finding you

twenty eight

The panic in me is unreal. Literally. I cannot believe I've put myself in a situation like this. Again. Why am I so dumb? I knew I shouldn't have come. 

I can literally feel Ronnie tense up beside me. I almost forgot about her. At least I'm not the only one that hates her. At least I have a friend in this scenario. There's a plus. 

I take peak over at Ashton that seems completely oblivious to his panic-ridden girlfriend beside him. Correction: two panic-ridden girlfriends. My subconscious shoots her hand up, waving it around so I don't forget about her. 

"Bitches." Brock says, smugly. He nods at Ashton and walks over to Rhys and goes to punch him in the shoulder--in a friendly gesture, I guess? I can tell Rhys is uncomfortable with him being here, too. I remembered how uncomfortable he was at the cabin with him. I wonder if something really bad went down between them or Rhys just doesn't like Brock in general--which doesn't quite make sense because I thought they were pretty close in high school. The sound of Brooke's nasally voice just confirms my first thought on the matter.

Brooke went down between them. Of course. 

I shudder at them and look at Ronnie, who's looking out to the field pretending to watch the game. Unfortunately, for her, the game hasn't started. Poor girl. I feel you.

"Hi girls." Brock's voice cuts in and it take everything in me to sort of acknowledge him. 

How does he just always sound so gross? Like just a cocky sounding asshole. It's so annoying. I hope their not sitting here. What am I saying? They better not be sitting here.

Brooke giggles beside him and I make the mistake of looking at her. She's looking at me and laughing. Seriously? She's laughing like she used to in high school. Her bitchy, awful 'laugh at the losers' kind of laugh. I hate her. She looks ridiculous. Her whole stomach is showing with a lacey crop sweater thing that literally just covers her boobs. Plus, her shorts are barely high waisted. 

But I guess that's what guys like... I make the mistake of looking down at my dads oversized work sweater with a giant logo on the front. Not to mention my hair might as well have gone through electroshock. 

I feel my mood plummet as I take in what's in front of me: Brooke standing awfully close to Rhys. She's literally in between the two guys. Both guys have literally slept with her. Isn't that just a little bit weird? What do you know, Theo? It's actually quite common nowadays. 

I watch torturously as she goes to show something on her phone to Rhys. She swipes a few times before bursting out into an annoying fit of giggles. He looks closer at the phone with knit eyebrows before shaking his head and chuckling. 

Why does this feel like the worst feeling in the world right now. Is this happening? 

Rhys doesn't even seem that bothered by her. What is this? I'm surprised he's even talking with her after what he told me. My whole heart sinks into my stomach as I watch their little exchange. I need to look away but I just can't. 

It's like I'm addicted to hurting myself. Unintentionally but also intentionally. I just do. I can feel tears behind my eyes and I almost have to get up and leave so nobody notices. 

A few more minutes go by of loud, obnoxious conversating--mostly done by Brock. However, Ashton, Rhys and Brooke were all in it. Me and Ronnie? Well let's just say I'm happy I finally have someone to be outcasts with. Someone to actually sit outside of a group with and be awkward. Usually that's not Ronnie at all. But tonight? Tonight is a rare unfortunate event. 

"When does the game start?" Ronnie finally asks, kind of interrupting. It's directed to Ashton but everyone stops talking. 

"Like now. I have to go back but I just wanted to say hi." Rhys answers for Ashton. Suddenly his eyes find mine, and his face suddenly doesn't look so happy anymore. He looks concerned... or actually more like stressed. I want to look away but I don't. I'm surprised he even remembers I'm still here. I haven't made a sound for the past ten minutes. My whole body heats under his gaze, regardless if it's wanted or not. He just has this affect on me. His eyebrows go up as if silently apologizing and I just look at him with no expression before turning my head away. 

"Good luck, bro. Fucking kill it." Brock chimes in and physically cringe at the sound of his voice. 

"I'm going to be screaming for you, Rhys. Oh my God, remember us in high school? This makes me so sad. Aweh, I miss us sometimes: me cheerleading and you playing. We were the best." Brooke sneers in a super fake sounding voice that I actually want to vomit at the sound of. 

I just maintain my whole gaze fixated on the field. Just pick a spot and focus on that, Theo. Breathe.

It's moments like these when I get really upset. When I'm reminded of how horrible my high school years were. The supposedly 'best four years of your life.'  Having people like Brooke and Brock around me, who are always going to relish in those years because for them, it was the best four years of their life. They were popular. They had an actual youth. It's not that I hate them for how high school treated them. I hate the way high school treated me, and being around people like that, just brings it all back to me. Like two years didn't go by and I'm back to being a quiet, depressed loner. The first two years of high school was spent in the bathroom stall at every lunch period, eating my lunch. Yes, I was that kid. Literally. Ronnie had made it into the popular group and we weren't hanging out at that time. 

I can feel my stomach twist in my thoughts and I do have to excuse myself to go to the bathroom. I need air... fresher air. Even if fresher air is found in the stall of a bathroom. 

Ronnie comes with me and I manage to calm down enough while we walk to not completely have a breakdown. Snaps for Theo!

"What fucking bullshit." Ron basically blurts it out as if she was holding it in for the past half hour. I mean... she probably was. I watch as she slams the stall door, locking herself inside it. "Did you see her? What was she wearing? I can't believe she honestly thinks she can just invade our group whenever she feels like it. Like Brock I get but whatever we don't even hang out with him anymore."

"I don't know, Ron." I breathe. I honestly don't want to talk about it right now. I look at myself in the mirror. I look sad. I take this moment to just look at myself. Study myself. Is Brooke prettier than me? Is that why boys like her so much? But she's just so mean... I don't get it. "Remember when you guys were friends in grade nine?" I don't know why I say it. Probably because it's ridiculous to think back on now. It sucks for me mostly to think back on. Those were awful times for me. 

"Oh my God. Shut the fuck up." She groans from behind the stall and I snicker audibly. Seconds later she flings the door open and moves to the sink to wash her hands. "I'm just so done with her. Like I hate her, Theo. And what the fuck was with Rhys? Why was he acting like that with her? And especially with you there!"

I shrug. I'm trying to come off not affected but the ache I feel currently reminds me that I'm not so strong. "I'm not dating him or anything. He like has a thing with her, I guess. I mean don't they always hook up?" It's hard to ask and to act so chill about the whole thing. I wish it as more acceptable for me to express my feelings. But I know how manic I am. Literally. I will never admit to emotions like these because I know it's just my crazy. 

"Fuck. I don't know Theo but he shouldn't have that. You guys... he was your first kiss Theo."

I laugh. "It's just a kiss."

"It's not just a kiss, Theo. We don't talk so much about boys and stuff... but I know you enough to know that it wasn't just a kiss, Theo."

Tears prick at my eyes and I literally have to hold my breath to prevent them from all spilling out. It isn't like this. It isn't like this. You don't care, Theo. This is ridiculous if you cry. 

Ron doesn't get to see the one tear that escaped because she pulls me into a hug, whispering how much she loves me in my ear. She tells me how great I am and I just want to tell her wrong she is. 

I'm not great. I'm not a good person. I'm broken and I don't care enough about myself to fix it. I hate myself. I always have. 

Nobody cares about me either. I'm just not... that great.

How do you expect a broken person to fix themselves all on their own? To pick up their own broken pieces? It doesn't work like that.