i'll hate the goodbye

Chapter II

"I can't believe you didn't hook up with anybody at that party, Al," Alison's friend, Quinn commented. "I don't even remember seeing you there. Are you sure you came or are you just saying you did?" Quinn cocked her brow and smirked at Alison.

Alison scoffed. "I literally drove you there, Quinn. And I told you, don't call me Al, you know I hate nicknames." She continued rummaging through her closet for something to wear to the fair, "Besides, why would I lie about going to the party? It's not like I have some kind of rep to keep up with."

Quinn just rolled her eyes and continued droning on about how wasted she had gotten that night. Alison ignored her, as she usually did, and snatched a tank top off a hanger. Quinn stopped her rambling and look towards Alison.

"Oh, that's cute! Wear that so we can go already." Quinn was starting to get impatient. "Ethan is waiting for us at the fair and you're taking forever."

Alison examined the top and suddenly remembered Alex. This was the top she had been wearing when she met him. She felt the corners of her mouth twitch and her face get hot. Alison quickly dove back into her closet so Quinn didn't notice her clearly blushing.

Alison hadn't thought of Alex for weeks. As she does with everyone she meets at parties, she just wrote him off her mind. She remembered the way he looked at her that night; his eyes were gentle as he listened to her speak. The memory of the way they pierced her own sent a shiver down Alison's spine. For some god forsaken reason she felt a sense of home in his eyes. She felt safe and secure and understood.

She gripped the tank top tightly against her chest at the thought of that night. The party had faded away like a distant memory and all she could see was Alex's face. Quinn's voice, however, pulled her from her trance.

"Al, c'mon! Ethan is waiting for me and if you take any longer, I'm just going to leave you here." Gripping her phone, Quinn stood, crossing her arms and tapping her obnoxiously pink heels. Alison let out a limp whine, pouting her lips. " Just put on this and let's fucking go!" She shoved a loose sweater into Alison's arms and stormed out the door.

She gazed at the tank top one last time before standing and throwing the sweater over her head, and dropping the tank top, leaving her thoughts of Alex with it. She knew she'd never see his compassionate eyes and dopey smile again; boys like Alex didn't stick around here long.

Alison sluggishly trailed after Quinn to her car. The fair was the last place she wanted to go. She knew that it was just going to be a bunch of her "friends" guzzling down beer after beer. On days like this, it made Alison question why she associated herself with them.

Alison had never been interested in going out and drinking every weekend to forget her meaningless social status, but she didn't like thinking about her friends possibly getting into trouble in their drunken state so she always went along to make sure they got home safe.

The ride to the fair was short and Quinn managed to talk about fifty different topics in the meantime.

"A few weeks ago at that party, oh my god, it was horrible. So there was this guy and he had like four cups stacked on top of one another, right? And he was walking into the living room where Ethan and I were and out of nowhere, I just feel this warm liquid splash against my back. I turn around to see what the fuck it was and lo and behold, the dude with the four stacked cups was lying across the coffee table, one cup in hand, the rest on me!" Quinn laughed her little high pitched, full body laugh that was just so... Quinn while Alison listened patiently.

"Then what happened?" Alison asked, distractedly looking out the window.

"Oh, nothing too good. Ethan just yelled at him and I spent the rest of the night trying to find another shirt," Quinn said, waving it off.