Secrets in the Spotlight

What happened last night?

As I looked around, a heavy unease settled over me. The room seemed to pulse with every beat of the music outside, the vibrations creeping under my skin.

I'd never been drunk before, not really, and now I understood why.

My thoughts were slow, slipping out of my reach like smoke, and I didn't like it. My head felt heavy, and everything around me seemed too bright, too loud, like the world was slightly out of focus.

Then, just like that, it all started to fragment. One moment I was sitting on the floor with Isaiah, and the next, the room tilted sideways.

My vision blurred, the edges darkening, like someone was dimming the lights on a stage. Everything went black for what felt like a blink, maybe longer.

When I came to, Isaiah's lips were on mine. His hands were in my hair, his tongue sliding against mine. The shock jolted through me, sharp and electric. This was my first kiss, and I was too far gone to even feel it properly. I tasted alcohol on his breath, sweet and intoxicating, mingling with my own. His shirt was gone, his skin warm against my hands, but it all felt distant, like it was happening to someone else.

The room swirled around me, a mess of sounds and colors. My heart pounded in my chest, and I couldn't tell if it was from the alcohol or the fact that I was actually kissing someone—Isaiah of all people. Part of me felt a flicker of excitement, a rush of something new and dangerous. Another part of me felt like I was watching from outside my own body, disconnected and adrift.

Blackness again.

A flash—Kylie's face, close to mine.

Her eyes were red and wet, her makeup smudged. She was crying, her shoulders shaking as she leaned against me in the bathroom.

I could smell the alcohol on her breath, sharp and acrid, mixed with the faint scent of smoke. Her hair brushed my cheek as she sobbed into my shoulder, her fingers clutching the fabric of my shirt.

I'd never seen her like this, never seen her show anything but her usual bubbly self. Her cries sounded muffled, like they were coming from underwater.

I tried to say something, tried to comfort her, but my tongue felt thick, and the words wouldn't form. My own reflection stared back at me from the mirror above the sink, eyes glassy and lost.

Then another shift.

Back in the room with Isaiah. His shirt was definitely gone this time, tossed somewhere in the corner.

I was in his lap, my legs wrapped around his waist. The room spun as he kissed me, his hands running up and down my back. I could feel his heartbeat against my chest, fast and steady. My head lulled back slightly, the ceiling swirling like the sky in a painting. His lips moved to my neck, his breath hot against my skin.

Then, a door slammed. Light spilled into the room, harsh and blinding, and a voice cut through the haze.

Jordan's voice, loud and mocking. "Well, well, what do we have here?" he slurred, laughing at his own interruption. The surfer-boy silhouette stood in the doorway, blocking out the light, grinning like he'd just stumbled upon the funniest joke of the night. Isaiah pushed me back, annoyed, the moment shattered.

And then everything went black again.

When I opened my eyes, I was in Kylie's bed, sunlight streaming through the curtains. My head pounded like a drum, each beat sending a fresh wave of nausea through me.

My mouth felt dry, my tongue thick. I tried to sit up, but the room tilted violently, forcing me back down.

Kylie was next to me, sprawled out on her back, her breathing slow and steady. I stared at the ceiling, trying to piece together the fragments of memory from the night before, but they slipped away like sand through my fingers.

Everything was fuzzy, out of order, like a movie that had been edited all wrong. I couldn't make sense of how I'd gotten here, of how I'd gone from making out with Isaiah to comforting Kylie to waking up in her bed.

My head throbbed, and I pressed a hand to my forehead, closing my eyes against the morning light. My stomach churned, a sick feeling of dread settling in as I tried to remember, tried to fill in the blanks. But the more I pushed, the more my mind pushed back, keeping me locked out of my own memories.

My first kiss—something I had always thought about, dreamed about—was now a tangled mess in my mind, something that happened but didn't feel real.

I watched as Kylie stirred beside me, her eyelids fluttering open. Despite the wildness of the night before, she seemed surprisingly unfazed, her movements fluid and easy, as if the alcohol had already evaporated from her system. I, on the other hand, felt like I was anchored to the bed, the ceiling above me swirling slightly. My mind couldn't let go of one single, burning thought.

"I kissed Isaiah," I blurted out, my voice hoarse and unsure. "I think that's all we did." The words tumbled out before I could stop them, not even certain if Kylie was fully awake to hear them.

Her reaction was instant. She shot up, her eyes wide, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of amusement on her face, a chuckle bubbling up as if this was just some silly joke. But it quickly morphed into something more serious, her smile fading as concern took over. "Oh shit! You silly whore, you cannot tell anyone." Her tone was a mix of shock and worry, the playful edge in her voice vanishing entirely.

I blinked at her, confusion tightening my chest as I lay there, still processing the rush of emotions from the night before. "Isaiah is dating Brianna," she said, her voice almost a whisper, as if speaking the truth too loudly would make it worse. I felt a cold shock run through me, my heart sinking. I stared up at her, my mind scrambling to piece together the fragments of the night. Isaiah had seemed so... genuine. But now, with Kylie's words hanging in the air, everything felt tainted, like I'd stumbled into a dangerous game without even realizing it.

"He usually shoots his shot at drunk girls," Kylie continued, her head tilting slightly as she spoke, concern evident in her eyes. She was trying to warn me, but there was something deeper there, a sadness that wasn't just about me.

I bit my lip, trying to defend him, or maybe defend myself. "I can't remember much, but he was drunk too, I'm pretty sure." The words felt weak, even as I said them. Kylie didn't respond immediately, but the look on her face said everything. She wasn't buying it. She knew better, and deep down, I think I did too.

As we sat there in silence, a new memory pushed its way to the forefront of my mind—Kylie, in the bathroom, crying. The image was so vivid, her face wet with tears, her shoulders shaking. It wasn't like her, not the Kylie I knew. My heart clenched as I turned to her, wiping my face, the concern in my voice real and urgent. "Why were you crying last night?"

Her reaction was different this time. She hesitated, a subtle flinch in her expression as she looked away, her gaze darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "Did you forget?" she asked, her voice edged with a coldness that I wasn't used to from her. It wasn't anger, but there was a distance there, a wall she was trying to build between us. My heart sank further, feeling the sorrow that came with it. What had happened between us?

She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as she finally spoke. "My step-dad got arrested, Diana," she said, the words coming out flat, like she was forcing them out. But then she tried to brush it off, her voice lifting with a forced cheerfulness. "But I don't think it's as bad as I made it out to be last night with all them tears." She attempted a giggle, but it died quickly, the sound hollow and empty.

I didn't hesitate. I reached out and pulled her down into a hug, wrapping my arms around her tightly. I could feel her resisting at first, but then she melted into the embrace, her head resting on my shoulder.

Her body trembled slightly, and when I pulled back just enough to look at her, I saw her eyes beginning to swell with tears again. But this time, a small, warm smile crept onto her face, a fragile thing that barely touched her lips but meant the world to me.

"I'm here for you, Kylie," I whispered, holding her close. I could feel the weight of her sorrow, the deep, unspoken pain that she tried so hard to hide beneath her usual brightness.

And for the first time, I saw a part of Kylie that she kept hidden from the world—vulnerability.