The movie playing in front of us does nothing to distract me once Tyler slips out of the balcony, phone in hand.
As per Morgan’s request, we’re huddled up in our living room watching a bunch of horror movies. Movie nights have been Morgan’s thing all for as long as I’ve known her. Sometimes they cheer me up, but not tonight.
“Where are you going, man? This is the best part!” Matt yells and throws his hands into the air.
Tyler ignores him and shuts the balcony door, being as secretive as ever. Over the past few months, Tyler and I have become pretty close. Well, as close as one can get to him since he isn’t exactly a people person. And from what I’ve learned, he isn’t a sharer.
“Shut up!” Morgan snaps at Matt, staring at the T.V in anticipation. “You shut up!” Matt shoots back.
As much as I love listening to their bickering, I try very hard to tune them out. I need to think. The past twenty-four hours were torture.
When I got the call from Matt last night asking if I’d seen Oakley, my mind went into overdrive. Where could he be? Is he okay? Nobody seemed to know where he was until this morning when he finally had the decency to let us know he’s alive. How gracious of him.
I spent today trying to stop myself from calling him and giving him a piece of my mind. To distract me, Morgan suggested a movie night.
“Oh, my God! You dumbass!” Morgan screams and throws a handful of popcorn at the T.V in frustration. “Did you see that? How many times does a dumb blonde have to run towards the killer and die before they know they shouldn’t? These girls make us blondes look bad.”
Matt and I lock eyes, laughing to ourselves. Morgan is too precious for this world.
I stare out at the brooding man on my balcony. Tyler is leaning forward, his forearms resting on the balcony, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips. I let out a sigh and move to join him.
The quiet click of the door closing behind me catches Tyler’s attention. He looks at me with raised eyebrows and sends me a nod by way of greeting.
“You really shouldn’t smoke,” I murmur and join him by the railing.
His low chuckle fills the small space. He takes another drag and blows smoke out in front of him. “I know.”
I frown in bemusement. “So, why do it?”
He takes another drag and sighs. “It helps me calm down.”
“Why do you need to calm down?” I ask and curse my lack of self- control.
It takes him a few seconds to respond, but I don’t miss the way he
tenses.
“When’s the last time you talked to your boyfriend?” he grits out. My stomach sinks the second his words slip past his lips. I scowl at
him. “When he texted the group chat this morning, why?” I’m sure Tyler can hear the worry in my tone.
He takes a final drag from his smoke and stamps it out on the railing. He wipes his hands on his jeans before running them through his hair. “I think you should call him.”
My stomach jolts. “If you know something, you need to tell me, Tyler. Is he okay?”
“He’s fine. Just call him, okay? I’m already more involved than I want to be.” He pushes himself off the railing and awkwardly pats my shoulder. “I’ll leave you to it.”
I wait for him to go back inside before I turn my phone on. No missed calls from Oakley pop up on my screen. Maybe I should take the hint and not call him? What if he doesn’t want me to? It isn’t like he’s been responding to me lately. I’m ridiculous—I need to just do it. He’s my boyfriend.
He picks up on the third ring—at least I thought it was going to be
him.
“Oakley’s phone,” a high pitched voice sings over the electronic music booming in the background. Is he at a party? Are you kidding?
I clench my teeth and try hard to keep my cool. “Who are you?
“Layla. Who is this?” she demands snarkily.
“Who is it? Give it back,” Oakley slurs in the background, the vacantness in his tone making my stomach hurt.
“Give the phone to Oakley,” I practically growl at her.
Giggles erupt on the other side of the line. Multiple female voices blend together. I listen in on the chatter, trying to make sense of what is happening.
“He’s a little… preoccupied right now. Call back later,” Layla giggles and the line goes dead. Before I can even take in what just happened, I get a text message from Oakley. It’s a picture of him. My blood boils as I stare at it.
Oakley is sitting on a torn-up couch with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He’s with a girl. The girl—Layla, I’m guessing, is sitting on his lap with his arm wrapped around her waist. Her lips are pressed against his cheek. He’s grinning, his eyes are dazed, unfocused. I squint to get a better look at the picture and notice the black ring around his left eye. Even in the photo I can see how bruised and bloody his knuckles are.
I grip the phone in my hand and march inside with it still open on my screen. The door slams behind me and the three of them look at me in surprise.
“You okay? What were you even doing out there?” Morgan asks from her spot beside Matt.
“Where is he, Tyler?” I ask through gritted teeth. He swallows visibly. “He didn’t tell you?”
“How could he? He’s preoccupied!” I snarl and throw my phone at him. He catches it and stares at the picture with wide eyes.
“Doing what?” Morgan jumps up from the loveseat and glowers at
Tyler.
“Have you known where he was the entire time?” I snap. “So help
me, Tyler.”
“You’ve known where he was the entire time and you didn’t say anything? Ava’s been worried sick!” Morgan shouts, and Matt takes her hand in his—presumably so she can’t throw herself at Tyler claws first.
“Shit, let him speak,” Matt warns. Morgan gives him a death stare in
return.
“I only found out he’s in his hometown this afternoon. Gracie posted
a picture of him this morning. Then Andre posted pictures of him at a party.
That’s all I know. I had no idea this was going on, Ava,” he adds, his eyes flooded with guilt.
“What are you guys talking about? Let me see it.” Morgan rips my phone out of his hand. Her whole body goes rigid, and she whirls on us. “Who is that girl? I’m so going to kill him.”
I feel sick. My anger is slowly turning into a horrible sadness. It is a familiar feeling, and I hate it. I knew our relationship was too good to be true. This shit doesn’t happen to me. I don’t get lucky. I’m meant to feel like this. It’s all I’ve ever known.
“Well if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to sleep. Hopefully, when I wake up this will all just be a nightmare,” I mumble.
My nose stings and my eyes burn. My chest feels tight. I know what’s about to happen, and I don’t want my friends to see it.
“Ava—” Morgan begins but I hold a hand up to cut her off.
I lock my bedroom door and collapse onto my bed. I bury myself under my covers and finally let the tears out. The pain is overwhelming as I let myself drown in it.
Why me?
