issue seventeenth: a cocktail of emotions

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I wrote the entire night.

Maybe I was being melodramatic, but somehow, I couldn't hold everything in and needed an outlet. A small part of me hoped that Wilder would see the article and maybe even reach out to me since I talked about unrequited feelings.

'Love. I wasn't sure. How do you know you love someone anyway?'

'Maybe love was hope.'

Because every time that I was with Wilder, I felt hopeful. That maybe he would hold me. That maybe he would kiss me. That maybe things would be alright. I hoped for every tiny thing. Snuggling with him, watching a movie, maybe even just holding hands. And I hoped for 'us.'

Was I in love with him?

I wasn't sure.

I just knew that the ache in my heart was unbearable. I was sick of the way he kept pushing me out and pulling me in. Again and again. And still, I yearned. And still, I hoped. 

Was he afraid? Was his fear greater than everything else? Was it selfish of me to want him to be brave? Maybe.

I sent the article to Wilder like usual, wondering if he would read it and respond. He didn't. A few minutes later I got the notification that he had shared it on his profile, however, from the already incoming views, I realized that people had subscribed to it anyway.

The thought made me feel a little better about myself. But not nearly enough.

I gazed at the time and saw that it was two in the morning. I groaned softly when I realized that tomorrow was Brad's party where he was going to flex his new car. A part of me was terrified of going there, however, a different thought was forming in my head. I had to see Wilder. I had to see him with Kendra. I had to know if he actually loved, or even liked her.

I gazed at my phone, remembering with a jolt that my English assignment was due in a week. I set a reminder for the night before the due date and walked back to my bed, slumping onto the mattress, my mind racing.

My heart still ached from the way he had suddenly rejected me. What had happened?

Maybe I'm a bad kisser.

I sighed and shut my eyes, forcing my exhausted mind into a stupor to try and fall asleep. When I did sleep, my dreams were punctuated by laughter that made my skin crawl, the memories I had buried so deep in my heart unhinging and burying me under the avalanche.


*


"I'm not sure this is a good idea, Kay,"

Kailey shook her head and grasped my hand firmly. "Leave it to me. I promise they won't be dickheads."

I gazed at her, stunned. "Are you high?"

She chuckled. "I can be nice, Nico. I just choose not to be."

"Oh, when have you ever not been extremely nice to me?" I spoke with a deadpan expression. She nudged me hard with her elbow and started pulling me towards Brad's mansion.

It was night time and I had decided to stick with a simple white t-shirt, (full sleeves of course because I still had cuts and bruises) and a jacket. I had ultimately decided to go to the party under the condition that the moment there was any sign of trouble, I was allowed to leave with the car and strand her at Richie Rich's mansion.

"You could have invited Cam and Ray," she spoke, her eyes glittering under the bright lights streaming from the mansion. "The more people he can flex on, the better."

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