The One That Got Away {Promise: Book One}

2. Starlight

2 | Wren Miller

The events of last night get clearer as I wake up more.

I went to a nightclub, it was dark and I just danced with whatever man was closest - the one I picked was unfortunately Billie - and we went home together. I remember him whispering sweet nothings into my ear, his finger tracing my bare skin, the cinnamon smell of his cologne surrounding me. I shudder, not wanting to think about what happened. Yet, some stupid part of me wants it to replay just one more time.

It made my skin crawl, thinking about submitting to the man who caused me so much pain. Internal and external.

But, the thrill of it all kept me wanting more.

I didn't have a great home life. My parents were divorcing and my father was battling cancer. It was hard, I barely knew the guy, as I didn't talk to him much growing up. I never got the chance to. He was too busy arguing with my mother.

But, It was almost like everything was the same when he was diagnosed, maybe I was too young to come to grasps with it, but the feeling inside me didn't change. My home was still broken. But every night I'd still pray he'd recover, despite the fact I'm not religious. I guess I convinced myself he would get better, and when he died I never really came to grips with death as a whole. I never understood that he was gone forever. I mean, I knew he was gone forever, but I didn't come to grasps with it back then. I do wish I'd spoken to him more, I regret the moments I spent not being with him, maybe because I didn't know that it would end back then.

God, its messy to explain. But, thats how it is.

My mother didn't take too kindly to me either. She always said I looked too similar to my father, and I was resented for that.

Billie asked my 'best friend' about me, and that bitch told him every little detail about the shithole I lived in. He used it to destroy me. My mind has blocked most of what he's said out, but sometimes something will remind me of it. And a cut, deep in my heart, splits open again, stinging like it did those years ago.

I hate myself for not kicking him out. I hate myself for eating breakfast with him. I hate myself for getting in his car with him. I hate myself for sleeping with him.

"You okay?" Billie's eyes remain glued to the road, and my stomach drops, despite the fact he hasn't done anything. "Yeah, just thinking about you." He chuckles, so I abbreviate "How much of a dick you were." His smile drops, and I internally celebrate.

"I wanted to talk to you about that. I tried to, last night, after we..." he pauses, and I'm glad he doesn't finish that thought. "But you weren't up for talking. You were tired and drunk anyways, so it wouldn't have been much of a conversation." He taps the steering wheel to the beat of a song which isn't playing "I want to apologise to you. I know everyone says this but...I've changed. Im not a fiveteen year old asshole anymore. I'm a grown man."

"Look, I was having my own struggles back then, but thats no excuse for the things I did, yknow. I've spent like...forever regretting it. You don't have to accept my apology now, or ever. Just..." Billie shrugs, assuming I can fill in the last part.

I exhale, struggling to put the pieces back together. Sometimes, teachers would drag me and him in a room together. He'd give a half-assed apology for whatever he'd done, decorated with a not-so-hidden eyeroll, and life would move on. This isn't one of those times. This is real. Nobody forced him to apologise to me this time.

Still, this doesn't feel real. I wont ever accept his apology, but that doesn't mean I wont be civilised and polite when I see him. Again, I'll never forgive him, nor will I be his friend, I made that promise years ago, and even if I broke it last night, I still swear by it. But, I'll show respect. We're adults, afterall, no longer children, like Billie pointed out.

Within minutes, we pull into the grocery store. But as we pull into a parking spot, neither of us get out. Billie adjusts in his seat, turning to me. "How have you been since we last spoke?"

I don't care if he actually cares, I just need to make him fucking regret what he did. Just this once.

"My dad died, obviously. That's why I was out of school for months. My mom wasn't...great." I don't spill anymore details, because remembering them is the worst part "I moved out at 18, and I'm now a photographer. I take pictures of models and products and what-not for ads or billboards."

"Really? Thats so cool!" Billie smiles, his attention fully on me.

"It's fine." I sigh "The pay is good and the hours are flexible." I shift the conversation from myself as fast as I can. I don't want him to ask questions about my life, incase he'll use it against me later on. "What about you?"

Billie chuckles in a humourless way, as if I'd told a joke and he'd only laughed so I wouldn't feel awkward. "I've been living. Barely. I'm inbetween jobs right now." A sick part of me gets satisfaction from his misery, as I know karma has stricken him. "I got into drinking." Shit. suddenly, my satisfaction has subdued. "Fuckin' took everything from me. I had to scrape together money for rehab."

Holy shit.

For some reason, I feel bad for him. Never in a million years did I think I'd feel bad for Billie, but today is full of suprises.

"You remember Mike?" I nod. "Well, he let me live with him. It's cramped, but we make do."

Fuck. I swallow back my guilt, feeling embarrassed that I'd enjoyed his misery. A part of me still does. He made my life worse than hell, but I still can't shake my empathy for him.

"I mean, I deserve it." He carries on "I was a little shit to everyone."

"Thats not true." I mutter, knowing it is, I just don't want him to worry. Fuck, what am I doing? I should be enjoying his misery. Billie caused me physical and mental harm for five whole years of my life, but as soon as he gets a taste of his own medicine I'm comforting him?

I guess I'm the same, weak girl I was all them years ago. Afraid to speak my mind, wanting to be little miss perfect all the time.

"It is. You know, I think about you all the time." His eyes widen, and he quickly rephrases the sentence "I mean, I think about the shit I did to you all the time. I regret it. All of it. I just wanted to be cool, so I picked on the weakest link."

"None taken." I roll my eyes.

"Wren, I'm sorry." He sighs, bowing his head.

I spot his hand slowly itching to grip my hand - which is placed on my thigh - but I pull away before he can touch me. After that, we sit in silence, reflecting on...well, everything. From the start of high-school to now.

He's only 24, a few months older than me, and life has already been so heavy on him.

Karma is really a bitch.

I decide to be the one to break the silence with an awkward cough. As Billie looks up at me, I spit out the first sentence which comes to mind to rip us both from the awkward silence.

"Can we- lets go inside." I point to the door of the car, itching to get out my seat and into the store.