lilliana
"Please. I need your help." Ethan was the only friend of mine that answered the phone and I need outfit advice.
"I don't fucking know!" He says through the FaceTime. "Wear jeans and a shirt, I guess."
"But what shirt, Ethan. What jeans?" I run my hands through my hair. It's been two weeks since I've been to a party - if you could even call that frat situation a party. "I give up. I'm not going."
"I will drag you there myself if you don't go. So I'll see you in 20." I roll my eyes as he hangs up. My eyes land on a black corset top with spaghetti straps. It has a cute neckline and the black lacing throughout it is a great touch.
I pair it with some simple light wash jeans along with black Converse. I stick my phone in my back pocket - I don't want to be responsible for carrying a purse. I leave my hair down and leave the makeup I put on earlier there.
I finish at the perfect time and make my way to the party house. I honestly don't know what fraternity house it is, but the parties are always great.
Once I get there, it's already super packed. I greet some familiar faces, and some of my friends on the social team.
"Are my eyes deceiving me or is that the Lilliana Willow Riley?"
"It is indeed." I respond. He walks over to me, a red cup in his hand. I'm not surprised he's drinking although he has a reputation to uphold. He's always been responsible, so I'm not worried.
"How's it going, Riley?" He asks smiling at me with that lopsided grin he always has - except for when he's on the field.
"Good, what about you?" He runs a hand through his blonde hair.
"Oh, you know me better than that, Riley. I can't have too many complaints." He says.
"You're right, I do. Why would the JJ McCarthy ever complain about life?" I say in a sarcastic tone.
"Hey! Riley!" A familiar voice - one that I don't wish was familiar - yells from the sidewalk. "Tell your boy I'm coming for his ass."
I look at who's talking to me - Connor Thorn. Tommy is beside him. They both have bruises and black eyes. You're fucking kidding.
"What's Thorn talking about?" JJ asks.
"If you'll excuse me." I say before marching into the frat house to find Luke. I find Rutger instead.
"Where's Hughes?" I ask him. He furrows his eyebrows at me.
"TJ?" He responds.
"Luke."
"Luke? Why are you looking for Luke? I- He might be in the backyard." He says.
"Thanks." I weave my way through the crowd and there he is in the backyard with a bruise on his right eye.
"What the fuck!" I push him away from the beer pong table. He stumbles back, but being the defensemen he is, doesn't take much of a hit.
"What?" He says clearly not knowing what I'm talking about.
"Tell your boy I'm coming for his ass." I state. His eyes go the tiniest bit larger than before. "I wonder why the hell Thorn would say that if you are the only one who knows about it."
"Listen, I-"
"Fucking save it. I told you not to do anything and what? You say fuck it?" I say.
"Precisely." He responds. I roll my eyes at how nonchalantly he's acting.
"You know you can get suspended for that, right? It'll ruin your entire reputation, for the rest of you life, Hughes."
"You know damn well I've never cared about my reputation when it comes to you." He says. I don't respond because I don't know how.
That's a first. I'm always countering all of his quick remarks and now I have nothing. Not a single thing to say.
And why do I care about his reputation or his possible suspension all of a sudden?
I don't. I can't. I care about well the team does, it's nothing personal with him.
"And besides, why do you care so much about me now, huh?"
"I don't."
"Bullshit." He walks past me, and I watch him walk into the house - most likely to leave the party.
I walk into the kitchen - which is surprisingly empty. Why am I disappointed that Luke isn't in here?
Why do I want to go after him? I never have before. What is making this time so different? Why do I feel hurt that he walked away? Why am I actually questioning if I care about him? Do I hate him? Have I ever hated him at all? Are the guys right - have I been suppressing love with hate?
I'm spiraling alone in a fucking kitchen of a fraternity house.
I need to leave. My emotions are overwhelming me too much, my clothes are too tight, I can feel my hair on my neck, the music is too loud. I need to go home.
Home. A funny thing. Home is where your heart is. But where is mine? I don't know.
The fact that I'm questioning it is only making the rabbit hole deeper.
"I think the beer is behind y- Are you okay?" Duker walks into the kitchen.
"I never hated him." I mumble. All of the love and hurt and fear from the Cruel Summer to now comes rushing in.
"Let's get you to your dorm, eh?" He says. He guides me through the house, excuse me's and sorry's being muttered as we walk through everyone.
Once we get outside, the chill night air allows me to breathe. I abruptly stop once we get to the sidewalk. "I need to talk to him."
"You can do that tomorrow," Duker says. "You probably have been drinking and-"
"I haven't drunken anything, Dukes. You know I don't drink." I state.
"Lily, no. You can talk to him tomorrow." I guess I could, it's been almost two years, what's another 12 hours?
"K." I mumble. He walks me back to my dorm, and once again, my roommate isn't here. I feel like she never is. I change and lay down.
I pull out my phone and look through my Camera Roll - tapping on a certain album in particular titled moosey.
I scroll through all the pictures, playing the videos and holding down the ones that are live photos. I don't realize tears are rolling down my cheeks. I remember the memories of these moments so vividly as if it were yesterday.
I pull up is contact. I changed it, but it used to be something cute I can't remember. I scroll through the texts - avoiding the ones in the midst of the breakup.
I look at the ones when we were together. I can remember my smile through these texts. I thought we were forever. It seemed like the perfect romance. Childhood best friends, it's all I used to read about. Since the Cruel Summer, I haven't read a single childhood best friends to lovers book.
I tuck my phone under my pillow. The tears slowly halt as I drift off to sleep, as does the aching feeling in my heart.
author's note:
can the nhl slow down please?? like the season is over and too much is happening rn. the draft is tmr, the awards were yesterday, free agents and trades ITS TOO MUCH TO HANDLE
