Ditching Greek | editing

14 | Great Escape

As my eyes scan the newly lit room, I could've sworn I heard Gideon chuckle to himself once I saw what he had thrown me into.

The flick of the lights made the activity visible. My eyes narrowed, staring harder while my mind tried to make sense of the scene before me. A girl sat in Clyde's lap, with her legs wrapped around his hip. She laughed at something he whispered in her ear. Her back was to us so I couldn't see her face. But I sure as hell knew it was Clyde—there was no doubt about it. At least they were dressed.

The light flickering on was clear enough that someone else was in the room. But they didn't turn around to face us. My mouth turned dry and my stomach practically plummeted; I needed to get out. I spun around, but Gideon blocked my exit. What a dickhead.

What was he trying to accomplish by doing this? Did he get a rise in breaking my heart? Who set him up to do this? I didn't understand his motives to go out of his way to shatter me. What had I done to him to deserve this?

He cleared his throat and forced me forward, then tapping his knuckle at the open door. "Clyde?"

The girl faced us first, revealing who it was. Maybe I was hoping it was a girl that I had simply not seen yet. For God sakes, I would've been a lot happy with a man there instead...instead of that Amy girl.

The same girl who had attacked my best friend, Hazel, without missing a beat. And now the same girl who was mounting Clyde. If I didn't already dislike her, I freakin' despised her now.

Amy head ducked down when our eyes locked. "Uh-um," she stammered, still dodging our eyes.

"What the—" I started.

Clyde sprung up, pushing Amy off of him. A look of humiliation crossed his face. It was then—when he was running to me—that I noticed he was shirtless. I was too pissed to ogle at his bare, chiseled chest.

"Wait, Nabela!" he raced over to me. I stumbled backwards, hitting Gideon's back in my attempt to get away from his hands that stretched out to me. He reached out even further, "It's not how it looks."

I slapped his hand away, "Don't fucking touch me."

Gideon sidestepped and opened the door. Keeping my stern expression, I walked out of the room, but then glanced over my shoulder.

"I don't care." I said.

But I did care. That was the problem.

Everyone in that room could tell I was lying. You didn't have to be a genius to sense that lie. My shoulders were tensed up and my hands clenched in fists. For someone who was supposedly "not mad" I definitely didn't look happy.

Thoughts traveled a thousand miles per hour in my head as I dashed past intoxicated partygoers scattered in the hallway and down the stairs. What made the thoughts worse was when I ran into couples, kissing and clinging onto each other for dear life. My mind stupidly reminded me of how Clyde had his hands on Amy, and replying the feelings I felt when he touched me that way. How he pressed his lips on me, and pulled me close to him. How he felt against me, pressed onto a wall and how his lips tasted.

Finally, as my mind cruelly reminded me of that hot moment in my apartment a week ago, I allowed myself to recall every touch and ever short-lived kiss we shared that night. Because this was the end of Clyde Remington. I was never going to let him come near me ever again.

...

I found Tony and Monica in the kitchen with Hazel bent over, throwing up in the sink. Tony was holding her hair back, grimacing the entire time and Monica stood beside her, patting her back and speaking to her softly.