Petal [h.s.]

FORTY - IN YOUR EYES

I wanted to scream.

I could feel it building up inside of me ever since I left Harry in that room alone. I felt it when I went back to Max and told him I was feeling faint, to cover up my heartbreak. I felt it the entire car ride home with Buffy and Max, which was in deafening silence. My chest tightened and burned as we walked down the boardwalk to Pink Couch. I wanted to go home and push my face into a pillow and scream and scream and fucking scream.

Except for acknowledging that they hadn't seen each other for years, Max and Buffy didn't seem to feel like catching up. She was extra quiet, seemingly lost in her own thoughts, not saying a word. I kept trying to meet her eyes to convey to her how I was feeling, to let her know that we had to talk about that party, but every time I tried, she was staring off into space.

Max was observing me carefully, his eyes like a weighted blanket on me. I wondered what he noticed and what slipped by. I had a feeling that he saw a lot of things about me that I didn't necessarily want him to notice yet. I felt his eyes on me so often that I began to feel as if he might be reading my thoughts. It just made me feel more and more guilty about the direction those thoughts were going in-because they kept going right to Harry.

I kept thinking of the look on his face when I told him that I wished I never met him, that I wished I met Max before him. It was a low blow, I knew that. I knew I shouldn't have said it. I couldn't take it back though. After realizing I was at his engagement party, I couldn't stop the rage that I felt toward him. My anger was like a living thing inside of me-it had its own mind and blood and pulse. I couldn't control the direction it went in. I couldn't control the words that it said.

He was fucking engaged. That word kept echoing in my mind. Every time I shut my eyes, I saw the ring on her finger. It was gorgeous... and it belonged to his mom, he said, so it was sentimental as well. I overheard another guest talking about the way he proposed to her, telling the story. It was so romantic, so fucking intimate. How could that be a lie? Who was demented enough to lie about an engagement?

I just couldn't trust Harry. His actions didn't match up with his stories. He'd say he doesn't want to be with Jessie and that he hates her, yet I've seen him with her and I've heard him on the phone with her. It's always soft whispers, giggling and her nuzzling into him. They always looked to be in love with one another. And today, after I went back outside to Max, distraught and frazzled and hurt... Harry came out with her and he waltzed around his party for thirty minutes looking perfectly fine. He smiled and laughed and greeted his guests. How could he fake it so well? And what else was he faking if he was that convincing with her?

"Buffy, can you give us a minute?" Max asked her gently as we got to the entrance of the bar.

I blinked out of my haze and looked over at him. Buffy looked at me, lifting her eyebrows to ensure that I felt okay with her leaving us alone and I nodded to her quickly. My heart began to pound as I watched her walk through the door. I assumed that I knew exactly what was happening here-Max had picked up on the vibes between me and Harry and now he was going to tell me that he no longer wanted to see me.