Iâm vibing by myself since Elija just left when someone bumps into me.
âOh, shit! Iâm so sorry,â he says as I feel his drink soak through my hoodie. I turn to find out itâs Liam. He looks genuinely sorry so I smile at him.
âDonât worry about it,â I tell him. Who cares if itâs my second clothing item in a short while that gets ruined?
âIâll help you soak it. Itâll stain if you wait,â he offers. âCome on.â He takes my wrist gently and starts pulling me through the crowd. I look over my shoulder, hoping to see Elija somewhere already. I donât want him to think I ditched him but he has my phone since I donât have pockets.
âItâs no big deal, really. I told Elija Iâd wait here,â I tell him over the music.
âHeâll be fine, Florence. Besides, I kind of wanted to talk to you so will you please follow me?â he asks, stopping to look at me. I sigh and nod.
âAlright, this is Jamieâs room. Take off your hoodie, Iâll wash it in the sink of his bathroom,â Liam says as soon as he closed the door behind us. Iâm too busy taking in my friendâs room to do anything else right now.
I figured his family might have money, most people at our school do, but I didnât know he was rich. I mean, a Tv the size of a cinema and speakers behind his bed kind of rich. Other than that, his room is rather basic. Everything is grey and the LEDs behind his Tv are set on yellow. A fluffy carpet takes up most of the floor. Itâs comfortable and clean.
âFlo?â Liam interrupts my marveling.
âRight, sorry,â I say, quickly shrugging my hoodie off and throwing it at him.
âWoah, girl. A warning would have been nice,â Liam says after catching it. I realize Iâm in nothing but my black lace bra now which my intoxicated mind seems strangely okay with.
âNever seen a girl in a bra before?â I mock him, walking towards the bathroom. Itâs open to the rest of the room. Fancy.
Liam follows me, his cheeks slightly red and I have to stifle a laugh. He gets to work with the cleaning.
âSo, what did you want to talk about?â I ask.
âOh, right. I donât know where to start so Iâll just say, Iâm sorry. For more than the hoodie, though Iâm not proud of that either,â he starts. Then he looks at me expectantly while I have no idea what heâs talking about. I must be wearing my thoughts on my face since he chuckles. âIâve been rude to you when you didnât deserve it, Flo. Thatâs what Iâm apologizing for.â
âOh,â I say. When the silence stretches on for too long, I ask, âWhyâd you do it?â
âWell, I guess you could say I had a crush on you. Had, being the keyword since Iâm over it now. You and Elija are good together and I wonât repeat a past mistake and try to destroy that for him or you. Iâm actually here with Sarah. Sheâs the one that told me to apologize to you, sheâs waiting downstairs somewhere. I really like her and I guess I have you to thank for that,â he adds with a sheepish smile.
âThatâs great! Iâm really happy for you,â I tell him honestly. Who would have thought that heâd be the one to apologize so sincerely for another girl.
Liam turns off the water and lays my wet hoodie over the edge of a sink before turning to me.
âOnly needs to dry now,â he says. I walk over to him and hug him.
âThanks,â I say. He hugs me back without breathing me in this time. Itâs an innocent touch and I simply enjoy the contact for a few seconds. When I pull back, I keep my arms around him for a beat and look up at him.
âYou better be good to Sarah,â I tease him, making him laugh.
Look at me making a new friend. This is nice, I think right as the door swings open. I turn my head to see Elija staring at me, his hands clenched and an expression of disbelief on his face. Thatâs quickly replaced by anger though. I step back from Liam but even though I want to explain, the fire in his eyes makes it unable for me to speak.
Elijaâs gaze goes back and forth between Liam and me until he finally settles on me, looking almost disgusted. Itâs like a punch in the gut but I tell myself itâs fine. Itâs a misunderstanding, he must be reading this situation completely wrong.
I open my mouth to start explaining but Elija cuts me off.
âDonât!â is all he says before storming out of the room. I run after him, pushing past drunk people to catch up. I finally catch his wrist when weâre on the lawn, making him whip around.
âReally? Fucking Liam?â he yells in my face. He looks really unlike himself, his eyes a little bloodshot and his expression wild. I donât think heâd hurt me but I still take a step back.
âWe were just talking,â I tell him, pleading with him with my eyes to believe me.
âFuck, Florence that is exactly what she said!â he yells, running his hands through his hair. He looks so lost that my heart aches for him.
âElija, do you honestly think Iâd cheat on you?â Weâre not officially together but weâre clearly something. That means everyone else is off-limits.
The accusation in his gaze makes my stomach twist but I know Elijaâs and Liamâs history. So instead of being offended, I try to reassure him. âI am not Ricky,â I add softly.
Elija stares at me, still breathing heavily but he seems to be calming down. I take a step towards him reaching out to touch his chest when a voice stops me.
âFlo, you left your hoodie,â Liam yells from somewhere behind me. I donât turn around but Elija looks past me. His gaze hardens as he looks at the other guy and I know Iâm losing him again. He starts shaking his head to himself before striding off without another glance at me.
This time, I donât follow. I tried but maybe he needs to cool down before we can have an actual conversation. For a change, Iâll be the one trying to help him however I can.
I walk back to Liam defeatedly. Taking my hoodie from him without a word.
âIâm really sorry,â he says.
âItâll be fine. He just needs to cool down,â I tell him, trying to reassure myself more than him.
âDo you need a ride home?â he asks.
âYou drank tonight. Besides, Sarah is waiting for you. Iâll just catch a cab,â I tell him. He waits with me until my ride arrives and wishes me goodnight. By then, Iâm already shivering. Iâve put my hoodie back on but itâs wet and that combined with the wind makes it too flipping cold.
I get in the backseat and tell the driver my address. Then, I look out of the window and try to think of a way to make it up to Elija.
About thirty minutes in, I realize that I donât recognize my surroundings. My heartbeat spikes and my blood grows cold. The street weâre on is abandoned and lined with small houses and apartment complexes. I canât see a single light on and I curse myself for not having paid more attention.
Is this the part where I die? Oh god, I can hear the blood rushing in my ears but I force it down. Iâm not having a panic attack right now. The last thing I need is to be completely at the driverâs mercy, unable to control my own limbs or even breathe.
I reach for my phone, intending to call Elija or send him my location. I know heâs mad at me right now and thereâs the possibility heâll ignore me but someone has to pick up eventually. I hope itâs him.
With a start, I realize Elija still has my phone. Oh no. No, no, no! Please, this canât be happening. Forcing myself to take subtle, deep breaths, I try to find my voice.
Before I can say anything, the car comes to a halt. The driver gets out and walks around the car and my instincts take over. I unbuckle my seatbelt with shaky fingers before throwing the door open. The driver was about to open it himself which means the door effectively hit him in the gut. He doubles over and I rush out of the vehicle, sprinting towards the houses nearby.
I can hear the man behind me. Heâs yelling something as his steps grow louder. I push my body, trying to outrun him even though itâs no use. When I finally feel the driverâs hands wrap around my arm, I donât scream. Instead, I remember what I once learned in a self-defense seminar and thrust the palm of my hand into his throat. His grip on me loosens as he gasps for air. I use the momentum to grip his shoulders and bring my knee up to his crown jewels.
He howls in pain, dropping to his knees. I push him once more before turning and running again. I donât hear him follow but I donât allow myself to stop. Not until I finally see a house with some lights on. I ring the doorbell, trying to get my breathing under control and to keep myself from ringing the bell repeatedly. This might be a bad idea considering itâs the middle of the night but I donât have much of a choice. I need a phone.
Besides, one of the houseâs windows is lit up blue so I pray a child or teenager lives here. Please just let it be someone friendly.
When the door finally opens slowly, revealing a young woman, itâs all I can do not to start crying in relief. The woman takes me in once, maybe assessing the danger sheâs in herself. After a few seconds of taking in my shivering, out-of-breath form, her gaze softens.
âHow can I help you?â she asks.
âCan I use your phone, please?â
âSure. Do you want to come inside? You look cold,â she says but I shake my head.
âThank you but itâs alright. I just need to make a call.â She nods, unlocks her phone, and hands it to me.
I silently thank my parents for forcing me to do memory practice when I was younger as I type in Elijaâs number. The line rings twice, setting my nerves on edge with each passing second. Then he finally picks up.
âElija Mongrow.â