Long Distance Call | tayley ✓

21 | Loosen Up A Little

{tw!!! r*pe mentions + also drug use}

[Hayley]

"Hayley, hey," Josh speaks softly. His right hand rises as he scratches the back of his neck. I stand there awkwardly, hands digging into the back pockets of my jeans.

"Sorry about, um, bumping into you," I give him a nod, looking down. I dread seeing his face, it reminds me of that night.

"What's up?" he asks me, him and I standing in the worst of spots. Right in front of the door, likely in the way of anyone who wants to enter or exit. At least the place isn't busy right now.

"Not much..." I trail off. This conversation is beyond awkward.

"Wanna sit?" he asks, pointing towards an empty table. I nod. We both sit down. Why did I say yes?

He sits there awkwardly for a moment, scratching at the scruff that covers his chiseled jaw. My arms cross over my chest, sort of insecurely covering my breasts. That isn't obvious, though. I hope not, at least.

"You know, the only time we really talked was back in high school. It was that night and I...Well you know what happened that night. I'm sure you don't want to think about that," he chews on his lower lip. He doesn't even look at me while he speaks, instead focusing on the wooden table.

"I know there's no excuse for what I did. And trust me, I regret that constantly. I've changed. I was a horny eighteen year old, I didn't know what I was doing. I'm sure that it's too late for you to just accept this shitty apology of mine, but I swear that I've become a better person. Even if you and I never speak again, I just want to know that I'm forgiven, at least a little bit. I just can't keep living without saying sorry."

I'm speechless after hearing his words. I expected him to grow up to be one of those guys who was popular in high school, only to make nothing of themselves, wear his varsity jacket when he's thirty years old.

But now I feel as though I've been proven wrong. Part of me regrets thinking those things. But a smaller voice in the back of my head is telling me I shouldn't forgive him, because if I hadn't escaped the room, I know what the outcome of the night would have been.

But I'm trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe that wouldn't have happened. Most likely, yes, it would have. But maybe he would have realized I really didn't want it. That's what I hope he would have done.

"It's okay. I get that we were young, I just wasn't ready. It was scary. Can I ask you a question, though?" I ask and he nods.

"Did you tell people that we did do it?" I ask with a raised brow. He hesitates. So basically, yes he did.

"I was young..." he attempts to defend himself, but I just sigh. If only I'd known about all this back in high school. There's no reason to get so mad about it now, considering school is now in our past.

"It was really nice talking with you, but I, uh, I have to go home," I explain with a nod, standing up. He does too, holding his hand out.

"Can I at least have your number? Just so I can talk to you, maybe?" I sigh softly, and take his phone into my hands. I'm weak. I enter my number, along with just "Hayley" as my contact name. I hand the phone back to him, and he smiles, waving a goodbye.

I leave the eatery, returning to my car. A sigh passes my lips the second the door is closed. My head slams down onto the middle of the steering wheel, a honk echoing through the relatively empty parking lot. I jolt upwards, over the sound.

"Fuck, get it together," I speak to myself, looking into the rearview mirror that is above me.

—

I return home, crawling into bed at the first chance I get. My mother asks me if something is wrong, but all I do is insist I'm fine.

In all honesty, I don't know how I feel.

I want Taylor. That should be a feeling.

Chad made me feel like a priority when him and I were together. Of course, I discovered that was not the case. And in actuality, the reason that he was with me was probably because I was meant to be temporary. He was married. And I'm likely the cause for his divorce. So that's fun.

But then there's Josh. I shouldn't even be considering him. But his apology seemed sincere. The pain in his eyes, it got to me. We were dumb teens. He should have gotten the point that I didn't want to take part in the events that were bound to transpire. I shouldn't be forgiving him, but I do. I do.

More than any other feeling, though, I'd rather be speaking to Taylor. Unfortunately, the feelings I have for him are not mutual. I need to get my mind off of him before I drive myself crazy. And I think that I know just who to reach out to, and how to get my mind off Taylor.

—

About an hour after reaching out to my best friend, she's at my house. My mother is out, doing who knows what. But she's not home, so I feel like a teenager throwing a party while their parents are out of town with the excitement within me. Except this little party is a two person one. Pretty fun.

Lyndsey comes over with her backpack on, hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt. I gesture for her to enter. We head up to my room, and the first thing my friend does is set her backpack down and zip it open. I take a seat on the bed, hands resting on my knees as I nervously fidget.

"Don't be so nervous," she says with a chuckle, removing the items from her bag. A small plastic bag holds a bit of weed. She sets that down beside her, pulling out a pipe bowl as well. My leg moves a little bit. It's impossible for me to not be nervous.

"I've just never done this before. What if my mom comes home and smells it?" It's odd how I requested for her to come over and bring these things with her, yet here I am all nervous. She's always insisted that I should try just once because of how uptight I am.

"You think this is my first time doing this? We don't want it to smell strong enough where your mom would be able to smell it, which is why we're lighting incense, idiot," she explains, putting my mind at ease just a bit.

The brunette crushes the weed up a little bit. I have no idea what she's doing for the following minute or two, so I just sort of watch in confusion. She inserts the crushed up drug into the caved in piece of the pipe and then joins me on the bed.

"How do you do it?" I ask, still confused. While part of me is regretting this already, part of me is a little bit excited. She tells me to watch her, and she lifts the pipe up (which I discover is actually called a bowl? I'm lost). Her lips wrap around the mouthpiece portion of it, thumb covering a small hole that's on the side of the bowl. She raises a lighter with her other hand, lighting the drug. Her eyes close as she inhales the smoke. After a moment, she pulls it away and exhales the smoke.

"You might not get high, since it's your first time doing it. Just make sure you do it right," my friend explains. She hands the items over to me and I nervously raise the bowl, lips wrapping around the mouthpiece.

This'll either be very fun or very bad.