She was mad.
That was the first thing she realized as she collapsed halfway to her house. She was mad, and she was scared. The party had been their thing, had been their plan for over a month. Shouldn’t she be there? Didn’t she get priority over that loser?
Tears were falling like an angry storm now, though she tried her best to stop their mighty flow. After everything she’d done, didn’t she deserve to be the one there, dancing between the disco lights and having fun? Did he really have the right to be the one in the spotlight?
And, yet, here she was
It wasn’t like the whole thing was some complicated matter. She’d been invited first, he hadn’t even been on the guest list, but when he found out about the whole thing her best friend couldn’t say no to him (she never had been able to).
Her best friend knew that if he showed up she’d leave. She’d take her stuff and not say another word (which she did). There’d be angry glares, shouted whispers, and a cold walk home. Proof was here, laying in the shadowed gutter, tears streaming down and mixing with the rain. Soaked clothes, shattered spirit, the last straw broken.
She was done.
Hadn’t she tried everything conceivable? She’d tried telling him nicely, shouting, even lengthy notes explaining that he needed to leave her alone, and now…Now she was over it. If he never said another word to her, it would be too soon. Her best friend she could deal with; hopefully help her with her “people-pleaser” nature.
But now it was all for her. She would do whatever it took to get him to realize she was serious. No jokes, no nothing. She was completely done with him, had been for over a year, and he was going to figure it out. Like the blast of reality it was, she would make darn sure he knew exactly how she felt.
She quietly picked herself out of the gutter, knowing what she had to do.
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