Zach and Abby

41. - Edited

Abby - Edited

Bridget offered to walk me over but I told her I wasn't a child. I could get myself to the football stadium at eleven o'clock at night by myself.

Wes tried to play the pity card, I could tell. He told us how upset Zach had looked, how defeated he sounded. If I had been able to get it all out without slurring, I'd have gone off on him about how undeserving Zach was of feeling those things.

As soon as I thought that, Cole's voice followed. Calm down Princess Abby, get over yourself.

"He wants you to meet him up at the stadium. Go whenever you want, he said he'd wait," Wes said, switching his weight from foot to foot, not doing anything to help the awkwardness. Austin right away said I should go meet him, Bridget was a little wary and Jess was too drunk to add her input.

The front doors were unlocked and I walked right through the tunnel onto the field like we'd done together a few months ago. Last time, I was falling in love and now I was willing to just get to graduation and be done with everything that had ever happened at Glendale University.

"Hey," he whispered, turning around to smile at me once he heard the door close behind me. He was standing at the fifty yard line but his voice carried across in the emptiness between us. The stadium seemed so much different when thirty thousand people weren't filling every seat. It made you feel smaller then you actually were.

But once he saw me up close, his face changed. "Are you okay?"

That was the only clue I needed as to how bad I looked. "Yeah, I mean I threw up about twenty minutes ago but other than that, I've never been better."

My clipped tone went right over his head. "Are you drunk?"

I didn't get why no one could believe it. I didn't know everyone thought of me as such a boring person who couldn't ever have a little too much alcohol.

"Well not so much anymore," I shrugged, stopping about ten yards away, as close as I wanted to get at the moment. "Like I said, I threw it all up."

That time, he winced slightly. Good.

He ran a hand through his hair, obviously struggling with what to say. I was thinking in football terms, about how there was an entire down between us and in games against a tough defense, that was a hard distance to get across.

"Do you want to sit or something? This might take a while." I didn't know what he meant by that but because I was still drunk and as stubborn as ever, I shook my head and stayed standing. He let go of that battle easily, giving me a look that said suit yourself before he took a seat on the home team's bench just a few steps away.

He took a deep breath, leaning forward on his knees. It was silent for a moment and I almost told him not to start talking because I was suddenly afraid of what I was going to hear. I had an idea that what I'd seen and interpreted had been a misunderstanding. I didn't want to hear how wrong I'd been, how much all of our problems were my fault.

"Promise not to interrupt?"

I shook my head and he laughed slightly. He probably thought I was joking. The pause right before he started became the scariest moment of my life.

"You know this scar?" - he pointed at the long line running up his arm - "remember how I told you I got it from falling off a bike?" I opened my mouth to accuse him of lying about yet another thing but I had the common sense to stop myself. I owed it to him the chance to explain. Maybe I could walk out of here still feeling like I was right all along but in order to get there, I needed to let him speak.