He smells like alcohol and he tastes like it too.
My hands are running though his hair and his hands have found my waist and he's squeezing me and we're pulling eachother so close, too close.
But that's okay. This is all going to be worth it in the end because I will be so infatuated with Drew that I'll forget about my feelings for Timmy.
I'll forget about his kind eyes, about his tender voice, about his soft curls, about his plump lips. I'll forget about him entirely.
Drew is my medicine right now, he is my cure. He will get me through this.
I just know it.
I move my lips to Drew's neck and he lets out a moan. I know how to push his buttons now, I know what turns him on and what drives him crazy and it's honestly satisfying to watch him come undone.
I pull away and I'm about to place my lips on his mouth again but Drew pushes me back. 'Wait.' He says and he holds me above him, his hands are one my shoulders and his eyes are trained on mine.
He's drunk again, for the millionth time in a row this week, and he's looking at me like I'm some kind of goddess who has the ability to alter his entire world. I should be flattered by this, but instead I feel a twinge of sympathy because as I look at him all I can still think of is Timothée.
'What?' I ask Drew, because he still hasn't been able to tear his eyes away from mine.
He smiles at me. 'Nothing. You're just so fucking hot right now.' I roll my eyes. It's probably the drunk him talking. Sober Drew would never call me hot, but then again I really don't know sober Drew all that well. I've only seen the intoxicated side of him. I pull him towards me again and we continue making out on my tiny bed in my tiny bedroom.
It's all perfect, until it isn't.
As Drew flips me over so that I am underneath him, I watch as he starts taking off my shirt quickly. It isn't until I'm in my bra and underwear that I realize things are about to be taken to the next level with us.
Me and Drew have messed around a lot lately. We make out and we touch and we just hold eachother sometimes, but we don't talk. We never really talk. Things between me and him haven't escalated yet and I'm not sure I want them to.
He might be a distraction right now, but he sure as hell won't be the guy I let take my virginity from me.
I'm saving that for someone special.
'Stop.' I say, fear evident in my voice. And thankfully I don't have to repeat myself because Drew immediately pulls away from me.
He looks down at me, at my vulnerable naked body before finding my eyes again. I'm about to explain why I stopped things from escalating but then I watch Drew's eyebrows furrow. 'Fuck Ella, what happened to you?'
My heart thumps in my chest at a very rapid rate as I watch him look back down at my body and then back at me. I don't have to look down to know he is staring right at the cuts and bruises on my body. On my torso, my stomach, my legs and my arms.
I'm always in sweaters, hoodies, turtlenecks, long sleeved shirts. It's the winter time so I have to cover up and my father hasn't bruised or battered me up in a while that I almost completely forgot I had bruises covering every inch of me.
The fact that Drew is the first person to ever see them is unsettling to me. I feel uncomfortable.
I push him off of me and grab my hoodie. I put it on as fast as I can and as I'm pulling my sweatpants up I look at all the bruises that cover my legs. I feel sick as I catch sight of them.
Some were from the fall down the stairs when my father pushed me, but most were from kitchen utensils that my father would hit me with, his leather belts that he would always have ready and even some were from his own violent fists.
He never showed me mercy. Never cared that I was getting hurt by him. It's hard to think about so I try to push the thoughts out of my mind.
'You need to go.' I say it more harshly then I intended to.
'No but wait, what was that? Are- are you okay?' He asks.
I nod continuously. 'Yes Drew, I'm fine truly. I just.. I have a lot of homework and I have soccer in the morning so please leave now.' I shove him towards the door slightly but I am not strong enough to actually get him there.
Drew turns around and I expect him to look at me with pity but instead he looks at me with so much understanding in his sad eyes. 'Okay.' He says calmly. 'Okay, I understand.'
We look at eachother for a while, and for a second I almost feel like Drew can sense my pain. Like he has felt it before, the pain of being weak and powerless and unwanted by somebody. The pain of being unloved by someone who is meant to love you.
He holds my face in his two hands and reaches down to kiss me and I let him because I have already freaked him out enough for tonight. 'Bye Ella.' He says before showing himself out the door.
I don't know why, but once I find it in me to sit down on the bed the tears stream out of my eyes like a water fall. I'm not sad, or hurt, or mad at Drew.
None of this is his fault.
I just felt so exposed. And not just because I was naked in front of him tonight, but because he saw something that only I get to see everyday when I look at myself in the mirror. My bruises weren't pretty, they weren't small either. But he still saw them and that was never supposed to happen.
They're supposed to stay concealed. I shouldn't have been so stupid as to let him see something so private, so personal to me.
Someone knocks on the door and I groan. It must be Drew again. He's probably going to beg me to let him stay here longer so his mother doesn't catch him drunk tonight.
I rush to the bathroom to wipe away my tears and splash some cold water on my face before walking towards the front door. The person standing behind the door is not Drew, but Timothée.
My heart drops at the sight of him. His eyes are red and puffy and full of sorrow. It looks like he has been crying for hours. I don't get another chance to look at him too closely, or examine him because he stumbles into my arms.
I hold him.
I hold him tight, because I know that's what he needs right now. I feel him shudder in my arms, his face is buried in my neck and I want to cry too because I care about him so much and seeing him like this, sad and hurt and full of pain, it stung me deeply.
'Timmy, Timmy what is it?' I ask. He makes a sound and I don't know what it means but I know that it only makes my heart crack even more.
'What's wrong?' I ask. He doesn't say a word to me, and it isn't until he has stopped shaking in my arms that I feel he has calmed down.
I let go of him, I look him in the eyes and he looks like even more of a mess then he did before. But I don't care. I reach for his face and I wipe the remains of tears on his cheeks.
Then I keep my hand there, on his cheek, because it feels like the right thing to do in this moment. 'Tell me.' I plead with him and he nods slowly and sternly, resting his face on my palm.
'It's Alex.' He says. 'He's in the hospital.'
I want to cry too. I want to break down and let the tears escape my eyes but I don't because it won't do anything. It won't change anything. Alex is Timothée's best friend. Not mine. I only know Alex because he was on the soccer team and I shared a few classes with him over the years, but that was all.
I needed to be here for Timothée right now. I can't get lost in my own thoughts. 'Is he okay?' I ask, because I need to know.
Timothée shakes his head. 'No. He's in a coma Ella.' The words terrify me. 'I tried seeing him but they wouldn't let me in. They said only family members were allowed to see him.' Timothée explains and I shake my head.
'But he is your family.' I say feeling the anger building up inside of me.
Timothée nods. 'I know he is. I- I might get mad at him sometimes. Because he doesn't get me, he doesn't like the same things I like and doesn't do the same things I do, but he's still Alex. He's still my best friend and this is all my fault Ella.'
I shake my head at him. 'What- no.' I say. 'No, don't say that. Don't you ever say that. How could this be your fault?' I let go of his face and run my hands down his arms. Something he always does to me when I need to be comforted.
I watch as a single tear falls out of his eye. 'He got drunk El.' Timothée struggles to say 'He asked me to go partying with him but I didn't feel like it. Then he got behind the wheel, while he was still extremely intoxicated and he crashed into a tree.'
I can't handle it anymore. I pull Timothée into me once again for another embrace, but this time it's me who's crying. My mother, I remember my mother right now because it's like de ja vu. It's like the same thing is happening all over again. That's how I lost her, to a car accident.
An accident.
My father blames me because she was driving her car in the middle of the night to look for me after I had run away from home. I blamed myself too at first, but now I know that it wasn't my doing.
A drunk driver hit her.
I didn't make the driver that crashed into her that night drink, I didn't force him to drunk drive did I? All I did was run away from home after my father threatened to kill me if I missed another day of school. Then my mom did what she did best and she went out to find me.
It was my fathers fault, he made me leave, he made her chase after me. He started this mess.
She died because of him. Not me.
'It isn't your fault.' I whisper. 'How could you have known he'd do that?' Timothée doesn't say anything. He just stays there, and I don't let go of him.
We don't talk. We just hold eachother in silence. I do my best to comfort him and I think it's working because he stops shaking and crying and his breaths are steady now.
I stopped feeling his heartbeat pound against my chest. Instead he seemed calm and collected.
'I just hope he's okay.' Timothée says finally breaking the silence.
'Me too.' I murmur.
And it is in this very moment, as our hearts sync together at the same steady beat, and our bodies are tangled in a tight embrace that I know.. I am falling deeply in love with him.
***
We're in the waiting room. It's tiny and cramped but even with the lack of space me and Timothée still huddle up in a corner. He's leaning his head on my shoulder and my head is overtop his head.
I feel at peace even in the midst of all of this chaos.
The nurses refuse to let us in to see Alex, but thankfully just being here at the hospital calms Timothée down because at least this way he can keep tabs on what's happening to his best friend.
As I sit in the small room, I think of my mother. I think of how she must have felt in her last moments, driving her car around the empty streets at night trying to find her lost daughter.
She must have been so worried about me, so terrified she'd lose me that night. But little did she know, it was her we would be losing. Not me.
I was a twelve year old with a duffle bag filled with random, stupid things. One ten dollar bill, some chocolate bars, a bit of candy, my teddy bear and a few of my favorite clothing items.
It was so pathetic of me to do.
I was young and stupid and scared out of my mind. I wish I didn't run away. I wish I'd stayed in that house and faced my father's wrath.
I wish. I wish. I wish.
But I can't change what happened. I've come to terms with that now. And I can't blame myself either because I know my mother would hate me if I did that.
She'd want me to be happy.
The door to the tiny waiting room opens and Timothée shifts so he can stand up and I do the same. We expect the nurses to come in and tell us some good news about Alex, but instead we are met with Noelle and Sam and a few other guys and girls from the soccer team.
Even Halie is here, with her hand in Sam's hand and I try to shake the negative thoughts that come to my mind once I look at them. I needed to stay calm and collected.
For my sake and for Timothée's sake.
I smile at them, just a small simple smile. Because this isn't the time and place to be acting petty. Noelle smiles back at me, and even Halie returns the smile but Sam doesn't. He only takes a seat grumpily in the opposite corner.
'Hey. You guys just got here?' I ask directing my question towards everyone rather than just my ex best friends. They all nod in unison.
'Any news?' Asks Fred. One of the boys on the soccer team.
Me and Timmy both shake our heads. 'Nope. Nothing.' Says Timothée and we all sit down. There aren't enough seats for all of us in the small room so I stand up and offer my seat up for one of the girls to take and so I sit on the ground.
Timothée sees me do that and he follows suite. Giving one of his close buddies his chair and sitting beside me on the ground, with our backs against the wall.
It was honestly peaceful, the silence.
At first, all of us just sat there quietly, taking in the situation but then Lily, Alex's ex-girlfriend who also happened to be a cheerleader started to cry, letting out sob after sob and in joined in the rest of us.
Timothée let go of all his emotions. He wasn't going to hold back, he didn't care how he looked he just cried on my shoulder and I held his hand and brushed my fingers through his hair and whispered words into his ear to try and calm him down.
Everyone cried quietly, or they comforted someone who was crying quietly. It was so heartbreaking to watch and as I sat there and brushed my thumb over Timothée's hand I couldn't help but hope Alex was going to make it in the end.
Because if he doesn't. They will all be just as broken as I am.
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