charlie and hailey are finally here. true to form, charlie's carrying a bag that clinks softly, filled with the promise of a night that's probably not going to be as cozy as i hoped. it seems the "chill and spill" evening is turning into more spill than chill.
"charlie, my man!" el greets him, reaching for the bag. "what kind of magical potions have you brought us tonight?"
charlie grins, his self-confidence shining through. "only the finest, my dear."
they waste no time, and before i know it, we've ditched the cozy movie night plan for a drinking game of truth or dare. shots are poured and laughter echoes through the living room.
hailey is throwing wild dares left and right, and el, well, her sarcasm has reached new heights. but charlie, in his usual fashion, is holding it together surprisingly well.
the room is spinning a bit for me, even though i haven't had much. a couple of sips are enough to make me feel a bit dizzy. i can't help but feel funny in this tipsy state, but my mind keeps drifting to places it shouldn't.
back to him.
i'm lost in my thoughts until the bottle points at me, and i choose truth. hailey, in her drunken state, asks the question that i've dodged for months around her and el. "amy, you never mentioned. was there anyone before el? spill or drink!"
my heart sinks, and i glance at charlie. he knows the answer, and for a moment, our eyes lock in silent communication. he understands that this is a territory i don't want to venture into tonight.
i empty my glass a bit too hastily, hoping to drown out the question and get away with it.
but el wasn't satisfied. she wanted answers. she wraps her arms around me. "come on, amy, spill the beans. who was the lucky soul before me?"
charlie, sensing my discomfort, tries to intervene. "hey, ease up, guys. she finished her drink, so the game conitnues. let's not dig into the past."
el leans in, a playful glint in her eyes. "oh, come on! the past shapes us. who was this mysterious person? tell us, tell us!"
i try to deflect, "it's not important. let's just play the stupid game."
but hailey persists. "oh, come on! wait, they broke you heart, didn't they? do tell!"
i try to pretend i didn't hear that.
el, in her drunken state, gets more insistent. "seriously, amy, reveal their name right now. i'll make sure they don't have a pretty face tomorrow."
i feel a knot forming in my stomach. i can't reveal his name. not now. not like this.
"ellie, chill. it's not that dramatic," i say, trying to play it off.
"wow, this is the second time today that you've said my actual name. you're slowly scaring me," she continues to joke. "seriously, amy, if someone hurt you, they deserve to be punched in the face. who was it?"
i gave up on answering and just sit there in her arms.
and then, on the borderline between playful and hurtful, she says something that cuts deeper than i expected. "did they leave you in pieces, amy? is that why you're so guarded?"
i can't take it.
her arms around me suddenly feel suffocating, and i excuse myself to the bathroom. i need a moment to breathe and escape the awkwardness that's settled in the room.
alone in the bathroom, i try to calm down, annoyed by my girlfriend. i hate to admit it, but it's not the first time drunk el has unleashed words without a second thought. and it probably won't be the last. but her inappropriate comments have never hit me as much as they did now.
then, against my better judgment, i can't resist the temptation. i pull out my phone and open instagram. then i search for his name.
conan gray.
the bright glow of his account feels like a portal to a past i'm trying desperately to forget.
i scroll through his feed, and my heart sinks, realizing how much has changed. my eyes widen at the staggering increase in followers. i mean, he was already really popular when i met him, but now he's... i don't know, he's just become pretty famous.
i tap on his latest post.
@conangray jigsaw out everywhere now. here is me writing it. good vibes only happy listening xoxo.
—
i'm utterly stunned by the absurd number of likes on this picture. i mean, seriously, how can more than a million people possibly like a post where he's crying? what's the deal with that?
i re-read the caption. jigsaw.
for some reason, i decide to torture myself further and open spotify, searching for the song. it begins to play.
as the realization hits that this is the very song that played when el and i were baking those damn cookies, i freeze. then, on impulse, i open the lyrics, and a particular verse grabs my attention.
"all i did just to make you happy – still, you don't even fucking love me – killin' parts of myself to fit you – clear as shit i was not the issue"
i clench my jaw.
the thought that he's onto someone, breaks me. but the fact that they apparently hurt him, as per these lyrics, weirdly makes me feel a bit vindicated.
i'm not saying he deserves the pain, but maybe now he understands the hurt he put me through. those words exactly mirror the feelings i had for him and the hurt he caused me.
anger, the emotion i've been holding back, starts crawling back in. suddenly, the memory of that one picture he posted with me flashes in my mind. i go look for it.
but it's gone.
the post, the memory, erased. it shouldn't surprise me, but it still stings. a tear escapes, landing on the screen, distorting the image. i quickly put my phone away, feeling foolish for letting this affect me.
i take a few deep breaths, splash my face with water, and return to the laughter-filled living room.
"amy, you good?" charlie asks.
meanwhile el, still buzzing with alcohol-induced energy, spots my return. she detaches herself from hailey, stumbling a bit as she strides over. "hey, amy, i, like, didn't mean to –"
i wave her off, my smile strained, "it's fine, el."
charlie, ever the observant friend, decides to step in. "hey, amy, let's get some fresh air, yeah?" he suggests, giving me an out.
i nod, grateful for the escape. el gives me a clumsy pat on the back as i follow charlie towards the door.
once we're outside, charlie lights up a cigarette. meanwhile, i try to clear my head. the night air is cool and gentle, with distant city sounds echoing around us. our apartment is placed on a quiet street, away from the busy chaos.
i eye charlie, half-smiling. "since when are you not black-out drunk at any opportunity you get?"
he chuckles, exhaling a puff of smoke. "noticed something off the second i walked in that apartment. figured you might need a chat later."
i appreciate his understanding and smile genuinely. "you're the best, charlie."
"alright, now tell me what's up" he says.
"nothing much," i mutter, staring into the distance. "just dealing with some shit."
he gives me a side-eye, clearly not buying it. "bullshit. tell me."
i take a deep breath. "i heard this one song today... conan's. and it's messing with my head."
he nods, understanding in his eyes. "his new one? jigsaw?"
i shoot him a surprised look. "how did you know?"
"hailey's been blasting it every time i saw her this week. she's practically in love with that song," he chuckles.
so hailey's been blasting his music, huh? this is getting fun.
"you haven't mentioned him for a while though. hearing his song hit you that hard?"
i glance away, focusing on the distant lights. "it's not just the song. it's the memories it dragged up. and the fact that he... found someone, you know? i know it shouldn't bother me, i mean, i have moved on. but i don't know, it's just... i wonder if he ever thinks about me too."
charlie takes a drag from his cigarette, contemplating my words. "you know, i never liked that guy. he hurt you, and that's enough reason for me."
i give him a weak smile. "you've always been protective of me."
"damn right," he grins, flicking ash off the end of his cigarette. "but i don't know. maybe it's time to face the music. you could talk to him? get some closure, you know."
i scoff. "easier said than done, charlie. how the hell do i even approach that? 'hey, conan, heard your song, and it made me feel things. let's catch up and chat about our past.'"
charlie smirks. "well, maybe not like that, but you get the idea."
i sigh, feeling the weight of the situation. "it's been so long, though. what if he doesn't want to talk?"
"then at least you tried," he shrugs, stubbing out the cigarette. "you deserve peace, amy. and if talking to him helps you find it, then it's worth a shot."
his words hang in the air, and i realize he's right. i can't keep avoiding this forever. "you got a point... thanks, char. i appreciate it."
he puts an arm around my shoulders, giving me a comforting squeeze. "anytime, amy. now, let's get back inside before they drink all the alcohol."
we both chuckle, heading back into the laughter-filled chaos of the living room, but my mind is already racing with the possibility of reaching out to conan and finally putting the past to rest.