor's house last night, even if it was only for an hour or so.
Dylan didn't cross my mind for a second when I saw Connor and Harry upon entering the house. I suppose I was drunk and didn't really have the strongest moral compass at the time, but even this morning, it hadn't really crossed my mind.
It's not until now, with Dylan and Harry in the same room again, that I think about the fact that I've been warned away from them.
Oh no, I hope Harry doesn't say anything. I hate to keep things from Dylan, but I don't want to come out and tell him what I did last night until I find out exactly why he doesn't want me to hang around them. If it's just because they're rude people, that's something I think I can handle. But...if I'm missing something big here, I feel like I need to know.
So, before he can say whatever it is he wants to say to me, I beat him to the punch.
"What's your problem with them?" I ask, bluntly, watching Harry over his shoulder as he peruses the Alternative Rock CD section, lips pursed like he's deep in thought.
Dylan looks taken aback for second before choking out his words. "Oh, you mean aside from the fact that he called you a worthless bitch on Monday?"
I flinch a little at the reminder, almost having forgotten that...or rather, almost having successfully blocked that out of my memory. Not nice.
"Yeah, I know, but you guys knew each other's names. How do you know them?"
He scrunches his eyebrows at me, giving me a dubious look. "What does it matter?"
I shrug and look down, toying with my Walkman. "I'm just asking."
"Look, Nova," He steps forward to close the little distance between us, forcing me to look up into his light brown eyes as he speaks in a low, gravelly tone, "whatever curiosity you have about them, needs to end now. I don't care how nice Connor seemed, he's not a nice guy. So, lay off, got it?"
Geez, I only asked how he knew them and suddenly I'm shrinking into myself feeling like the guilty one. I suppose I should be grateful that I have someone so protective over me, but I wish he'd just answer the darn question.
"How do you know them?" I ask again, not wanting to back down, although I stay hunched into myself, unable to keep up the eye contact.
"Nova," Dylan says harshly and after a couple seconds of silence, I look up at him again, knowing he'd wait me out until I did, "drop it."
My eyes widen slightly at his tone. He's talking to me like I'm a dog who's playing with a toy that doesn't belong to them.
I think he's trying to intimidate me, to scare me away from Harry and Connor with his intimidating stare and low tone, but if I'm being honest, my curiosity only peaks higher. My urge to rebel only heightens.
So, now feels as perfect of a time as any to do what I was planning on doing anyways as soon as I saw Harry walk in here.
I stand up and casually make my way to the Alternative Rock CD section. To Harry.
"Nova." Dylan calls my name again in a harsh, low tone, like he's only restraining himself from yelling, because we're in public and there are a couple other customers scattered around the store.
As soon as Dylan calls out my name, Harry looks up and notices me heading his way. His green eyes latch onto mine and I hate that the intensity of them makes me want to look away, to forget how pretty he is while I threaten him.
I hate how relaxed he looks, how borderline amused he looks at my decision to walk up to him. I wish I was the girl that could stomp up to strangers without question. I wish this wasn't out of character for me.
"Please don't say anything." I plead softly, quietly.
His eyebrows knit together at that as if he's genuinely confused and he shoots a quick look over my shoulder at Dylan before looking down at me again.
Oh, shoot. I did it wrong. That's why he's confused. I wasn't supposed to say 'please'.
"I mean," I clear my throat a little and put a slightly more authoritative tone, "don't say anything. I take back the please, because this is an order."
His lips twitch briefly before straightening out again and he clears his throat too, clearly mocking me. "Is that meant to be a threat?"
"Yes."
Again, his lips quirk down, but this time with more intention and contemplative. "Well, what would you do if I did?"
Yes, every threat has to hinge on some sort of consequence. Good thing I know just the thing.
"Why did have Connor tell the girls that he was the one who brought me home?"
Harry's cavalier expression immediately hardens and I smile at him, knowing that now I have some sense of an upper hand.
He avoids my smug expression, turning back to the CD's and grabbing a Nine Inch Nails album, flipping it over in his hand and reading the back like it's the most interesting thing he's ever seen.
"I don't want them making a big deal out of it." He mutters, still staring at the CD.
"Fine," I huff airily, pleased with the direction I've steered this conversation, "well, I won't tell them if you don't tell Dylan."
He rolls his eyes, dropping his arm down so the CD rests at his side and gives me a look. "If you don't want him to know you passed out drunk at our place last night, maybe having a conversation with me right in front of him isn't the smartest move."
I look back at Dylan, nervously. He's already watching, eyes trained on me, arms crossed and ears practically perked up at how badly he's attempting to eavesdrop.
I look back at Harry, annoyed. "Well, I had to make sure you weren't going to say anything."
"I wasn't. The world doesn't revolve around you." He retorts, coldly, back to studying that Nine Inch Nails album like it's covered in gold.
"Right. Well...I also just wanted to say thank y-"
"Stop talking."
"What?"
"I said stop talking."
"I know what you said, I'm not deaf, but I'm just trying to thank you for driv-"
"I didn't drive you home. Connor did." Harry aggressively sets the CD back down on the wall display where he found it. "Leave me alone now, I'm busy."
I scoff at him, somehow having forgotten how rude he is. He was a much easier pill to swallow when I was drunk. "You're busy? Yeah, you look it, browsing a music shop. I wouldn't want to-"
He cuts me off with a step forward and dark eyes, looking like a poked bear, "Who the fuck do you think you are, talking to me like that, huh? I thought your fucking attitude would disappear with the booze in your system, but I guess all it takes for you is one night out, slumming it with the big girls to think you're Sharon fucking Stone. Well, you're not, so why don't you just stay in your fucking lane?"
Harry's low tone and menacing eyes pierce through me just like Dylan was attempting to do back at the counter before I stomped over here. As much as I get more and more riled up from Harry's hurtful words, I can't help but compare his dominance to Dylan's.
When Dylan spoke down to me, it made me feel less than, babied, and made me want to prove him wrong.
But when Harry's green eyes and pink lips spoke down to me just now, it made me feel funny. It made me feel warm, but in an equally infuriating way. It made me want to push at him until he stopped talking, grab him by the neck and squeeze until he physically couldn't anymore.
Which is why I feel even more confused when all of those intense feelings are immediately followed up with sheepish regret, with the need to apologize and beg him to forgive me and be the guy that carried me to the car last night, the guy that drove me to the Park and Ride and made me drink water until he knew for sure that I was okay to drive myself home.
I think I just want him to like me, like everyone else does, and for some stupid reason, I thought that putting up this tough front would earn me some respect, but instead it seems I've just made him angry.
I drop my gaze to the floor and bite my lip, unable to stop the embarrassed blush that creeps up onto my cheeks as I let his words sink in. I know I'm no Sharon Stone.
"Sorry." I swallow, eyes down on my Mary Jane's. "Yeah, uh..." Aw, man. Am I supposed to say something else to make him stop being angry? Should I explain what I'm sorry for? What am I sorry for?
I peek up at him from behind my lashes, just wanting to gauge his anger for a second and I'm surprised at what I see.
He doesn't look angry anymore. Actually, he looks a little bewildered, a little curious, a little disappointed as he looks down at me and my quiet hesitance.
Did I do something wrong? Did he not want an apology?
Suddenly, his eyes flash past shoulder and a brief look of panic crosses his expression, making my stomach churn and I'm about to turn back to follow his gaze, but he drops his eyes down to the Walkman I've been holding tightly against my chest this whole time.
"What are you listening to in there?"
Huh?
I lift my head a bit from its submissive tilt toward the ground, wondering why the heck he's suddenly interested in my Walkman. I swear, if he just wants to make fun of-
"Listening to Prince in that thing?"
Yep, he just wants to make fun of me.
I send him an offended expression, squeezing my precious Walkman tighter to my chest.
"Cyndi Lauper, actually," I lie, because God forbid if he knew I was actually a multifaceted human being who didn't just listen solely to 80's pop. Nope, I am definitely not giving in and gloating about the fact that I'm actually listening to the brand new album of a certain rock band that I bet he's never even heard of.
He hums at my response and rewards it with the slightest of smirks when I suddenly feel a hand clasp around my shoulder, making me jump at the unexpected touch.
I look up and see Dylan standing at my side, eyeing Harry down like he's a genuine threat to society. "Everything okay over here?"
Harry just looks at me with a blank expression before turning back to the CD wall and I look up at Dylan with a small, reassuring smile and nod.
"Yeah." I say, the word coming out in an unintentional whisper.
Dylan's hand on my shoulder trails down to the small of my back and I immediately jolt away from the touch, uncomfortable and I notice Harry's eyes flicker toward us at the action, but he quickly looks back to the CD wall, determined with acting completely absorbed in his little staring session.
I step around the two of them, feeling a little suffocated and Dylan gives me a weird look.
"You just missed a call from your dad." Dylan finally says after a couple uncomfortable seconds of being scrutinized by him.
"Oh. Okay." I gratefully take the opportunity to walk away, back to the counter and pull my Nokia out of the side pocket of my backpack, growing nervous when I see that I now have two missed calls from Father.
I quickly dial back his number and hold the phone up to my ear, anxious to see what he needs. Dylan is still standing over by Harry, both look hostile and are conversing in low tones. What could they possibly be talking about? I hope Harry keeps his word and keeps his mouth shut.
After two rings, Father's voice crackles over the phone. "Nova."
"Hi, Father. Is everything okay?" I ask timidly.
"You need to come home right now." He sounds angry.
"Okay...is something wrong?" I ask, growing more nervous, eyes still on the tense conversation happening between Dylan and Harry across the store.
"I spoke with the campus librarian today and now I need to speak with you. Come home, Nova."
My stomach drops and my headache is suddenly prevalent again at the very forefront of my skull, Dylan and Harry suddenly seeming very unimportant.
"Okay. I'm on my way." I say simply and wait for him to hang up before hanging up on my end and shoving my phone back into my backpack, along with my Walkman before tossing it over my shoulders.
"Hey, Dylan! I, uh, I gotta go, okay?"
Dylan whips around and looks at me, concerned. "Is everything okay?"
Harry's eyes are on me too, inquisitive again and I feel uncomfortable with the spotlight they're both forcing me under.
"Father just needs me home. I'll message you or something about when I can stop in again, okay?" I explain as I walk toward the main entrance, not wanting to keep Father waiting. He'll just get more angry the longer he has to wait.
Oh Gosh, what am I going to tell him? If I'd known he'd go as far as to contacting Berkeley, I would have come up with a better lie.
God is punishing me. I shouldn't have lied in the first place.
I faintly hear Dylan say his goodbyes as I'm out of the shop and practically jogging out of the mall. On the drive home, I try to come up with a better a lie, some sort of explanation, but I can't think of anything.
I probably shouldn't hang out with the girls anymore, either. At least we'll be able to chat over AIM as long as he doesn't take away my computer.
When I make it home, Father is waiting on his chair in the living room. He doesn't turn to look at me when I enter the house. He just waits, watching the TV set, while I take off my shoes and join him, sitting on the corner of the couch and waiting patiently.
Finally, he looks at me. I can't read his expression enough to know what he has in store for me, but I can read it well enough to know what's not in store and a wave of hopeful relief washes over me at that, hoping I'm right.
"You lied." He says simply, unimpressed.
My stomach clenches at his disapproval and I'm immediately looking down at the ground. "I'm sorry, Father."
"Where were you last night?"
There's absolutely no way I can tell him the truth. If he knew what I did last night, who I was with, he'd probably resort to the punishment that I've managed to avoid for six years now before completely disowning me.
I swallow, thinking my words over carefully as I stare down at the carpet. "I was studying at the library. With classmates. And, time just got away from me. I thought you'd be mad, so I lied and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lied."
I can feel Father staring at me and I know it isn't the greatest explanation, but I pray that he'll just accept it and move on. Please please please.
"You're grounded until the end of the semester. If I find out this is another lie...Nova," My eyes snap up at him when he commands my attention, saying my name with an air of warning, "If I find out this is another lie..." He just trails off, giving me a grave look, a look that scares me and a look that I know all too well.
He doesn't have to say the words for me to know what he's threatening.
I nod at him in understanding.
He gives me one slow nod in return and then flicks his wrist lazily toward the staircase. "Go to your room."
I scramble up and get out of there as quickly as I can without running, happy to be sent to my room, away from him. He scares me when he looks at me like that.
I immediately log on to my computer and open up AIM, wanting to fill the group in on what happened and let them know that I most definitely will not be able to hang out with them again anytime soon.
Grounded until the end of the semester. The semester ends on the 22nd, two weeks away. I guess it could be worse.
SuperNova76 (2:48 PM): Hi, Everyone. Unfortunately, I got caught in a lie with Father and I'm grounded for two weeks :(
I send the chat through and wait ten minutes, staring at the screen to see if anyone is around to talk, but nothing.
I also send a private message to Connor, wanting to get to the bottom of the whole Harry situation.
SuperNova76 (2:22 PM): Why does Harry care so much if the girls know he drove me home?
It isn't until late that night when replies start coming through.
First, a response in my private messages with Connor.
sublimepunk420 (8:49 PM): idk he's just a private person. probably doesn't want them knowing he did something nice and teasing him over it
SuperNova76 (8:50 PM): It's like you think he deserves a Nobel Peace Prize or something. He only drove me, because you wouldn't.
I couldn't help the subtle dig, my guard up a little bit with Connor now and curious on how he would respond to that. I mean, like I said, it definitely wasn't his responsibility to drive me to my car at such an odd hour, but it does feel like he's somewhat interested in me and it would've been the gentlemanly thing to do for a girl you like.
sublimepunk420 (8:51 PM): ?
sublimepunk420 (8:52 PM): I would've driven you.
...Huh?
SuperNova76 (8:52 PM): Why didn't you then?
sublimepunk420 (8:52 PM): I was sleeping. I didn't know you wanted to get back to your car.
SuperNova76 (8:53 PM): Harry said he woke you up and asked you to drive me to my car and you said no??
sublimepunk420 (8:54 PM): nope. he woke me up and asked me where my keys were and after I told him, he told me to go back to sleep.
I sit there staring at my computer screen for a minute, lips parted and mind reeling as I let that sink in. Is Harry that embarrassed to do the bare minimum for someone who's drunk and stumbling around an 'unsafe' neighborhood? It's really not that big of a deal, but then...why is it making my heart beat a little faster?
sublimepunk420 (8:56 PM): are you sure you guys didn't fuck?
SuperNova76 (8:56 PM): No!!!!
sublimepunk420 (8:57 PM): No, you're not sure?? :0
SuperNova76 (8:57 PM): NO! No, we did not have sex. I am saving myself for my husband.
sublimepunk420 (9:01 PM): oh
sublimepunk420 (9:01 PM): will u marry me?
SuperNova76 (9:02 PM): LOL
That's where Connor and I leave it. So, I guess he is interested in me, seeing as he's joking about marriage, but Jenalyn did mention something about him not being into monogamy, which is a big red flag for me.
And when Harry apparently lied about Connor not wanting to drive me, he made a comment about how 'that's the kind of guy he is' or something like that. Maybe Harry's lie was just his way of warning me about falling for Connor's charm.
I perk up when someone posts in the group chat.
pussyluver19 (9:04 PM): you're 21!!!! how is he still grounding you???? :(
I smile to myself when I see the group chat name change from 'SPICE GIRLS AND ALSO CONNOR' to 'OPERATION: FREE NOVA'.
As I lay in bed that night, asking God's forgiveness becoming a regular part of my night time routine, I can't help but feel a little warm about the friends I think I've made. I know I should be careful and there are so many signs that are warning me to remain guarded, but it feels nice to feel like, for once, I have some people on my side. People outside of Father and Dylan.
I fall asleep quickly, needing it after what little sleep I managed the night before, but it only feels like my eyes are closed for a second, when I'm jolted awake by the sound of a soft patter.
I look around, practically still asleep and confused. My bedroom door is still closed and I look over to the doors of my balcony, growing a little paranoid.
Then, there's another tap and I sit up straighter, waking up quickly when I realize that a pebble was just thrown at my balcony door.
I freeze, not knowing what to do as I just stare at the door, waiting to see if it's going to happen again or if it was my imagination.
Not thirty seconds later, another, louder pebble hits the glass of my balcony door and I shoot off my bed and hurry over to the side of the door, peeking slowly around and through the glass to see outside.
There on the lawn, looking up at me are Briella, Nessa and Connor.
Another pebble is thrown and I flinch when it hits close to where I'm looking out. Quickly, I yank open the door and rush out onto the balcony, leaning over to look down at them, and realizing when I step out into the cool breeze that I'm only wearing a silk tank and shorts.
"What are you guys doing?" I whisper-shout at them, hugging myself against the night air. "How do you know where I live?" They just smile up at me, seeming to enjoy my sleepy confusion. "And how did you know this was my bedroom?"
Nessa throws two fists up in the air and bounces up and down excitedly, the smile on her face never faltering. "Operation: Free Nova!"
***
Word Count ~~ 6500
A/N: if your 2021 sucked as bad as mine, I hope for both our sakes that 2022 will be...bearable ...happy new year's :)