Wonderland | H.S.

Chapter Six, Part One

Reset the tenses. Reset the mind. Almost, but not yet. Reset. Reset. It's six.

Time to bring back an old friend.

~

Caden's POV | Present Day

-

Pantsie.

I don't know her last name, where she lives, her job—I only know Pantsie.

Feels like freshmen year's Stats class with Harry. Studied our dicks off for midterms instead of pounding brews like I wish we could have, and goddamn, did we know those numbers. Knew that shit better than I knew myself, but exams took my ass and threw our grades out the window.

This feels like that.

Understanding everything to just fail the fuckin' exam by the end of it. God, it's eating my stomach for breakfast, ripping it to nonexistent shreds. My heart, too. My heart feels like it's gonna pound right out of my chest. Boom. Breathe. But I fucking can't. I can't breathe. I can't think. All I'm capable of doing is seeing her puny self behind my closed eyelids.

She was sad.

She was standing right there, lookin' all sad before Harry waltzed in like a fallen prince. God, I wanted to wrap her in a hug, give the little redhead a squeeze. But I didn't have the chance, nor did I think it'd be an appropriate reaction for two strangers. Lovers?

I've spoken to her once. Once. But one conversation was enough to squeeze my heart until bile pooled in the firm grip. The way her bottom lip folded against her chin. The way her shoulders slumped whenever Hope diminished. Only a psychopath would've felt nothing at the mere sight of her.

"Why are you sulking?" Speaking of a devilish psychopath, I peer to the kitchen and find one staring me dead in the eyes.

Levi studies me like I'm a fuckin' experiment. Like I'm 'bout to crack at any second, burst like a yellow balloon. I chew on my thumb rather than respond, holding the threatening gaze.

"It's been an hour, dude," Levi waves my unspoken worry off, referring to Harry and Presley, I presume, as I bounce my leg. "Nothing's gonna go horribly wrong in an hour." Oh, and he would know? "Parsley seems like a tough cookie. She can handle Harry's horrible personality—"

"Do you know her?" I interrupt, dropping my arm. He doesn't answer as seconds tick, sipping the Balvenie instead of responding. "I asked you a fuckin' question," I stand from the couch, my voice huskier than before. "Do you know who that girl is?"

"That girl, meaning your ex-lover?" His brown eyes narrow at the octave change. "I heard your question the first time, Blondie."

Another sip of dear 'ole Balvenie. The dude's inhaling the liquor like his mind's gone fuckin' wild.

"It was a dumb question so I chose to not answer it," he clarifies, holding the bottle against the final, stark rays of light. "That's what you do when people ask stupid questions."

Look, I'll be the first to admit—I don't know what's going on, and because of that, the questions I'm asking sound idiotic. But it's not my fault for asking them after being pounded with information I've never heard before.

Harry apparently died last week at the hands of Jensen, which confuses me a lot-fucking-more. Jensen's a meek, little ant that would crush if I got close to him. He's got no bark behind a nonexistent bite. Hell, I'd hold a butter knife and he'd quiver at the sight.

In short, the guy's a fuckin' pussy, alright?

But he's dead, I guess.

Curiosity killed the cat and I guess that curiosity was Levi. "Look me in the eyes, then," I say, growing more and more curious of my friend. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't know who she is. Tell me that you've never met her before tonight."