Unspoken Goals

Jealousy

November 15th

It was Friday, and all Juliette wanted was to escape. She ached to retreat to the quiet comfort of home, to curl up in her childhood bed, surrounded by the familiar warmth of her parents. The weight of the past few weeks clung to her like a storm cloud that refused to dissipate. The silence between her and Abigail had become an unspoken ache, and for the first time, Juliette welcomed it. Her heart felt battered, like someone had ripped it out, stomped on it until it was bruised and fragile, and she wasn't sure how many more blows it could take.

Still, her friends had convinced her to stay in town. They insisted a night out was just what she needed. Sully, Em, Soph, and Marco promised her that a little fun, some laughter, and, of course, alcohol would make her feel better. Begrudgingly, she agreed, though her heart wasn't in it. The carefree night they envisioned felt miles away from the storm raging inside her.

When she stepped out of her room, her friends were already in the kitchen, pregaming with laughter that echoed off the walls. Sully was the first to greet her, handing her a shot glass with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Here, get the party started," he said, though his voice wavered, sensing the heaviness she carried.

Without hesitation, Juliette downed the shot in one swift motion, feeling the burn in her throat like some sort of punishment she thought she deserved. Then, without waiting for anyone's reaction, she poured herself another, and then a third.

"Woah, slow down," Sully chuckled nervously, trying to lighten the mood, but the worry in his eyes was impossible to miss. He had known Juliette for three years, but tonight there was something different about her—something distant, unreachable. "You okay?" he asked, the concern creeping into his voice despite his attempt to keep it casual.

Juliette shrugged, her expression blank as she swirled the liquid in her glass. "You guys wanted to drink, so let's drink," she replied flatly, before taking another swig. Her voice was hollow, an echo of who she usually was. The lively, sharp-witted girl who used to fill the room with her presence now seemed dulled, muted by the storm in her heart.

Sully watched her for a moment, unsure of what to say. He had seen Juliette upset before, but this—this was different. This wasn't anger or frustration. This was heartbreak, and it was swallowing her whole.

As the air thickened with tension, a creak from a bedroom door broke the silence. Abigail emerged, purse in hand, her movements hurried. She barely glanced at anyone. "I'm meeting up with an old friend," she said, her voice too light, too casual. "I'll catch you guys at the party."

Before anyone could ask who this mysterious "friend" was or why she suddenly had to leave, Abigail slipped through the door, leaving the room in an uneasy quiet. Her absence felt like a weight, one that pressed down on them all but landed heaviest on Juliette.

Marco let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair, baffled. "Okay, seriously. What the hell is going on? I feel like I've missed 20 chapters of a book I was just reading yesterday." His gaze landed squarely on Juliette, who immediately dropped her eyes, finding the floor far more interesting than Marco's pointed stare.

Soph, who had been watching in silence, nodded in agreement. "You guys have been so hot and cold lately. It's giving me whiplash." Her voice was softer, but the question hung in the air like a challenge. "Just tell us what's going on, Julie."

Em wasn't as gentle. Arms crossed over her chest, she stared at Juliette, hurt simmering just beneath the surface. "Yeah, I don't get it. You've both been weird for weeks, and I'm starting to feel like we're on the outside of something important. We're supposed to be your best friends, but you're keeping us in the dark." Her words trembled, like they were laced with frustration but rooted in something deeper. The sting of betrayal.