Hiding Sparrows

33. In another life

I was hoping the thrumming of the music would drown out the rushing in my ears.

So far, it wasn't working.

Saylor's party, which she'd played off as casual and chill, was very much the opposite. She was living in a squat granny flat, off the back of a nice one story house. When I arrived, she told me not to go into the house – no one was home, her landlords were away on holiday, but she still liked them and didn't want to break their shit.

Fair enough.

Everyone was at least respectful of that rule.

But, the drinks were flowing, and the music was loud, and I wanted nothing more than to get lost in it. Please, for the love of god let me get lost in it.

Ty hadn't come back. I didn't signal him, too engulfed in my fear and anxiety after Jack left. When I finally calmed down enough to get up and go to the window, Ty's car was gone.

I tried to tell myself it was for the best. I didn't want him seeing me like this.

Even if a part of me just craved him being there. Coaxing me out of it, like he had the night we went to get pasta. Gently holding my hands, speaking to me softly, taking me to have a shower, eat food.

But he wasn't there, so gradually, in a daze, I had shuffled to the bathroom and done it myself.

Now, I was standing on the edge of the lawn, at a chaotic house party, coaxing a cup of lukewarm vodka lemonade, feeling a million miles away.

"Rob!" I heard a voice call, and I pulled myself enough out of my stupor to look. My stomach dropped. Walking across the grass was none other than the snapchat-stalking ass I'd previously called my best friend. He was wearing a warm, apologetic smile, but I was having none of it. Not when hours ago he'd been a narcissistic creep.

Fuck. Off.

I scowled, turned on my heel and walked inside the granny flat, weaving through the crowds until I thought I'd lost him. I left the lemonade on a table as I passed. Then for good measure, I ducked into a room and shut the door. I let out a sigh, as someone cleared their voice behind me.

When I turned, I found Saylor sitting up on a bed with a laptop.

"Hey," I said, "Sorry, I didn't expect you to be in here."

She shrugged. "It's my room."

I glanced around, taking in that fact. The decor was simple, what looked to be a smattering of second-hand finds and ikea. The walls were plain, except for one section above a chipped vanity that was covered in Polaroids. A string of fairy lights hung across half the window, lopsided. The floor was... mostly clean of clothes.

"It's cool," I lied.

"It's not," she replied with a snort. Then, after a beat she explained, "I hadn't expected to be living here longer than two months. It was a short lease, through family friends of a friend. I needed to get away from my dad, and this was the best option."

The gears began to turn in my brain, slow in the haze. Pulling out words of note. After she stared at me for another few moments, I cleared my throat and asked. "How long have you been here?"

"Nine months," she replied. Then, shrugged. "The landlords are nice. They like me. Or, they feel sorry for me. Either way, they haven't kicked me out yet."

"Despite throwing crazy house parties while they're away?"

She snorted again. "Girl, you gotta get out more if you think this is crazy."