Misplaced (COMPLETED)

5. fight or flight

According to the official Google dictionary, eternity can be defined as a state of timelessness in which time has no application. It goes on to define eternity as an infinite or unending period of time. If that is true then tonight can be defined as the longest night of my life in which I have experienced timelessness on multiple occasions.

For the billionth time tonight, Zach and I's confessions of unsaid apologies ends in an electrifying, magnetic pull of eye-contact where the rest of the world could be on fire and it'd still take me half a minute to tear my eyes away from his. This particular period of timelessness comes to a shattering halt by the sound of a loud throat clearing beside the two of us. In unison we turn to look at a fierce girl draped in a proud, purple dress: Zoe.

"Evans. Can't say I'm glad to see you again." Zoe's voice is blunt, straight to the point and lacking in any potential points of weakness.

Despite the semi-peace I have just made with 'Evans' a small smile escapes my lips at Zoe's attitude. The stress of seeing Zach is still washing through my system and having a best friend who doesn't take crap from anyone is a sizeable source of comfort for a neurotic wreck such as myself.

Zach blinks at her somewhat surprised and somewhat defensive. During the time we were together as an official item, he would've spent a lot of time with Zoe. He'd still know her well enough to not be too surprised. However, the male glint in his eye is new. He seems older now, more mature. I want to know what happened to him. I want to know if he's okay - if he's happier now.

"Walker. Can't say I'm surprised to see you again," Zach fires right back at her.

Trying to diffuse the situation and subtly let Zoe know we're okay, I pass her the long awaited beer I had still been holding for her, "I got your drink."

"Thanks," she takes it from me, "I heard they're about to be lighting fireworks soon if you wanted to get a better spot to see them."

I nod at her, "Cool . . . wait, is that legal?" The idea a group of drunk adolescents managed to get a permit for the lighting of projectile rockets somehow seems unlikely.

"Kales." Zoe responds in the sort of tone that reminds me I'm being naive. Right. Of course they don't need permits. This whole wild party is probably illegal, underage drinking being the first offence. That's probably why its being held so far away from the rest of civilisation.

Taking the first sip of my own frothy beer, I follow Zoe through the crowd. As if propelled from her way by Zoe's sheer will, the crowd part for Zoe like Moses parting the red sea. I follow in her wake tentatively, waiting for a party-goer to leap back and crush me. Geographically I'm in the middle of the rowdy free-flowing crowd but emotionally I couldn't be further away from them. Zach is still fresh in my mind and, as a result, I'm left in no mood to party, rather the mood to curl up in my bed eating a tub of ice-cream and binge-watching some trashy TV show I'll be ashamed of in the morning.

Zach. I never even said good-bye to him before following Zoe to see these supposed fireworks. Is he still at the keg? Suddenly alarmed for how rude I must have looked, I whip my head backwards to catch a glimpse of his familiar face. But as I turn my view is blocked by an equally familiar chest that moves along in unison behind me. My heart skips a beat - he followed us. Should I be glad? Are we heading back into the same romantic territory I was so desperate to flee from in the end? Should I listen to my internal voice of reason and put a final stop to this before anything else has the chance to blossom between our fragile hearts?

The constant thinking hurts my head and I throwback another mouthful of beer in an attempt to settle my oncoming headache. Tonight, I don't want to think. I can think tomorrow. I can think when I've spilled my guts to Zoe and when she's given me her opinion on the subject. Tonight, I just want to do whatever feels right and Zach's warm presence that I can feel radiating from the cotton of his shirt and onto my back, feels right.