Drunk or Sober

Princess / Ramona's POV

SUNDAY 2/23

Lennox was standing right across from Wes almost going down on me.

I quickly sat up and grabbed my chest before Wes handed me a pillow, taking one to cover himself too.

Lennox just stood there, her eyes wide, but the rest of her face expressionless.

"It's not what it looks-"

"Don't pull that bullshit line on me. It's exactly what it looks like. You're sleeping with her!" She pointed at me. And called me 'her'. "You're sleeping with Ramona. You're sleeping with her... with Ramona..."

I wanted to scream.

Lennox sat back in a chair and stared at us. I didn't know what to say. There was nothing to say. I couldn't justify this. I wasn't drunk. I wasn't going through something.

"Try to breathe." I whispered uncomfortably.

She just stared.

"You-" She pointed at me again. "You're with Bennett; and you, Wes... Wes, you're with Harleigh."

"Lennox, quit overreacting; you wouldn't understand. People make mistakes." Wes tried to calm her down from his position on the couch, but it obviously failed.

Mistake.

Things were never more clear to me.

I was a mistake.

This wasn't going anywhere.

He was just as bad as Harleigh was.

Using me.

I clasped my sweatshirt from the table and pulled it over my head. "I need to go home. Please, Wes, take me home."

Lennox spoke up. "Now he's going to drive you home? For what? So you could screw him there?"

"Lennox, leave her alone."

"Why should I! You guys- you're horrible. You're cheaters, you- What were you even thinking?"

"I'm sorry, Lennox. I'm honestly sorry you see us like that, but you know nothing. Wes, just take me home, please." I just needed to get out of here.

Lennox ran up the stairs.

Wes grabbed his jeans and threw on his sweatshirt, throwing my sweatpants to me from behind the couch.

---------------------------------------------

The car ride was awkward. I didn't want to say anything nor did I know what to say. Wes said sorry a few times, but I just looked out the window and wished he'd drive faster. He finally came to a stop.

I unbuckled my seatbelt before he grabbed my wrist. "Wes, please, just let me go."

"Ramona, are you really upset over what Lennox thinks about us?"

"About us? About us, Wes? What even are we? We couldn't even remember the first time, I just- Let me go."

He looked into my eyes, hoping I'd probably apologize, and let go. I slammed his car door.

Wes rolled down the window and whispered sorry, but I pretended not to hear him. I was so done with tonight... so done with Wes... Hopefully Monday would come fast enough and I'd be able to explain to Lennox.

Now I just needed to come up with the right words to tell her.

I got upstairs into my bedroom and looked at myself in the mirror.

Mistake.

It rang in my ears like a thousand little bells.

That's all I could ever be to a boy right?

Maybe some people don't get a happily ever after. I'm convinced I'm probably one of those people.

I never did believe in those magical fairytale endings.

Or love at first sight.

I was no princess. Wes wasn't here to rescue me.

I paused. My fists were clenched and my judgement was clouded with all these emotions. Yet I still felt so empty.

Glass flew onto my dresser and on the floor. Jagged shards dug deep into my knuckles.

I laid down on the stiff hardwood flooring and focused my eyes at my ceiling.

Constellations, planets... a galaxy.

Some faint, some ripped.

I had the whole universe plastered right above me.

Since I was three, I've had glow in the dark stars on my ceiling. When I was eleven years old, I convinced myself it was too childish, so I climbed up on my dresser and spent three and a half hours trying to peel them off.

When my fingernails were stained with blood, and my planets, moons, and stars were only bent and scratched, I gave up and figured I might miss them anyways.

I asked my brother if my fingers looked alright, and he pointed to his own hands; his knuckles were bruised and his nails looked worse. I asked him what happened but he swore he'd never tell.

I remember coming into his room and asking him how to grow up, and he laughed at me before putting his palm on my shoulder and saying, "Stop rushing."

My hands went numb.

I would give anything to be that young again.

////POOR BABY RAMS//