Every String Attached | GirlxGirl

Chapter Three

"I can't believe you made me go there with you."

"Made you? Shawn, you agreed, you got dressed up, you came—"

"Only after telling you multiple times that I didn't want to go, and then you just saying we were going, as if asking me didn't even matter. You always do this, Chance. You make up my mind for me. Everyone makes up my mind for me, and I'm sick of it."

Shawn's head was spinning. Her words were closely laced together, though she wasn't entirely sure if it was from the alcohol.

This was Chance's fault, she was sure of it. Chance had made her go to the party, just like Chance had made her go out for dinner with a group of people Shawn didn't know. And every time, Chance left her anyways. Shawn was just her arm candy, someone to walk in with so she didn't look lonely. And then as soon as someone else arrived—someone better—she left.

"What happened? What happened that made you so angry?" Chance demanded.

Shawn was moments away from slamming her bedroom door in Chance's face. She was exhausted, on the verge of breaking down, and wanted nothing more than to crawl into the dark, alone. Ironically, she was angry because Chance had left her alone. And now, the only company she wanted was herself.

"Maybe the fact that you made me come, knowing that you were going to walk away and dance with that guy, leaving me alone in the kitchen—fresh bait for anyone to take, which was exactly what happened."

"Who? What did they do?"

Shawn shook her head, laughing dryly. "He didn't even have to do anything. Sure, what he said fuelled my anger. But you leaving me alone, you dragging me there, that's what started it."

This wasn't even entirely true. Sure, Shawn was upset that Chance had ditched her yet again. But she was used to that by now.

It was the mix of alcohol—she hadn't had a drink in so, so long—and her inevitable, irritating loneliness. Shawn was lonely.

When Chance left her alone at that party, it only made it more obvious. Shawn hadn't dated anyone since Hunter. She'd been with many girls, sure, but nothing was ever serious. She wasn't sure how to start something like that again—how to build something that had collapsed and hurt her so badly before.

"Don't make this about me, when this is clearly about you," Chance said. "Now I know for next time: Never to invite you anywhere again."

Shawn didn't need to slam her door. Chance had walked away, her small body retreating, walking with evident sadness, entering her own bedroom and leaving the door halfway open.

-

By the time Shawn woke the following morning—which was much later than she would have liked—Chance was already gone. It was Saturday, meaning that Chance was at work; her part-time job as a cashier at their local grocery store.

Shawn sent her a brief good morning message, knowing she wouldn't receive it until later in the day during her break. She hoped that through the night, her emotions had settled, and she realized Shawn had overreacted and hadn't meant to hurt her.

Stripping off her damp clothes, Shawn climbed into the shower, recalling the dream she'd just had. It was bad—terrible, actually. She'd woken with a start, feeling her t-shirt and skin covered in a thin layer of sweat.

Her head was pounding—Chance wasn't wrong when she always teased her about being a lightweight. Even from only drinking a single cup last night, she found herself feeling all of the terrible aftereffects of drinking.