By the time the evening rolls around, Chrissy has really warmed to both Greta and me. I've never been so enraptured by anything in my life, and certainly not by another person.
But she's just so fucking pure, in a way that I'm not sure I've seen before.
Things are awkward, especially with Debra, but I try my best. It's all my own making, this situation, so while I'm not fake, I'm on my best behaviour.
Once Chrissy has been put down for bed for the night and we've had something to eat for dinner (Dad's classic chicken curry, that we loved so much), Greta has persuaded me into tagging along with her to see some friends at the bar in town this evening.
They're exclusively her friends. I lost all of mine the day I left Whitley, so furious with Mavis that I cut everyone else off, too. I still stand by not staying friends with Mavis, but I could have made a bit more of an effort with the others.
Especially because no one seemed to have an idea about why I was ignoring them, meaning they didn't have any idea about what happened. So, if it had been more than a one-time-thing between them, she hadn't told any of our friends. Not that I thought that back then.
Whitley is a small town, and I'm sure lots of people come home for Christmas, so I'm a little apprehensive about going out, but the alternative is staying in with Dad and Debra. I'd rather the bar than dying with awkwardness at their house.
Dad drops us off, and hands Greta enough cash for a taxi back, insisting that we don't walk now that it's so dark and so cold. I murmur my thanks as I exit the car, suddenly wondering if it's too late to beg him to take me home instead. I'm not so sure that I want to face running into anyone at the bar, especially not my old friends, who probably hate me.
Thankfully, the only people we know when we get there are Greta's friends, so we grab a drink and join them at their booth. I know them, in the way that anyone knows their siblings' friends. A couple of them would hang around the house a lot when we were younger. They were all three years older than me, so I was desperate to be cool back then and get them to like me. These days, I've accepted that most people from this town won't.
When I'm up at the bar, ordering mine and Greta's second drinks of the night, though, disaster strikes.
I turn around, two gin cocktails in hand, only to come face-to-face with the literal last person that I ever want to see again.
Theodore Russo is right in front of me, an empty cocktail glass in his hand.
My breath stalls in my throat and I completely freeze, knowing that there's no way out.
He's right fucking there, just in front of me, living and breathing. Looking even better than ever, like he didn't break my goddamn heart three and a half years ago.
The only consolation is that he looks just as I feel. "Sabrina," he chokes out, eyes wide.
The second he opens his mouth, though, all of that old fury comes back in full force and I muster my best glare. "I have to go," I snap, moving to walk past him.
A sardonic laugh falls from his lips and he side-steps, so that I can't go anywhere. "Really? Really? All these fucking years and that's it? You're still never going to explain?"
The fucking nerve of this man. The absolute fucking cheek to stand here and look at me like he has no idea what happened. Like he doesn't know he shattered my heart.
"What was there to explain?" I grind out, itching to pour my drink on his head. "You know exactly what happened. You know what you did, and the fact you're pretending-"
"I don't!" he retorts just as venomously. "You literally just up and fucking left without saying anything! I called you, I texted you, I went to your house, only for your Dad to tell me that you'd fucked off, promising that you'd never return."
I narrow my eyes at him, bristling at the thought that Dad might have told him anything. "If you have to ask, then you're an even bigger asshole than I thought."
The energy between the two of us, the blows that we're trading, gain the attention of some people in the vicinity, which makes me want to get out of here even more.
"Sure, Sabrina," he exhales, irritation clear in his tone. "Label me the bad guy, for absolutely no reason. Do what you do best and fuck off, then."
Furious, I storm past him. "Gladly," I toss over my shoulder, before making my way back to my sister, who's staring at me with wide eyes, clearly having seen the whole exchange.
When I collapse into the booth next to her, she immediately pulls me into her side, her big sister instincts coming out in full force. "Are you okay?" she asks worriedly.
I blow out a breath, shrugging. "Can you believe that he was trying to tell me that he has no idea why I left? He's still maintaining that bullshit, after all these years."
After I left the party where I saw him with Mavis, Theo called and texted me. I ignored them and left town the next day. He only sent me one more message and called me once after that, leaving a voicemail. They were all along the same lines, saying that he had no idea why I'd just left without saying anything.
That infuriated me more than anything, because how could he not realise that I'd find out one day about what he'd done? About what he'd maybe been doing, for ages?
Mavis sent me a similar message, asking why I'd left without telling anyone. We weren't best friends but ran in the same friend group, so I wouldn't have been really surprised if we had lost touch once I left for college. So, the fact that she got with my boyfriend and then proceeded to act as though she couldn't understand why I left really fucking stung.
The other girls that I was friends with were just as confused. Even one or two of Theo's friends got in touch with me. The worst one, though, was Felix, Theo's brother. He and Mavis must have spun a real fucking good story if even Felix didn't know.
"Come on," one of Greta's friends encourages me, indicating my drink. "Get that drink down you and forget about him. You don't need that kind of negativity tonight."
"Too right," one of the other girls chimes in, and clinks her drink against mine.
I manage a laugh, even if it's a weak one, and knock my drink against hers.
Generally, I don't drink much, especially because of volleyball. Although the season has just finished, we continue to train and everything throughout the second half of the year. Either way, I've never been one for drinking loads.
So, after I've had two drinks, I switch out my cocktails for soft drinks. Not knowing Greta's friends, I feel a bit weird saying that I'm out at a bar but only having a couple, so it's often me that goes to the bar to order drinks. Not that I think there's anything wrong with being at a bar and not drinking, but I just feel unsure about it, given I don't know them.
The bad side-effect of me going to the bar, though, is that it doesn't take me long to run into Theo again. As I'm waiting to be served, resting my elbows on the bar, I'm jostled by a pretty drunk guy next to me. I stumble, and a hand wraps around my bicep.
The flash of heat that travels down to my fingertips lets me know exactly who grabbed a hold of me to prevent me from falling. Even after all these years, I can't forget Theo's touch.
Schooling my features into a scowl, I twist around to extract myself from his grip.
His stormy eyes find mine, reading my annoyance well. "Only trying to help."
"I don't need your help," I tell him furiously. "I've never needed your help."
His lip curls upwards scornfully. "You know that's a lie. You did once upon a time."
Of course, it's a lie. When we were together, I relied on Theo for a lot of things. He was my confidante as everything fell apart with my Dad, after everything that happened with Mom. I don't like remembering that period of time, though, and the pain sizzles in my chest.
Shaking my head, I take a step backwards, careful not to bump into anyone, but wanting to put distance between myself and my ex-boyfriend. "Fine. I don't need your help anymore."
Theo scoffs in disdain. "Yeah, you've made that perfectly clear. Should I let you fall on your face next time?"
"Might be best," I retort primly, not only annoyed that he's brought up the past, brought up the good days of our relationship, but also that he's trying to swoop in now, as though I ever need saving. I'd have caught myself fine before falling over, I'm sure of it. "I don't like being touched without my permission."
He looks absolutely exasperated with me, his hands tugging on his dark hair. "Fucking hell, Sabrina. I was trying to stop you falling over, not making a fucking move on you."
I just turn away, knowing that he's telling the truth. I just don't want to be near him, and the only way to get rid of him tonight, it seems, is to say some stupid things that upset him.
"Anyway," he continues, incensed now. "The way you've treated me the last few years certainly puts a stop to any kind of thought I might have about touching you."
I whirl back around, my own anger bubbling over. "How I've treated you? Are you even hearing yourself? How can you say that to me after everything that you did?"
The wound of seeing him with Mavis tears open once more, bleeding out.
"Oh, go on," Theo returns, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Do tell me all about these apparent sins I committed while being a devoted boyfriend to you. Tell me just how badly I treated you, all while loving you like I've never loved anyone."
The hidden confession in there makes me still for a minute, squeezing my heart painfully.
The image of him with his tongue down someone else's throat comes back full force, though, and I shake my head. "You can't honestly call yourself devoted."
He's angry, but there's something else on his face, almost like the conversation pains him as much as it pains me. Does he feel guilty, for what he did? I sure fucking hope so.
The fact that he continues to pretend he has no idea what I'm talking about really hurts. Does he really want to insult my intelligence that badly? It can't be that hard to put together, especially given the fact that I cut everyone else off, too. Or maybe that makes it more confusing. I don't know.
"I have no fucking idea what you're talking about. The fact that you think I wasn't devoted to you genuinely boggles my fucking mind," he seethes, shaking his head in almost disbelief. "I mean, were you even there? Are we talking about the same relationship here?"
I tilt my chin upwards, trying to pretend that his words don't sting. "That's exactly the problem, Theo. I was there."
His confusion doesn't fade. "Shit, Sabrina. You're honestly bananas. I'm not going to stand here and try to persuade you that I loved you years ago, only for you to abandon me like I didn't even matter. I have no idea why you're so angry with me, but you're not exactly making me want to find out, given how shitty you're treating me right now."
I want to slap him, I really do. How the fuck can he not know, that he cheated on me? How can he pretend that I wouldn't find out? How can he claim I'm the one treating him badly?
"You know what you did. The fact you think I wouldn't ever find out, is so shitty of you," I seethe, practically vibrating with fury. "Can't you just leave me the fuck alone?"
He lifts an unimpressed eyebrow. "You're the one that's come crawling back after all these years! I think you should go. You are the expert at leaving me alone, after all."
I've run out of things to say. If I want to get away from him, maybe I should just walk away, mine and Greta's drinks be damned.
So, with one last withering glare, I turn on my heel and stalk back to our booth, without having bothered to pick up drinks for us in the end.
I know that I've just been thinking earlier today how I want to be a better person, how I want to just do better for other people. But I draw the line with that lying asswipe who cheated on me and broke my heart. He doesn't get to see the better side of me now.
Thankfully, Greta is unbothered that I didn't produce another drink for her, and instead draws me into her side. "Do you want to leave?" she asks quietly. "We've been here a couple of hours now. I'm happy to go when you are."
I agree, because I just want to curl up in my bed, even if I sometimes feel like I'm suffocating in that house. Despite what I felt earlier on this evening, anywhere is better than this bar.
Greta and I wish her friends goodbye rather rapidly. I stand awkwardly, waiting while she hugs each of them, promising to see them again before we leave town completely. Given that I'm not much of a hugger, I just give them each a wave, mustering a warm smile.
As she leads me out of the bar, I feel the eyes that I'm running away from following me out of the place. Unable to help myself, I glance up, matching Theo's glare with one of my own.
He's sat at a booth with a fair few of the friends he had while we were together, and the looks that they all send me don't make me feel anymore welcome back to town than he has already made me feel.
Sure, I've been spitting fire at him, too, but for some reason, they all hate me, rather than feeling sympathy for the stupid girl who fell for Theodore Russo's horrible tricks.
I always knew that I would be the bad guy in every situation when returning here, hence why it's taken me so many years. My prior knowledge of what was bound to come doesn't stop the pain, though, and I find myself lying in bed later on that night, unable to stop the tears from cascading down my face.
Next time I come back to see Chrissy (because I'm determined that I will do better, that I will come to visit her as often as I can), I resolve to go nowhere except this house. I don't want to see anyone in this town ever again. Not if I can help it.
---
Well. These two are fiery, huh?
Please let me know what you thought, feedback is much appreciated!
(ps, I accidentally sometimes wrote her name as Debra, and sometimes as Brenda hehe oops. I think I caught all of the Brendas and changed them to Debra, but do let me know if you spot one xo)