Secrets

28 | devon

Audrey and I are laughing our asses off, despite the fact that we're incapable of recalling what we found so funny in the first place.

I tilt my head back as I swallow another sip of vodka, wrinkling my nose at the vile taste as the burning liquid makes its way to my stomach, though it feels as if it's traveling straight to my brain.

I'm wasted, which I'm aware of all too well. I've gone a little too heavy on the alcohol tonight, trying to numb my thoughts and emotions with liquid adrenaline. It seems to be working, though I know the high will soon wear off and leave me right back where I was.

When I first arrived at this party, I couldn't stop thinking about home. Déjà vu struck me like a vehicle driving at high speed, leaving me unable to escape memories that seemed to only inflict pain. I thought of parties just like this with my friends by my side–I couldn't get the night I first kissed Hadley out of my head. I miss her more than I'd like to admit; I miss home and my friends and all of the things I'm used to.

I'd decided to solve my problems by drinking them away, as do so many others.

So here I am now, standing in the middle of some frat house, dancing and chatting with Audrey over the blaring music vibrating amongst the floorboards and trying not to think of home.

"Give me your phone!" Audrey cries as she loops an arm over my shoulders, swinging her hips and pulling me in to join her.

I don't have time to respond before Audrey is taking my phone right from my back pocket, opening SnapChat and facing the camera toward us. She takes a quick video of the two of us dancing, both of us cracking up together as we watch the video playback. I don't protest when she uploads the video to my story, tossing me my phone as she downs another shot.

I study my home screen with blurring vision. I notice a text from Hadley, but I feel too out of it to respond. I'll talk to her later, I tell myself as I slip my phone back into my pocket, swallowing down the guilt that rises in my chest by downing it with vodka.

I dance the rest of the night away, screaming the lyrics to pop songs until my throat hurts, choking down drinks until I can't see straight. Audrey and I don't exit to return to our dorm until well past midnight, giggling as we hold onto one another to keep ourselves upright as we walk down the street to our building.

All too soon, the alcohol begins wearing off, leaving me with sober thoughts. I think to myself as I get ready for bed, guilt hammering a nail into my heart. My stomach twists into knots, threatening to bring all of the alcohol I consumed over the last few hours back up.

I'm unsure as to why I feel so guilt-ridden until it suddenly dawns on me that I haven't thought about Hadley–not once in hours. Somehow, I'd managed to get thoughts of home and my friends out of my mind.

I curse under my breath as I rush to pull up my texts with Hadley, realizing I never bothered to answer her last text. That was three hours ago.

I sit back on my bed and stare down at my phone, beginning to type a response before checking the time and seeing that Hadley would have been sleeping for nearly six hours now, due to the new time difference between us.

"What's with the sad face?" Audrey questions as she enters our room. She'd been in the communal bathroom down the hall, getting ready to turn in for the night.

I quickly turn my phone off, ridding the image of Hadley's unanswered text from my sight. For a moment, I debate telling Audrey the truth. I almost want to tell her what's bothering me–that I miss home. I miss my mom and my friends and my old school. That I fucked up this summer not telling Hadley I'd be moving, and I've been treating her like shit since then.

Instead, I shake my head too quickly and force a smile. "Nothing," I chirp. "Just tired."

Audrey smirks knowingly. "You better sleep on it, Parker. I don't think your coach would approve of the amount of alcohol you consumed tonight."

I hide my face behind my hands and groan aloud. I've got to remember to keep it together better than this–I know I have to be on my A-game if I want to remain playing on Stanford's women's soccer team. I can't go out late and binge on alcohol. I need my rest, so I can do my best on the field and keep my grades up. If I keep acting like this, I'll lose everything–my scholarship, the team, Stanford in itself.

I hang my head low before laying back on the mattress, pulling the comforter up to my shoulders. I toss and turn for hours, unable to settle into a comfortable sleep.

Instead, I stay up into the early hours of the morning wondering who I've turned into–because I certainly don't recognize the person I've been lately.

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a/n: double update 🤗