Friends

Chapter 38

A/N: Chapters 39-72 are on Patreon along with other exclusive content if you want to check those out!

Marcqwuan's POV:

She looks like she just saw a ghost.

"I never told you Kendrick and I... were together," she blurts out. The alcohol seems to be kicking in now. Her voice is usually quiet, but it's louder than usual, like the words are spilling out before she can stop them.

She must think I'm naïve.

"You didn't?" I slur my words slightly. I can feel the alcohol in my system, making everything feel a bit slower, a little heavier. "Jasmine, the only time you two hang out is when you're close. So when you told me you two saw each other behind my back, I put two and two together."

"You're impossible," she says, scooting away from me.

Oh, God, please tell me she's not an angry drunk.

"Am I wrong?" I ask. My head is starting to spin a little, and I can't tell if it's the alcohol or the situation making everything feel so off.

Her head is turned away from me, but I can imagine her frowning.

"Look at me, Jasmine," I demand. My words come out too slowly, like they're getting caught in the air before they can reach her.

She turns her head slowly.

"No, but I don't like your tone," she says, her voice a bit unsteady.

My tone? I'm just talking the way I always do. Maybe the alcohol is making me sound sharper than I realize. The room seems to be tilting slightly, and my words are coming out a little more heavily than usual.

"We need to talk about it," I whisper. I don't know why I whisper. Maybe it's the alcohol making me feel like I should lower my voice, like I'm being more careful than usual.

"Why did you whisper that?" she asks, her annoyance thickening as she glares at me.

"I'm trying to watch my tone. But when it came out, I thought the same thing," I explain, my words coming out more slowly than I intend.

"Now you're being an even bigger jerk," she says, her voice a little wobbly.

There's no point in continuing this conversation. She doesn't seem to want to talk, and for whatever reason, she's already in defensive mode. The alcohol is making everything feel harder to process.

"You saw Kendrick behind my back. If you want to talk about it, we can. If not, then we can just eat our food in silence," I say, taking a bite of my food. I notice my hand is shaking slightly, probably because of the alcohol. This might actually be the worst date I've ever been on... actually, this is the only date I've been on in years. And now I see why I don't like them. I look over and she's not even eating, just pouting. How old is she? Why is she throwing a tantrum? Wait, maybe I'm the angry one.

"I don't want to talk about it," she says, her voice cracking as she looks away. "Not because I don't want to, but because it makes me feel awful." She takes a deep breath, trying to hold herself together. "Sneaking around, lying, gaslighting... I'm literally repeating what he did to me. If he's not hurting me, I'm hurting someone who actually cares about me."

Her voice cracks again, and I can see the tension building in her face, like she's holding back tears. She takes another shaky breath, trying to steady herself, but it's clear the alcohol isn't the only thing making her vulnerable right now. It's the weight of the guilt, the burden of what she's done, that's crashing down on her.

"I don't know what I was thinking," she continues, her words coming out in a soft, fragile tone. "I hated myself for it, but I still went ahead and lied. And now—now I feel like I'm becoming him. Like I'm the same kind of person who hurt me." She shakes her head as if trying to push away the thoughts, but they're clinging to her, pulling her under.