𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚋𝚎? {𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎 𝙳𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚘𝚗}

'ɢɪɴɴʏ ᴅᴀɴʙᴜʀʀʏ,

The throbbing headache followed me through the weekend. We drank the night away in the name of Todd while the poor kid rigidly stuck to his boyfriend and the chocolate cake.

I fixed my long skirt and readjusted my shirt. I debated unbuttoning the top ones but decided against them.

Better safe than sorry.

It was scary how easily I had slipped back into the old routine — Della routine. I didn't take risks anymore, instead, I was happy to be holed up in my stifling presence. I hadn't heard from anyone after that night until Knox barged in with his peculiar request.

I had finished all my homework, and prepared for next week's classes too. Losing myself in studies was a very productive distraction from the cruel lad I had fallen for.

"You gotta help me, Chet is going on some trip with his friends this weekend," Knox implored, "This is my only chance to fix things."

In excruciating detail, he had walked me through the fateful night of the Danburry party. How he was misidentified, then drunk, felt up Chris when she was asleep, and ultimately got beaten bloody when her boyfriend found out.

I knocked him over first, slapping the top of his head. Kissing Chris without her consent was indisputably his mistake, and he needed to take accountability. No matter how much he loved her, his actions had crossed a line.

After I explained his idiocy to him, he hastily came up with the plan to reach out to Chris again this weekend instead of giving her much-needed space. His logic was that if he'd let her simmer in that experience, he would lose his "chance". It didn't hurt that Chet would be out of the way too, it all came together a little too comfortably — divine timing and all that.

I let him rope me into the monumental disaster about to occur, hoping that if nothing else, I can at least make sure he doesn't push the unfortunate girl's boundaries again. The boy was one wrong move away from being seized by local authorities.

I had successfully positioned the aching nuisance named Charlie at the very back of my mind.

"Gosh, you didn't have to get her flowers," I started. We were at the Danburry house. "And why is she even here? Doesn't she have her own home?"

"She lives with the Danburrys. To take care of them and everything," He explained, ringing the doorbell.

A brunette opened the door, she looked a year or two younger than us. She good-naturedly rolled her eyes when she saw Knox at the door, then waved us in.

"Della, this is Ginny," Knox said lightly, his eyes already scanning his surroundings to search for a certain blonde whose hair he calls "sunshine".

"Hi, Ginny," I smiled at the girl, "Nice to meet you. You have a lovely house."

My manners were embedded into me, so much so that I internally cringed at my formality. It was easier to lose control when I had company, but now that it was verified that it was nothing good — I had no choice but to resort to my courteous, orthodox ways

The girl gasped audibly, her eyes widened comically and for a second I wondered if there was a demon behind me.

"Are you okay?" I slowly asked, afraid to move under her scrutinising eyes that were candidly discerning me.

"You're Della?" She asked, "She's Charlie's Della?"

The latter was directed towards Knox who nodded absentmindedly, still looking around like a lost chicken.

"Oh, my God!" She screeched and pulled me into a sudden hug. "You're so beautiful, no wonder he was so taken with you."

My throat constricted, unexpectedly dry. "Water." I breathed out the syllables without collapsing. Hearing his name was a blow, but knowing he spoke about me — about us, was like being shot in the chest. The intrusion was unwelcome and agonisingly painful.