Blizzard Boy ✓

IV

"Treat others in a way that
leaves no regrets."
–Haruki Murakami

• • • • • • •

"Have you seen Quin anywhere?" I shift my feet on the linoleum of the kitchen, plugging my ears from the throbbing of the music.

The jock takes a swig of his beer, paying my question no mind. "Do you wanna go upstairs with me?" he asks drunkenly, reaching forward to touch my waist.

I slap his hand away. Bile fills my throat. Back through the living room, I zigzag between the dancing bodies – or maybe they're having seizures, I'm not quite sure. Some girl stumbles on top of me and I struggle to move around her. I'm about ready to punch her in the jaw when someone catches my attention.

Quin.

He's staggering in the middle of the dance floor, attempting to sway to the heavy pop. Alcohol splashes from the edge of his red cup. Two chicks are trying to grind on him. He grins loosely, hands straying toward their short dresses.

Being a possessive girlfriend isn't my forte, but right now, it's inevitable. I stalk through the crowd, shoving people to the side until I reach my boyfriend.

"Hey Astrid," he slurs. "What are you..."

Grabbing him by the shirt collar, I drag him through the maze of rooms, ignoring the whiny protests of the girls we've left. Finally I reach an empty bedroom, pull him inside, and slam the door behind me. The beat of downstairs is muffled.

"Oh. If you wanted that, you could... could have just said so." Quin begins to move toward me, grabbing at my top.

I push him off. "Quin, you're drunk. What the hell are you doing? This isn't you."

He regains his balance. "You ruin my fun. Why are you mad? You're my girlfriend."

"Because I saw." This time, I'm unable to hide the anger from my voice. "You and those girls, that's not okay with me."

"You mean when J-Jessica kissed me? I thought you weren't gonna find out." He takes a step forward and falls. "Oh oops. Can we go party more?"

Okay. That hurts. "You cheated on me?" I breathe.

"I didn't mean to," he amends, but the "punch" is making his voice fuzzy. "We didn't go all the way. Wow," he lifts the hair covering my face. "My g-girlfriend is so pretty."

I'm immobilized. We've been together for almost two years. How could he? How could he lose control like that? Tears threaten to spill from my eyes.

"Ex-girlfriend," I correct, backing away. My cheeks are wet. How could he?

"But you're m-my girlfriend," he protests. "You're my designated driver."

I say the unthinkable. I say the worst mistake of my life. I say exactly why I have nobody, the reason why I should be dead, not him. I say the words that changed my life forever, though I didn't know it at the time.

"Not anymore," I snap. "Go find yourself a new one."

And then I left.

I left because I didn't know.

Three hours later, I get the phone call.

I'm sitting on my couch, trying to ignore the tears streaming from my face, when I get the phone call.