The Choices We Make

Chapter 5- Let's Talk

Confrontations.

I hate them, but as I stare into the eyes of my two best friends, I know I have no choice. I must put an end to this ridiculous game of hide-and-seek we've been playing. Not for their peace of mind, but for my own.

"What do you guys want?" There's an edge to my tone, giving the impression that I'm irritated by their presence, but my racing heart tells another story.

"Are you serious right now?" Matt raises his brows, exasperated. A scowl dons his face when I don't reply. "You've been avoiding us like the plague for the past week, and you have the nerve to ask, 'what do we want'? Don't you think we deserve an explanation?"

Deserve an explanation? Is he serious?

He had been avoiding me all summer. Thinking that I wouldn't notice how the loud roar of his black car approaching my house became less frequent as the days went by. How whenever the three of us hung out together, he would stick Isla in the middle and use her as a buffer between us. How our conversations dwindled from hours of easy-going banter to minutes of excruciating small talk.

I noticed, but I never did anything about it. Never pushed him on the matter like he was doing to me right now. I gave him the time and space I thought he deserved, so why couldn't he do the same for me?

"Oh, I see" I drawl out. "So, it's okay when you ignore my phone calls and keep your distance from me, but once the tables are turned, then it's a problem. Well, I've got news for you." I take a step forward, the anxiety that once crippled my body now replaced by red hot fury. "I owe you nothing. Especially after what happened at Miranda's party."

Matt tilts his head in confusion before realization dawns on him and his eyes widen in shock.

If anyone else had told me what went down at Miranda's party, I wouldn't have believed them. But I saw it with my own two eyes, and it was all thanks to Isla.

She had barged into my room that night, begging me to be her wing-woman.

"Jacob's going to be there, and I need to make my first move tonight," she had said, referring to the 'budding romance' between her and our school's quarterback.

I hardly ever went to parties. Only on occasion, and only with Matt. And since Matt had to help his parents at their restaurant, and I wasn't in the mood to have my nostrils burn from the pungent smell of cheap booze and sweat, I was more than willing to sit this one out.

However, I found myself seated beside Isla in her baby blue car on our way to Miranda Gaskin's 17th 'birthday beach bash'. I couldn't let her go alone. I needed to be there in case her plans went south. In case she decided to drink away her feelings.

We made our way through the dark and crowded beach house; Isla in search of Jacob and I in search of the least congested space I could find.

"Go easy on this one, Chrissy. Don't wanna break him on his first go." I heard someone say as I made my way towards the kitchen.

"I'll try, but no promises," the girl replied. Her voice sultry and smooth like the black, high slit, satin dress Isla forced me into an hour ago.

I stopped in my tracks, hesitant to take another step in the direction of the laughter and whistles filtering out of the room, but my curiosity got the better of me and I eased forward, poking my head through the entrance of the all-white, brightly lit kitchen.

The scene before me made me sick to my stomach. Not from the pervasive stench of the white puffs of smoke polluting the air. Not even from the girl lying on the marbled kitchen counter in her lacey, red underwear; a slice of lime in her mouth and salt sprinkled on her stomach.