Recovery | On Hiatus

Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

THE BELL ENDING lunch rang shortly after Hayden stormed off, thankfully. I liked David and the others, but I couldn't handle being around anybody at the moment with the sour mood my thoughts had me spiraling into.

      I quickly grabbed my tray and stood, moving as quickly as I could to dump it and slip out of the cafeteria. Anxiety twisted my stomach into a knot as I weaved through noisy students and toward the large double doors. A hand wrapped around my bicep as soon as I passed through and tugged me quickly to the side. Without having to look back, I yanked my arm away and demanded, "Leave me alone, Hayden."

      His hand shot to my wrist just as quickly, the gentle action completely contradicting his clipped words. "We need to talk."

      "No." I didn't bother pulling my wrist away this time. He'd just grab it again. "We don't."

      I can—with one hundred percent certainty—confirm that I was more than surprised when I realized he wasn't cornering me over my assumption that I'd have a short life. Although slightly relieved by this fact, his next words left me more frustrated than ever. "You can't go to that party."

      "It's not a party," I shot back, once again retracting my wrist from his grasp. He didn't reach for me again. "It's three girls staying the night together, and it's none of your business."

      "You're right," he admitted. "It's just Sasha, Laura, you, and the temptation to spill all your secrets because that's what teenage girls do at sleepovers."

      "Because you're such the expert on teenage girls," I snapped, hurt. I'm expected to tell him all my problems, but keep them from everybody else? Was he embarrassed for anybody to know; to be associated with the girl carrying too much baggage? "What's it to you if I spill all my secrets? You're not the only understanding person out there, Hayden."

      His face softened momentarily as he ran a hand through his hair. Locker doors slammed noisily around us as students began clearing the hallways, but he paid them no mind. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

      "Do I?" I took a step back into the less crowded hallway. "Because from where I'm at, it seems like you're telling me I should keep all my issues to myself."

      "That," he said, gesturing a hand towards me. He stepped forward. "That right there is what I'm talking about. I'm not telling you to do shit, Scarlet. You're keeping all your secrets just fine on your own. You know as well as I do that with girls, it's different."

      "What's that supposed to mean?" He didn't have to tell me. I already knew.

      "It means that if you're keeping so many secrets from me and everybody else, you've got your reasons." He sighed. "I hate that you're keeping this all to yourself, but when girls get together, they build up this huge ball of trust and take turns hitting it with a baseball bat until it spills onto everybody within a ten foot vicinity, no matter the consequences, without second thought. It's why you girls are so much more drama-crazy than us guys."

      "Excuse me?" I crossed my arms over my chest defensively. If anything, teenage boys were the drama starters. Between all the fist fistfights and bipolar friendships back to back, its amazing they still have separate lives. They can't go five seconds without hating one friend and being their best bud the next. Girls might be a little emotional, but at least we know where our loyalties lie.