xi. the upside of humiliation

I sought out Kellan the second I get in from work.

Toward the end of lunch today at school, I’d finally had enough and asked my friends if they knew how I’d ended up passed out under Gina.

Their responses had been that Kellan was the one who told them where I was and that they had no clue what had happened. After seeing me passed out, they didn’t question it and got in bed too.

It’s freakishly strange and I’ve been on edge about it. My mind won’t settle unless I know about those blank hours. I can’t even remember much of what happened after I’d started drinking, so figuring out what led up to me passing out is even more difficult.

I could’ve easily texted my brother but he leads a busy life and doesn’t respond to me half the time. So, throughout my shift at work, I’d been thinking worst-case scenario.

The upside is remembering that my body—except my head—had felt normal and not weird anywhere. I’ve been trying to convince myself that drunken me had stumbled into the room and passed out on the bed. It’s as simple as that. It doesn’t have to be something drastic.

Kellan’s sitting at the head of the dining table with a plate of steaming veggies and steak, tampering with his phone as he eats.

He hates when people talk to him when he’s eating but I’m desperate.

I pull out the chair on his left and jump right into the conversation.

“Did you find me at the party?”

I give him a moment to realize I’m sitting here and, yes, I’d spoken to him.

When he looks up from his phone, he locks it a second later then sets it down.

“No,” he says.

I gulp, telling myself not to panic. “Okay,” I breathe out, running my hand through my hair. “But the girls said you told them where I was.”

He gives me an analyzing look before saying, “You don’t remember what happened.”

My laugh is dry and forced. “If it’s not obvious, no. I tried waiting it out to see if I’ll start remembering what happened. Things have been coming back slowly but it’s taking too long. So can you just tell me what happened so I can move on?”

He turned his attention back to his food as he said, “Reese found you.”

Blinking, my eyebrows raise in disbelief. “Reese who?”

“The one you can’t seem to get over,” he replies easily, cutting into his steak.

I can’t dwell on his jab because I’m too busy having an inner-meltdown.

Reese found me.

*Where* did Reese find?

*How* did Reese find me?

What had I been doing when Reese found me!

I press my hand to my forehead when I start to feel a little dizzy.

I’d been drunk off my ass, who knows what I’d said to him *if* I’d even said anything. I don’t think I’m ready to know.
Kellan’s talking again.

“Said he caught you wandering down a hallway, asked where you were going, and you fell.”

My throat feels tight as I choke out, “I fell.” I fell in front of Reese Jamison…

I want to fade into a wisp of air and clouds now. Out of all the times in my life where I could’ve faceplanted and broke a bone or my neck but didn’t, that was the moment I decided to take a nosedive. *In front of Reese freaking Jamison!*

Life means nothing now.

I sit back in the chair, my stare blank on the wall behind his head as I wrack my brain to remember what had happened. Since I have no recollection at all in the moments that pass, my mind conjures up different scenarios of how exactly that event would’ve gone according to Kellan’s words.

“He put you in the guest room and came to find me,” Kellan adds as I’m contemplating if it’s worth going back to school after this.

Not that it even matters now, my life is over.

“He said you hit your head pretty hard.”

I cringe, remembering the mind-numbing headache. I knew it had been worse somehow. I absentmindedly reach up and touch the side of my head where it’s been a little tender. I’d chalked it up to drinking so much that I still have a hangover but this makes more sense.

“That explains that,” I voice.

“Don’t worry about it,” Kellan assures, probably seeing the look on my face. “I made sure he wasn’t bullshitting me.” He eyes me then asks hesitantly, “You feel fine, don’t you?”

Despite the end-of-the-world predicament, I’m in, I smile and nod. “Just my head, but I’m good. Thanks.”

He nods, looking away and clinking his fork against the marble plate. “Just let me know if you remember anything and it’s… sketchy.”

My lips twist in effort to stop my smile from widening. “He might be a douche whenever he even looks in my general direction,” I say, “but he’s not… like that.” I let out a heavy-sounding breath, shaking my head. “He’s a good guy.” The truth in those words and how sure I am unhinges me. I need to purge some more, it’s not working so far.

Getting up, I drum my nails on the table. “Anyway, I’m gonna leave you to your dinner. Thanks.”

He responds with a mix between a grunt and a hum.

Upstairs, I stare at my phone for a while, trying to figure out if I should call my friends and tell them. It’s something they’d want to know but at the same time, I want to keep this to myself.

If I tell them, they’re going to be over the moon and their logics are going to be unbearably flawed. For the longest time, they’ve been coaxing me toward him. It was a slow gradual shift over the years where they constantly brought him up—making me think about him more than I already had been.

This will simply be the breaking point. The small act of kindness is all they need and they’ll end up pushing me to talk to him again. To at least find out what his problem with me is. I can almost hear their words in my head already; *“If he hated you that much, he would’ve left you stranded and bleeding out on the floor.”*

Never mind that I wasn’t even bleeding to begin with. I know them that well.

It isn’t a big deal—Reese going out of his way to make sure I was okay. For years I’d thought he’d hated me. Then again, just because someone hates me doesn’t mean they can’t be a decent person.

Locking my phone, I set it on my side table and fall back on my bed, bouncing until my head is spinning.

*What they don’t know won’t make them go crazy.*

**† † †**

That night, my mind went into overdrive thinking up all the embarrassing things that could’ve happened in the length of time at the party where my mind is blank.

My exhaustion had kicked in when it was almost one in the morning and I ended up sleeping through my alarm.

I’d fallen out of bed with my haste to get up after seeing it was after eight. I hadn’t been surprised that no one came to wake me because I’m usually the second one of out the house—after Kellan—on weekdays.

The group chat had over fifty messages when I’d checked and I’d quickly responded, telling my friends I’d overslept and I’d be at school soon. I’ve never overslept in my life.

Rushing down the vacant hallway, I’m solely driven to get to gym when I spot him. He’s standing by his locker, pushing his bag into it, and taking out a textbook. *What are the odds, he’s late too*.

I’m late and it doesn’t help that I had to stop for five minutes in the main lobby to get a slip, which is stupid because that just makes me later.

I’m ready to rush past him, already grumpy and irritated because this is his fault.

Only the closer I get, the slower my movements become. When I’ve taken about two steps past him, I stop.

My insides twist with nervousness and it takes a moment for me to convince myself to do it. I was just going to thank him for what he’d done for me. After that, we don’t need to acknowledge each other.

*Wow, I really need to get myself together and let him go already.*

My palms are already sweating and I have to reach up to pull the neck of my sweatshirt away from my skin. It feels like a noose and I’m already breathing shallowly.

*Thank him and go to gym. It’s not rocket science. It shouldn’t be that hard.*

When I turn to face him finally, he’s already staring at me. I almost choke on air and step back but collect myself almost immediately.

His expression isn’t welcoming, but he doesn’t look disgusted by me either. That’s a good sign. It simply looks like he’s waiting for me to do something.

His books are under his arm and he’s leaning against the lockers with his other hand in the pocket of his sweats.

“U- um, hi, ah, morning,” I greet him, smiling. When I realize I’m trying to fix the stray clumps of hair that hadn’t made it into my side ponytail, I stop, my face burning.

He nods and says gruffly, “Morning.” His gaze drops to my feet as he eyes my attire.

It’s nothing sexy. It’s that I’m not one for sweats and flip flops and he’s most likely shocked by it too. I’d pulled on the first thing I saw when I hopped out of bed.

Halfway to school, I’d realized I’d left my phone on the kitchen counter after grabbing a pear, and I didn’t even get my coffee. My life is a wreck, so a bad wardrobe is the least of my worries.

I force a laugh, stopping myself from crossing my arms. “I know. Not my usual, put-together self,” I say, pulling my bag up on my shoulder again when it slips down to the crook of my arm.

He didn’t find that amusing but I find it embarrassing. Instead of walking away like my limbs are urging me to, I suck it up and begin to say what I’d plan to.

“Look, I just- I want to thank you for what you did for me at the party,” I get out, my hands wandering as I speak. “I don’t remember much of what happened—or anything, really. But my brother told me what you did, and if I’d known sooner I would’ve done this yesterday.” I look away, unsure as I add, “Maybe.”

I hadn’t even planned on doing this so I have no clue if I would’ve if I’d known earlier. But I’m ranting and I can’t stop.

“And I apologize if I said anything stupid-” his head tilts but I keep my eyes on his chest because if I meet his eyes I’ll start saying nonsense, “-or offensive. People tell me that happens a lot when I drink- not that I drink a lot. Once a year actually, but that’s a whole other thing.” I wave nonchalantly. I have to bite my tongue to give us, but mostly him, a moment to catch on to all the words leaving my mouth. I don’t even know why I’m still talking.

“You did call me rooster.”

My eyes meet his, widening. “Are you serious?” I blurt out.

His eyes go to the ceiling and a second later he nods. “Yeah, that’s what you said.” I’m about to apologize again but he’s talking again. “But it’s fine.” He leans away from the lockers, a smile pulling at his lips.

My tension eases a little. Not just because he’s smiling—he’s not staring at me intensely anymore and I’m not rambling.

And holy crap, he’s smiling. And I’m the one standing in front of him as he’s doing it.

“As for the other thing,” he shrugs, “you’re welcome. It wasn’t a problem. It looked like you were about to get lost and end up in an alley or something.”

I nod. “Believe it or not, that has happened.” I laugh lowly, swallowing with difficulty when he smiles again. I acknowledge how nervous I am then because I feel my hands trembling.

If he keeps looking at me I’m going to pass out. The major reason would be my not having breakfast, of course.

“So I’ll,” I pause, taking a step back. “Have to go to gym. Thanks again and… bye.”

I wanted to say ‘later’, or ‘see you around’ but there’s a chance we’ll be going back to ignoring each other after this.