Did people just leave?

There was running. I definitely remember running.

“Fuck!” I jolt up, my head pounding. Didn’t someone yell cops? Am I getting arrested? Shit! I’m dead, so dead if cops came to my house and I’m passed out, am I able to say someone just like, drugged me, and I didn’t know what was happening.

I moan into my hands.

“Sleeping Beauty.” Quinn’s raspy voice just randomly appears out of nowhere.

I look around my room—it’s still dark, so clearly not fully time to wake up yet, time to be sleeping and suffering in silence from being the drunk dumbass.

“Down here,” he says.

He’s lying on my floor, not in a guest room, wearing no shirt; he’s on his side. “You.”

“Me.” He goes to his back and puts his hands behind his head. “Honestly, I was going to gloat but felt like it was too soon. At any rate, everything’s cleaned up, Mary-Belle crashed a few hours ago, I’ve been here sleeping slash listening to you moan while thrashing around your bed like you were going to puke again, and I left the trash can just in case. Nobody wants to wake up to someone puking on them because they can’t make it in time. Also, bonus, super embarrassing, and my phone’s fully charged, so I would take a picture of that shit and post it, not even gonna be sly about it.”

“Fuck.” It’s all I can say as I lay there. “How is this? You know what, I’m in too much pain to even ask—but she’s okay?”

“She’s okay.”

“Did you guys… hang out?”

“Seriously?” He sits up. “That’s what you ask me? If we hung out? What do you want to know if we held hands, if I kissed her, if I fucked her in your backyard? Damn, bro, just take a break. I’m not trying to do anything other than be a non-shitty human being. Is she pretty?” I gulp and wait for his answer. “Yes.” He sighs and lays back down. “Do I want to kiss her?” He’s silent for a few seconds. “Every time I see her.” His voice lowers. “Would I go there again? Knowing what I know now? No. I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t dare, so tuck your dick back into your pants and get some sleep.”

I don’t really know what to say, so I just kind of stare at him. So much hangs between us, so many lies, secrets, so many things, and I don’t even know how to acknowledge it or even talk about it.

Talking means it’s out.

Like the universe knows and will punish you for it.

So I lay back down and stare up at the ceiling. ”Did you mean it? That day?”

Seconds go by, then a full minute. He probably fell asleep, right? I turn toward the wall.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “For what it’s worth, I did mean it back then. And I won’t take it back because it was my truth, and you can’t make that a lie once it’s said out loud. You have to just accept it, own it, and know that in that moment, you were the most honest you’ve ever been, and it ended up breaking you.”