Never Ever

31| It'll be alright, doll

There's a second where I go to breathe, and I can't. It's like I'm back in that swimming pool, the force of the water pressing down on all sides, suffocating me. And just when I think fear will take me completely, I find it.

My voice.

"Help!" I shout, breaking from Noah's grip, "someone help her!" My steps carry me past the several unaffected faces and down the pool's steps, allowing the water to lap my legs. I stretch out my fingers, pointing to the head of blonde hair, willing myself forward. Closer.

Blonde hair. Bikini. Addy.

People say when fear kicks in, you're left with two choices: fight or flight. But sometimes, when you're really scared, you do the one thing worse than either.

Freeze.

My world shrinks. The hum of rowdy teenagers morphs into a roaring of blood in my ears. Move, Ever. Do something.

I grab the railing, willing my legs to push away from the steps, when Noah darts past me, sprinting toward the deep end. He reaches the ledge and, without hesitation, dives into the water head first, disappearing under the surface.

I crouch down low, terror and guilt slamming into me in waves as I wait for him to resurface. Maybe if I weren't so terrified, I'd have realized sooner. Maybe I'd have looked at the crowd, at the several Calbears grinning in amusement, and put two and two together, but I don't. I grip the rail harder, watching as Noah holds the girl in his arms, lifting her head. And in the second it takes for his face to contort, for realization to kick in, I realize it too.

It's a sex doll.

The rooftop echoes with the hyena-like laughter of the Calbears. Noah pivots his body, aligning himself to face me directly, and even under the dim glow of fairy lights, I can discern the regret on his face. He releases his arm from the doll's body, pushing it aside with force.

Acid burns my throat as it bobs along the surface. I can't cry. The best thing to do is pretend I don't care, but then a few of the Calbears, determined to continue their drunken display of assholery, begin throwing the doll back and forth like a volleyball. It sails through the air, drenched hair whipping across her face, limbs awkwardly flailing, and stopping the tears become impossible.

"Help!" Riley, one of the Calbears, shouts, imitating a high-pitched voice. "Someone help! Here–" he turns toward me, getting ready to launch the doll, "–catch!"

The second Riley turns, Noah's fist comes hard and fast in his face. He flies backward, his grip on the doll slipping as he clutches his nose, fingers seeping with blood. A stunned silence blankets the pool before the boys spring forward, their bodies colliding in a flurry of fists and grappling arms.

"Hey!" Jesse shouts, his voice cutting through the commotion. The crowd opens up as he steps forward, observing his teammates below. "That's enough." When neither listens, Jesse runs a hand down his jaw, mutters something under his breath, and jumps in to separate them. I back up slowly, hit with the sinking realization that this, all of it, is my fault.

I'm not the only one thinking it. I turn to find several pairs of eyes on me, their gazes cutting as they whisper to their friends. I need to get out of here. Now. Legs shaking, I push through the crowd to get to the elevator, unsure of where I'm going but knowing if I don't leave now, I'll burst into tears – as if I need more humiliation.

Somewhere in the distance is the distinct sound of Noah shouting Blue, but I don't slow down. I can't. I reach the elevator, then glance at the group nearby busy laughing. They probably didn't even see what happened, but my cheeks flare red like they were laughing at me. As if everyone is. I force myself past them, hurrying past the line of people waiting for the elevator to the emergency staircase.