0 5
Dirty Traitor
I wait for Jalen and the other guy's annoying laughter to die down. Okay, well, it's not really annoying. The sounds kind of uplifting, to be honest. And maybe if I wasn't watching my relationship currently failing, I'd find myself joining in, just because that's how inviting their happiness feels.
But, instead, I'm left feeling my phone close to slipping out of my hands because of how much they're sweating.
The longer Liam eyes me, the more nervous I become. And I don't like that feeling, because I am sticking by the fact that he is in the wrong, not me.
Remembering exactly why he's wrong makes it all the more easier to replace my nervousness with burning anger, picturing a hundred different reasonings and scenarios for why Jessica had his phone.
"Stop trying to change the subject. You gave your phone to Jessica. And it must've either been unlocked or she has your fucking password, because she was able to make a call on it!" My voice raises louder with the accusation, because the password to Liam's phone is something I never had.
How could he possibly trust her with the password to his phone, but not me? I've asked for it before, simply because I'm a jealous bitch and he was acting way too suspicious when I questioned who he was texting one time. It wasn't like he did anything prior to that to make me feel like he'd cheat, it was all because of how he acted when I said one small thing.
That small thing turned into an entire argument about trust. We almost broke up because I simply questioned why he was smiling at his damn phone so much. The end result was me never even finding out who he had been texting, and losing the battle to exchange passwords.
He was so unwilling to give it, he didn't even consider. I didn't want him to have mine, either, if I'm being honest. But I certainly wasn't as against it as he was. I agreed with him when he said if we need each other's passwords then there's no trust here, but that didn't make me feel anymore secure in our relationship. Because, at that moment, there was no trust.
I thought we buried that issue in the last six months. We both were so apprehensive with each other after that fight, each finding the others actions suspicious. I hated how he immediately ignored my question and wouldn't give the password, and he turned the tables on me, claiming I only didn't trust him because I was doing something wrong.
The logic seemed backwards as hell and too much like he was just trying to shift the blame. The situation feels all too familiar right now, as he's trying to pin this argument on me because I'm at a party.
Liam's jaw clenches, and his eyes shift over to something out of view at the party before looking back at me. This time, his face has softened, but that does little to ease my anger. It just shows that I'm right, and Jessica does have his password, or at the very least, was allowed to hold his unlocked phoneâanother thing he'd never allow me to do because he says I snoop around too much.
Maybe if you were always trustworthy I wouldn't have to snoop, asshole!
"Why?" I ground out through clenched teeth. I wish I could just jump through this phone and punch him in his fucking face.
"Lyndon, it's not what you think," he starts, but all I can feel is even more anger at the fact that he just said my full name. I've always been Lyn to him, to everyone there, ever since I became apart of their group. Did living in a different state mean we became strangers again? Only strangers call me Lyndon. Only people angry with me, mainly my parents and siblings, call me Lyndon. When I think about it, it's been over three years since Liam's ever even uttered my full name. What is happening? "She needed to make a phone call. Her phone died right when her mom was calling, you know how uptight her parents are."
I sigh deeply, because I do know how her parents are. I'm shocked they even let her attend the party, to be honest. But still, why did it have to be his phone? Where were her other friends? God knows Jessica always had the most. Sure, I socialized with people, but I was never tight with them. I was always content with Bea and Jess as my best friends, and Liam as my boyfriend, and all of the guy friends that came along with him. Jess was different, she loved climbing the social ladder and making new friends. So where were all of these peoples' asses she loved to kiss when she needed them? Why was my boyfriend the one she went to for help?
"And you were just being her knight in shining armor by offering up your phone, huh?" I ask skeptically.
"More like I was the closest person to her at the moment. I felt bad. She's wasted, Lyn. I think Bea's gonna take her home in a few."
I hate the way my heart softens when he calls me Lyn again, simply because it means I still have a connection to Miami. It's stupid, and so is his reasoning for giving someone he was never close with his phone, but so am I for accepting it. It's all so, so stupid, and yet, I'm slowly getting over my anger.
"Okay." That's all I say, because I'm unsure of what else there is to be said.
His face disappears for a moment due to a poor connection, and when it returns, he asks, "Where the hell are you?"
I guess the poor connection is on me. I've assumed the room is soundproof because I can't hear a damn thing, but now I know for sure it is, and that must be messing with the signal. Plus, it's an abandoned warehouse. I'm sure the wifi here is practically nonexistent.
"My cousin took me to some party at a warehouse. I'm sitting alone in a room because I literally cannot stand the crowd," I explain, the lie slipping off my tongue way too easily.
He nods and then disappears again, but I can still hear him when he talks. "Are you gonna stay there any longer?"
My mood has been ruined, and even the alcohol that was flowing through my veins feels like it's worn down. The last thing I want to do is be anywhere but in my bed, either sleeping or crying. Whichever one comes first, I guess.
I shake my head and frown. "Probably not."
"Alright, then I'm gonna hang up and leave in a few. Text me when you get home?"
Hah, if he wanted me to shoot him a text when I got home then he'd be waiting a long ass time. That house my parents moved me into is not my home.
"Sure," I say instead, not wanting to get into my sob story and possibly cry when I can't even see his damn face.
The call ends right after that. Damn, did I press end or did he without saying goodbye?
I sigh again, because nothing about that call felt right. I'm just suddenly too tired to deal with it.
"Trouble in paradise?" Jalen asks from across the room.
"Shut the fuckâ" My words are cut off when I look up and see the guy standing next to Jalen, the person I'm assuming he's been talking too and laughing with while I was on the phone, watching my relationship slowly crumble. This guy looks really familiar.
"Such a potty mouth," Jalen teases while walking back over to where I'm sitting. "What am I gonna do with you?"
I make a disgusted face. "You will do nothing with me."
He tilts his head to the side and shrugs, making me want to reach out and strangle him, partly because he's annoying, but mainly because I need to get my anger over this Jess and Liam thing out.
"Would you leave the poor girl alone? She's clearly going through it right now," the other guy says.
Jalen waves his hand in his direction, shrugging him off. The guy merely rolls his eyes and steps around him, effectively shoving Jalen in the shoulder and putting distance between us. "Hello. My name is Daniel."
He holds his hand out for a shake, and I immediately smile and take it. Anyone who pushes Jalen around is good people in my book. "I'm Lyndon."
"It is very nice to meet you, Lyndon. Are you a... friend of Jalen's?" he asks, sounding almost sympathetic towards me if that were the case.
That's a weird reaction to have when meeting your friend's friend, and I'm assuming they're friends because of those loud laughs that came from them minutes ago while I was on the phoneâyou know, those laughs that almost got me dumped.
Unless... Daniel thinks I'm not really Jalen's friend, but am... "Oh hell no," I say, stressing the syllables as I almost shout them.
Daniel laughs at that, while Jalen rolls his eyes and pours himself a drink. I focus on Daniel, rather than watching as Jalen's Adam's apple bobs as he downs the vodka as if it's fucking water.
Why does Daniel look so familiar? I don't think I've seen his face before. I would remember it becauseâjust like every other friend of Malia's I've metâhe's good looking. Well, okay, he's hot. Really hot. And he seems so nice and kind, and didn't look me over the way that Jalen and David did.
His extremely white teeth shine against his darker skin as he smiles at me. "Thank God. At least someone else here agrees that Jalen is not all that."
"I more than agree," I say with a laugh, taking a quick peek at Jalen and seeing he's already looking at me. He smiles over the glass in his hands, and I allow myself to smile back, wanting to pretend Liam and Beach Way and my parents and everything else just doesn't exist for a second.
And the second passes, as both our smiles drop when Daniel says, "Oh, I forgot, Jay. Cortney's here and looking for you."
Cortney? That sounds feminine. With the look that comes to Jalen's face though, I'm still believing he doesn't have a girlfriend. His eyes roll the moment the name is spoken, and he places the cup onto the table right after. He groans dramatically and murmurs, "I best be on my way then."
"Good luck, bro," Daniel says with a chuckle.
He's gone after that, leaving just Daniel and I in here.
"So, you go to Arlin Preparatory?" I decide to ask, as a conversation starter. Might as well pass the time as I wait for Malia to come back and take me the fuck home.
Daniel nods as he reaches around the seat I'm on and slides out a case of water bottles from under the couch. "Yes I do. Will you be attending? And do you want one?"
"Yes and yes," I say with a light laugh. "I didn't know water was an option. Didn't think there was any here."
"I hate drinking. I'm pretty sure my brother is a borderline alcoholicâjust like our fatherâso seeing them act the way they do when they're drunk really makes me hate liquor. I asked some kid to bring a pack of water once I got dragged here by said brother."
My eyebrows raise at the revelation, liking Daniel already. I didn't even have to try to get information out of him. He's an open fucking book.
"Does your brother go to Arlin Preparatory, too?" I question, originally thinking he was some older drunk, but now thinking he has to be around our age if he's here. I'd feel weird as fuck if some older man was drinking with teenagers around me.
"Mhm," he hums as he takes a large sip of water. I follow his lead and drink from my bottle too, hoping to drain whatever is left of the alcohol out my system. "We're twins."
I look at him and then glance around the area we're in quickly. "Huh?"
"My brother and I, we're twins," he says through hysterics, clearly laughing at me.
"Oh," I say, joining in, realizing how dumb I must've looked examining the room. "Hey, I'm a twin, too!"
Daniel puts up his hand and I high-five it, going back to giggling at us acting like five year olds, high-fiving over sharing something neither of us could control. But, still, I'm happy we can bond over something. So far, Daniel's become my favorite person at Arlin Preparatory, and I haven't even gone yet. He definitely beats the people I've met, since Malia, Jalen, and Davidâ
Wait a minute... "Is David your twin?"
Daniel's eyes widen for a moment, before going back to normal and lighting up with amusement. "Ah, you've had the displeasure of meeting him. I can tell by your face. I assure you we are nothing alike."
That's why he looked so familiar! The similarities are shining through now. Both dark-skinned and tall, with athletic builds and caramel colored eyes. They share the same crooked smile, but the emotions behind them are so different. Daniel's is inviting, while David's was troubling.
"We met for, maybe, five seconds, and I can already tell you're telling the truth." He nods along with me, looking almost relieved I haven't instantly grouped him in with his brother. "I know what it's like to be completely different from your brother and wish people would just stop associating you together."
"It's so frustrating," he comments, leaning back into his seat and making himself comfortable.
I go to follow his lead again, adjusting my position to feel more at ease, figuring spending another hour here, with Daniel, isn't so bad. That thought goes out the window when Malia finally comes back, bursting through the door, heels clicking as she moves, hair flowing behind her. Wow, she knows how to make an entrance.
"Hey, Danny," she greets the boy first, who waves his hand with a smile on his face in response. The traitor then walks closer till she's standing over me. "Are you ready to go?"
"Are you?" I ask, reeling my head back a little, still annoyed she left me all alone to fend for myself after insisting I come to this party with her.
"Yes. That's why I asked."
Ugh, everything she says just sounds so right. Like you can't even challenge it.
My sour mood returns, so again, I want nothing more than to go to bed. "It was great meeting you, Daniel."
He stands and comes over to me, reaching out for a hug and then placing a light kiss to my cheek. "It was great meeting you, too. Lyndon? Right?"
I nod head and then turn to where Malia is already walking off too, calling out over her shoulder, "I'll see you later this week, Danny."
Daniel tells her she will, but I barely hear all the words as Malia's grabbing my arm and dragging me toward a door in the room, one I hadn't even noticed was there. I thought the only way in and out was through the door we entered in. Where the hell did this door come from?
I have got to be more aware of my surroundings, damn it. I would've been so screwed if there had been a fire.
I quietly follow Malia down a narrow hallway, two steps behind her. We reach another door that she opens, and there's a guard standing on the other side. Cool air immediately hits me, seeing as the temperature dropped lower into the night. It's well past midnight, and since it's the end of August already, walking around in just a short sleeved shirt that reveals most of my torso is not smart when in New York.
Awesome, it's cold here. Just another reason to miss Miami!
We reach Malia's beautiful red lamborghini, making my mouth water at the sight. This car is perfection. I eagerly slide into the seat, smiling. Malia takes advantage of my happiness and shouts, "Keep smiling!" right before I see a flashing light.
I turn toward where the light came from and see she took a picture of us. "Why in the world did you just do that?"
"For proof," she says as way of explanation, eyes concentrated on the typing she's doing on her phone.
My own phone vibrates seconds later. I look at it to see Malia's sent me the photo, in a group chat consisting of us, my mother, and an unknown number.
"I'm assuming this is your mom's number?" I ask, already going on and saving the contact as Titi Talia.
"Mhm. She didn't believe we were together, and a picture speaks a thousand words, so." She shrugs her shoulders and drops her phone into the cup holder between our seats. "Did you enjoy yourself?"
"Oh yes," I respond, letting sarcasm drip into every word I say. "I especially enjoyed the part where you left me alone with some guy I didn't know!"
Malia looks at me and sends a tight lipped smile. "Good. I'm glad. Jalen's great company."
"Yup, the greatest," I say through clenched teeth. She doesn't respond as she shifts the car into drive and takes off.
Dare I say it, I'm actually glad to go back to that place my parents are trying to get me to call home.
ââââââââââ²âââââââââ
It's almost one thirty in the morning when I push open the noisy front door of the house. Sneaking into the one back in Miami was so much easier. This door is practically singing to my parents that I'm here.
I try my hardest to quietly close it, all while thoughts of someone from outside passing by, seeing the door slightly open, and barging right in cross my mind. But I still take my time, hearing the painfully slow click of the door once it's shut and finally letting out a breath I was holding in.
"Oh my God," I whisper into the darkness, tired just from struggling with the door. How will I ever manage to actually sneak in and out of this bitch?
"Oh my God is right," someone says sternly from a few spaces away.
"What theâ" I start, reaching for my phone and using the light to see.
I turn it off once I see the light from someone else's phone. The person turns their own off, leaving us both enclosed in the darkness for a moment, making me wish they'd leave it like thatâbecause I know who that is. I sadly know that voice all too well, even though I tried so hard to forget it after not hearing it for so long.
A lamp is flicked on, brightening my father's face. I expect anger or disappointment to show, but he looks passive. No emotions showing at all.
"It's late, Lyndon," he states.
Thanks for pointing out the obvious. "Yeah," I respond instead, not in the mood to argue just yet.
"I wish you would've given me a time," he continues, sighing as he slowly stands from the couch. He gathers his phone and his laptop from the coffee table, moving both with him over to the small divider between the kitchen and living room. "I didn't think you'd be this late. I thoughtâ"
"You thought what?" I ask defensively, annoyed he thinks he has the nerve to worry over me. First of all, he doesn't know me, he doesn't know what type of person I am. He's acting like some parent of a troubled teen that's always out late and getting into trouble, when that's not me.
"I thought something happened to you. You don't know this town. You don't know this city, not anymore. Anything could have happened." His voice raises slightly as he talks, then lowers to a mere whisper when he adds, "I just would've liked a time, is all. So I could've known that you're safe."
"So you could've already gone to bed instead of pretending to be a concerned parent," I correct, unable to stop myself.
He looks up from the bag he was stuffing his laptop into, jaw clenched and eyes hardened. "All I want is to know you're safe, Lyndon. I just want to know you'll be home."
I let out a dry laugh. "Don't worry about that, Father. Unlike you, I come back every night."
His face drops, and I can't tell if it's from shock, hurt, or anger, but I don't care. I hope it's all. I hope it's guilt. I hope he thinks about what I said for the rest of the night and receives no sleep because of it.
The same way I did when he and Mom fought, and the door slammed loudly behind him as he left, and I laid in bed, wondering if he would ever come back.
His mouth opens and closes, ready to say something, but struggling to find the right words. I'm saved from his excuses by Noah's entrance from the hallway.
"You dirty traitor," he spits at me. "How dare you?"
Oh no. He found the weed hidden in theâ
"What did I do now?" I respond quickly, hoping to not sound guilty if I pretend I didn't do anything. It's a natural reflex of mine.
"You went out without me. With people from our school. You bitch," he accuses, stepping closer to me with every word.
"Noah," Dad reprimands, coming to stand in front of me.
Is this his way of getting on my good side? Defending me from my stupid brother?
I step around him and stop walking once I'm right in front of Noah. "Malia invited me last minute. I didn't technically even party."
"What'd you do then?" he questions, squinting his eyes, clearly not believing me.
"Met some of her friends, and talked to them for a bit. We were in some private room. It was all very..." I trail off, trying to find the proper way to word it.
"Bougie?" Noah supplies.
"Yes!" I shout, pointing at him with both hands, smiling excitingly at the word. "That's exactly how I'd describe her. And tonight. And, sadly, our new school."
Noah groans. "Fuck me. I hate that kind of shit."
"That's why I didn't tell you," I reply, subtly trying to save my ass from hearing anymore complaints about not bringing him along.
Noah tilts his head to the side and side eyes me. "Fucking liar."
I walk past him, purposely shoving him with my shoulder as I make my into the kitchen, needing a drink. I pour myself water and chug it as Dad begins talking. "Noah, you curse a lot. Do you not know how to express yourself any other way? Can you not think of any other appropriate words?"
I laugh and almost choke on my drink at that, making Noah reach for a pillow from the couch and throw it at me. I try to move out the way and I succeed in doing so as the pillow misses my face, but just as I'm ready to celebrate, I feel the cup I was holding slip from hand as water falls onto the front of my shirt and the glass hits the ground.
"Noah, you fucking idiot!" I shout.
Glass is shattered all over the marble floor of the kitchen, water dripping from the shards and off my body onto the ground. My hand is soaked with water and my pinky is bleeding from a cut.
I look from the mess, to my hand, to Noah's horrified face. "I will kill you."
He goes to make a run for it, but he has to pass the kitchenâwhere I'm standingâto make it to his room. Just as he does so, I body slam him into the wall and punch him in his shoulder, ignoring the pain from my cut and from hitting him so hard as I land another punch on his cheek.
"Stop it," Dad says rather calmly from behind us, just as Noah reaches his arms around my waist to push me harshly away from him.
"Gross. You got blood on me," he whines.
"Lick it, bitch," I say, making Noah burst out laughing at how fucking weird that response is. I join in too, even though I'm in pain, because this whole situation is so fucking stupid.
Huh, maybe those shots are still affecting me after all this time?
"Stop cackling and help clean this mess," Dad demands.
Noah grabs the broom from Dad and begins sweeping the pieces into a pile. I go to take the pan, but am instead gently guided toward the sink. Dad grabs my hand and brings it under the water, squeezing soap onto the cut and cleaning it off.
"Put neosporin, then bandage that up," he says.
I nod my head and turn around, happy to not have to clean anything.
"Oh fuck no. I have to clean while she pretends she's hurt? Lynnie, get that ass back here."
"It's your fault I'm even bleeding. No one told you to be a dumb fuck and throw the pillow at me."
Dad reaches down and picks up said pillow. "It's ruined."
Noah and I look to each other with wide eyes, then back to Dad who's still examining the pillow. Once he looks at our paranoid faces, he sighs and says, "I'll get a new one in the morning. Well, in a few hours, considering how late it is. I'll finish cleaning, you two head to bed."
Noah automatically drops the broom and starts walking away. "Works for me."
I laugh and Dad shakes his head at his antics. "Goodnight, Noah. And goodnight, Sunshine. I love you both."
"Night, Dad. Love you too," Noah calls out behind him, heading down the hall and into his room.
I follow closely behind, but not before taking one last look at Dad. He's crouched down, carefully pushing the glass onto the pan to avoid getting cut like me. I realize I never responded. I didn't say good night or tell him I love you, I didn't even smile or acknowledge that he used the old nickname he had for me.
I did nothing. And even once I realize I did nothing, I still don't fix it. I keep walking until I'm in my room.
I don't even feel bad about it. All I feel bad about is the cut on my hand and my soaked shirt.
And the text that lights up my phone at that moment, from Malia, saying: hey Lyndon! there's a bbq next week, two days before school. mostly all Arlin seniors will be there. you're more than welcome to join. so is Noah. i'll send you both the address and let you decide! hope you come!
Oh no. She's inviting Noah? She really is a traitor.