𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝑾𝒆 𝑫𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝑺𝒂𝒚

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞

┏━━━ ❀ ━━━┓
𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭
┗━━━ ❀ ━━━┛
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(Lizzie's Pov)

New Years Eve 2017

There was about an hour left until midnight, though she didn't seem to even notice. She was engrossed in playing that stupid flip cup game with Abby, or for some reason, the Wet Nun, as (Y/n) had repeatedly called her.

Vince was by my side for most of the night, not very unusual considering we've been on the couch since I got here. With an empty solo cup in hand, I tilted my head against the cushion to face him.

"Hey, will you kiss me if (Y/n) doesn't at midnight?" I asked, and he looked utterly confused.

Rolling my eyes, I looked back to her, and the cup crushed in my palms at the sight of them, the way Abby's hand slid into hers. It was for a brief second, almost like a handshake without the shake—an exchange.

I knew I couldn't be mad about the whole drug dealer thing, I knew about it before we started dat– hooking up. But that didn't mean she had to be so damn flirty with all her customers.

It was only when she wiggled her way up on the table that something in me snapped. The way Abby stepped between her legs, serving her with a line of some shit.

Her face lit up at the sight of me, but it quickly changed as I passed them completely. Even as she called after me, I didn't stop, finding myself in the driveway of the Kappa house.

She ran in front of me, forcing me to stop as her hands came up, but the feeling of her fingers burned against my skin.

"Lizzie, What's wrong?" she asked, her eyes searching mine.

I took a deep breath, trying to contain the frustration boiling inside me. "Do you have to flirt with everyone you come in contact with?" I snapped.

She frowned, confusion and surprise etched on her face. "What are you talking about?"

I gestured back towards the party. "You and Abby. I mean the fucking hand-holding, the closeness. It's like you forgot I was even there."

She sighed, her expression softening. "I'm being friendly, not flirty. It's part of the job."

I scoffed. "Your job doesn't involve making me feel like an idiot. You didn't have to let her touch you much, and you certainly didn't have to enjoy it."

She took a step closer, reaching for my arm. "I'm sorry," she said, but I knew she wasn't. It was the same apology she used to avoid confrontation. I had heard it before when she turned down my offer to spend Christmas with my family and again when I returned to find her hanging out alone with Wes.

I pulled away, "Sorry doesn't cut it," I replied, my tone sharper than I intended.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I just—" she shook her head, "What do you want me to say?"

I looked at her, searching for some clarity in her eyes. "I want you to be honest," I replied, my voice steady. "I want to know what you're really feeling." She doesn't tell me anything,

She looked away, avoiding my gaze. "I don't know," she admitted, with a shrug. "Can we just—just not tonight?"

Her response annoyed me, "If not now, when?" I snapped, my tone sharper than intended. "When do you think it's an appropriate time to talk about this, about us?"

She looked away, her expression guarded. "What is there to talk about?" she asked with a nonchalant shrug. "We're good."

"No, we're not good," I retorted, my voice strained. "There are things between us that we need to address, and you can't just brush them aside."