The Way Things Change

The Fallout

The day after the party was a blur. I woke up with a headache, my thoughts tangled in a knot I couldn't untie. The memory of Augustine kissing me replayed over and over in my head like a bad dream I couldn't shake. My stomach twisted with guilt, but more than that, fear crept in. What if Betty found out? What if someone had seen us?

I spent the morning staring at my phone, the empty text thread with Betty mocking me. I should've told her right then. I should've called her, explained everything, begged for her forgiveness. But the thought of hearing her voice, of hearing her disappointment, made me freeze. So instead, I did nothing. I waited, hoping maybe the storm would pass without her knowing.

By the time I worked up the courage to actually do something, it was too late.

That afternoon, I got a text from Noah: Dude, what the hell happened with you and Augustine last night?

My heart sank. The rumors had started.

I stared at the screen for what felt like forever, trying to figure out what to say. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, but no words came out. I didn't know how to explain myself. I didn't even know how to explain it to me. So I put my phone down and ignored it, hoping that if I stayed quiet, it would all blow over.

It didn't.

By the end of the day, it seemed like everyone in town had heard something about the party. About how Augustine had kissed me. About how I didn't stop her fast enough. I hadn't even spoken to Betty yet, and already it felt like the whole world was collapsing in on me.

The next morning, I got the text I'd been dreading:
We need to talk.
Betty.

My heart pounded in my chest as I read those four words. It was coming—everything I'd been trying to avoid. She knew. She had to know. There was no way she'd want to talk if she didn't already know. I felt sick, like someone had punched me in the gut, and all I could do was stare at the screen, too afraid to reply.

After what felt like hours, I finally typed out a response:
Yeah. When?

She texted back almost immediately:
Meet me at the park. Our spot.

Our spot. The oak tree where we'd spent so many afternoons together, laughing, talking about everything and nothing. Now it felt like a battleground.

I couldn't put it off anymore. I had to face her.

When I got to the park, Betty was already sitting under the oak tree, her arms wrapped around her knees. She didn't look up when I approached. The usual warmth in her expression was gone, replaced by something colder, something harder. My stomach dropped.

"Hey," I said quietly, sitting down beside her.

Betty didn't respond right away. She kept staring straight ahead, her face unreadable. Finally, she spoke, her voice soft but steady. "I heard what happened at Noah's party."

There it was. The moment I'd been dreading. The moment when I had to come clean, or lose her forever.

"Betts, I—" I started, but she cut me off.

"Is it true?" she asked, turning to look at me, her eyes searching mine. "Did you kiss Augustine?"

I opened my mouth to explain, to tell her it wasn't what she thought, that it had been a mistake, that I'd pulled away, but the words got stuck in my throat. My mind raced, trying to find the right thing to say, but nothing sounded good enough. Nothing could take back what had happened.

"I didn't kiss her," I finally said. "She kissed me."

Betty's expression didn't change. "Did you stop her?"

I hesitated. "Not right away."

That was all it took. That one moment of hesitation, that one truth I couldn't avoid. I could see the hurt in her eyes, the way her face crumpled for just a second before she pulled herself back together. She looked away, staring at the ground, and I felt like the worst person in the world.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, the words sounding hollow even to me. "I never meant for this to happen. It was a mistake, Betty. A stupid, stupid mistake."

For a long moment, she didn't say anything. I wanted her to yell at me, scream, do anything that would show me she still cared. But she just sat there, quiet, holding herself together.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

I didn't have a good answer. I couldn't tell her I was too scared, too ashamed. So I just shook my head. "I don't know. I was afraid, I guess."

Betty let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Afraid? Of what? Of losing me?"

"Yes," I said, my voice breaking. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Well, you did," she replied, her voice sharp now. She finally turned to look at me again, her eyes filled with a pain that made my chest ache. "You did hurt me, James."

I opened my mouth to apologize again, but she didn't let me.

"I don't get it," she continued, her voice trembling. "We were fine. I thought we were fine. And then this happens. You go and... kiss her." She spat the last word out like it burned her tongue.

"I didn't want to," I tried to explain. "It just happened. I wasn't thinking."

"That's the problem, isn't it?" she said, her voice hardening. "You weren't thinking. You didn't think about me. You didn't think about us."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. She was right. I hadn't thought about her, not in that moment. I'd only been thinking about myself, about escaping the weird, uncomfortable feelings I'd been having. I'd made a mess of everything.

"I don't know how to fix this," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Betty stood up, brushing off her dress. "Maybe you can't."

Panic surged through me as I stood up, reaching for her arm. "Betty, please—"

She stepped back, out of my reach, shaking her head. "No, James. I can't do this right now."

I stood there, helpless, as she turned and walked away, her steps slow but steady. I wanted to run after her, to beg her to forgive me, but I couldn't move. My feet felt like they were stuck to the ground, and all I could do was watch as she disappeared into the distance.

When she was finally gone, I sank back down under the oak tree, my heart heavy with regret. I had no idea what to do next, no idea how to make things right.

I had lost her. And it was my own fault.