|WATTYS 2021 Shortlisted| ❝Teach me.❞ ❝Teach you what?❞ ❝Teach me how to be a bad boy.❞
Elias Rodriguez has a crush on a certain cheerleader (since forever), but she has a thing for bad boys, not chemistry nerds. Lucky for him, the cheerleader's bes...
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Chapter thirty-nine | In the middle, not the beginning
I was sobbing by the time I reached home. My heart was calling out for her, making me dizzy with pain.
Locking myself in my room, I ignored all the calls from Connor and Navya.
Why they suddenly seemed to care about me was beyond my thinking.
So, I ignored them and the world for the moment and drowned myself in my guilt, pain, and heartache.
I just wanted to go numb as the image of her lips with Jacob's killed me on the inside. The image of his hand under her shirt as her eyes were closed haunted my heart.
The pillow below my head was wet with my tears, and my eyes felt heavy. I closed my eyes to blink, but they fell shut for the next few hours.
The constant beeping of my phone brought me out of my (thankfully) dreamless slumber. Notifications after notifications filled my phone.
Someone tagged me in a party invitation that was gaining quite some popularity on social media.
My brain found this as a way to forget.
Go party! Get drunk! Forget about her!
The ideal was so alluring that I gave into it. Getting up, I grabbed the leather jacket from the wardrobe and made my way out.
The only thought in my mind was to forget about her and the mess my life had become.
The stench of sweat and alcohol hit me in the face as students partied like crazy in the middle of the day. Music blaring was deafening, making pain an acquaintance with my ears.
My eyes went towards the bottles, and cups filled with alcohol. They called out my name with the promise of making me forget everything.
I remember bringing one red cup to my lips, but after that, I blacked out. Cups after cups were downed, and my conscience lost its sense.
I don't know what I was doing. Not anymore. But, I was sure of one thing. This wasn't the real me.
I was leaning against the kitchen island, looking at the red cups scattered on it. Crushing the now empty cup in my hand, I searched for more. I wanted to drink my life away; I wanted to feel numb.
My stomach was churning, but I resisted the urge to puke. If my parents ever saw me like this, they would be very disappointed. I could imagine the disappointment shining through their tears, turning Mom's eyes glassy. I shook the image out of my mind, not letting my guilt consume me.
The music was too loud, making my ears ring as bodies moved under the dim lights. Like the loser I was, I was sitting alone, drinking my grief away. Nobody cared.
I don't remember how I reached here, but one thing that I still remember was that I was tired of crying. Crying because of what I had turned to; crying for my unrequited love.
