letters to the boy who never cared

t w e n t y - t w o

n e w  y e a r s ;; p a r t  t w o

I pushed past people to the bathroom, biting my lip until I felt the familiar metallic taste of blood. Suddenly, everything felt too close, too much. The crowd was too tight, my dress suffocating. What I really wanted was to go home, wash all the make-up off my face and cry myself to sleep.

Well, I couldn't do that. But, I could do the next best thing.

I ignored the other girls in the bathroom, a group of friends primping at the mirror, and locked myself into the stall. None of them noticed. I leaned my back on the tiled wall and looked down at my shaking hands.

Oh God, Oh God, Oh God...

My boyfriend was at a party with Marin Daley. Mine. And until I knew that they were apart, I couldn't relax. Anxiety rolled over me, wave after wave. 

Oh God, Oh God, Oh God...

I imagined her kissing him, the sick image making my stomach roil. Imagined Marin telling him he she loved him, like I did, only he said it back.

Oh God, Oh God, Oh God...

I quieted my quickening breaths, placing a hand on my stomach. I told myself to calm down. The cold tile cooled my head as I leaned back against the wall again, closing my eyes. I listened to those oblivious girls gossip. I clenched my fist over and over, saving up tension for when I punched stupid Marin Daley in her stupid face.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I needed to relax. Why was I thinking that? She was with someone else. She'd moved on. I was the stupid one, not her. I waited until the girls left the bathroom, and then I left the stall. I stared myself down in the mirror, the curled sandy hair, the dark blue eyes. God. I needed to get a grip.

The door clicked open and shut, and when I turned to see who it was, I was greeted with a prim smile from Olivia. "Hi," she said, but in this clipped voice, like she was upset but trying not to show it.

"Hi," I replied, reaching for the soap to wash my hands. I paused. "Is something wrong?"

She lingered by the sink and folded her hands. "Actually, yeah," she replied. She looked at me intensely.

"Okay," I said hesitantly. "What's up?"

Olivia paused, then blurted it out. "Is there something up with you and Matt?"

Her words made me go red in the face. "Excuse me?"

She rambled on. "Because, like, everytime you're around, he's on edge, and you're on edge, and it's just, like, so awkward. And don't think you're the only one that notices he looks at you, like, all the time. Like, more than me, his actual girlfriend. And you look at him, too, but in a different way. I don't know what it is, but..." Olivia paused, out of breath. "And, then, you and your friends, you just hate me, and I don't know why. I was trying really hard to understand, but," her voice dropped to this sad, pathetic, shy-girl voice. "This seems like the only explanation."

I looked at this brown-haired, confused looking girl, and I felt my heart squeeze. I felt so bad. I was wrecking everything, and I didn't even know for sure that I liked Matt. I couldn't let her feel like this. 

"Olivia," I began, "you've got to understand; Summer, Jen and I, we're Matt's closest friends, pretty much. Thick and thin or whatever. I know, it doesn't excuse us acting like we hate you, but the truth is, we do like you." The lie left an awful taste in my mouth. Olivia, you must know, was a very hard person to like, for some reason. "We just want the best for Matt. We don't want him to get hurt." Probably, that was the only truth within that whole ridiculous speel.