after hours. | r.c.

thirteen

-☆-

ME AND KIARA have gotten into plenty of fights before. hell, i've fought with every single one of these pogues at some point. but none of them can compare to the one we had last night. that fight felt different, deeper, like it had been building for years. every word she threw at me wasn't just about what happened recently; it was all the shit from my kook days, the resentment that festered when i started dating miles and then rafe. the moment i got with rafe, everyone's vibe toward me shifted. miles wasn't even that bad—he wasn't around long enough for them to care. but rafe? that's when things changed. he tried to destroy their lives, and they blamed me for it, even if they didn't say it out loud.

we had a few months of pretending things were fine, like we were all on the same page. looking back, that was a joke. the truth was, they hated rafe, and deep down, they were starting to hate me too. i remember every time me and rafe made plans, sarah and kie would ask to tag along. i never wanted them there, but i couldn't bring myself to say no. i was too worried about pleasing everyone else, too scared to rock the boat. rafe saw that. he always saw right through me, and he hated it.

"they don't care about you like i do, val," he would whisper to me late at night. "they'll hurt you, betray you." and sometimes, i believed him. i'd listen to his voice, feel the way his words wrapped around my brain like a vice. it was comforting in a twisted way, knowing he was possessive enough to drag me away from them, like i was something only he could protect. but the more he pulled me in, the more i started to lose myself. by the time i realized it, it was too late.

this summer felt like freedom after i finally broke away. i was building new relationships, real ones, not based on what side of the island i was from. i wasn't letting anyone—miles, rafe, none of them—ruin that for me. i wasn't tied to being a kook or a pogue anymore. i just wanted to be *me*. but that's the thing—no one accepted me as *valerie*. everyone had their own version of who i was supposed to be. and kiara? she made sure to remind me of that last night.

her words still burned in my head as i took another long drag from the blunt, watching the smoke curl around me. everything about this—this feeling of floating, of detachment—made me think of rafe. the way he always smelled like weed and trouble, the way he could ruin me with just a look. even now, after everything, my mind circled back to him. like i couldn't escape it. i didn't want to escape it.

kiara crossed a line last night, though. she brought my parents into it, and that's something i won't forget. i don't care how mad she was. you don't get to drag my family into your petty bullshit. the hospital was the worst. we all sat there, waiting for news about john b, and kiara didn't say a word to me, not one. i didn't need her to, but the tension was suffocating. after we got some good news, i left, went home to change out of that damn dress and heels. the heels were trashed, my mom would've lost her mind if she saw them.

heading to my shift at the wreck, i knew kiara would be there. of course she was. the minute i walked in, i could feel her shooting me those bitchy looks from across the room. like she owned the place, like she owned the group. fine, let her. i wasn't in the mood for her shit. i worked around the table where the pogues were sitting, overhearing bits of their conversation. they weren't exactly subtle.

"you're living at tannyhill?" kiara snapped at john b, her voice dripping with disgust. "with sarah cameron?"

the way she said sarah's name, like it tasted bad in her mouth, made me smile. she was pissed. good. maybe her anger would turn toward him for once, but nope. as usual, john b's drama didn't take the heat off me. he looked over at me, like i was somehow responsible for this too. i shrugged, leaning against the counter, listening.