Shea

Brenna and Jayden.

Jayden and Brenna.

Fuck. No wonder she didn't want to kiss me.

I run a hand through my hair as I saunter down the hallway. Although I didn't grab a drink the first time, I think I need one now. She was getting way too close to him.

No.

She's allowed to be with whomever she wants.

It just breaks my fucking heart that it's not me.

As I'm coming around the corner, my shoulder collides with something. I stumble, catching myself on the wall. Something hits the ground with an obnoxious thump.

"Jesus Christ," Ella says. She kneels to help KJ up. "No more drinking, Kaleb. You can't walk straight."

I stare down. KJ's eyes are watery. He's consumed too much alcohol. Plus, he's got mauve-coloured lipstick smudged around his mouth. It's obvious I interrupted a make-out session.

Great.

Everyone else gets their person to kiss under the mistletoe.

Except me.

"Come on, Kaleb," Ella coos. "Let's get you standing."

He complies, letting Ella help him to his feet. KJ sways when they're standing. Then he notices me.

"Smitty," KJ slurs. He tries to clap me on the back, but he ends up hitting the wall instead. "What're you doing, bro?"

"Getting a drink," I mutter. Averting my gaze to the kitchen, I expel a deep sigh. Drinking isn't the solution. I think I need to go home. "You know what? I think I'll head home instead." I glance at Ella. "Is it okay if I leave him with you? If not, I can drop him off. His mom's place is a couple streets over."

Ella cocks her head. She's gripping KJ's bicep, trying to keep him upright, but her attention is focused on me. "Did you talk to Brenna?"

That image of Jayden and Brenna is seared into the back of my eyelids. I never had the chance of talking to Brenna. She's wrapped up in someone else's arms. If that's what she wants, fine. She can have Jayden.

Still fucking hurts.

"No," I reply. "Thanks for the advice, Ella, but I don't think this'll work out between Brenna and I."

KJ pouts. Then he ruffles my hair. "Noooooo. Not the couple I ship. Come on, Smitty. You and Brenna would make cute babies. She's just what you fucking need. She's not afraid to put you in your place." He glances at Ella and flashes a dazzling smile at her. He slides his hand up her shoulder, then neck, until he's cupping her face. His thumb traces down her cheekbone. "Just like my Ellie."

His words are slurred, but I can still understand them. Fucking Jones. He's rubbing salt in the wound.

Groaning, KJ knocks his head against the wall. The hanging pictures quiver, threatening to fall. "Fuck. I think I'm gonna puke."

Ella grips his shoulders. Her cheeks are pink. "I'll take him upstairs to the bathroom. Before he pukes all over Hunter's floor. You can go home, Shea. I've got Kaleb."

I give my best friend a pitying look. KJ won't feel good tomorrow. "Good idea. Thanks, Ella."

She flashes me a weak smile. "Don't forget your presents."

Watching Ella help KJ up the stairs makes my mood darker. Which is why I head to the kitchen. Before gathering my presents, I need a glass of water. It feels stuffy in this house.

From the kitchen, I can hear Nick, Drew, Hunter, Evren, and Catina playing Mario Kart. Not a good game to play while you're drunk. They can't get through a round without falling off the track. Or the couch.

Maybe I'll grab my presents tomorrow. Say I wasn't feeling well, and that's why I left early. Entering the living room will force me to play Mario Kart with a bunch of drunks.

I grab a glass from the cupboard and saunter over to the sink. The window above the sink has a view of the cul-de-sac. In the streetlight's light, I can see how heavy the snow is falling. It makes me anxious. Bridge Hill will not be fun to drive down. I wonder if Tucker would let me crash overnight. Mom's taking care of Chels. I'll call to let them know I'm staying overnight.

Thinking about my sister makes me realize something. At the beginning, she was the fuel for why I listened. Changed.

Now?

Now it's because of me. I don't like the feeling in my gut after I've been sexist or rude to someone. Someone treating me poorly would make me upset. It's just like when Dad makes nasty comments about my hockey abilities or expresses his egotistical disappointment. I never feel good after his comments.

Truthfully, I'm no better than Connor. The shit I've done to Brenna?

No wonder she doesn't want me.

I snort while grabbing a glass. There was never a chance with her. I was kidding myself. Jayden's always been the good one. He's slipped up a few times, but he's never fucked up like I have. Had I wanted a chance with Brenna, I should've clued in sooner. I've ruined everything. Losing it on her in front of our friends didn't help, either. I projected my frustration on her, which is unfair. Brenna's going through a rough patch. She needs support even if she's pushing people away.

I stare at the snow outside, my eyes burning. Everything I said... Everything I've done... It's embarrassing. When I look back, all I feel is regret. There was never an excuse for what I did. You can't control the decisions other people make. My dad is a dick because he doesn't care about me. I can control my reactions, though. I should've from the beginning.

My mind flitters back to the game where I accidentally punched Brenna. While my apology was genuine and required, it should've held more meaning. She knew the punch was accidental. Brenna made sure she came between Hunter and me to prevent a fight. She knew the consequences. Her actions didn't justify what I did, but she was aware.

What I should've apologized for was my behaviour. The words I used to degrade her. Every bad thought I had that fuelled my big mouth.

Sure, Brenna talks smack about me, but I've never been suppressed in the ways she has.

A tear slips down my cheek.

It fucking hurts.

Makes me sick to my stomach.

I hate myself.

"Fancy finding you in here. More tea? Or water this time? Gotta admit, it's fun watching the others get drunk and make fools of themselves."

I'm pulled from my thoughts by Brenna's voice.

My grip tightens on the glass while I turn the faucet on. Cold water streams out, quickly filling my cup. When it's full, I shut the water off. Then I down the glass of water in one gulp. The cold liquid causes my sensitive teeth to ache, reminding me why I'm upset. My stupid heart is aching, too.

Part of me is pissed off. The other part of me is sad. A heaping load of jealousy tops the fucking sundae off. All these emotions are not a delightful combination. My mood continues to plummet.

"As if you care," I mutter.

"What was that?"

Setting my glass down, I cross my arms and turn to her. "Nothing. I'm just grabbing some water. Then heading home."

Brenna frowns.

As I'm walking by, she grabs my arm. "Hey. What's going on."

I shrug her off, refusing to make eye contact. "Nothing."

"What the hell is wrong with you, Shea? You're acting like a dick. First, you snap at me for not getting my shit together. In front of our friends. Now you're fucking moody. What gives?"

I snort, running a hand through my hair. "I saw you and Jayden, Brenna. Quit playing stupid."

She frowns. Then realization strikes. Her eyes widen. Her mouth drops open. "You think..." she trails off, shaking her head. She waves her hands back and forth. "No, Shea. That's not what Jayden and I were discussing. I feel nothing for him. Jayden's a friend. But... But why do you care? We made a truce, remember? Anything we did was fake."

I flinch, as if I've been slapped. That's what she views this as? Fake? A fucking truce?

Brenna cocks her head to the side. "Oh. You look offended. Is there something you wanted to tell me, Smith?"

Swallowing is difficult; I feel my Adam's apple bob up and down. I rub the heel of my hand against my chest. Does she not remember the Winter Formal? I laid my cards out. She knows what I want.

However, I don't want this unless we can be transparent. Transparency is how I survive. Why I confide in Jayden, KJ, and Noah. There are areas I need to improve, such as expressing my worries about post-secondary to my parents. But I know what I want with Brenna. She makes me fearless.

I clear my throat. "Bren, I already told you. But I can't do this unless you trust me. Unlike your father, I won't walk away. I know what it's like to have a careless father. Don't shut out the people who are trying to help you."

Sighing, I turn around so Brenna has a view of my back. "I'm not forcing you to speak. You can do that when you feel comfortable. Until then... Until you're ready, I don't want the actions of other people holding us back."

Several seconds of silence pass before I continue walking. If Brenna has nothing to say, then I fulfil my promise. I wait.

However, the moment my foot crosses the threshold into the hallway, I freeze.

Why am I walking away?

There's more I have to say. Apologies I owe her, and apologies I owe myself.

"You know what?" I ask, turning around. "This conversation isn't over. I'm not running away anymore. I refuse to."

I don't stop walking until I'm in front of Brenna. Until she's cornered.

She keeps her gaze level with mine, never backing down. Her lips are parted, coated in a thin layer of gloss. It sparkles like diamonds underneath the lighting.

My gaze stays locked with hers, and I rest a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Brenna. For everything I did. For degrading you and disrespecting you. None of my actions are justifiable. Just because my life is shitty doesn't mean I'm allowed to take my frustration out on others. The way I treated you..."

I choke on my words, over come by a wave of relentless emotions. Tears slide down my cheeks. I'm infected with guilt and regret. I'll never be able to atone for what I did. In the end, I spoke those words and emotions fuelled my actions. Every consequence I've faced is well-deserved. Once you say or do something, it's out in the world. You can never take it back.

I just hope I can have a second chance to prove I'm not that same misogynistic asshole I was. Or that I'm trying to uproot the patriarchy.

"I'm ashamed of everything I did, Bren. I'm ridden with guilt. All I want is a second chance. Thank you for calling me out. For making me see what I did wrong and showing me how I could fix it. I know an apology will never be enough, but I promise that will never happen again."

I pause, suppressing the embarrassment in my chest. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. Men may feel emotions, too. Showing them doesn't make us weak—that's fucking toxic masculinity at its finest.

"I respect you, Brenna Harrison. Everything you do. Everything you stand for. I want to be your ally." My lips tug to one side, despite my heady emotions. "And your boyfriend, but that's not my decision."

Her eyebrows are forming an inverted V as she gazes up at me. And her blue-violet eyes are brimming with tears. They look as glassy as the gloss on her lips.

Although I've got a couple of inches on her, I feel miniscule. Vulnerable. It's exhilarating. To show my emotions without being judged makes me feel powerful. Like I know myself better. From now on, the way I act won't be influenced by the actions of others. By allowing myself to be affected, I've limited the development of my mindset. Never again will I allow this to happen.

"Shea..."

Brenna pulls me into a hug.

My arms wrap around her, and I bury my face in her neck. She smells like the holidays. Something sweet with a hint of spice. It's far from her usual lavender scent, but I'm not complaining.

"I'm sorry, Bren."

"Apology accepted," Brenna whispers. "Accountability is the first step. Which is why I need to be held accountable, too. You were right. I am pushing people away, and I know what it feels like to have your emotions ignored. You guys were worried about me, and I refused to speak. I'm just... I'm not good at accepting help. For so long, it's been Mom and I. With her being a single parent, I never want to dump all my issues on her. It made me believe I could handle everything alone."

She tightens the hug and sniffles. "We all can become better people, Shea. Plus, we're still learning. We're teenagers. What is growing up without learning?"

We break the hug, and I lean against the counter beside her. Using the heel of my hand, I wipe away my tears and release a shaky laugh. "We're a mess."

"Maybe," Brenna sighs. "At least we're aware."

Silence fills the air for several seconds. During that time, I take deep breaths to calm myself. Tonight's been a rollercoaster. One I wasn't expecting. At least questions have been answered, though.

Well, all except one.

"Why were you looking for me?" I ask. She came in here with a purpose.

"Actually," Brenna smiles. "I was looking for you because I wanted to ask you out on a date."

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "What?"

She jabs me in the side. "A date," she smiles. "You know what those are, right? When two people who are interested in each other go out?"

I tug at a strand of her hair. "I know what a date is."

She turns to me. "Do you? As far as I know, you've never been interested in having a girlfriend."

Flashing her a cocky grin, I shrug. "Just like I've never felt compelled to have sex with someone. You could say I'm inexperienced."

She chuckles. "You've been studying. Notice how you didn't use the false concept of virginity."

I nod. "It's a damaging social construct. The focus on penis-in-vagina erases other experiences. Plus, there is no medical or scientific 'diagnosis' or definition of virginity. Nothing changes about you after you've had sex, either. Sex doesn't define your worth. Don't get me wrong. It doesn't subtract from anyone wanting their first time to be special. Virginity is just... How should I put this? It's a word that shouldn't exist. What someone does with their sex life shouldn't matter to other people."

Before Brenna can say another word, I continue.

"Don't praise me for anything, either. I'm doing the bare minimum."

When she glances at me, her eyes are sparkling, despite the redness and puffiness. Her cheeks are still wet from her tears. "Who said I was going to praise you?"

I brush my thumb along her cheekbone, wiping away her lingering tears. "Did I ever tell you I love your eyes? They're enticing. A blue-violet."

Brenna snorts. "My eyes are a darker shade of blue, Shea. You can't have violet eyes."

"Fuck that," I reply. "They're blue-violet."

She tangles her fingers in my hair. "Smith? Just shut up and kiss me."

I don't argue with her.