new girl // brandon arreaga

10

cassie

"brandon," kayla says, shattering the walls i felt were built around me in brandon's grasp. "how could you do this?"

brandon looks from me to kayla and is dazed. he doesn't know what he's thinking. he's drunk and high and was in the moment, not thinking of the repercussions his actions will cause.

"kayla," he says over the music. "it's not what it looks like,"

my heart sinks to the floor, hitting it so hard i can almost hear a thud.

then what was it?

i turn away from brandon and tear my hand out of the grip he had it in; his fingers were laced in mine as we danced. why is he so fucking embarrassed to be seen with me?

my hand feels cold from missing brandon's warmth; it feels like a piece of it was shed away and for a split second i regret letting go.

i storm through the crowd of drunk and high teenagers and try to find a friend— at this point i'm willing for it to be anyone. i just need to leave here and get out of this space where teenagers do dumb shit that only causes trouble.

i look around and i see maddy standing with zion, close to him as they talk. she's smiling and he's laughing, and i know i can't ask her to leave with me at this point.

my stomach flips and churns as i remember how that was brandon and i a couple of hours ago. smiling, laughing, enjoying ourselves until a few minutes ago.

maddy catches my eye and the look on her face says it all: she's happier than ever right now. i force a smile back at her and give a thumbs up to try and top it all off. she blushes and turns back to zion, who moves a piece of hair behind her ear.

i can't watch any more of it without being reminded of brandon and he's the last thing i want on my mind.

i decide that it's best to not tell anyone that i'm leaving. everyone is having fun and i don't want to ruin that for them, they deserve a night like this.

i find the front door through the sweaty bodies and my lungs immediately fill up with air again as soon as i escape the party. i didn't even realize i was holding my breath. the music is still loud and even louder than what i remember it being before i started drinking. all i can think is that my head is pounding, as if a rampage of elephants are all running towards a bunch of peanuts.

i don't even realize that tears are streaming down my face until one lands on my upper lip, trickling down to my chin.

sadness tastes salty.

i wipe my eyes and realize while i near the end of the street that walking is excruciatingly hard right now, so to cope i take my heels off and hold them in my left hand as i sob down the sidewalk. i was hoping i would never reach such a low, and especially not because of a stupid boy. and suddenly i realize how crushed my hopes had become.

the wind is brisk and cold on the november night. it sends chills through my spine and i wrap my arms around my torso tightly to keep as much warmth inside of me as i can, but i think most of that left when brandon let go of my hand and my waist. it's almost like i can still feel where his hands were placed; not too high and not too low. he seemed like a gentleman.

walking in a straight line is hard.

my brain isn't making the connection with my legs to continue pushing myself in a straight line; i feel as if the ground is moving from underneath me, sliding like slime in all different directions under my weight. it makes me feel as though i'm a visitor in my own body: my thoughts are in order but my body isn't in line with me. it acts as though it's controlled by someone else. someone i don't know. and maybe that person is somehow still me.

i stop for a few moments and sit on someone's yard. i hope they won't mind.

my head races and my heart thuds against my rib cage. am i out of breath? i can't tell.

my hands are shaking and i'm still crying. i need to stop that. stop crying, i demand myself. you're being a pussy.

i should have seen this coming. i should have known brandon didn't want anything to do with me and that i'm just his little object to toy around with. him and kayla are never going to be broken up. they're always going to be stuck in the same loop over and over again; a "love-hate" relationship without the love. just a cycle of hating each other a little less some days.

part of me feels sad for him, and then i remember how angry i am at what he's done. it's hard to be mad at him, and then more sobs shake my body. that makes it a little easier.

fuck off, brandon.

he's just some guy on the football team. that's all he is, right? just some guy that doesn't know how to keep a girlfriend for more than forty-eight hours at a time without breaking two girls' hearts at once?

the feeling in my chest is one of endless sinking. if my heart were the titanic, it would have been far under the sea by now. it feels as though nothing can get worse, and i'm sitting here in eternal pain or loneliness as i watch my life circle down a drain.

i can't tell if i'm mad at the world or myself. the world put me into this fate but i'm the one who went through with it all, allowing myself to become destructed in the process.

i'm having a hard time figuring out if it's the vodka talking or if these were sober words that i needed to be drunk to say, just like brandon.

——————————-

brandon

"kayla, i'm sorry," i say through a slurred accent. "i never meant it,"

i lie to kayla straight through my teeth. i meant every moment of that kiss and i'm sure her and i both know that. but i can't bring myself to tell her such a thing; not with the look on her face. that pathetic, sad, lost puppy dog look that's plastered for everyone to see.

kayla shakes her head at me. "what do you want, brandon?" she asks. "what does she have that i don't?" she's yelling now, starting to cause a scene. classic kayla. the sad thing is that i don't even care at this point. people can point and stare and snapchat or post whatever they want.

i frown. she has so much that you don't, i want to say.

she has kindness and love and humour.

"nothing," i say. "she has nothing that you don't, kayla."

a smile that could cure any sickness, words that poetry can't compete with.

joy that's contagious. morals in life. ideas and hopes and aspirations other than having nice hair.

"then why do you like her and not me?" kayla's bottom lip pouts, making her look like a child. and in a way, that's exactly what she is. kayla is a child who still needs to learn how to grow up, how to be a good person and get over dumb shit. she will never, ever know what real life is like.

she's a child not getting what she wants.

she lives in her own world and expects everyone else to take part in it. it's as if she thinks she's a kardashian, or that she's in some type of teen movie that'll play on the big screen and end how she wants.

"i don't like her," i shout over the music. part of me is glad to be shouting this and getting it out of the small cage i had it locked inside.

i love her, i think suddenly. but that can't be true?

you love her, idiot.