Never Summer Again

Chapter Forty-Five - Is It True?

Score: All Goes Wrong - Chase and Status

Lydia

A high-pitched noise suddenly pierces my eardrums, making my hands shoot up to cover my ears.

To no avail. The noise continues to deafen me.

I slowly move my eyes away from Patrick towards Mark, until my eyes are locked with his. And what I see in there nearly sends me to my knees.

So much pain and remorse is streaming from those golden-brown oceans, illuminated by the headlights of the car, that it is almost palpable in the air.

My heart twitches with hurt for the boy that's standing in front of me. He looks devastated. The rain is soaking his hair, gluing it to the sides of his head, and some wet strands are falling over his forehead and into his eyes, making him look even more miserable. I have the sudden urge to pull him into a smothering hug and take him inside Gloria's house to dry up.

And then, slowly at first, but picking up momentum, like a huge wave in the open ocean, realization washes over me, pulling me under and dragging me to the depths, where only darkness and despair reside.

Because it's not him I should be feeling this pain for. I shouldn't be feeling sorry for him at all.

I should feel hurt and betrayed myself.

Suddenly, I feel all the pain, crashing all over me and around me, consuming my tiny little world, extending only to the pool of light, created by the Uber's headlights.

"Please, Lydia, let me explain..." Mark seems to have finally found his words again.

"Is it true?" Is all that I can say.

Mark opens his mouth and then closes it, his lips pursing into a tight line. A deep frown mars his face, his eyes two slits.

I can't see inside them anymore.

A second passes, then another, but he doesn't say anything.

"It's true," I hear a voice from behind my back.

I slowly turn around and see Nate, standing on his feet now, with Alex, Gloria, and Liam at his sides. He's looking at me with so much sympathy that I'm instantly feeling guilty for back-kicking him in the balls.

I hope I didn't inflict any damage.

Wait, how does he...

"I was there," he says as if reading my mind. "In Italy."

"What, this summer?" I feel really dumb. As if I'm late to a party and am left out on something scandalous that happened that everybody is engrossed in conversation about, but nobody seems to care enough to explain to me.

"No, Lydia," Patrick cuts in.

"I'm not fucking talking to you!" I scream at him.

I look back at Nate, nodding my head toward him, encouraging him to continue.

"No, Lyds. In Italy two years ago. On our trip. Remember the night we played poker and you guys were bored and went to the bar?" He nods at his girlfriend and then in my direction. "We stayed behind and they continued playing," Nate tilts his head towards Mark and Patrick now.

I gasp as sharp pain tears at my chest. As if a piece of broken glass is slicing my heart into ribbons. My throat constricts and hot tears from pain start stinging my eyes.

Two years?! Two fucking years?

Nate must have noticed the change in my composure, because he is just staring at me, hesitant to continue.