invisible string

ii. the reeling

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ BELLY ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

I groan, pressing my face into the cool bottle Taylor holds to my cheek.

"It's not that bad."

"Not that bad? Shayla I got hit in the face by my childhood best friend whom I haven't so much as texted in like three years, fell on my ass, and dragged him down with me, in front of my brother, my ex, and my ex's ridiculously pretty new girlfriend. What about that isn't terrible?"

"I meant the bruising." Shayla reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind Belly's ear.

"Yeah, 'cause the circumstances are fu-"

"Taylor. Not helping." Shayla interrupts, shooting her a look.

"Look. We were having fun before! It's one bar. We'll go back out there, say hi, make an excuse, and dip. We're in Barcelona! We're not going to waste it just 'cause those bitches crashed our fun for five minutes. We won't ever have to see them again."

"Apart from, you know, your brother." Cam adds.

"Yeah, that's kind of given, Cam."

"Isn't there a way we can sneak out?" Belly groans.

"No! Head held high, Belly. You need to fucking own this shit."

"Taylor's right. A stupid boy doesn't get to take this from you." Shayla nods.

"Plus, you look metal as fuck now with that bruise." Cam says, grinning before raising his arms to shield himself from the barrage of attacks the girls throw at him for the comment.

When Cam finally yelled mercy, and the girls had properly cleaned up their friend, they headed out of the cramped bathroom to glares from the line outside, moving through the throng back to their table. Stevie stands cross-armed to the side, scanning the crowd for his little sister, Jeremiah leans lazily against the table next to him, gaze fixed on the wall. Belly sees Conrad last, at the pool table, arm around his girl as he helps her to aim the shot. Belly forces down a scoff. Conrad sucks at the pool. It's one of the only things he sucks at, which is why they almost never used the table in the Cousin's beach house basement. It had always just been Belly and Jeremiah, sneaking down when the older boys went out. Belly shakes off the memory as she reaches her brother.

"Hey Stevie."

"What are you doing here? This is a bar, Belly. A bar."

"No shit, Steven. I'm eighteen. This is Europe. I'm allowed to be here."

Steven ignores her comment.

"Does mom know this is what you're doing with your summer? Not really the culture trip you pitched to her, huh?"

"Stop being an asshole, Steven."

"Stop being a brat!"

"Hi!"

Steven's eyes go wide at the voice.

"Shayla. Hi."

For a brief second Belly catches Jeremiah's eye and the two of them share a smile over Steven's obvious crush, but then Jeremiah seems to sober, and looks away, his eyes locking back onto the blank space ahead of him. Belly blanches at the exchange, until a soft 'Belly' turns her attention.

"Hey." He says softly. He isn't smiling, she notices. Not like he had been before. With her. But his eyes, his closeness. Belly was sixteen in Cousin's again begging for his attention, for him to look at her, talk to her, to be close enough to him to mould his mouth into a smile, but not to have to because he was already smiling, for her. All of it came back. A light voice broke her reverie.