Deal // Calum Hood

Feelings.

Calum.
.
I just don't understand. How can I feel this bad when I don't feel? I don't care that she looked as though she was about to break down into tears. I don't care that I hurt her.
I don't.
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Clasping my chosen shirt, I yanked it off the hanger and slammed my poor closet door a little harder than intended. I then proceeded to tug the cold shirt onto my warm torso, storming straight over to my bed and punching my pillow. My head hot and my throat dry and tight. The cuts on my knuckles began to sting as I hit the beaten soft pillow over and over.
.
Annabelle didn't understand. This was entirely her fault. If it weren't for her, I wouldn't have gotten so defensive when Sam took advantage of his new found weak point, mocking her for the entire morning. I wouldn't have punched my best friend straight in the mouth as he threatened to hurt her. I wouldn't have punched him harder when he asked if I actually liked her. This was all her fault. She deserved to feel bad.
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*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•
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The thing about Toms parties were that the bass would always shake morbidly through you, before you were even in his house. Before you had even reached his doorway, it was inside of you. His parties were always this way. He always had to have them just that little bit louder than everyone's else's. People had to get just that little but drunker, and he always had to have just that little bit extra gossip.
.
I was late, by about an hour and a half. It wasn't an accident. If I were really late, they'd be drunk and wouldn't ask me questions about today. Having gone to enough of his party's to understand the regime, I opened the vibrating door and allowed myself in. Nobody ever heard the doorbell.
.
As soon as I was in, people were everywhere and hot, sweaty bodies are screaming and dancing all around me. Some girl with short, fiery, red hair grabs my forearm and tries to pull me over for a dance. I decline. Instead, I go searching for Tom. He's always been a good friend to me, though he was always the kind of guy who was too nice to hang around with Sam and I.
.
Finally after a long time searching and pushing my way through crowds, I give up my hunt. Tom is officially nowhere to be found. My eyes land on Angus and I begin to trek my way over, only then my heart stops and I swear to god that I almost keel over right there in the middle of everyone.
.
Annabelle. My eyes grow wild with fear. Why the hell is she here?! She could get hurt if she isn't careful. She could get hurt! People take advantage of innocent minds like hers.
I go to tell her to leave, but it's too late. Angus has seen me, and he and some other people in our year have all come to greet me like a wild pack of dogs.
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"Calum!" Angus laughed once it was all over. He was nearly in hysterics, throwing a meaty arm around my neck, high-fiving everyone in the vicinity with his other hand. "Have you calmed down now, mate?" I shifted, uncomfortable. Was Sam going to come? Would he forgive me?
.
I gave my waiting friends a small smile.
"Yeah." They all hollered and high-fived again around me. Containing my annoyance was harder today.
Chuckle, chuckle. Isn't this hilarious? I punched my best friend in the mouth until my knuckles bled today! How comical. The others seemed to think so at least.
.
I found myself frantically searching for Annabelle every chance I could. Only she wasn't anywhere to be seen. Maybe I was seeing things? Yeah. That must be it! Annabelle Clark would never be found here. Not in a million years. I think I might have actually managed to go insane.
But . . . She is here. On my final glance for good measure, I catch her absolutely knocking back some liquid, presumably cheap beer, in a red paper cup.
Oh, Annabelle.
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Suddenly I have my very own red paper cup being sauntered in my face, I follow up the muscly arm to see it belongs to Tye.
"Here buddy, I think you need this." He smiles and I'm grateful, Tye was always the friendliest. But I shake my head firmly.
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"No thanks, I'm not drinking tonight."
I promise. Everyones dazed faces suddenly appeared shocked, and to be fair they have reason. I'm not usually like this. When they're still staring a few minutes later I realise they're waiting for an explaination.
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I shrug, subtly checking back up on Annabelle. She was still drinking.
Oh boy. I bet anyone any money this is the first time she's doing this. She needs to take it slow. She's so smart, why isn't she taking it slow?
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"Oh, I um . . . am on some medication, for my knuckles." I show them all my bloody hands, that I'm positive my mother will go ballistic about when she sees. "And I can't have any alcohol when I'm on it."
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They nod, but have already lost interest, deep in a new betting discussion about who will win beer pong later. And I can't help it. I turn to check on her again. What if she gets hurt? I can't let her get hurt.