I think it's safe to say that I fucked up. Royally.
Beating the living shit out of Sean felt cathartic, at least while I was doing it. The aftermath hasn't been so nice. Sean's not pressing charges, which is a miracle considering I may or may not have broken his nose and busted his upper lip.
But as for my social life, well—it's pretty much gone to shit. The guys on my basketball team, basically all of my friends, are taking Sean's side and giving me the cold shoulder. It's understandable, I guess, considering I beat the shit out of him over a girl. I just couldn't help myself, though. It's not just a girl—it's Eliza.
She's got those devilish little eyes that catch me off guard every time I look at her, and that smile that brings out her dimples and these pink lips that are so soft and warm. She always smells like clean laundry and something sweet, a smell that's pretty much become a drug to me at this point.
And just to think that she was with Sean the whole time and that he knew how I felt about her—that makes my blood boil and my fists itch in urgency. But I've learned my lesson now, and my parents have made it clear that violence won't solve a damn thing.
So, while violence may not do anything, standing on Eliza's doorstep and begging her to forgive me just might. I walked all the way from my house, and I can feel the cold beginning to find its way into every crevice of my body despite the winter jacket that I'm wearing.
I take my stiff hand out of my pocket and reach up to rap on her wooden door, a sound that echoes through her house and the air around me. Her dad is home, which is evident from his black SUV sitting in the driveway, and I'm just praying he isn't the one to answer the door.
Thankfully, after a moment of suspense, the door opens to reveal a very unimpressed Eliza. She's clad in a pink sweater and tight, form-fitting ripped jeans, her shiny black hair hugging her hips as it always does.
"You look nice—"
"What do you want?"
Her harsh, unforgiving tone takes me back and I struggle to find a way to respond to her hostile nature.
"I—I wanted to see you."
"And I want to see you leave," she bites back while leaning against her door frame with an angry eyebrow raised.
"You're mad at me—"
"Pissed is more accurate."
I drop my arms down in defeat and accept the fact that I may not be able to get rid of the attitude she's holding up, and that this may not go down as well as I imagined it to.
"Can I just say my peace?" I ask with desperate, begging eyes. "And then if you don't want to talk... I—I'll leave."
Eliza sighs and lets her arms fall from her chest. She goes quiet for a moment before gesturing for me to start.
"Fine. You've got one minute."
"Okay, I just want to say that I'm sorry for beating up Sean because I know you guys clearly had something going on but I only did it because I really care about you and I didn't want to see you with anyone else and I thought we had something going but then I just got so mad when I found out you were with Sean and I felt betrayed and I'm just sorry—"
"Angel."
Her soft, quiet voice breaks me out of my incessant rambling and brings me back to her comforting presence. But something about the way she says my name tells me that her words may be ones that I don't want to hear.
She glances behind her into her house, presumably checking for her father, and when she sees that the coast is clear, she steps onto the porch with me and closes the door behind her.
"Angel," she repeats with eyes closed.
"What?"
I look her over and try to figure her out. I try to remember what it felt like to be close to her, or to kiss her without a second thought. Eliza steps forward towards me, a gesture that makes my stomach flip in urgency. Maybe she does want this.
Her hand reaches up to rest on my shoulder and my arms resist the urge to pull her closer. I just want to touch her again and feel the way things used to be.
"I'm sorry." Her voice says it all, and I know whatever she's about to say may very well break me. "We always said we wouldn't catch feelings. I thought we were just messing around."
"We were. At least in the beginning," I murmur as I feel a chill run down my spine. I don't know if it's from the cold or from her fingers brushing against my cheek. "I caught feelings. I love you, Liza."
I wish I could take back my words the second they escape my mouth. Eliza steps back and creates a space between us, removing her hands from me for quite possibly the last time. She keeps stepping away from me like I'm some rabid animal that she wouldn't dare get close to and it hurts even more than I could've imagined.
"I don't have feelings for you," she states in one collected, firm breath, her hand on her front door and practically itching to get away from me.
But her words cut deeper than I thought they ever could. Seeing her look me in eyes and throw away everything I've ever wanted in a mere second has dug a new kind of pain into me. It's all the false hope—the times that I thought she actually felt the same—being crushed as I realize that I've just had my heart stomped on by the only girl I've ever truly wanted.
"Go home, Angel. Find someone else."
With a last glance, she opens the door to her house and steps inside without bothering to offer me some kind of closure. That's it.
It's just 'find someone else', as if it were that easy.
She practically slams the door in my face and strands me out here on her porch with burning eyes and a chest that's physically pained by the memory of her. Why it had to be her, I don't know. The majority of the girls in the sophomore class would kill to have me, but not her.
So why, of all girls, did it have to be her?
The hurt begins to radiate across my chest and turn my vision blurry, and for a moment I forget that I'm still on her porch. She's probably watching me break down through the window and smiling without a care in the world.
It's clear to me now that she doesn't care and that I was nothing to her. Nothing but a pawn in her game, and just another guy she hit up when she was lonely.
And I'm not angry at her, I'm angry at myself. I let it get this far and I let myself get attached. As much as I want to blame her for my feelings, I know that's not fair. If she doesn't love me, she doesn't love me. It's the way it is, and I need to suck it up and move on.
I turn around and start down her porch steps, listening as the brittle ice snaps underneath my sneakers. The walk from my house was long—longer than I'd like to admit—and the thought of walking all the way back makes me groan in exhaustion. I really do have nowhere to go, and so I start lazily towards the direction of my house with my chin buried in my coat collar and my eyes stinging from a mix of the cold and Eliza's harsh words.
The neighborhood itself is rather quiet, no kids playing in the melting slush and hardly any cars passing through as I trod down the sidewalk to get farther from Eliza's house. I led my parents to believe I was going to a friends house, which isn't totally untrue except for the fact that I wouldn't consider Eliza to be my friend anymore.
I cross over to another block and peel my eyes off of the ground to check for coming cars. I'm pleasantly surprised to find that there's a park just down the street that might give me a place to sit for a moment.
I carry my depleted body towards the relatively-empty park. The only thing even suggesting life is the presence of a woman walking her dog across the street. Soon, the metal bench at the entrance of the park becomes the resting point for my heavy feet and downcast eyes. I let my body fall onto the icy metal and feel as the frigid surface begins to make me shiver.
My eyes move around the still neighborhood and I observe the houses and cars that lay stagnant in driveways. The evergreen trees that stick around for winter are swaying in the chilly air and the fallen leaves leftover from fall are mixing with the slush on the ground to create some kind of nature soup.
It's grey, dull, and cold, and I don't want to be here anymore. I want to be back home but I have no energy to get there. Walking seems like such a task at the moment, and I reach into my pocket to grab my phone and find someone who might have mercy on me.
I scroll through my contacts list and feel my hope diminish as I realize that there are very few people in my contacts that aren't either my family, or friends of Eliza and Sean.
Aaron, Darius, Hailey, Layla—they're all on Sean's side and not speaking to me at the moment. And having to explain why I'm stranded at a park almost twenty minutes away from my house to one of my family members seems even worse than being stranded in the first place.
But as I scroll, I come to a name that makes me stop in consideration.
Madelyn.
I know she can drive, and I know she's also extremely sweet when it comes to helping other people. I'm willing to bet she'd get me out of this mess, although it may be a little weird to ask her considering I don't know her very well. In fact, I only got her number in the first place because she was helping me with chemistry homework.
I keep scrolling to make sure I really have no other options, although when I reach the end of my contacts list, I realize that I really don't have anyone else to turn to. So, on a whim, I call her.
"Umm, Angel?"
To my surprise she picks up within the first few rings, and her voice comes over the phone with a confused and slightly unsure tone.
"Yeah, umm, hey."
I hear Madelyn pause on her end of the line for a moment, and I know she's probably wondering which assignment I'm going to ask to copy this time.
"So," I cut in, leaning back on the stiff, ice cold bench. "What are you doing?"
"Right now?" she asks before letting out a sigh. "Well, I'm actually laying on my couch and eating a bowl of grapes while watching Grey's Anatomy. But I feel like that was more than you needed to know and I probably should've just summarized it and said nothing."
My train of thought is interrupted at the expense of her lingering explanation. I have to try and reel my mind back in as I think about what she's just said. Madelyn hears my hesitation and is quick to jump in.
"I should've stopped talking. I did it again. Diddly darn."
"Wh—"
"Sorry. I'm in a mood today," she says over the phone, interrupting me and making me even more perplexed than I was to begin with. What Alex sees in this absolute weirdo, I will never understand.
"Yeah, um," I begin. "I'm kind of sitting on a park bench twenty minutes away from my house. And I'm cold."
"That sucks." I can hear Madelyn chomping on a grape and she makes me wait until she's finished chewing to continue her response. "What does it have to do with me?"
"I—" I let out a sigh and decide to just ask, despite the fact that I don't want to seem like a burden to her or take away from her Grey's Anatomy marathon. "Would you be super nice and give me a ride somewhere?"
It's silent for a moment before she lets out something between a groan and a yelp, presumably stretching out her limbs or something like that.
"Angel!" she shrieks, and I catch myself laughing at her energetic voice. "I'm on the season finale!"
I bite the inside of my cheek and glance around the park where I can see a mother walking towards the playground with her son in tow.
"But will you?" I ask with a raised pitch.
I hate relying on someone that doesn't owe me anything, especially with that person being Madelyn. If anything, I owe her for the amount of times she's let me copy her chem homework in the last two weeks.
"You're lucky I have basic human sympathy."
I breathe a cloud-filled breath of relief into the February air.
"Thank you. Seriously."
"Mhm. Send me your location, okay?"
"Yeah. Bye."
She ends the call abruptly and leaves me on the bench to sit and stare at the orange jungle gym. After sending her my location, it's just a waiting game as I sit patiently and anticipate her arrival.
My hands are freezing more and more with each second that I remain outside, and it almost feels like hours have passed when I hear a horn honk from the curb behind me. I stand up from the bench, my feet narrowly avoiding a puddle of slush, and turn around to see a white BMW sitting at the curb.
I glance around the neighborhood to be sure that it couldn't have been another car, but when Madelyn rolls down the passenger side window, I can see that it is, in fact, her car.
"What the fuck are you staring at? You look like a damn idiot standing there like that," she calls from the drivers side, having to project over the purring engine of her shiny car.
"This—this is your car?"
She rolls her eyes and leans over to push open the passenger side door.
"Get in my damn car before I drive off and leave you here."
I take her hostility as a hint and step towards the curb before getting in her car. My skin is immediately relieved as the heat from inside sinks into my blood and unfreezes my stiff body.
"Fuck," I breathe as I relax in the seat. "It's cold as shit."
Madelyn doesn't drive off or move the car, she just puts the car in park and sits back in her seat.
"Derek was in the middle of dying in the season fucking finale but no. You couldn't just let me finish it, huh?"
I shoot her the best smile I can muster and shrug, too cold to care about anything other than warming myself up. The feeling begins to come back to me as my limbs start to warm up and I can feel the leather seats heating my butt as I take in her car. It has one of those sleek, modern dashboards with Bluetooth hookups and a back-up camera.
"Damn, you have a nice car."
She shrugs and reaches in front of her to pick up her phone. She's dressed in fairly comfortable clothes, a black Columbia jacket and grey sweatpants suggesting that she's freshly out of a session of Netflix binging.
"I have a rich dad," she states while scrolling through something on her phone.
I can't help but laugh at her nonchalant composure and the fact that she's so willing to admit that she's one of those spoiled girls. No shame, just honesty.
"So you use Daddy's money?"
"Something like that," she mutters while still distracted by her phone. Her static comment makes me think I've possibly struck a nerve, so instead of pushing the subject I brush it off.
I take a moment to lean back in the seat and breathe, and to maybe even try and make sense of Eliza's harsh words and forget the memory of her touch as she basically shattered every dream and hope that I've ever had for us.
I don't think I'll even get to be friends with her after this blows over, considering I beat the shit out of her boy toy. Her boy toy who's also been my best friend since the third grade.
But hey, I'm pretty sure I'm the one who overreacted. As my parents put it, my emotions got the best of me and I wasn't able to control myself because I pushed them down for too long or whatever sappy shit my mom tried to explain to me.
That's exactly why I tried to go to Eliza's in the first place. So I could let out how I felt, and because I wanted to stop pushing down everything that made me feel emotional. But look how that turned out for me.
"Spill."
My attention focuses from the zipper on my jacket that I've been fidgeting with to Madelyn, who's put her phone in her lap and started staring at me.
"What?"
"Spill," she repeats before turning her body in her seat to face me. "I barely know you and you've finessed me into picking you up from this random park. I gave you a minute to warm up, but now I need some answers. So talk, before I kick you right back out of this fucking car."
I lean back in my seat in awe at her mouth, and I begin to realize how much I really don't know her. I've always assumed she was a quiet little sweetheart, yet here she is, threatening to kick me to the curb.
"And here I thought you were the quiet girl."
Her eyebrow raises before she shrugs and glances out her windshield.
"Well, I think we've all learned by now that you don't have very good judgement."
"Ouch."
"Yeah, might wanna watch out," she fires back with a lighthearted, comical stare. "I tell the truth. Unlike some of your other friends."
I'm taken aback by her reference to Sean, and I almost want to ask her how she knows about the whole situation. But then I remember that she was there that day, and she saw me kick Sean's ass in the middle of the hallway.
"Sean's not my friend anymore."
"Yes he is. You're just friends in a fight right now."
"Yeah, a fight that's never gonna be resolved."
"Hmm. That's tough."
She takes my words into consideration and turns back around in her seat. I watch patiently as she starts her car back up again and pulls away from the curb.
"Where to?" she asks as she starts cruising down the empty residential neighborhood.
I glimpse out the window and sigh. I haven't thought about where I want to go, although I soon realize that I don't have many choices.
I don't want to go home, because explaining to my parents why I look upset is too much to deal with. And lying to them with some, 'I'm just tired' shit won't work anymore. Ever since Alex, they've been extremely particular about making sure us kids are okay. It's understandable, I guess, but sometimes it'd be nice to be able to hide my emotions from them.
"I honestly don't know," I relent after a long moment of thinking. "I don't want to go home, and all my friends hate me, so—"
"They don't hate you," she interrupts with an optimistic tone. "Can I be honest with you?"
I shrug. "Why not?"
I watch her pause for a moment while she prepares her answer.
"You guys are the 'it' boys of the sophomore class. Seriously, you'll make up by next week and then you'll go back to ignoring people like me."
I want to object to her statement, but I allow myself a moment to think about it before I realize that she does have a point. I never talked to her until it was necessary to intervene because of Alex's pathetic crush, and even then, I just ended up using her for homework answers.
"You really don't have a filter, huh?"
"I told you, I tell the truth," she admits with a glance in my direction.
As we exit from the tree-shaded neighborhood and into a busier area of the city, more sunlight begins to pour into her BMW and illuminate the both of us. It makes the beige-colored birthmark dotting her right jaw stick out even more, and it draws attention to the friz of her blonde waves.
She's got a natural glow that makes her hold the same amount of charm that I do, except she's charming in a different way. It's a kind of natural pull that some people feel to her and it's something that Alex has been craving for years.
She's what he wants, even if I'll never understand why he's attracted to her. She's not ugly but she's not what I'd consider pretty, either. Alex and I are just two different people, which is evident from the fact that Alex doesn't like Eliza, something I'll never understand.
Eliza is just—not to be cheesy or anything—but she's captivating. Every damn thing about her. From her perfume to the color of her eyes, it's all breathtaking.
"You'd be good for my brother," I mutter under my breath as I think about Alex's recent absence.
I haven't seen him in almost a week—not since he passed out in his room and the ambulance came to take him away. It was something that fed into my pent up emotions, having to see my brother nearly starve himself to death.
And while I have the option of going to visit him with my parents this weekend, I just don't know if I can. My emotions about it are mixed, and I don't really know how to let it all out without looking over-emotional. The last thing I need is to lose my last shred of manliness to Alex's eating disorder.
"What'd you say?" Madelyn asks as she glances over at me with her bright blue eyes.
"Nothing," I mumble before I realize that she's just taken a turn in the complete opposite direction of my house. "Where the hell are we going?"
"My house. My mom isn't home."
I know she probably didn't mean to make it sound so provocative, but my mind immediately travels to an inappropriate place the second she says it. Every time a girl has ever told me to 'come over', it's resulted in something sexual. But I know I can't let that happen this time because Alex is already going through enough. The last thing he needs is his brother fucking his lifelong crush.
"That wasn't an invitation to have sex," she cuts in, likely seeing the conflicted look on my face.
"Sounded like it."
I may be seeing things, but I swear her cheeks flush a light shade of rosy pink.
"Ew," she laughs nervously. "I mean, to me it just sounded like a friendly invitation."
She turns into the wealthier, nicer part of the city and starts down more residential roads, the houses now grander and much larger than they were a few minutes ago.
"You're a virgin, aren't you?"
The shock on her face says it all, and she repeatedly glances over at me with an open mouth and offended expression.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Just saying. You act like one."
"And you act like a dick," she fires back before slamming on the brakes in front of a stop sign.
"Talk about my sex life one more time and I will drive to the crackhead part of town and leave your ass there."
She turns to me with an ill-humored expression and appears more annoyed than seriously upset. The dissatisfaction on her face makes me let out a chuckle, but nonetheless, I comply.
"Mkay. Sorry, Mad."
"It's Madelyn."
She starts to drive forward once again, and it's only now that I realize where we are. We're in Yorkshire Villa, one of the nicest, richest areas in Southern Maine. It's right below Eighths Boulevard, although the only people living on Eighths Boulevard are celebrities and millionaires. But still, Yorkshire Villa is certainly a huge step up from the Highlands suburb that I live in.
"You live here?"
Again, the perplexed look on my face makes her cheeks heat up a bit.
"This is why people rarely come over," she admits with a sheepish smile. "People seem to think I'm a spoiled brat."
"Are you?"
I get yet another annoyed glance from her as she drives past the mansion-like houses and further up into the hills.
"Pretty sure I'm biased in that. Not a lot of people would willingly admit that they're a spoiled brat."
"Solid point," I admit while she slows down.
She's approaching a glass-like house, one that looks like something straight out of a millionaire's backyard. It's the kind of house that allows you to see straight into it due to the largeness of the windows, and not surprisingly, it's the one that she pulls her shiny BMW into.
"You can't be serious," I state as she cuts the engine.
"Deadass."
"No."
"Shut the fuck up," she mutters before she swings her car door open.
I follow in a state of disbelief and stumble behind her as we approach the house. Instead of stepping towards the front door, Madelyn walks down a pathway between her garage and the house. The pathway leads to her backyard, and I have to stop walking when I see the view from the yard.
Not only does she have a pool—which is empty due to the winter—but she has a pool that overlooks all of Portland. The downtown area, with its tall buildings and bright lights, is not too far out in the distance, and the setting sun creates a backdrop that looks like something only seen in Hollywood.
"You get to wake up to this?"
Madelyn eyes me from her back door as she unlocks it, offering me nothing but an shake of her head.
"Get your ass inside," she demands as she pushes her door open. "It's cold as hell."
"Pretty sure hell is hot."
She stands in the doorway after she hears my comment and I watch as she decides if she wants to answer me. She decides on nothing but a groan, and I laugh while I watch the irritation on her face grow. She's probably regretting her decision to let me come over, but seeing as I'm already here, it's a little too late for her to do anything about it.
I step across her small backyard and over to her back door, and the second I step inside I'm left in awe at how amazing her house is. It's neatly furnished, her living room furniture seeming to match perfectly as a set, right along with the rest of her house.
Madelyn shuts the glass door after I've entered and I follow her in taking off my shoes and hanging up my jacket in a closet.
"Nice house," I comment before shutting the door to her hall closet. She hardly acknowledges me, and instead she simply strides towards her couch and plops down on the white cushions with a sigh.
I allow my eyes time to roam around, and as I step towards her living room, there's one prevalent thing that I notice.
Everything is so bland.
There are no photos on the walls, no cozy decorations, and nothing that would even signal that there are people living here. It's like one of those mansion tours I've seen on television—perfectly furnished, yet so empty. The only thing even suggesting that people inhabit this place is the presence of Madelyn's blue backpack on one of the living room armchairs, and her instrument thing that's leaning up against the chair.
I think she had said it was a mello or something like that. Or maybe it was a cello.
"Where's your family?" I ask before I take a seat on the couch next to her.
She reaches forward and snatches up a bowl of green grapes from the coffee table.
"What family?"
"You live alone?"
"Not exactly."
I watch her place the bowl on her lap and lean back on her couch without a second thought, like the absence of her family doesn't bother her in the slightest.
"Where are your parents?" I ask with wandering eyes.
"My dad lives in France," she states before plopping a grape in her mouth. "And my mom's an accountant. She travels for work."
"Your dad lives in France?"
Madelyn remains nonchalant as she slaps a grape into her mouth and starts scrolling through her phone.
"He's a Senior Minister of State."
I turn to face her on the couch with a rather confused expression. If she thinks I know anything about the French, she's completely wrong. I thought they went communist, like, one hundred years ago.
"I don't follow international politics. What the fuck does that even mean?"
She sighs and closes her phone.
"He's like, a high official. A couple ranks below Prime Minister and President."
I have to take a moment to think about what she's just said, and the more I do, the more I realize that I have a legit connection to a famous person.
"So he's, like, famous and rich?"
"He's a well-known politician," she corrects with a slight bit of hesitation. "And yes, they pay him well."
"Interesting."
I sit up on the couch and observe the empty, quiet space around us. It's grand and beautiful, and when I look up I see that there's even a chandelier-like light fixture hanging from the ceiling.
It's a house that trumps any suburban home that I could find in my neighborhood, and although it's a house that many people would dream of acquiring, it feels so barren and void of life. Maybe my mom was right when she said money can't buy happiness.
I watch Madelyn pop a grape in her mouth and put her feet up on the white couch, an action that displays her pink flamingo socks to me.
"Nice socks."
I receive nothing but a suggestive eyebrow raise and a smirk from her before she puts yet another grape in her mouth. Silence quickly falls between us as the only sound in the room comes from the grape being chewed by her.
The stillness and slight awkwardness between us reminds me of what it feels like to actually have to try to make new friends. I've had the same group of basketball and football teammates as my friends since the sixth grade. I never needed to make new friends because I always had the social circle of middle and high school at my fingertips. Girls wanted me and guys wanted to be me. I've never had a problem.
But Madelyn is different. She's more introspective, she doesn't throw herself at me, and she certainly doesn't take my shit.
I glance over at her once more and think of Alex and how I had swore that they'd be dating by the end of the month. I was so sure if it, before I knew about what was going on with him and all of that stuff.
But things feel different now, and the playful banter between him and I has turned into resentful and intentional attempts to hurt the other person. It feels wrong, and after the things he's been through lately, I only know of one way to make things right.
Alex may not see it, and he may hate me at first, but I'm doing him a favor.
"My brother has a crush on you."
The sound of Madelyn's chewing stops instantaneously, like my words are the single most shocking thing that she's ever heard.
"I'm sorry—what?" she muffles through a mouthful of half-chewed grape.
"Alex likes you," I repeat while I watch her forcefully swallow the food in her mouth. "He's liked you since, like, the second grade."
The shock on her face turns to deep thought, and she stares at the coffee table with furrowed brows for a long moment.
"Is that why you set me up as his lab partner?"
"Bingo," I beam while I shoot her a suggestive smirk.
She doesn't answer me but instead just continues to stare. I watch with anxious eyes while I wait for her answer. She doesn't offer me anything but an extended pause, and after a moment I just can't wait any longer for her response.
I need this for Alex. I need her to want him.
"So do you like him back?"
Madelyn opens her mouth to answer me but soon closes it again, only letting out a conflicted sigh as her eyes meet mine again.
"It's not that simple."
"What do you mean?!" I exclaim through an exasperated breath. "You either like him or you don't."
She's biting her lip and staring down at her bowl of grapes with an unsure expression, and I think I see her suppressing a slight smile. She's clearly thinking about Alex, and from the way she's twirling a strand of her blonde waves between her fingers and the way her rosy lips are curling up into a grin, I think she may feel the same.
"I mean," she begins while continuing to stare downwards at her bowl of green grapes. "He has a nice face. And he always makes these awkward jokes when we're doing chemistry labs that actually end up being really funny."
"So you do like him," I clarify impatiently.
"I don't know," she sighs. "I'd have to think about it."
I resist the urge to roll my eyes, and instead I just sit still and watch the gears turn in her head. I don't know if she feels the same for certain, but I do know that if she doesn't, it'll crush Alex. His heart will be shattered, along with his hopes and dreams. And I just got my heart stomped on, so I know how fucking shitty it feels. The last thing I want is for Alex to feel the way I do.
"Why the hell do you wanna know so badly? If I like Alex or not?"
Madelyn's inquisitive tone brings my attention away from her shiny glass coffee table and back to her. She's staring at me with an eyebrow raised in a demand for my answer, and it's an answer I don't have. At least not one I could explain to her.
I don't know why I feel so invested in Alex's love life—a month ago, I wouldn't have even given Alex's grumpy ass the time of day. So why exactly everything has changed between Alex and I, I don't know. Maybe it's just because I'm secretly terrified that I'm going to lose him, even though I'll never admit that out loud.
"I'm just curious. I want Alex to get a girlfriend, that's all."
My comment makes Madelyn perk up, and she moves her eyes to her blank TV while nibbling on her bottom lip.
"So he really does like me?" she asks while looking back to me. "Like, he legit wants to go out with me?"
I watch her eager eyes stare anxious holes into me, and just when I'm about to give her a serious answer, I instead decide to be a smartass.
"Why the hell do you wanna know so badly?"
"Nice one," she deadpans with a very unimpressed expression. "Does he really like me, Angel?"
"Ask him yourself when he comes back to school."
This makes her dissatisfaction grow even more, and a frown sets into her lips as she looks at me.
"Where is he, anyways?"
I debate for a moment just being honest with her about Alex's situation, but a nagging feeling tells me that I shouldn't. I've already told her more about Alex than he would want, and telling her about his eating disorder may be going a little too far, even for a piece of shit like me.
"He's sorting out some stuff."
"Like?"
"Like none of your business," I bite back with a teasing grin.
I don't want her to get a heavy feeling from me and draw conclusions, so I keep myself lighthearted and playful to avoid her speculating. If Alex wants to tell her when he gets back home, that's on him. But until then, I'm staying out of it.
My answer makes Madelyn even more unhappy, and her fingers move around in the bowl of grapes until her fingers wrap around a particularly big one.
"Damn, eat a grape. You seem crabby," she mutters before lightly tossing the grape straight at me. It lands in my lap and I pick it up with a quiet chuckle.
"Y'know, I did just have my heart stomped on," I remind her.
She stuffs two grapes in her mouth and instead of chewing on them, she tucks them into her cheeks like a chipmunk.
"You wanna talk about it?"
"You sound like my mom," I retort, thinking to how my mom's been more invested in my emotional well-being lately, something that's meant to be helpful but sometimes ends up being plain annoying.
"Alright, alright, I'll leave you alone," Madelyn mumbles through half-chewed grape with hands up in defense. "Grey's binge?"
I run my hands across the soft plush of her couch and raise an eyebrow. She sees my confusion and is quick to grab her TV remote. When she turns on the TV I can see the Netflix screen focused on Grey's Anatomy.
"Is this a shitty soap opera?"
"It sure is," Madelyn beams while turning to face forwards on her couch. "And sometimes they cut people open."
I settle myself into her couch and prop my feet up on the coffee table, knowing that watching this dumb show is better than being home and thinking about Eliza. I'm sure I'll have a breakdown over her eventually, but for now I'd rather numb the pain with shitty soap operas and mouthfuls of juicy grapes.
"I'm down."