THAT NIGHT

After graduation, I originally planned on just going home for the night. I didn't feel like celebrating when I was leaving tomorrow morning. It was a rash decision to leave so soon, but I want to spend my summer in the city to get used to it before the semester starts, and my father didn't have a problem taking the time off of work to drive me up.

Without Wyatt, life is lonely. Sure, he's still friendly with me and we spoke during the classes we shared, but we didn't have any more trips to his farm. I haven't seen Dolly in over a month, and the loss of riding without her hits harder than expected. The freeness I felt with her... The sense of peace is just...gone.

I've contemplated for weeks now if I made the right decision, but if I don't go, if I stay here with Wyatt, I know I'll always wonder what if. Losing Wyatt feels like my heart has split directly into two, but the odds of finding my soulmate so early on in life are slim to none. First love always hurts the most. I just have to suck it up and shove away all of this pain that still hits me like a brick wall each time I see his face.

Maybe that's why I decided to come to this party Dylan wanted to throw. His parents are the type to not give a fuck what he does. They even provided the beer sitting in coolers out in the yard and the kitchen. When you live in a small town, this is just a normal thing to do. Kids start drinking beer as soon as they're a teenager.

Dylan knew I was lonely from the breakup, and he assured me Wyatt had decided not to come. Mixing liquor and my ex wouldn't be smart, but since he's not coming, drowning my emotions in liquor sounds good. More than good.

I climb up the small front porch to the small two-story home, grabbing a beer on my way in. Country music is blaring from a boombox in the corner of the living room, and faces I've seen once or twice in the halls at school are littered on the surrounding couches and beer pong table in the center of the room.

Dylan's family isn't wealthy by any means, not like Wyatt's, but his house is nice and cozy and the perfect environment for me to get trashed in aside from the stale scent of cigarettes. 

"Macey Taylor!" Dylan's voice carries into the living room from the kitchen. He eyes the beer in my hand and sends me a thumbs-up. "Damn, I never thought I'd see you drink! This might just be your official introductory night to Darlington."

Timmy is beside him double-fisted, a beer in each hand, and his stomach is poking out underneath the t-shirt he's wearing as he lets out a belch. "She's just gettin' accepted here and decides to leave us and break our friend's heart." The tone of his voice is bitter, causing me to grimace.

Dylan shrugs and takes another sip of his beer. "She'll be back. Nobody leaves Darlington and never returns."

"Can we not discuss the whole leaving thing? I came to get drunk, so get me drunk."

Dylan's lips twitch, threatening a smile. He reaches below the island into a cabinet and retrieves a large bottle of brown liquid. When he grabs a plastic cup, he begins to fill it just as Parker strides into the room. He eyes the cup Dylan's pouring, and when Dylan uses two fingers to slide it across the island to me, Parker grabs it out of my grasp and shakes his head. "No way," he says. "You don't need to be drinking liquor tonight."

Why is he always so damn protective over me? Whenever Timmy or Dylan made fun of my hair or my style, he'd be right there to shut them down, and although it may be taken as a kind gesture to others, it's insulting to me. I can handle myself.

Taking two large, confident steps, I grab the cup back from him and bring it to my lips, eyeing him over the rim with a look of defiance. He watches as I take the first sip, and when I continue drinking it, when I don't stop, he rolls his eyes, realizing he just made the situation worse. I don't care if my throat is on fire. I don't care that it tastes disgusting. I take the cup of liquor straight to the face.

Dylan and Timmy whoop and holler, patting me on the back when I start to cough. My chest is burning, but the numbness that follows is exactly what I came here for. I don't want to think about Wyatt ten minutes down the road. I don't want to consider that after tonight, he won't be walking distance from me again. I have to let him go.

"She just chugged fuckin' brandy!" Timmy explodes with excitement. "God damn, Macey Taylor. You're a true Southerner."

"Have another," Dylan agrees. I gladly pass him my cup back, but Parker snatches it back again. "What the hell is wrong with you guys?" He seethes. "She's heartbroken. This isn't going to fix anything. It'll only make it worse."

"And if it does then that's my decision to make," I reply angrily. "You aren't my fucking parent, Parker, so stop acting like it."

"It'll only make you feel the hurt more," he chides.

"Good," I reply. "I deserve it."

When Dylan passes the same cup back to me, I chug that one too, and then another, until the world is spinning and visions of Wyatt and I dance throughout my head. I'm clutching onto the edge of the counter, unsure of how much time has passed, but Parker hasn't left my side the entire night.

I hate that he's being such a good friend right now. Yes, a part of me knows he's into me, it's been obvious since that day we all went hunting, but he knows Wyatt is the one who will always hold my heart. Deep down, he knows it'd never work between us.

Sure, Parker is attractive. He's got that mysterious bad boy aura down pat with his black wardrobe and grumpy personality. In another world, if I hadn't met Wyatt, I might give him a chance. Might see where it could go with him.

But he's not Wyatt, and right now, all I want is to climb into Wyatt's lap, nuzzle my head into one of his t-shirts and cry my heart out. I want to kiss him one last time and hear him tell me that all of this will be okay between us. I'll go to New York, but we'll still stay in touch, and maybe I can come to visit again, or maybe he can come to see me in the big city and I'll show him all the favorite spots I will have grown to love so much and I'll be so happy to share them with him.

Oh, god. I can't leave him.

I can't.

The red cup is shaking in my hand. Everyone around me is having a grand time laughing or making out. Dylan and Timmy are winning their game of beer pong. Girls are planning their summer behind me before they start their first semester of community college here. A college that's only an hour away.

Did I just make the biggest mistake of my life?

I don't even know what number cup this is, but I've been drinking straight liquor, and in an instant, I dart to the bathroom, falling to my knees in front of the toilet and gripping the sides for dear life. The room is spinning, and I'm not even sure if this is real life anymore, but suddenly, my phone is pressed against my ear, and I'm sobbing when the bell to Wyatt's voicemail pings in my ear.

"W-Wyatt, I think I fucked up. I think I really fucked up. You're it for me, and I think I screwed this up. I think I already said that, and I think... I think..." Christ, the whole world tilts upside down. "I shouldn't have come to this party... Dylan convinced me to come, but I... I shouldn't have come. I-I fucked everything up."

The timer runs out on the voicemail, and the phone clatters to the floor just as I start to throw up into the bowl. Parker sinks down beside me, and I don't even know how much of that conversation he just heard, probably everything, but thankfully, he doesn't comment on it. Instead, he holds my hair back for me while I puke my guts up in the toilet.

Only then does everything fade to black.

***

"Are you fuckin' kiddin' me?"

The light is blinding when I try to blink my eyes open. Music is still blaring, my head is still pounding, and the room is still spinning. I clutch my head while I try to focus on the figure not standing still. It's Wyatt, and his face is red. Redder than I've ever seen it.

"Wyatt?" I groggily sit up, realizing I'm in a bed. What the fuck happened? How did I get here? I'm trying to rack my brain, trying to remember what happened before this, but it's all murky and unclear. "W-What are you doing here?"

He scoffs, and it's only now that I realize he's crying. Tears are streaming down his cheeks as he presses play on a voicemail and tosses it onto the comforter in front of me. I can hardly make out what it is that I'm saying, but I catch I fucked up about five times.

And then Wyatt waves over my body, and I glance down at the t-shirt I'm wearing. Parker's t-shirt. It's obvious that it's his. Not many boys in this town listen to Three Doors Down. And I'm not wearing any pants, just my underwear.

What the fuck did I do?

I'm desperately wanting the memories to return, but none come. The last thing I remember is throwing up in a toilet bowl. Parker was with me, but I don't think I... I didn't sleep with him, did I?

Fucking hell.

I can't sit here and plead with Wyatt to listen to me. I can't tell him the truth because I don't know for certain what the truth is. Parker is nowhere to be found, and the spot beside me on the mattress is empty.

"You decide to end things with me only to go and sleep with my best friend?"

"Wyatt, I don't—"

"I swear to God, Macey, I'll fuckin' kill him. Where the fuck is he?"He starts to pace back and forth on the hardwood floor, swiping away the remainder of his tears that have been replaced with anger. I've never heard him cuss like this.

"I wouldn't sleep with him," I start, but my voice falters at the unknown memory. I pick up my phone and try to dial Parker's number, but it goes straight to voicemail.

"What the fuck do you call this then, Macey?" He runs his eyes over me, his jaw clenching. "Do you really not give a fuck that I'm heartbroken? You're just going to fuck my best friend and then disappear on me tomorrow like it's nothing?"

If I really slept with Parker... If I did this to Wyatt after I took his virginity... Fuck, the bile is rising into my throat all too quickly. I cover my hand to try and keep it in, tears burning the backs of my eyes. If I did this to him, I'll hate myself forever.

I already do.

"Wyatt, I—" A chortled sob escapes me as I try to think of what to say. "I-I blacked out, and I don't know what happened. I was throwing up in the bathroom, and then..."

"And then Parker left with no shirt on because he gave it to you." He laughs in disbelief, those tears falling onto his cheeks again. "Was it because he wants the same things as you? Was it because he wants to leave Darlington just as much as you? Timmy and Dylan saw him leave. They saw you go upstairs in here together holding his hand. They saw it."

I'm blubbering like an actual idiot, with no words to defend myself even if I wanted to. I have no clue what happened, but if I was holding his hand... If I came up here willingly with him?

"And to think I heard that voicemail and came here to fight for you." He blinks through his tears. "I should have known you'd go for Parker. I should have known he'd be better suited for you."

"Wyatt, he's not!" I try to climb out of bed, but the whole room spins and my head hurts so bad I can't even move my neck.

"Then why the fuck do you have a hickey on your neck, Macey?" He points to an area I can't see, and I rub my fingers over the spot, wincing from the pain. "I'm done. Fuck this, and fuck you. I loved you with every damn bone in my body, and this is how you repay me? This is how you choose to leave?"

"Wyatt, please, I—"

"Fucked up," he finishes. "I get it. You told me about six times over voicemail. I don't give a fuck how bad you feel, and I don't care if we were technically broken up when it happened. After a whole year together you fuck my best friend four weeks later? Fuck you, Macey. FUCK YOU!"

I can't breathe. I'm crying so hard I can't take a full breath. I can't believe I did this to him. Someone I love and value so much I just tore apart like he meant nothing to me. I'd never want to see my face again if I were him.

He kicks the side of the dresser with his boot, and when he throws open the door to head back down to the party or leave entirely, I scramble off the bed, dizziness be damned, and chase him out into the hallway. I'm still in just Parker's T-shirt, and when I grip Wyatt's arm to spin to face me, he can't even look at me. His eyes are already red from the crying, his bottom lip trembling.

"I love you," I sob. "I love you, and I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll never talk to him again. I'll block him right now from my phone and that'll be the end of it, just please, please don't leave like this." I can't accept that this is my last image of him.

He shrugs out of my grasp, and when his eyes finally meet mine, when those beautiful blue eyes fill with hatred, I know I've lost him. Whatever shot in hell we had at attempting long-distance has vanished entirely. "I wanted to marry you," he whispers, and I can feel my heart crack open, knowing it'll never be fully healed again. "I wanted to make you my wife, Macey, but doing this? I—" His voice falters, and he cusses under his breath. "I'll never forgive you for this, and I never want to see your fuckin' face again, you hear me? I hope Parker was worth it."

My legs are trembling when he begins to descend the staircase, and he turns to look at me over his shoulder, at my bare legs in Parker's t-shirt and scoffs again in disappointment. "Fuck you, Macey."

A/N:

OKAY, BUT HEAR ME OUT... 

It didn't actually SAY she cheated, right???

See you next Wednesday :)

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