The Brightest Star in a Constellation

2: I Told You So

☽ Peter ☽

I shouldn't have come here. What was I thinking?

The music is too fast, too loud, and the light is too blinding, too bright. It's giving me a headache, and I can't believe I willingly agreed to this. What was I thinking?

I am such an idiot.

I can almost hear Nicole's chirpy voice as she mocks me. It would be something like: I told you this would happen. I warned you. I was right, and you were wrong.

I'm standing in Sam's bathroom, with my hands on the tap. The water has been running for about five minutes, or maybe more. I can't tell anymore.

I think I'm going to pass out.

Deep breaths. One, two... one, two...

The grounding techniques aren't working. It's much too difficult to concentrate on my surroundings when everything is overwhelming, and my body feels like it's about to explode, and—I am not okay. I need to calm down.

My hand fumbles for my phone. My fingers are clammy, and my head is pounding. The text on my screen wobbles like it's made of water, and for some reason, I have to squint to read it. I click on the call button with my thumb, listening to the line as it rings.

While it does, I shut off the tap and sit on the basin of Sam's bathtub. My shoes squish against the damp plush carpet, and I have to place my hand against the cold tile to keep myself from falling.

"Fucking hell, why are you calling me at ten at night?" Nicole's voice answers, after the fourth ring.

"Hello to you, too," I say through deep breaths.

There's a stifling silence on the other end of the line. I can't hear anything besides the thudding of music from the living room.

"Oh," Nicole says, the realization hitting her. I can practically sense her rolling her eyes through the phone. "Oh, you went."

"Yes," I answer softly.

"You're a fucking idiot."

My finger slides under my glasses to pinch the bridge of my nose. The white paint blends into the family pictures on Sam's wall, looming over me. "Yeah, I know. I just thought that... you know what? You don't even have to agree with me. I believe him. He wants to make it work with me. He invited me to the party for a reason. He likes—"

Nicole sighs. "So, this is the moment you decide to listen to Suzanna? Honestly, you're hopeless. I know she's smart, and everything, but she's your therapist, not a psychic. She doesn't know."

"And what do you know?" I ask quietly.

"It's not worth it. He doesn't like you. Not romantically, anyway," she answers with a scoff. "I know you've been crushing on him for a long time. I get it, okay? But Sam is not your friend. He's a snake in the grass."

I really don't need this right now. I wanted reassurance, not this. "Nicole," I say with a hiccuping breath, "you don't know that. You don't."

"Peter," she replies in a mocking tone, "please don't freak out on me. I know you hate taking my advice. It's like you're allergic to it or something. But, just this once, I don't want you to be making the biggest mistake of your life. It hasn't even been two weeks since senior year started. Could you chill out for, like, a minute?"