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Chapter Text

Rylie

If I thought the first day of grade 11 was a big one then I don't know what I should classify today as. Astronomical? Monumental? Maybe even colossal or almighty? Honestly, I don't think there's a good enough word to describe what I'm feeling today. 

It feels like the beginning and the end all wrapped into one.

On one hand, its the start of my senior year of high school. This means its going to be the best year ever. We rule the school. We've been here longer than anyone, we know these hallways like the back of our hands.

But on other hand, this is the begging of the end. After this year, we all graduate and we move away to different cities. Some of us are going to school, some are going into jobs and some are still trying to figure it out. After this year, we'll never be together again like we're used to.

It's crazy to think of. I've known these people for years and soon I won't see them everyday. Days will pass where I might not talk to the people who I consider to be my closest friends. Hell, in a couple of years I might not speak to those people at all. We'll all drift away from one another to start our new lives, only thinking of one another when reminiscing. 

"God, can you believe we made it to grade 12?"

I glance beside me to see Marisol, my longtime best friend since forever.

"I was just thinking the same thing." I reply as I tear my eyes away from the school to look over at her.

Mare is dressed in a pink lace top with a black jean skirt. She has on her usual ballet flats - black, of course. Her hair is thrown over her back, cascading down in soft curls. Marisol's hair has grown a lot this summer. I'm actually pretty jealous. At the start of last year her hair was just past her shoulders and now its almost to her waist. 

"I can't wait for this year." Mare says to me, a hopeful smile on her face. "I'm going to make it the best one yet."

"Yeah? How so?"

"Well, I'm going to work to make the cheer squad the best its ever been. I'm also going to join the student government and yearbook, and I'.l actually show up this time."

"Wow." I say with an eyebrow raise. "Different focus than last year, eh?"

Last year - and every year, really - Marisol was boy crazy, specifically focusing on one guy, Mike Dallas. Mike is a hockey and sometimes football player who came to our school a couple of years ago. He had a bit of a 'bad boy' rep due to the fact that he's always fighting on whatever field he was on. Marisol swore that they would end up together forever, and although they did get together for a bit, it ended way before forever. 

See, one of Mike's friends and one of my former friends, Owen, thought it would be a good idea to slip something in my drink last year. Everything ended up fine with it thanks to the help of someone else, but Mike, who was there at the time, treated this incident like an annoyance rather than a serious problem. Obviously Mare was pissed off at him for it, so she ended things right then and there.

I still feel a bit bad about it. Marisol and Mike seemed to be a really good couple until that moment, and even though Mare has assured me she's better off without him, I know she still misses him sometimes. 

"Boys are so last year." Marisol says as she tosses the couple of strands of hair on her shoulder backwards in an exaggerated motion. "I'm focusing on me this year."

"Good on you." I reply with a smile. "You're definitely going to rock the school this year."

"No, we are going to rock this year." she corrects. "It's our senior year, we have to rule together."

Honestly, my whole goal for this year is just to survive it. Yeah, I'm eager to be a senior this year and I'm excited for all the perks that come with that, but I also know the challenges that I'll face too. 

I have to make sure I keep my grades up if I want to get into Brock University, and I want to get in more than anything in the world. They have a great program for kinesiology, which I think is what I want to go into. I'm also tempted by their media and communication studies program. I have a couple of months to decide which one I want to go into, but the university is non-negotiable. 

 So, not only do I need to get good grades, I also need to make sure I get the most out of this year in terms of student life. I'm still going to be on the cheer squad, that much is certain. I told myself I'd find some room to join yearbook club and maybe even film club if I have the time, but I don't see that happening. 

As if this all isn't enough, I still need to maintain a social life this year. This means all the hangouts after cheer practice and parties on the weekend that I can stand. Like Marisol pointed out the other day, this is our last year to party together like we do. Because of this, she's throwing the first big back to school bash at her parents place this weekend and I couldn't be more excited. 

"You want go in?" Marisol asks me. She's taken a couple of steps ahead of me already, eager to get into the school. "Or are we waiting for the school year to finish out here?

I shake my head as I laugh at her. "No, I'm waiting for-"

Before I can get the rest of my sentence out, I feel an arm snake around my waist and a kiss is pressed to my temple.

"I had to skip multiple stop signs to get here." Eli says from beside me. He grins at me, that cute, swoon worthy grin. "Thanks for waiting for me."

"Yeah, well, be quicker next time." Marisol says, scolding Eli. "Some of us have senior years to start."

"You act like I'm not a senior myself." Eli replies.

"Please, I've seen how good you do in history. You shouldn't be a senior." Mare shoots back.

This time last year if they had been having this same conversation, everything they said would've been said in a much different tone with a much different meaning behind the words. Both of them would've been trying to aggravate the other for their own entertainment. Yet, as they say these things to each other today they both have a smile on their faces. Its crazy how things can change in so little time.

"Can we please go get our schedules?" Mare whines as she lets her head fall back in the same way a toddler would when starting a tantrum. 

"Yes, we can go now." I say with an amused eyeroll. 

Marisol breathes out a satisfied breath of air as we all start for the front steps of the school. 

At this moment I feel sort of invincible. On my right I have my best friend who I'm starting my senior year with, something we've talked about for years. We're going to be able to party together, cheer together and we have our prom together this year.

On my left side is Eli, my boyfriend of 8 months and 14 days. When I'm beside him I feel like anything is possible. I feel like I can do everything and be anyone and I know that he'll have my back no matter what. He also makes me happier than anyone ever has, which is something I desperately need if I'm going to survive this year.

"You ready for this?" Eli whispers to me as his hand slides into mine, interlacing his fingers with mine.

"I think so. Are you?"

Eli tsks at me. "You know I don't even want to be here."

"Yet here you are."

"Can't skip the first day of school."

I give him a pointed look. "Didn't you miss the entire first week last year?"

This earns me a laugh. "Yeah, but I didn't have you last year. If I had, I would've shown up a week early."

I feel my cheeks warm up a little. Despite the fact that Eli and I have been together for a while, he can still make me blush when he says stuff like that to me. I honestly think he does it just to see me blush.

"Okay, lovebirds, stop whispering to yourselves." Marisol says to us. "I feel left out."

"I mean, we could whisper to you too, but I feel like that would start more rumours than necessary." I say to Mare with a laugh. 

She tells me to shut up as she rolls her eyes at me, but the grin that Eli gives me is worth it. 

I can feel my heart swell with joy over having these two in my life, and I know at this moment that I'm about to have the best year of my life.

Chapter Text

Eli

"I think its messed up that we have, like, no classes together." Adam says to me.

It's the second day of the semester and Adam and I are sat outside of Degrassi at the picnic tables as we compare our schedules for our first semester of the year. 

While Adam and I have many of the same core classes, we don't have a single one of those classes together. We've actually just narrowly missed being in one another's class. For example, on days where I have gym, Adam does as well, only his classes are either before or after mine. The same thing goes for our English, social studies, and French classes. It's almost like someone had purposely planned it this way to ensure we wouldn't be near one another during the day.

"At least we'll see each other in the hallways to and from one another's classes." I reply.

"Not good enough." he says. "I don't even like half the people in my class. Who am I supposed to partner up with?"

I shrug at him. "There's always your brother."

Adam shoots me a death glare. "I want to actually pass, thanks."

It's a fair statement. Drew, although a fairly nice guy, isn't exactly the brightest guy around. He was in my math class last year and let me tell you, that guy struggled more than anyone else I know, including Rylie who is awful at math. 

Not that I'm blaming the guy for being bad at school. I know it's not for everyone, myself included. I'd much rather focus only on theatre and English and leave the rest of the courses behind, however that's not our reality. 

"Do you and Rylie have any classes together?" Adam asks me as he continues to study his own schedule as if looking at it over and over will somehow manage to change it.

"We have a couple, yeah. I was hoping for all of them together."

Adam scrunches his nose up in disapproval. "Isn't that too many?"

"I don't think so. We could be together 24/7 and I'd be happy with that."

"I'm glad you're not dating me then." Adam says. "I'd break up with you within a week for your clinginess."

"Yeah, and that's what's stopping us from being together." I joke. 

From behind Adam I see Marisol start walking up to us, her books pulled to her chest. 

"Hi y'all." Marisol says as she slides onto the bench next to Adam.

Last year she hardly looked his way, much less spoke to Adam or even myself for that matter, but after that night at the end of term party, things really changed for Marisol and I. 

It started slow.

On the first day of the second semester, she said hi to me. Then, a week or two later, she was asking me how I was doing. By the second month she was talking to me about her problems and whatever fashion item was in at that moment. Then, over the course of the summer, Marisol, Rylie, Adam and I ended up spending more and more time together.

We'd go to late night movies together and eat way too much popcorn. Well, Marisol and I would. Adam and Rylie didn't like how much butter we put in our popcorn so they would eat the amount they were able to stomach then would let us finish the rest off.

From there we started all hanging out at Marisol's place so we could go swimming. Some nights we'd be at my place to play video games but the girls got bored of that after a while. 

It seemed like every other day we were all together, and I thought that would change once the summer was over and we were back at school, yet here we are all together again.

"Are we comparing schedules?" Marisol asks excitedly. She reaches into her backpack and produces her own schedule and lays it sideways on the table so we can all look at it. "I think I have the worst one yet."

"Hey, we're in the same social studies!" Adam says excitedly. "Isn't Mrs. Sweig the best?"

"I had her last semester and yeah, I gotta say, I love her." Marisol gushes. "She gives extensions if ever you need one for a projection or whatever."

"At least that's one of my teachers who is lenient." Adam says with a sigh. "My French teacher already gave us an exam."

"On the second day?" Marisol gasps. "I'd ask to transfer immediately."

This causes Adam to sigh again. "I did. They wouldn't let me."

Marisol hits Adam back with one of her classic one-liners, but I don't pay attention. Nope, something more important caught my eye. Coming out of the front doors of Degrassi is the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life. Her blonde hair flies back over her shoulder as she pushes the doors open, the wind hitting her just right. Her pretty green eyes squint from the sun being in her face, and I watch as she scans the yard, her face lighting up as she spots us. With a pep in her step she comes over to where we all are.

"You guys are hanging out without me?" Rylie says as she gets over to us, faking like she's hurt. She puts her hand on my shoulder as she lifts one leg over the bench, then the other. Her hand only leaves my shoulder once she's sat beside me, and even then she laces her fingers in between my own. "I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed."

Marisol rolls her eyes at her. "Please, I just got here, like, two minutes ago."

"No it's fine, I see how it is." Rylie says. She keeps trying to maintain a fake sad face, yet it breaks within seconds and a smile spreads over her face. "I'm just playing, Eli texted me ten minutes ago to come out, I was just delayed since everyone in the school decided to go to the bathroom at the same time."

"Urgh, I swear they need more bathrooms." Marisol says. "I'm always waiting at least five minutes during recess."

"If you didn't drink 10 litres of water a day then you wouldn't need to go to the bathroom as much." Adam says.

Marisol narrows her eyes at Adam with a sarcastic smile on her lips. Its her trademark look whenever Adam makes his teasing comments at her. I have a theory that they both love bothering one another like they do, but last time I brought it up to Adam he told me I was crazy and that he was saying those things to try and bother Marisol, not entertain her.

"Adam are you coming on Friday?" Marisol asks, ignoring his water comment. "Because you never officially confirmed if you were coming or not."

"What's Friday?"

"The party." all three of us answer at once.

"Oh. Yeah, I'll be there." he says. "Is everyone in our grade going?"

Rylie, Marisol and I exchange knowing glances.

"Not everyone." Marisol says, an edge in her voice.

Despite what happened between Owen and Rylie last year, Owen still goes to Degrassi. Rylie never reported what happened to anyone which means no repercussions were brought onto Owen, so he continues to walk freely in Degrassi despite the fact that he really shouldn't.

Any time I've prompted Rylie to report it she ends up telling me the same things. She says it was her fault for drinking with Owen she knows what he's like. She also says that she doesn't want him to be expelled because she doesn't want to be "responsible" for it, despite what he did to her. She especially doesn't want her dad to somehow find out what happened. She said that she doesn't want to go through the lecture - which we both know what that's code for - about underage drinking.

All this means Owen walks free. 

I thought this year he would come into Degrassi with maybe even the smallest bit of bashfulness or something, but I was quickly proven wrong. Yesterday he walked into Degrassi with his head held high, a smug smirk on his face as he passed by Rylie and I in the hallway. 

I vowed to myself that as long as Rylie is "okay" with Owen at Degrassi, then I would have to be as well, which means no fighting of any kind. No exchanging of words, no physical violence, nothing. 

"Eli?"

I blink quickly, my attention being pulled back to reality instead of stuck in my head obsessing over the same things.

Rylie is staring at me, seemingly waiting for an answer. Adam and Marisol are lost in a conversation of their own, most likely making fun of one another as they do.

"Sorry, was zoned out." I say. "What's going on?"

Rylie smiles at me, her pink lips curving up. "I wanted to know if I'm coming over tonight."

"Oh, yeah, of course." I say. I throw an arm around her shoulders and pull her into me, breathing in the familiar scent of her. "Like you even had to ask."

"Okay, new rule for this year." Marisol says. "No PDA."

Rylie rolls her eyes at Marisol at the same time as I flip Marisol off.

"This is hardly PDA." I say to Marisol. "We'll show you what real PDA looks like."

I use my arm that's around Rylie's neck to pull her into me before I lay one on her right in front of Marisol and Adam. I can feel Rylie's hesitation at first, definitely shy from the fact that we're in front of people, but it doesn't last long. She relaxes into me and kisses me back, a real kiss that almost makes me get lost in it. 

The only thing that does keep me from getting lost in it, is the fact that Marisol is loudly making fake vomiting sounds in front of Rylie and I. Accompanying the sound of Marisol's retching is the sound of the bell signaling that our lunch period and our kiss is done.

I pull away first, watching as Rylie slowly opens her eyes, a lazy smile stretching across her face.

"I'll do better later." I say with a wink. 

Immediately Rylie's cheeks start turning that familiar reddish pink colour that they turn whenever I say something remotely flirty to her. I'd never tell her this, but I say things like that to her in hopes of seeing her blush. There's something about making the most beautiful girl in the world flustered that I like to see, so I say things to ensure I see it at least on a weekly basis.

All four of us get up from our spot around the picnic table, gathering our things so we can head back into the school for our next string of classes. As we walk we talk more about the party and who's going and who definitely is not, all while my hand is looped into Rylie's.

All things considered, I'm starting to feel like this is going to be the best year yet.

Chapter Text

Rylie

The Weeknd is bumping loudly from somewhere downstairs. It's a song I don't know that well, the only lyric I can only really make out is the word 'often' being repeated over and over again. Now, normally I'm the type of girl who listens to the lyrics more than the beat, however, right now is different than usual.

I hadn't meant to end up in one of Marisol's parent's guest rooms. I was only coming upstairs to go to the bathroom, but when I got out of the bathroom Eli was there and he looks and smells so good and the alcohol was starting to feel warm in my tummy. 

Next thing I know I'm leading him into a dark room and kissing him. His hands are all over me, running up and down my body until they land on the button of my skirt. Automatically one of my hands goes to his to stop it.

"Wait."

Eli stops, his eyes darting to mine as his hand freezes on the button of my jean skirt. I can see the lustful look in his eyes and it almost makes me take back what I said, and then I hear the sound of people laughing coming from downstairs and I snap out of whatever trance I was about to fall into.

"I don't want to do this." I whisper to Eli. "Not here."

In the dark I can see Eli's eyebrows furrow together. "We weren't going to do that here." he says.

I feel the warmth go to my cheeks. I think I'm the only one on this planet who is sexually awkward enough to insinuate that Eli and I were about to have sex in my best friend's house as a party rages on downstairs beneath us.

"Oh." I say, feeling stupid. "I just thought... You know, because your hand was... and I-"

To my horror, Eli laughs. It's not he's laughed a deep belly laugh, or a laugh meant to make me feel bad, it's just a small little chuckle, not one that is aimed at making fun of me, but I still can't help and feel self-conscious. I've misread the entire situation between us and assumed that Eli was trying to have sex with me, and now that I've asked him to stop, he laughs. How can a girl not feel embarrassed about that?

"This is one of the reasons I love you." Eli says with a smile still on his face. He removes his body from where it's been on top of mine and flops onto the bed beside me, his body facing mine. "I know that you're not ready yet. I was just trying to touch my girlfriend, not pressure her."

"You weren't pressuring me." I mumble, although I still feel stupid for assuming he was trying to do anything. This is Eli we're talking about after all. He knows boundaries. "I just got nervous, I guess."

"I get it." he says. He finds my hand in the dark and laces his fingers between mine. "I'm nervous too."

I pull my head back to the side a little in shock. "Are you?"

Again, Eli laughs. "Yeah, of course."

"But... why? It's not like you're, um, a virgin or anything." I say.

"Okay, yeah, I've had sex before, but that doesn't mean I'm an expert or anything." he says. "Besides, I still want to make sure it's good for you and that makes me feel a little nervous."

"It will be good." I assure him. "And don't worry, you won't have to wait forever."

Eli grins at me. "Thank God."

"Hey!" I say as I swat him in the arm. I pretend to be mad at him, but I can't help and laugh at him.

Eli, while still laughing, grabs my arm and pulls me closer into him so that we're cuddled together on Marisol's parents' spare bed. We lay together as the party continues on without us, laughing and talking until we decide that we should probably go downstairs before everyone thinks we actually did have sex up here.

Once we reset our clothing to make us look like we weren't doing anything at all, we head downstairs as casually and quietly as we can as to not bring any attention to ourselves. But, since we are who we are, we attract attention before we're even halfway down the stairs.

"Woah, what happened to your hair?" Teresa, one of my cheer mates calls out across the room causing all eyes to turn onto us.

My face instantly turns a bright red. It's bad enough that it was already red from all the not sex we were having, but now that I have almost our entire grade staring at us, all of them thinking we had sex, well, my face is a new shade of red. I bet if they had to name the shade of red, they'd name it after me.

"Want me to cut her brakes?" Eli whispers to me. 

I smile at him but quickly tell him no, I don't want him to do that. I would've said yes as a joke but I'm not entirely sure Eli is joking about that one. I learned that lesson the hard way.

Over the course of the summer, I've seen him do some questionable things to people who "deserved" it.

Like this one time, Eli, upon seeing someone steal a shirt from a small, independent store, ripped the guy's shirt clean off while trying to get him to stop running. The guy started freaking out, trying to get Eli off of him, but Eli hung on long enough to grab the stolen item. He lightly threatened him, which caused the dude to tear off, sprinting shirtless down the street.

Then there was the time Eli saw a guy following this girl home. He asked the girl if she knew the guy, which she didn't, so Eli threatened the guy, getting all up in his face. The guy was understandably spooked and tried to run off which would've been a good plan, except for the fact that Eli was now intent on following that guy home. He did too. Followed him the entire way to his apartment, and then for good measure he sat outside for 30 minutes. It's safe to say that guy won't be following anyone home again.

Given these two instances, I now believe that Eli will go to any lengths possible to right any wrongs he sees, such as cutting Teresa's brakes for publicly embarrassing me.

"I'll fill her gas tank with sugar." Eli says, a content smile on his face as he looks at her. 

"Please don't mess with her anything." I say half joking, half pleading. "If you really want to make this better then I'd settle on having you get me a drink."

"Deal." he says with a wink and off he goes to Marisol's kitchen.

I make my way to where Marisol is standing with the rest of our cheer mates and some guys from our grade, all of them seemingly playing some game that I'm walking into the middle of. 

"What're we playing?" I ask Mare as I come to stand beside her.

She turns and hits me with one of her diabolical smiles, the one that makes her dimples almost pop out of her cheeks. "Truth or dare."

I roll my eyes at her. "Isn't that so eight grade?"

"PG13 Truth or Dare was so eight grade." she says. "This version is so twelfth grade."

"Oh, so sorry." I reply sarcastically. "How is this one different?"

"It's dirty." Adam says from the other side of Marisol. He glances around at everyone before looking back at me with an almost scandalized look. "Like, really dirty."

Marisol gives Adam a little push. "It's not that dirty." she says to him before turning her attention back to me. "Play a couple rounds with us."

"Couple rounds of what?"

I turn and see Eli who has just come back with our drinks. He hands me mine, a way too strong rum and coke just like I like it. I watch as he takes a sip of his drink, a rum and coke too, but with so little rum that it's almost a virgin like me.

"Dirty Truth or Dare." Adam says. 

Eli raises his eyebrows as he glances at me, almost as if asking if they're serious, and if they are, if I want to play. I shrug at him in response, saying why not.

Eli's arm wraps around my waist, pulling me into him as we watch our peers play a game that we all have played and historically hated. Greg from my math class gets dared to mix milk and gin together and chug it, and much to everyone's horror, he does it. He dares Emily to read the last five texts she sent, which all turns out to be to her mom and were all one-word texts. 

A couple more people get picked for truth or dare, the last one being Sadie. She eyes the room with a dangerous twinkle in her eye, and just like that those eyes stop searching as they land on Eli.

"Eli, truth or dare?" Sadie asks him. 

Eli takes a big breath in as if it's an actual hard choice. 

"Um, let's play it safe for once and go truth."

"Okay, this is a two-part question." Sadie says. "Are you a virgin? And, if not, how old were you when you lost it?"

Honestly, I'm not surprised at this question. The majority of the people at Degrassi know next to nothing about Eli. All they've heard are rumours about him, one of those rumours being he's a player. It was actually the first thing I had learned about him too.

Eli glances at me from the side, almost as if asking permission or apologizing, I'm not really sure which.

"I'm not a virgin." Eli starts slowly. "And I think I had just turned 13 or 14 when I lost it. Probably 14 if I think of it."

From beside us I can hear Adam under his breath say "14?!" as everyone else not so quietly does the same thing. A couple of the "jock" guys praise Eli for it, as if losing one's virginity at a young age is some sort of accomplishment. I see Marisol shoot me a quick glance to make sure I'm fine with everyone discussing the fact that my boyfriend isn't a virgin, so I work really hard to keep my face neutral.

The fact is, I am a little self-conscious about it. I know that Eli had a past before me, and I would never try and take that away from him or diminish the importance of Julia, but it does kind of suck to know that he had a whole life before me. It also kind of sucks to know that Eli is so much more experienced than me, and that he did have a super special moment with someone other than me.

But its also not the end of the world. Eli has had sex before? So what? It doesn't mean it'll be any less special when we finally do it together.

"Okay, Eli, your turn." Sadie says to him once everyone has calmed down. "You have to ask someone else a truth or make them do a dare."

"And I know just who to ask." Eli says, grinning as he turns his head to look at me. "Truth or dare? And please, please, pick dare."

"I don't think I want to pick dare when you say it like that." I say with an awkward laugh. 

"I think you do."

Against every instinct, I pick dare.

The side of Eli's mouth curves up into his typical smirk. "Dare you to kiss me."

To my surprise, everyone looks like they're on pins and needles as they wait for my answer. Everyone's eyes are glued to us as they wait for me to either tell Eli off or kiss him. It's almost like they're not all convinced that we're actually together and that this kiss will prove it.

Marisol nudges me on my left side, pushing me even more into Eli.

"Okay, okay." I say, trying to play it off like I'm not mortified by this.

 Don't get me wrong, I love to kiss Eli. I would spend a lifetime kissing him if permitted. Sometimes I zone out in class just thinking of it, like when I can do it again and how nice it feels, but kissing him in front of our entire grade as literally everyone watches us? Not really my thing. I didn't think it was Eli's thing either, yet here we are.

I lean in and give Eli a quick peck on the lips which earns us loud boos from everyone.

"A real kiss!" Marisol yells at us as she pushes me into Eli again.

"Yeah, give me a real one." Eli whispers to me.

"You suck, you know that, right?" I whisper back to him.

He smirks at me. "I know. Now give me a kiss."

I'm nervous for about five seconds, and then Eli's lips are on mine and I forget that everyone else is around us. All that exists to me is my boyfriend and his lips and how good his lips feel against mine. 

Eli's hand that was around my waist pulls me tighter into him, pressing our bodies tight together. Instinctively my hand goes around him to do the same thing, and when it does, cheers start erupting from the people around us.

Eli and I pull back from each other, my face turning red from all the attention we're getting, and Eli's expression remaining that typical smug one he puts on. Looking at us you'd think that he's the popular, outgoing guy, but in reality, he's anything but extroverted. 

"Rylie, your turn!" someone yells.

I had almost forgot that we had been playing a game this whole time. I scan the crowd and find the safest target I can find then ask the safest truth. I just need the focus off of me.

Now that we're safe from questions for a while we hang back and watch as others get asked to spill their guts or do weird dares. After a couple turns pass by Eli leans down so his mouth is right next to my ear.

"We should play truth or dare later at my place." Eli whispers into my ear. His proximity to me tied with his words send a shiver down my spine. "Only maybe just dare."

"I think I've had enough dares for the night." I whisper back to him. 

He smirks at me. "I think you could do a couple more, but I'll let you off easy. I'll do all the dares to you."

"To me?"

"That's what I said."

When Eli and I first started talking when we were partnered up in science class, I thought the things he said were just him trying to impress me or something. Now that I know Eli, I know that's exactly what he's doing, but I also fall victim to it. One little sentence from him and I'm fighting the desire to swoon and give into him. 

And then there's times like tonight where I don't fight the desire and I fully give in.

I take Eli's hand in mine and give him a pull.

"Let's go."

Chapter Text

Eli

The thin hand on the clock ticks by, rotating around the clock for the seventh time now. It's gone around more than seven times since I've been here, however I only started actually counting down the minutes a while ago once I realized there was nothing else to do.

I could talk. That's what I'm here for anyway, but what do I have to say anymore? My life is great. I have supportive parents, and even though they hover a bit too much sometimes, I know that it's out of love. I have some good friends - not much in terms of quantity, but the quality is there and that's the thing that matters most. They're always there whenever I need something, whether it's advice or someone to play videogames with. 

Speaking of playing videogames, I have the best partner ever, Rylie. She's made my life brighter than I ever imagined. She's constantly by my side as a bright light. She makes every day better with her presence. How can a guy be unhappy with a girlfriend like that?

"Eli?"

I jump in my chair, startled by the sound of a voice. My therapist, Dr. Jacobs, is staring at me, which I imagine he has been doing for as long as I've been counting the minutes.

"As much as I enjoy your company, you know we're here to talk together, not just sit in silence, right?" he says.

"I know."

He gives me a long, steady look before he speaks again.

"Then why have we sat in silence the past two sessions?"

"I don't have anything to say."

"Nothing?"

"Nope."

Again with the steady look. He gives this weird half sigh, like he wanted to sigh then realized where he was and stopped, and then he grabs his pencil. It hovers above a blank page. 

"Any fights lately?"

"None."

"Any outbursts?"

"Nope."

"No conflicts at all?"

"Not a one."

He glances beside him at the analog clock he has sitting on his desk next to his water bottle. It's 4:47pm which means we have 13 minutes left to fill, but I'm not giving him any material to help fill the time and it's beginning to frustrate him.

Just when I start feeling like I've won therapy, Dr. Jacobs opens his mouth and hits me with a question he knows will get me to stir in my seat.

"Any thoughts of Julia?"

On my first visit here, Dr. Jacobs and I went over the whole Julia of it all and it was definitely ...tough. I realized that I hadn't processed the entire thing nearly as well as I thought I had. In my mind, I wasn't crying about it, so I wasn't affected by it, but that wasn't true at all.

All the needless fights I go into and all the reckless behaviour stemmed from a place of trauma. My body essentially wad holding onto everything that happened, and whenever I was met with a situation, my body would react as if it were in fight or flight mode, hence the fighting.

Once Dr. Jacobs and I worked through the issues of the Julia situation, managing my moods and the urges got easier - not perfect, but definitely doable. That, and the help of the right medication that has done wonders for me.

That's not to say that I don't still get those feelings of guilt and anger, especially when thinking of Julia. I think of how things were the last time I saw her, our fight and the things I said to her, and how I wish I could take it back. I wish I could take it all back, but I can't, and that's the part that hurts the most.

"Some thoughts here and there." I say to Mr. Jacobs. "Better than before, though."

"That's good to hear. Any spiralling thoughts about her? Your relationship or her passing?"

"You know you can say death, right?" I retort. "It's not a bad word."

"It's not, but it's also not wrong to lend some softness to the situation."

"But...why? She's dead. There's nothing soft about it, it's just death."

"You don't think she's at peace? There's softness in that."

I shake my head at him, an amused smirk on my face. "Julia was never peaceful. She was loud and angry, abrasive. No part of her was peace. I doubt she found it in death."

Mr. Jacobs regards me with a steady, stoic look on his face. He taps his pen against his notebook a couple of times before he jots something down then looks back at me.

"People change." he says. "Haven't you?"

My answer comes without hesitation. "No."

"No?" Dr. Jacobs says, a hint of a smile on his face. "You don't think you've changed over the past couple of months since you've been coming here? You don't think you've shown any sense of improvement?"

"Not really. I'm still the same guy I was, just now I have you, and the pills and Rylie to fix me."

"Eli, none of us did this for you. You've changed on your own and, yes, we helped out, but you did all the changing yourself."

I start to argue the fact with him, however the alarm Dr. Jacobs set to alert us of the end of the session rings out signalling that our time is over for this week. Out of pure instinct, I grab my backpack from beside me and stand up, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

"Eli, before you leave, I wanted to talk to you about our sessions." Dr. Jacobs says as he gets out of his chair as well. "I think you've been doing good enough, and the past couple of sessions we've been revisiting healed issues, not new ones."

"So..." I say slowly as I try to wrap my head around what he's saying. "You want me to get into trouble so we have something to talk about?"

"No, Eli." Dr. Jacobs says with an honest laugh. "I was thinking we would start skipping a week in between sessions. Instead of coming every week, you'd come every other week. How would you feel about that?"

The idea catches me off-guard. For the longest time since I started therapy, I thought that I would need to be here forever. I thought that for the rest of my life, I would have to talk to a shrink about how messed up I am. Now, though, the idea of being fine enough to skip a week in between sessions is crazy - refreshingly crazy.

"Eli?" Dr. Jacobs says since I've failed to provide him with any indication of whether or not I want to do this or not.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. I didn't think I was ready for that."

Dr. Jacobs raises his eyebrows at me. "Do you think you're not ready for it yet? Because if so, that's perfectly fine, we can continue as normal."

"No, I like the idea." I say quickly. I'm almost worried that if I hesitate again, he'll tell me that he takes back what he said. "I'd like that for sure."

Dr. Jacobs smiles at me - one of his rare and few genuine smiles. I think I've only seen a handful of them since we started this, and today's feels amazing. It feels like a sign that I'm on the right path, working towards the right life.

I thank Dr. Jacobs before heading out the door to arrange my schedule with the receptionist, then I head out the giant vintage front door of the building. The sun is still bright in the sky, shining down directly onto me, warming me right away. 

I look around the building outside, my eyes falling on the thing I was looking for almost instantly. Rylie stands there, leaning against the building as she waits for me. When she looks over, her eyes light up at the sight of me.

"Hi, you." she says, a sweet smile on her lips. 

Sometimes I still can't believe I'm lucky enough to call her mine. Obviously, she's absolutely beautiful. Her blonde hair is vibrant and smells amazing all the time, and it compliments her round green eyes. Her cheeks always have a hint of pink to them - either blush or just her natural tint, I'm not too sure, but it makes her look even more beautiful than she already is. 

I won't even go on about her body out of respect for her, but my thoughts are clearly good and borderline sinful when it comes to her and that body. Sometimes it almost drives me crazy.

Wasting no time, I lean in and kiss her as a greeting.

"I take it you had a good session." she jokes once we pull apart. 

"It was good."

"Oh? You talk about me?"

Rylie asks it in a joking manner, however I know that she genuinely wants to know if she was a topic in therapy or not. I typically don't tell her much when it comes to my sessions, only sometimes do I tell her a couple of things if they were enlightening or interesting. Other than that, though, I rarely let her in on what I talk about each week.

Today is no exception to my no-therapy talk rule.

"Maybe." I reply, shooting her a small wink.

"Good things?" she presses on.

"God, no." I say, trying my best to keep a straight face. I grab Rylie's hand in mine and swing our hands back and forth as we walk down the street. "I told him all about how ashamed you are of me, and how you lied to everyone about us, about-"

"Okay, okay, I get it." she says with a laugh. "I'm a terrible, terrible girlfriend and you should just break up with me now."

"If that's what you want, then, yeah, we're over." I say. I try my best to keep my face completely stoic despite how much my face muscles want to bust out a grin.

"Over?!"

"Done. Finished. Broken apart forever." 

Rylie tries to pull her hand from mine, but I hold on, holding tightly so she can't go anywhere.

"No, no, don't hold my hand if we're broken up." Rylie says as she still tries to pull her hand away.

"You want me to stop holding your hand, queen popularity?" I ask. Rylie nods at me. I let go of her hand and instantly she tries to put distance between us, except I have other plans. I pull her into me, the bend down and grab underneath her legs with one arm, and her back with another and I lift her into my arms. "Can't run now."

"Put me down, Eli!" Rylie squeals as she squirms in my arms. 

I'm too busy admiring her laughing face to even think of putting her back down for even a second. Right now with her here, I feel like I could run through fire or lift up a building, that's how she makes me feel. She makes me feel like I'm worth it, like I can do anything humanely or inhumanely possible, and that is a feeling I never want to give up.

"You're not going anywhere." I say to her, causing her to squirm and laugh even more. "You have to stay right here forever with me."

She stops squirming to look me square in the face, her eyes filled with adoration. 

"I have to stay here forever with you?" she asks. 

"Yep, forever."

Rylie leans in and kisses me. The taste of her feels so warm and familiar, and just like always, I'm hit with the calmness that she brings to me. She makes me feel like I truly belong somewhere, and I can feel that she feels the same way because when she pulls back, she gives me that look that proves it.

"Good." Rylie whispers against me. "Because I want you forever."

Chapter Text

Rylie

Even though this is my senior year of high school, it doesn't mean I get to slack off like most other students are doing. I have too much riding on my future to take a backseat now. 

Not only am I co-captain this year with Marisol, but I'm also lending my time to some other clubs whenever I can afford to. And, on top of all of this, I still need to try and maintain my straight A's if I want to go to a good university.

It's especially important seeing as how Eli and I both want to go to the same school. 

Right away Eli knew what school he wanted to go for and in which program. I joked at the time that it was so Eli of him to know how he wants his entire future already, but honestly, I'm kind of jealous of him for that. Eli always know what he wants and where or when he wants it. He knows who he is and he knows who he wants to be, and it's kind of intimidating especially when I'm beside him feeling sort of lost. 

I mean, yeah, I know I want a good future, who doesn't? I just don't know what I want that future to look like or how to get there. So, when Eli said he wanted to go to Brock for school, I looked into a couple of programs that interested me and decided that I would go to Brock too.

Brock isn't too far from home either, so if ever I feel homesick, which I don't imagine I would, I can always make the drive back home. It's also close to Niagara Falls which isn't really important for schooling or my future, but it will make for a nice scenery when I need to stress cry about finals.

All this is to say that my sights are now set on going to Brock, which in order to do that, I need to study my ass off which I'm managing to do a good job of until I see Marisol walk into The Dot, her eyes scanning the crowd until she finds me. Her eyes light up as she makes her way towards me, clearly excited over something.

"You'll never guess who I just saw." she says loudly as she pulls the chair beside me out and sits down, leaning into me. 

If anyone else were to run up to me and say this, I would be genuinely excited. However, this is Marisol we're talking about and she does this to me at least once a week. Last week she acted like she had seen a celebrity but it turned out that she had simply just seen her dentist at the mall with someone she swore wasn't his wife but later turned out to be. So, yeah, the excitement has a little run dry on this bit.

"I don't know, your hairdresser at the movies?" I ask flippantly.

Despite my lack of excitement, Marisol's eyes continue to gleam. "No, better."

"Mr. Simpson at the car wash."

She shakes her head at me. "Guess again."

It's almost like playing a shitty version of Clue. 

"Okay, you saw our fifth grade math teacher who died, and she was at the zoo with a candlestick." I guess next.

Marisol sighs at me. "You're not taking this seriously."

"Duh. I'm trying to do my history homework." I say as I gesture to the open books on the table right in front of me. "Just tell me who you saw."

I leave out the part where I'm at The Dot because I really, really don't want to go home today. Last night was a rough one in the Manson household and I know for a fact that my dad has an early day today. I texted him saying I was out studying, which he replied to with a thumbs up which definitely means he's still reeling from last night. Looks like it'll be a long night for me here.

"Okay, fine, I'll tell you, but only because I'm so excited!" Marisol squeals. "I saw Nate Hughes."

Now this gets my attention. My head violently jerks up and into Marisol's direction. 

"What? Where?" I ask, my voice raising involuntarily a couple of octaves. 

"Here!" she squeals even louder, which draws the attention of several people. She doesn't seem to notice, though, she just keeps looking at me excitedly. "Can you believe it?"

"Here, like, The Dot, here?" I ask as I look around to try and find him.

"No, here like at school."

"Degrassi?!"

"Yeah!"

"What was he doing there?"

Marisol shoots me a look like she thinks I'm dumb. "Really? You can't guess why he'd be there?"

I swallow a lump in my throat. "He's not going to Degrassi, is he?"

She nods at me happily. "He just transferred today. His first official day is tomorrow."

No. No, no, no, no. No way he's going to our school. I was supposed to have an amazing senior year! It was supposed to be my best year ever! Nate Hughes going to our school not only threatens to ruin it, but it kind of guarantees it.

I guess my feelings are clear on my face, because Marisol drops her excitement by a couple of notches.

"It's not a big deal, Rio." she says. "Degrassi is a huge school, you probably won't even see him."

I glance sideways at her. We both know with my luck we'll end up seeing each other the very first second that he's at school tomorrow morning. I wouldn't even be surprised if we end up having every single class together either.

"Yeah, you're right." I say, trying my best to try and sound positive about it, but both Mare and I know I'm anything but positive about it.

"Besides, it's been years since-"

"I know." I say, cutting her off before she can continue talking. "I just thought when he left with his family that he would stay gone, not come back."

Marisol shrugs at me while giving me a sympathetic smile. "Sometimes people come back I guess?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

I glance back down at my history homework. I already didn't want to work on history as it's one of my worst subjects along with math and science, but now I especially don't want to do it. Who cares about the Cold War or any of the ancient empires? It's not like those empires will come back anyway, and plus, there're so many more important things going on during our present times than there were in the past. Why can't we study the current effects of grade 12 on a stressed Degrassi student? It's far more relevant and more people would relate to it more than they relate to a solider in the Cold War.

Realizing that my dedication for studying is over, I close my papers into my current page of my history book and push everything to the side of the table, away from Marisol and I.

"Are you going to tell Eli?"

For the second time, my head whips up to look at Marisol. "About Nate?" I ask which earns me a nod from Marisol. "No? Why would I?"

"I don't know, maybe because it'll come up at some point? You guys were the talk of the school the entire year of grade nine." she points out. "You don't think everyone else will be wondering what's going to happen now that he's back?"

"Nothing's going to happen." I say as I shoot her a look of warning. "I'm with Eli. End of story."

Marisol eyes me wearily as if she doesn't believe what I'm saying. She always thought that Nate and I were something more than we were, like she did with Eli and I at first. She was always joking about planning my wedding to Nate - which we both know wasn't really a joke. She would try and get me to pick out future baby names for my kids with Nate. She really pulled out the works. From the looks of it, those plans of baby names and weddings are all coming back to her too.

"Seriously." I say to her, my tone stern. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

Marisol is still giving me that same look. It makes me want to smack the expression clean off her face. However, I know Marisol means well no matter how weird it is, so I swallow the annoyance and force myself change my mood.

"You want to go get something to eat?" I ask her. "I'm about done studying and I'm starved."

"I've been craving falafels for, like, two weeks now." she says.

"Want to go to that place on Gerard?" 

She grins at me in confirmation, and just like that all hints of tension between us dissipates. We pack my stuff up quickly before we head out the door, both of us eager to go get some actual food into us, and even more eager to spend time together as best friends do.

Chapter Text

Eli

The first thing I see when I round the corner into the gym is Rylie. She's leaning against the wall by the far side of the gym where the door to the coach's room is. I watch as she shifts her weight from her left leg to her right one as she hoists her gym bag back onto her shoulder. For a second I just watch her, content to be within the same space as her. 

As I start to take a step towards her, she shifts again, leaning away from the wall and taking a step to the side and I see that she's not alone. Standing in front of her is a guy I've never seen before in my life. From the looks if it, he's tall. Taller than me, that's for sure. He has dark hair like mine, except his is a dark brown and is straight. He also looks like a pretty athletic guy. He's lean with noticeable biceps, even from where I'm standing.

I try and rack my brain to figure out if I've seen him before and never noticed. Maybe he's in one of my classes and usually sits in the back. Maybe he's in a completely different program than I'm in so our classes don't cross over. Or he's one of guys in the jock crowd - I crowd I tried hard to avoid until I started dating Rylie.

I stand there at the door of the gym trying to figure out who this is guy is, when all of a sudden I hear a voice behind me.

"Hey."

Marisol managed to sneak up behind me while I was focused on Rylie. Over Marisol's shoulder is the gym bag she uses for cheering, which means that her and Rylie are bound to the gym for a good hour or so. 

"Hey." I say as I look over at her for a second before my eyes fly back to Rylie and whoever she's talking to. "You ever see him before?"

Marisol nods at me. "Yep, Nate Hughes. He went to school with us until the start of tenth grade, then his family moved to Quebec. I honestly never thought he'd come back. Guess I was wrong, eh?"

"Should've stayed in Quebec." I mumble under my breath as I continue to look at the two of them. 

"Nate's a good guy." Marisol continues on. "He was kind of a dick to Rylie before, kind of strung her along for a while at the end, but for the longest time they were good together. Actually, they were always good together until the end."

"Ah, so they dated?"

"Oh, yeah." Marisol says, her face paling a little as she realizes that this is new information for me. "Didn't Rio tell you that?"

I shake my head. "This is the first I'm hearing of this guy."

"Oh." she says as she watches Rylie and Nate. He must have said something funny because we see Rylie throw her head back slightly and can faintly hear the sound of her laugh. "I wouldn't worry or anything, Eli. He's old news. And besides, he was never that serious about her."

I catch the meaning of Marisol's words before she even realizes them herself. I can tell when she realizes it too. Her eyes widen as she looks at me then quickly glances away from me.

"So, she was serious about him then?" 

Marisol eyes me wearily. "She was."

"And?" I prompt.

"And what?"

"What happened?"

From across the gym, we see Rylie laugh again. Nate does too, stepping closer to her and leaning in to say something which sets Rylie off again. It's not her usual laugh like she does with me. No, this laugh is a more reserved one, the kind she does when she thinks something is funny but is also feeling a bit awkward.

"This feels like a you and Rylie conversation, not a me and you conversation." Marisol says, pulling my attention back to her.

"Yeah," I say slowly. "But then you opened the door to it."

"Did not."

"Definitely did."

Marisol and I hold one another's eyes, squaring off in a silent battle. I squint my eyes ever so slightly at her to try and psyche her out. Even if it doesn't, I know I'll win this battle. Not just because I'm a pro at staring and making others uncomfortable, but because I know Marisol deep down loves to talk and tell people information.

Just like I figured, after several seconds of our stare off, she breaks.

"Okay, fine!" she says, breaking both the silence and our staring contest. "Yes, she was serious about him, but this was also, what, two years ago? It's not like she still wants to marry him."

I raise an eyebrow at her. "She wanted to marry him?"

"Yeah, but again, this was years ago. Back then everyone thought they'd marry their first boyfriend or girlfriend." Marisol says. She throws me a pointed look. "Didn't you think you would too?"

A huge part of me dislikes the fact that Rylie clearly told Marisol about Julia. I hate that someone who I've actively disliked before had known so much about me. It means at any time she could've - and still could - use everything she knows about me against me.

It also means that she has a leg to stand on when it comes to topics like this, because Marisol has me there and she knows it.

"Like I said before, you have nothing to worry about." Marisol reassures me. "Rylie wished she would end up with Nate, but she knows she'll end up with you. I mean it. She's crazy for you."

"Yeah." I mumble

Marisol and I watch as Rylie turns and starts heading over to us with Nate walking by her side.

Part of me is dying to analyze this guy. I want to see who he is, if he's the typical jock stereotype or if he has a personality and if that personality is one that is trustworthy. I want to try and see what Rylie saw in him. Want to see if theres anything in him that made him worthy of Rylie.

A bigger part of me wants to walk away. I don't want to deal with meeting the guy who my girlfriend used to date and was crazy about. I don't want to have to be polite to him, especially knowing he wasn't the greatest to Rylie when they were together.

Yet, despite how I'm feeling, my feet remain frozen to my spot. I stay there with Marisol, watching as Rylie and Nate close the gap until they're stopped right in front of us.

"Hi!" Rylie says happily, a smile glued to her face. I see her brows furrow together momentarily at the sight of Marisol and I talking together, but it quickly fades and is replaced with a bright smile. "What's going on here?"

"We were thinking the same thing." Marisol says with a dazzling smile that she directs at Rylie before she turns her attention to Nate. "Hi, Nate."

"Mare." Nate says, his tone bordering sentimental. "So good to see you."

The two embrace and I watch as Rylie smiles at both Marisol and Nate, looking like a proud parent who's watching her two kids get along. It's a weird thing to see and it makes me feel some weird gut feeling, yet I push it out of my head.

In the past I would fall victim to any thought that came into my head. I'd convince myself that since I thought it, it had to be true. I'd spend hours obsessing over whatever it was, and I would drive myself absolutely crazy about it. Granted, I then found out that it was bipolar disorder and that the voices and thoughts in my head were just a symptom, but still it's hard to shake those feelings even now.

Once Marisol pulls away from Nate, Rylie directs Nate's attention over to me.

"And this is Eli!" Rylie says as she gestures to me.  "Eli, Nate. Nate, Eli."

I wait for Rylie to say more of an introduction on my behalf, yet it never comes. She leaves my title as only Eli, not her boyfriend, not someone else in the same grade, just Eli. From the looks if it, Marisol seems to notice as well.

"Pleasure to meet you, Eli." Nate says as he extends his hand towards me to shake which I do. "You new here?"

"Second year now." I reply. There's an obvious edge of unfriendliness in my voice, one that I can't help but have. 

"Best school ever, eh?" Nate says, flashing a grin that I'm sure has done wonders for him. He glances over and Marisol and Rylie quickly, then adds "Girls here aren't too bad either. They might even be the best ones in the city."

"It has the best one." I say pointedly. It's only when Marisol clears her throat from beside me that I add "Best two, sorry."

"I can agree with you on that." Nate says with that same stupid smile. "I got to head off, but it was nice to meet you, Eli." he says. He turns his eyes towards the girls, now clearly done with me. "Mare, Rio, I'll see you ladies sometime soon I hope."

Marisol and Rylie both bid a farewell to Nate, Marisol even going as far as to give him yet another hug. Once she's out of his embrace I give her a look as if to say 'I thought we were on the same team about this guy' and she just shrugs at me quickly before her eyes turn to Nate, watching him as he walks away from us.

"What are you two up to?" Rylie asks Marisol and I. She plants a hand on her hip in an accusatory way.

"I was coming to see you before practice." I say. "Then Mare came in and we got to talking."

"Oh, yeah?" Rylie asks, glancing between Marisol and I. "I don't know if I approve of this friendship."

"Me neither." I joke.

"Ha, ha." Marisol says dryly. "Are we practicing or no?"

"Yes, captain." Rylie says as she salutes Marisol. She turns to me, a grin on her face. "I need to get to work, but I'll see you after?"

"You spending the night?"

"Planned on it." she says. "If that's cool, of course."

"You know you don't even need to ask." I tell her. 

"I know, but I still like to."

"Oh my God." Marisol groans from beside us. "Can we please, please, please start practice? Some of us want to go home eventually."

"Oh my God, fine." Rylie says, mocking Marisol. She leans into me and gives me a quick kiss on the lips. "See you later."

I turn and leave the gym, determined to go home and focus on schoolwork until I see Rylie, but I can already feel the thoughts of Rylie and Nate creeping into my head, polluting my thoughts.

 This is starting to turn into a long afternoon.

Chapter Text

Rylie

To say today has been long would be an understatement. My day started with math which practically set me up for a bad day. Even worse we had a "fun" pop quiz in math which I'm sure I failed because I cannot for the life of me manage to catch up on the new material we're learning. Everyone else is acting like its the easiest thing they've learned in their lives, almost as if they've learned it before. One single overview of the subject and everyone is a pro. Except me. 

Chances are I bombed that test which means I'm going to have to work a hundred times harder next test to ensure that I pass enough to make up my grade from this one.

And if that wasn't bad enough, gym glass kicked my ass with the Beep Test. The Beep Test is one thing, but an impromptu, surprise one? So bad it should be illegal. 

By lunch time I was sweaty, hungry and math stupid and of course I forgot to bring a lunch or money. I thought I had grabbed my wallet but then I remembered switching all my cards and cash over to a new wallet two nights ago. So, when I went to grab my wallet this morning, I grabbed the entirely wrong and empty one.

Luckily the rest of my afternoon flew by and all seemed to be going great... until I realized I missed my bus. Normally I would walk home since it's only about 25 minutes, but today I was feeling lazy and wanted to get driven home instead. Well, stupid me decided to take her sweet time getting books together then make a pitstop to the bathroom and by time I was at the front doors of the school I saw my bus pulling away.

Normally I would start walking home at that point, except today I'm feeling beaten down already, so I do what any defeated person would do and sit down on the curb. I prop my elbows up on my knees and drop my head into my hands. 

I sit like that for maybe a minute before I hear the school door open up before me and my name is called.

"Hey, Rio!"

I quickly get up and turn around to see Nate coming down the front steps towards me.

"Hey." I reply. "Busses just left."

Nate glances over to where the last bus is pulling out onto the street before looking back at me.

"I don't take the bus." he says. "Do you?"

"Not usually but today I wanted to." I say with a small sigh. "I'm not a far walk anyway, I shouldn't complain."

"You're what, 20 minutes away?" Nate asks. I must have given him a weird look because he breaks out in a laugh. "I've been to your place before, Rio. You know... when we dated? Unless you've moved since then."

"Oh, right." I say, feeling myself flush. "I kind of forget about before."

"I'm hurt." he jokes, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You forgot about me just like that?"

Here's the thing. Nate is cute. I know I'm with Eli and that means I shouldn't be able to see anyone else's cuteness, but life doesn't work like that, and Nate is noticeably cute. He always was. Even in grade nine he was cute and everyone knew it. The downside is, even Nate knows it. He's always used his looks to get him out of trouble or get him extra perks. 

Like for example, if he forgot to do his homework he would just flash his grin, the one with the two prominent dimples, at our teacher and she would completely let him off! It drove me crazy back then and even thinking of it now boils my blood a little.

Not only does he have the looks, the ones that he uses to his advantage often, but he's also a charming guy in general. He flashes his smile and uses his words to his advantage all the time. Apparently, he's trying to make this one of those times. He's thinking he can use his smile and charm to get back into my life as if he didn't treat me like an option before.

"I just forgot you came over." I say dryly. I tug my backpack tight against my back as I glance over to the road where the busses had been a mere minute ago. "I'm gonna head out but I'll see ya around."

"Wait a sec." he says, lightly grabbing my wrist to prevent me from turning to leave. "I know you probably still hate me from before and I...I just wanted to say sorry. Like, truly."

I blink in surprise. 

I never expected to hear Nate apologize for how he was ever. First off, Nate isn't the kind of guy to apologize. I've never heard him do it, not once. At least not sincerely. He would apologize by putting the blame on the other person, like saying "sorry you felt that way" instead of taking responsibility for his actions.

I also didn't expect him to really remember. Guys like Nate can have a million girls if they want, and I'm sure he has by now. I figured I'd be just another face to him. 

I guess all this is to say I didn't think Nate would give enough of a fuck to ever say sorry, and yet here he is standing in front of me, being humble and apologizing.

"Maybe I got caught up in myself a bit too much when I was younger." Nate continues on. To my surprise, his cheeks have turned the lightest shade of pink. "And I wasn't always the greatest. Especially to you. So, again, I'm sorry."

"It was ages ago." I reply. "You don't need to do that."

"But I do. I don't want this to hang over us."

"Sure, but I wasn't, like, holding onto anger or anything." I tell him. "I mean the other day in the gym it was normal. It almost felt like it used to be, you know?"

"Yeah, I felt that too. I didn't want to have us go back to being close while stuff from years ago was still there." he explains. 

"I get it and I appreciate it." I say with a polite smile. 

The truth is, sometimes I feel a bit awkward with Nate. I know that everything that happened before is in the past and he's grown since then, but sometimes I can still feel it there. I can still feel the way he made me feel before he moved. I can still picture the words he said to me and the way he looked when he said them.

Worst of all, I can still feel the lack of trust between us. I feel like everything he says needs to be examined with a fine-tooth comb, going over each individual word to ensure that it's true. 

I don't really know what to say to Nate because of this. Do I keep bringing up things from the past too, or do I tell him about what's going on nowadays? Is there anything to even talk about that's currently going on? Every time I try to scan my brain for something to say it seems to come up blank. 

"Well, I should probably get walking." I say to Nate. "See you tomorrow."

"No, come on, I'll give you a ride." Nate says, motioning with his head towards the parking lot where a black car sits. 

I stare at him like he's just told me he's an alien who replaced the real Nate Hughes and is here to take over the world.

"You can drive?!"

Nate throws his head back and laughs. "Of course I can drive. I got my license a couple of months ago."

"I don't know if I trust your driving then." I say as I give him my best skeptical look. 

"Ah, come on." Nate says. "Didn't I just prove that I'm a new and improved guy?"

I put my hand under my chin to pretend like I'm thinking hard about it. 

"Well..." I say slowly. "I guess you did."

"Then let me prove it even more." he says. "It's a five minute drive at most, Rio. There's not much trouble we could get into in five minutes, right?"

Nate motions for me to lead the way. We talk as we walk to his car which is parked at the complete end of the parking lot, making for a nice five minute walk. When we get to his car, he opens the door me for just like he used to, then once I'm sat inside, he closes it before going over to his side and getting in.

We pull out the parking lot, both of us silent until Nate decides to break the quiet around us.

"So, Eli. That's your boyfriend?"

"Yeah, he is." I say with a smile as an image of Eli floats into my mind. 

My smile falters as I realize that I never explicitly told Nate that Eli and I are together. I'm not even sure why I didn't, it's not like I was actively trying to hide it. I guess it kind of slipped my mind to ever mention it. Or maybe I just felt weird telling my ex-boyfriend that I have a new boyfriend. Whatever the reason, I still realize that I didn't tell Nate until now when he had to ask, and it makes me feel like a shitty girlfriend.

"Hm." Nate says, his eyes glued to the road in front of us.

"Hm?"

"Hm."

"What does 'hm' mean? Do you not like Eli?"

"I'm sure he's a cool guy. I'm surprised that you  like him is all."

"Why?"

Nate glances over at me. "He doesn't seem like your type."

"And what does my type seem like?"

I watch as one corner of Nate's lips curls up. "Historically? Me."

"Nate." I say, my tone filled with an air of warning.

He shoots me his best innocent look. "What? I was just staying I thought your type was more like me."

"And what does that mean?"

"I don't know, someone who owns more than black clothing. Someone who doesn't wear eyeliner, maybe? Someone who is in the same category as you."

"The same category as me?" I repeat. "Eli is in the same category as me."

"What kind of category do you think you both belong in?" Nate asks, his eyes on me again.

I can feel myself getting a riled up over this conversation. It feels like Nate is judging Eli which isn't fair because he doesn't know Eli enough to judge him. Hell, even if he did, Nate has no right to judge him or our relationship together. Only Eli and I can judge it.

"Why are you even bringing this up?" I ask Nate, my voice tense. 

The corner of Nate's mouth tilts up on one side. "You're asking me that to avoid answering the question."

"No, I'm not."

"Then answer it."

"No."

"So, I'm right then."

"No, I'm just done entertaining this."

"Ry-"

"No, seriously. You don't get to show up and tell me that Eli is some kind of outcast or something. You don't even know him."

Nate looks at me, his eyes telling me everything his mouth isn't. They're saying that Eli is an outside and outcast and that everyone - especially Nate - can see it, and he doesn't understand how I can be so blind to it.

"You don't know him." I repeat to Nate, this time more forceful than the last. 

"You're right." Nate agrees. "We should all do something together so I can get to know him. What're you guys doing next Friday?"

We didn't have any plans set up for us. Truth be told we were probably going to be at Eli's place, playing bad video games and staying up way too late. It's what we do most weekends, well, at least the weekends where there isn't some party happening, which seems to be every other weekend at this point.

"We'll go to the arcade." Nate continues on. "You, Eli, me and Marisol."

"Mare would love that." I say. 

"Would you?"

"I mean...I haven't been to the arcade in years and it would be fun."

"It's settled then." Nate says as he pulls into a parking spot in front of my house. "Friday night. I'll drive."

"Okay, yeah. I'll let Mare and Eli know." I say, unbuckling my seatbelt. "Thanks for the ride. Again."

"Better be careful or it'll become a habit." Nate says, his voice dripping with charm. "See ya tomorrow."

I say my goodbyes to Nate then head to my house, praying that tonight will be a good night.

Last night wasn't a good one. I forgot to unload the dishwasher before I went to school, which of course meant that the dishes were now somehow dirty again. My dad threw a plate at me, one that I managed to avoid and it hit the wall behind me, shattering into a million tiny pieces all over the kitchen. This, of course, was my fault, which made my dad angrier and I ended up getting pushed into the dishwasher. 

I try and shake the memory off me as I open the front door to the house, stepping in cautiously.

The first thing I see when I walk into the house is my dad. He's standing in the doorway to the kitchen, right down the hallway from the front door. From the looks of it he's not in a great mood, and I can sense that I've somehow made it worse just by existing.

"Who was that?" my dad asks, not even bothering to say hi to me first or ask how my day is. Not that he's done that much in the past couple of years, but still. "Who drove you home?"

"Um, you remember Nate Hughes, right?" I say, trying to keep my voice as normal as I can.

"No."

"He went to my school until grade 10." I say. "His family moved to Quebec but they're back now."

"Nate Hughes? Is his dad Grant?" 

"Yeah, exactly."

My dad nods at me and for a second I believe that'll be the whole conversation; he'll turn and disappear into the kitchen for the night and I'll be okay. But he doesn't. He stands there, staring at me still, his face unamused.

"Why was he giving you a ride?"

"He finished football practice at the same time I finished cheer practice." I explain. "And he has to drive by here to get to his place, so he offered me a ride."

"You know you're not allowed to date." 

Yes, it's true. My dad has a strict no dating rule that he's had in place since my mom left. He told me that dating leads to heartbreak. It might lead to marriage and children first, but after it was always end in heartbreak, no matter what. He told me he was helping me avoid unnecessary pain by not letting me date, something that is both sad and ironic. 

Because of this no dating rule, my dad has never met Eli as my boyfriend. He's met him before when Eli was here, but to my dad, Eli was just my science partner, and at the time that's what he actually was. Even when it changed to just partners, I never told my dad. I don't know what kind of beatdown I would get if I told him and I'm not about to try and find out either.

"I know." I say to my dad. "I'm not trying to date him."

"I better not find out you are." my dad warns. 

"You won't because I'm not."

"Don't talk back to me, Rylie." my dad says, his voice rising in volume. 

I've learned over time that there's only one thing to say to my dad when he starts to get like this. Anything else will set him off except for two words.

"I'm sorry."

My dad doesn't move. He stands there staring still, unhappy. I, on the other hand, am holding my breath waiting to see what will happen next. Am I going to have a good night or is this going to end up like it usually does? 

My prayers seem to work because my dad gives me one final unhappy look before he unglues himself from his spot in the kitchen doorway. He turns and heads back into the kitchen without saying anything else, which to anyone else would be an uncomfortable interaction, but in my house, I call it safety.

God, I need to get out of here.

Chapter Text

Eli

Since last year I've been waiting for this day. All year, all summer, all start of this year I've been waiting for it. It's the start of the production that I'm in charge of.

To kick off this monumental day, Adam has offered to join me to help with the audition process. 

"I can't believe you had all summer to decide on the production for this year and yet you only made up your mind yesterday." Adam says from beside me as we take our seats in front of the theatre stage.

"I still might change it." I say jokingly.

"Again?" Adam asks me in an exasperated tone. "You've already changed it four times."

It's true. Throughout the summer I kept searching for inspiration or a sign or something to show me that the production I picked was the right one. Every time I was sure I had picked out the perfect one, I had a sign that showed me it wasn't the right one. I went from Alice in Wonderland, to It's A Wonderful Life, then to Eurydice. Despite all of those plays being amazing and great ideas, none felt like it. They were all missing something. 

Halfway through August I finally thought I had found the missing something when one night when reading an expert on Shakespeare, I changed my mind to A Midsummer Night's Dream. It has all the characteristics of a good story with love, friendship, a bit of conflict and a stellar resolution. And yet it was still missing something. 

It was missing the gruesome murder that Macbeth has. Macbeth has so much potential for more twists and turns down dark paths while still holding space for the love and friendship that all the other plays have. 

After a lot of thought, I finally decided that Macbeth would officially be the production that we're putting on this year. Rylie, of course, was excited for me despite knowing next to nothing about theatre. I think she was just excited that I had finally settled on an idea so I could stop staying up at late hours of the night searching for ideas. Adam, I'm sure, felt the same way when I told him. 

The person most excited about it other than myself is our drama teacher. He said it was a monumental idea, and he couldn't wait to see the ideas I came up with in order to make it my own.

Since this play is the last I'll put on at Degrassi, I especially need to come up with some great ideas. I need to leave a lasting impression of this school and hopefully make a great first impression on the admissions team at Brock University.

But first thing is first, auditions.

Today is the first round of auditions. I announced the play on the first week of school and announced at the same time that auditions would be held on the third Monday of the school year, which is today.

"Thanks for coming today." I say to Adam. He offered to sit through the auditions with me seeing as how I'm currently without a second in command. "I know it's not your thing, so I appreciate it."

I shuffle the papers in front of me, all the different scripts placed in their sequential order. We still have twenty minutes before auditions officially open up, which we use to talk about what we hope to see.

Eventually there's a lull in the conversation, and Adam uses this moment to bring up something he's clearly been dying to say.

"So..." Adam says slowly. He's looking at me with cautious eyes. "I heard Nate is back."

I let a little groan slip out at the sound of his name. "You know him too?"

"Well, he did go to Degrassi before." Adam says.

"Right, yeah. I forget about that." I say. 

"I figured you wouldn't be too thrilled about him."

"I'm not." I admit. "I'd rather he didn't come back at all. He's been all over Rylie as if they're still together or something."

"Yeah, he's always been that type of guy."

"What other kind of guy is he?"

"What do you mean?"

I glance around the empty theatre room to ensure that it's just Adam and I in here. 

"I saw him with Owen before I knew who he was." I tell Adam. A week before school started, I was on my way to pick up Rylie when I drove down the street near The Dot and saw Owen and Nate together. Or at least I think it was them. I was driving, so I wasn't fully fixated on the sidewalk beside me. "Which I get if he doesn't know what Owen did, but at the same time, I can't really think that anyone who hangs out with Owen is someone who is a good and trustworthy person."

"I see where you're coming from," Adam says slowly. "But until a year ago, Rylie hung out with Owen. Does that make her any less of a good person?"

He has me there. When I first started spending time with Rylie, I always thought it was weird that she was friends with Owen. I thought maybe their friendship was just because they were both in closely knit sports, yet as time went on it became clear that it was more than that. Rylie actually had liked Owen as a person despite hearing him speak. 

I can't exactly fault Nate for spending time with Owen now, right? Especially when Nate is coming back to Degrassi after being away for so long. It makes sense for him to pick up where he left off with old friends to try and maintain what they had before.

And yet I still can't shake that gut feeling. That, coupled with the things I heard Nate say that day make me feel like I am judging him properly.

"I think you should give him the benefit of doubt." Adam continues on. "Is Nate a dick? Yeah, sometimes. He's sometimes arrogant and full of himself, but other than that I haven't seen many issues with him."

"Yeah, I guess you have a point." I say. 

"Nate Hughes?"

Both Adam and I jump at the sound of another person's voice. We turn and see a girl standing there, her head tilted to the left as she waits for one of us to answer.

"Yeah, you know him?" I ask her. 

"You can say that." she says with an unreadable smile. "He's something, isn't he?"

From the looks of it, she's at least a year or two below us. If I had to make a guess I would say that she's probably in grade nine or ten. She's for sure someone I've never seen before. She has dark, waist length hair and matching dark brown eyes. She's short, probably coming in at 5'2 at best which makes her look even younger than I've given her.

I twist around on my chair, propping my arm up on the back of my chair.

"What have you heard?" I ask her.

She comes in closer until she's standing beside Adam's chair.

"Too much." she says, raising her eyebrows a little. "I'm Hanna. I'm in grade 10."

"Are you here for auditions, Hanna?" Adam asks, ever the friendly guy.

"I'm here for more than that." Hanna says. Her tone holds an air of arrogance to it, one that's vaguely familiar yet I can't seem to place where I've felt it before. Hanna's eyes shift over from Adam to me. "I want to work with you. I want to be your right-hand man."

Now it's my turn to raise my eyebrows. "Do you know anything about theatre?"

Hanna crosses her arms over her chest. "I know Macbeth is a safe bet if you depict it as it's written. If you're as ballsy as everyone says you are, then this is a production I want to be involved in."

"You think Macbeth is a safe bet? It's filled with violence and murder." I reply.

"All Shakespeare has violence and murder." Hanna replies matter-of-factly. "The only difference between Romeo and Juliet and Macbeth is the characters in Romeo and Juliet are young and naive. In Macbeth they're just naive."

Adam's eyes fly over to mine as he shoots me an impressed look. I had to admit, I'm also a little impressed. There're not many people - especially people of our age range - that have interest and insight into Shakespeare.

"Alright." I say slowly. "If you were to direct the play, what changes would you make in Macbeth?"

Hanna doesn't even hesitate before answering, almost as if she had been thinking of this for years, just waiting for someone to ask her.

"Lady Macbeth isn't real." Hanna says. "Macbeth is mad, and Lady Macbeth is just a figment of imagination."

"So, he's driven mad by his own mind rather than an outside force?" I say, letting the idea run over in my mind a couple of times. "I like it."

Hanna smiles at me, a smug smile. "I know." she pops the gum in her mouth before making a giant bubble with it, then pops it again. "So? Am I in?"

I tilt my head towards Adam, prompting him for an answer. Silently he shrugs at me, as if to say it's my choice and not his. 

On one hand, I had intended on doing this production on my own. It was going to be my big project, spearheaded and executed by me and myself only. However, I'm already failing that one as Adam is already here to help me with the audition process.

Having a second in command could be beneficial to myself and Hanna. She can handle any small issues that I won't have time for, like costume malfunctions or personal issues that the actors may have. And, well, it will be a lot off my shoulders.

"You're in."

Chapter Text

Rylie

Since we started dating, Eli has made it a point to take me out to eat at least once a month. I told him it was completely unnecessary since most of my meals already come from him and his family, so he doesn't need to be spending more money to feed me, but he insisted. He told me that he wants that one night a month where it's just him and I and some good food, and that he's been waiting months to date me, so the least I can do is let him take me out and show me off. 

Tonight, we chose to go to a classic Italian place downtown. It has the best fettucine alfredo I've had in my life with the best garlic bread ever. 

I'm just finishing savouring a bite of pasta when Eli asks me a question that stops me dead in my tracks.

"Have you called your mom yet?"

The fork that I was twirling my pasta with stops abruptly as my entire body freezes. I make sure to keep my eyes focused on the plate of pasta in front of me to avoid looking at Eli and his accusing eyes.

I know he means well. Eli only wants me to contact my mom because he knows I miss her, and because I told him it was my goal to build up the courage this year. I now realize it was a mistake to tell him, because every couple of days now he'll ask my progress, which I know is him checking in because he cares, but it also makes me feel rushed.

I lift my eyes from my plate and see Eli watching me, waiting for an answer.

"Not yet." I say to him.

"Because...?"

I twirl a piece of spaghetti around my fork over again until it starts to fall over the side and unravel.

"I'm waiting." 

Eli raises an eyebrow at me. "Waiting for?"

I twirl a couple more pieces of pasta then lay my fork down on my plate, the end of it hanging slightly over the plates edge.

The truth is, I have no idea what to even say to my mom. The last time I talked to her, she told me about her upcoming wedding that I wasn't invited to. I mean, what am I supposed to say to her after that? Ask how the wedding planning is going? Ask if she misses me? I would, but I think I know what the answer to that last question would be, and I don't know if I could handle it.

That's why I haven't called her. I'm scared if I do, then I'll get all the answers to the questions I haven't been brave enough to ask.

Besides being scared to hear her answers, I'm also just scared in general. When my parents got divorced, my mom told me nothing would change, but even then I knew it was a lie. She was leaving my dad and me, and there was nothing I could do about it.

"I can be there with you when you call her." Eli offers, pulling me from my thoughts. "If that would help."

I smile at Eli, because even though I don't want him near me when I call her - and he knows it - it's still sweet of him to offer to be there by my side.

"I'll let you know once I'm ready." I say to him. Then I use the one thing I can bring up to successfully change the subject. "So, how's the play coming? Did you choose your final cast yet?"

As suspected, Eli's eyes light right up.

"Almost."

"Almost?" I question. "Last night you said you narrowed it down."

"Well, yeah... but then I had some time to think of it, and I-"

"Changed your mind again?" I finish for him.

He grins at me, both a sheepish and affectionate smile. He knows I'm right because I know him well enough, and he loves that.

"You're going to run out of people to play Macbeth soon if you keep them waiting." I warn him. 

As always, Eli is too cool and self-assured. He doesn't worry about running out of people to play Macbeth. He doesn't even worry about not choosing someone to play the role. Instead, Eli tells me that he'll play it if he needs to, and that the play will be perfect no matter who plays what role. 

I, on the other hand, stress for him. This play is a huge deal even if he's trying to downplay it. Not only is it the last play he'll put on for Degrassi, but this could also be his ticket into university. This could earn him a top spot or early admissions to the dream school of his - well, our choice. But to earn that spot, he needs to actually pick out the crew and get started before it's too late. 

I tell Eli all this and even though he tries really hard to convince me that he has things all sorted out already, I'm still a bit doubtful. I start to push the subject more, but Eli shuts it down by redirecting us.

"Are you coming back home with me tonight or are you going to your dad's place?" he asks me.

"I love how you refer to your place as home for both of us." I say with a grin.

He does a half shrug in response. "You're at my place more often than not, and my parents love you, so it pretty much is your home at this point."

"It's really not. Plus, I'm sure your parents are going to get sick of me soon. I'm legit always there."

"They love having you over." Eli says. A devilish grin spreads over his face. "You're the only thing that manages to keep me in check."

"Yeah, not even your meds do that." I joke right back, making Eli laugh.

After Eli first told me about the fact that he was bipolar he would make jokes about it. It'd be jokes about how crazy he is, or how he needs help from powder to be a normal person. At first, they made me uncomfortable because I didn't know if I could laugh at them or if that was considered rude, like if I laughed was that breaking the rule of gallows humour. Over time I started getting more and more used to his jokes, and then I even started cracking some myself, which Eli loved. Now it's normal for both of us to make jokes about it.

"You know..." Eli says slowly as he pushes his own pasta around on his plate. "I might be put on a lower dose of my meds." 

I'm not sure if I should be happy or nervous about this news, so I work hard to keep my face neutral as I respond with a feeler rather than an emotion.

"Really?"

Eli gives me a small nod as he drops his fork onto his plate. "Really. My doctor said I've been consistent for a long time now with next to no outbursts or anything which qualifies me to lower my dose if my parents and I feel it's the right thing to do."

"And? Do you think it's the right thing?"

"I think so." he says almost optimistically. "I haven't had any violent tendencies in couple months."

My brain flashes back to last year and all the fights Eli got into. Granted, he did only get into them with one person, and each time it was for a good reason. Does that mean that it was justified, though? Not really. He's even admitted himself that, out of the three fights he's had last year, two of them he blacked out for. He said he saw red and then his fists reacted before his brain could, and next thing he knows he's coming out of this black out and realized he beat the shit out of someone.

But to his credit, he has been a long time since he's gotten in a fight like that. Not to say he isn't prone to flying off the handle sometimes, but it's greatly improved over the last couple of months.

"I think it's a good idea." I say to Eli after thinking it over in my head. "Like you said, it's been a while since your brain took over."

Eli gives me a long, steady look. "But?"

My cheeks heat up a little. He knows me well enough to see on my face that I was holding back my worries.

"But...what happens if you do slip up?"

"Then I slip up."

"Just like that?"

Eli shrugs his shoulders like we're talking about the weather and not his mental wellbeing. 

"I try my best to control it and I'm doing pretty good, I think. But, if I do slip up, then I slip and restart. No big deal."

It's times like these where I feel like Eli is so much older than me, despite the fact that we're the same age. It's just that wise-ness he has to him that astounds me and makes him seem like he's a million years ahead of everyone else.

When most people mess up and have to reset back to zero, they mourn it. I know I do. I made a promise to myself this year that I would stop pushing my problems away with the help of a razor blade, however every time I slip up, I feel like I've just ruined my entire life. I don't tell myself I'll restart and try again as if it's nothing. I'm not nearly on the same wavelength as Eli, and that intimidates me sometimes.

"Should we get out of here?" Eli asks as he looks around the restaurant to try and spot our server so he can flag them down and get the check. "It's getting pretty late and you still haven't told me if you're mine for the night or not."

I reach across the table and lace my hand in Eli's. "I'm yours forever."

Chapter Text

Eli

"Have you decided on your Macbeth yet?"

While everyone else is staying after school to play sports on this sunny Tuesday afternoon, I'm in the dark theatre room with Hanna, my right-hand man for the play. We're in the process of going over the cast and assigning backups, however there's still one important player I'm missing.

"Just about." I say as I stare down at my notes. All the names on the page swirl around as I try and wrap my head around the best possible option. 

"Eli." Hanna says with a sigh. She drops the notebook she was holding into her lap in defeat. "You've been deciding for a week now."

It's true. I've taken more time selecting our Macbeth than I've taken deciding on anything else - well except for the decision of what that play is about. Either way, I know I'm taking too long to decide this, and having Hanna come down on me about it is the last thing I need.

"This is a hard one." I say to Hanna.

"You said they were all hard to decide on." she replies. She grabs my notebook from me and studies the notes I've scrawled down. Her eyes flies all over the page as she tries to piece together all my different ideas. "What about Kyle?"

I lean over to peer at my notebook in her hands. On the far left side of the page is Kyle's name followed by a couple of defining characteristics and my general thoughts during his performance. 

"He was okay..." I say slowly. "But I don't think he's right for it."

"Why not?"

"He was just... I don't know, all over the place. Like, one second it felt like he was really in tune with the character, and then a second later he felt lost."

"Maybe he forgot his lines."

"Maybe."

Hanna glances at me for a couple more seconds, and then looks back towards my notes. Her fingers trace a trail on the paper from one name to the next, lingering over each person's details.

"What about Jordan?"

I follow to where her finger is on the paper right next to Jordan's name. 

"Nope." I say quickly. "He knew his lines, he was strong vocally, but it felt flat. It felt like he didn't actually want to be there."

"Do you think maybe you're reading into it too much?" Hanna replies. "I mean, obviously he wanted to be there since he literally was there."

I glance sideways at her in response. An actual answer would be a waste of time at this point. Jordan isn't our guy.

"Henry?" Hanna asks, her finger on his name. "You wrote mostly good things about him."

She's right. Underneath Henry's name is a long list of characteristics along with a detailed breakdown of his audition. The audition itself was a bit sloppy, like he had thrown it together a week before the audition at most, but there was something about him that intrigued me. Even though he missed some lines and paraphrased a lot, he still felt like he was in total control of the audition. Something about him captivated my attention, but did it captivate it enough to make him the lead of the show?

"He could work..." I say slowly. My brain is still trying to picture him as Macbeth, but I can't quite picture it. 

"Come on, Eli." Hanna says. She scoots over to me, making the space between us pretty much nonexistent. "You're such a smart guy, you got this."

"I know, I'm maybe a touch indecisive."

Hanna laughs. "Maybe you are, but I like you for you, indecisive or not."

The doors to the auditorium swing open, and as they do, blinding lights from the well-lit hallway outside flash across our faces, making us wince. I open my eyes just enough to try and see who it is, but with the door still half open, it's hard to make out the person who is walking towards us.

The door closes, leaving us in the dim lighting again. I let my eyes fully open again and when I do, I see Adam standing in front of us. His eyebrows are slightly raised as he looks between Hanna and I, and I realize then that Hanna had moved closer to me and never moved back over.

"Hey, guys." Adam says, his voice friendly as always, although I hear a hint of something else in his voice. "How's the play coming?"

"It'll be better once Eli choses his Macbeth." Hanna says. As she talks, her hand comes up and rests on my arm, where it then stays. 

Adam pointedly looks at her arm, and back towards me. He cocks his head to the side ask if to ask me if I'm going to do anything about this or if I'm going to let it continue.

Now, I may have made some dumb mistakes in my life, but I'm not a stupid man. I know what Hanna's hand on me looks like, and I also know when it's time to put distance between myself and someone else. Right now is one of those times.

I find my quickest out. I push myself down off the edge of the stage, dropping Hanna's hand from me and putting ample room between the two of us.

"I think we should call it a day." I say as I turn back to look at Hanna. "There isn't much to do here today until I make my final decision."

She stares at me with a completely blank expression for a couple seconds, then a smile forms on her face. She closes her own notebook and jumps off the edge of the stage like I had just done. Adam and I watch her as she goes and grabs her backpack off one of the auditorium seats.

"I'm putting you on a deadline, Eli." Hanna says to me as she slings her backpack over one shoulder. "By Thursday you need to pick your leading man."

"I'm picking my leading man by tonight." I tell her. 

Hanna tells me I better actually choose someone and stick to it, and then she bids Adam and I goodbye. We watch as she walks out the auditorium doors, the light spilling back into the room for the second time in the past five minutes.

It's only when the doors fully close that Adam turns and talks to me.

"You guys looked awfully close." Adam says. He shoots me a questioning look out the side of his eyes. "Good thing I walked in and not someone else... like Rylie."

"Rylie wouldn't care." I say almost dismissively. I walk over to where my stuff is on the stage and grab my notebook and shove it into my disorganized backpack, then zip the bag closed and toss it over my shoulder.

When I turn back around, Adam shoots me another look. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, she wouldn't. She's not caught up in those things."

"She's not caught up in other girls touching you?" Adam asks.

I glance sideways at him. "No. She knows I only have eyes for her."

"You might only have eyes for her, but it seems like someone else has them for you."

"Hanna? No way, she's just into the play." I say, but even as I'm saying it, I feel myself not fully believing it.

Truth is, Hanna is a flirt. Since day one when she came in to talk to Adam and me, I noticed it. She commands people's attention through charm and assertiveness. Even during the first meeting with just her and I, I felt it. She held my attention by any means necessary, just like she was doing today. 

I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel a little good. There's a sense of flattery when someone uses their charm to get your attention, even if that someone does it with everyone else they talk to. In that moment, though, it feels good. But it's nothing more than flattery, and I assure Adam of that.

"Alright." Adam says, a twinge of skepticism in his voice. "Just be careful, okay?"

"Careful? Me?" I say with a grin. "Always."

Chapter Text

Rylie

Ever since I can remember, the arcade has been a happy place for me. When I was six, my dad brought me here for the first time. I remember it so clearly even now. He was supposed to be at work that day. Back then he worked in insurance, but he hated it so he would call off whenever he really wasn't feeling it. 

That Friday morning in spring, he called into work and said he was sick with a bug. After he got off the phone with his work, he called the school next and told him the same thing he had told his boss. I remember the smile on his face when he saw me realize we were both getting a free sick day. 

We waited until 10am to go. My dad told me that there was no use in taking a sick day and not taking advantage of lounging around in pjs for at least the first couple hours of the morning, so we ate breakfast in his and my mom's bed and watched cartoons before we got dressed for the arcade.

I remember thinking that I had never seen anything like it before. There were so many lights and colours and sounds. It seemed like they had games for everyone too - all the way from racing games to sports games. 

My dad's eyes gleamed happily as he watched me take it all in, and then we got to work. We must have played every single game in that arcade. We played and played and next thing I remember, my dad was telling me we had to get home before my mom did or else she'd know we called in sick that day.

We ran home, our cheeks hurting from laughing as we hustled. 

I've gone back to the arcade more times than I can count, and even though it's not the same because I'm older now, I still feel that sense of wonder and happiness as soon as I'm in the arcade.

At least I do for the most part. Right now, though? Not so much. I'm stood near the snack bar with Eli as we munch of a shared popcorn, neither of us really talking as we stand together and look around.

After a couple seconds of this, I decide to speak up as I know Eli won't.

"Are you having fun?" I ask him.

Eli drags his eyes away from where they were stuck on Nate and Marisol, and he looks down at me with a very obviously fake smile plastered on his face.

"Only if you are." he says.

I know it's unfair of me to feel frustrated by Eli in these situations, yet I still have the feeling rise in my chest. I can't help myself but to wonder why Eli can't just kick back and relax and have a good time with my friends. Instead of having fun, it always feels like it's a constant battle to get him to enjoy being here with me and the people I like. Just once I'd like for him to put in the effort and actually have a good time without feeling like I'm forcing him to.

I try to fight my feelings of frustration by pushing them down and trying to swallow the anger away, yet I can still feel it nagging at me.

"Why do you never have a good time when we're with our friends?"

Eli doesn't waste any time in responding.

"You mean your friends." he retorts. 

"No, I mean our friends. 

"That guy," Eli says as he nods over towards Nate. "Is not my friend. Not even close."

We watch as Nate grabs the basketball from Marisol's hands. She tries desperately to grab back onto it, but it's no use. Nate lines the ball up with the net on the game and shoots, getting it with the help from the backboard. Marisol smacks Nate and tries to grab one of his basketballs, but again Nate blocks her and starts shooting them one after another, not missing a single one.

It's funny. Nate and Marisol are the furthest thing from a couple, yet right now they look more like a couple than Eli and I do. They're both there playing games, having fun and being in one another's space while Eli and I stand a several inches away from one another and watch the two of them having fun.

I hate it, but for a second, I almost wish I was with Nate and not Eli. At least then I'd be having some semblance of fun.

I shrug the thoughts of my head. There's no use of thinking these thoughts when I'm standing here not trying to change anything.

"Do you want to play air hockey?" I ask Eli. I take a step closer to him and nudge his arm with mine in a teasing manner. "I'll even let you win the first round."

Eli looks at me with a half frown on his face and I just know he's going to tell me that he doesn't want to play air hockey because he's not feeling it or he's not good at it or something. I just know he's going to say no.

"Yeah, let's go." he says, surprising me. He throws his head back and empties the remainder of the popcorn into his mouth, tosses out the bag then grabs my hand in his and leads us over to the air hockey tables.

We manage to get a solid four games in, each of us winning two each, before Nate and Marisol come over to join us. Marisol is sipping on a blue slush while Nate has a red one. Nate leans against the air hockey table, almost sending a bit of his slush flying over the edge of his cup as he deepens his lean, however since he's an athlete, he easily avoids spilling in.

"Who's winning?" Nate asks, his eyes on me.

"We're tied." I tell him. I look across the table to Eli - who looks less than happy - and shoot him a wink. "Until I pull ahead this round."

"Like I'd let you win another round." Eli shoots back with a sly wink of his own. He nods his head towards the air puck in my hand. "Come on, sooner that puck hits the table, the sooner I win."

"My moneys on Eli." Marisol says. She shoots me an apologetic look. "Sorry, Rio, but I've seen Eli take down people effortlessly. He doesn't play around."

"Marisol." Eli says as he puts his hand over his heart. "I knew you'd be on my side."

"That's actually so messed up." I say with a laugh. "You're my best friend. You should side with me."

"Don't worry, Rio, I'm on your side." Nate chimes in. "I'd never go against you."

From behind Nate, I see Eli roll his eyes, a much expected reaction from him. For once I ignore it. Eli is always rolling his eyes or issuing snide remarks against someone - especially Nate - but I do see where he's coming from on this one. Nate is a reminder of my past for Eli, so having him here and having him say he'd never go against me is obviously going to annoy Eli in some regard.

I throw a casual thank you Nate's way, then tell Eli he better be ready for the fight of his life before pushing the puck into the middle of the table. We fight back and forth for it, both of us trying our best to get the puck into one another's goal. On the sidelines, Marisol and Nate cheer us on.

Despite all the encouragement from Nate, I still lose. Eli pulls a crafty play and sends the puck shooting into my goal, which means he officially beats me by a single point.

I shoot Eli daggers across the air hockey table.

"You couldn't let me have it?"

He grins back at me, clearly loving this. "Hell no."

I'm too busy glaring at Eli to notice that Nate has come up right beside me. He throws an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into him. I think the only one less impressed than me about this is Eli, who is now shooting daggers of his own at Nate.

"I'll buy you a consolation prize, Rio." Nate says to me. "Are Nerds still your favourite candy?"

 Before I can speak up, Eli is chiming in for me.

"Her favourite candy is Skittles."

Nate's friendliness slips for a second as he glances over at Eli. "I know. Her least favourite is the purple one, but when at the arcade she prefers Nerds because her dad got them for her the first time they came here."

Shit.

From the look on Eli's face, it's obvious I never told him about coming to the arcade with my dad, which wouldn't be so bad on it's own except for the fact that Nate just brought it up, indicating that he knows the story and that in some way, he knows more about me than Eli does. That's crap, though. Eli knows me more than anyone does. He knows all my secrets and thoughts - the good and bad ones. Nate just knows more about me when I was the old me, and in a way, that's threatening to Eli because he knows he can never know me like that. Eli can never know sweet, truly happy and innocent Rylie. He'll never know two parent Rylie who doesn't cut herself or get beat up by her dad, and I know that kills him inside.

From the corner of my eye, I see Marisol giving me a look, it's a "uh-oh, what are you going to do look?" that's also crossed with "I'm glad I'm not you right now." I look back at her, hoping for help in solving this, but she simply shakes her head to let me know she's not getting involved.

"I, uh, don't need any candy or anything." I say as I shrug out from under Nate's arm. I turn my attention towards Eli, flashing him a smile that I hope will calm him. "I think we ate enough popcorn before anyway."

Thankfully, Marisol decides to jump in and tell everyone that she's had enough of the arcade for the night. She says she's touched too many stick machines for one night and that she's tired and wants to head out. No one else argues.

We file out of the arcade to our cars, Marisol and Nate walking ahead of Eli and I.

As we're exiting the front doors to the arcade, Eli pulls his phone out to text his parents. As if he can feel Eli distracted, Nate rotates his head to look at me. He gives the entire length of my body a long up and down before settling on my face. He grins that dangerous smile at me and flashes a wink my way. Instantly I feel my face heat up, which makes him grin even more.

I think if I keep going the way I'm going, I'm going to be deeper into trouble than I want.

Chapter Text

Eli

It's almost two a.m. when I hear the faint sound of the front door creaking open. Seconds later I hear it close, and then the sound of someone tripping. I faintly hear the sound of swearing. The sound travels down the door until it stops right outside of my room.

My door swings open to reveal Rylie. She's dressed in black leggings with a black tank top. On top of her tank top is one of my sweaters - black, of course. It makes me smile to see her dressed like this, when a year ago she would've scolded me for being clad in all black. She told me once that it makes me look depressing, yet here she is dressed the exact same.

"Hi, boyfriend." Rylie says as a happy grin spreads over her face.

When Rylie and I first started hanging out, she would come over some nights and give me that smile, and back then the only thing I knew about that smile was that I loved seeing it. Now that we've been together for a couple of months, I've learned that this smile is her too-happy-to-care drunk smile. 

I've gotten good enough to even gage how drunk she is on a scale of tipsy to going to throw up in my bathroom. Currently she's clocking in at about five or six on the scale, which means she's at the perfect point of drunk, which for her is a happy drunk. In this state she wants to talk to everyone about everything and be the biggest social butterfly in the room. She also likes being all over me, which is something I don't mind at all.

"Hi, queen popularity." I reply back to her. "How was your night?"

Rylie unzips her sweater and tosses it onto the floor beside my bed before she flops down onto the bed. She pulls "her" pillow towards her and nuzzles up against it.

"My night was good." she says happily. "I had a whole rainbows worth of Jell-O shots."

"A whole rainbows worth eh? What colour was the best?"

She looks at me as if I'm stupid. "Green. Obviously. You know lime is the best Jell-O flavour ever."

"Oh yeah, silly me." I say sarcastically as a smile of my own spreads over my face.

She nods against her pillow. "Silly you."

Rylie rotates on the bed so that she's laying on her stomach with her right leg stretched out and her left leg bent at the knee in the classic mountain climber sleep position. It's actually the position she sleeps in the most. Sometimes she'll accidentally knee me right in the stomach in the middle of the night because of it.

"I bit my tongue. Did you know that?" Rylie says, breaking the silence. She sticks her tongue out of her mouth and grabs her tongue, stroking the same place over again. "See?"

"How'd you manage that?"

She cracks her eyes open and looks at me, her tongue still pinched between her fingers. "I dunno." she says, but because she's holding her tongue it sounds more like gibberish. 

I shake my head at this silly girl that I get to call mine. 

"Want me to make it feel better?" I ask her, hoping to God that she'll ask me to.

Rylie grins at me and flips over again so she's on her back. She holds a hand up and bends her first two fingers, beckoning for me to come over to the bed with her. Only a fool wouldn't act on it, and I'm no fool. In a flash I'm on the bed with her, covering her body with mine.

"I missed you tonight." Rylie whispers. 

"I missed you too."

"I thought of you." she purrs.

"Yeah? What'd you think about?"

Rylie closes her eyes and shrugs at me. "You."

"Oh, we're being specific tonight, eh?"

"Maybe."

"Well... maybe I won't tell you what I was thinking about before then."

"Was it about me?"

"Yep."

"Tell me!" she says loudly. She realizes show loud she's being and slaps a hand over her mouth as if to stop her from talking.

"Nuh-uh. If you won't tell me what you were thinking, then I won't tell you about what I was thinking."

"That's not fair." she whispers.

"What's your definition of fair?"

"You tell me every thought you've ever had about me - as long as its good - and I enjoy it."

"Okay, just so I'm clear. I tell you everything, but you tell me nothing?"

She nods at me. "Exactly."

"And that's fair?"

"Fair and square."

"I think you need to take a sociology or ethics course or something."

"And I think you need to tell me all the things you like about me." she says. "Starting...now! Go!"

Lord knows if this was anyone else, I'd be losing my mind. But it's Rylie. My Rylie. Sometimes all I want to do is talk about all the things I like about her. I find myself having to actively cut myself off because I already do on tangents about her with my parents or Adam or even just alone in my room with my thoughts.

"If I have to tell you, then..." I say slowly, watching as a giddy smile comes over her. "I like your hair." I say as my hand comes down to ruffle it. "I like the colour and the way it bounces when you're walking fast."

"I do that on purpose." she admits with a shy grin. "All us girls do."

"You've been bouncing on purpose?"

"Yeah, obviously, but who cares about that, tell me more."

"I like your eyes. They're the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. And I like your nose." I say as I give it a light bop. "And your cheeks. I like the way they're always pink."

"They are always pink!"

"Yeah, and I love it. And I love your dimples, and your cleft chin. I like your body too, obviously, I like-"

"So, you like me for how I look? Nothing else."

"I like more than your appearance, I was working my way there."

Rylie regards me in a way that lets me know she doesn't believe what I'm saying to her, like I'm lying about liking her personality too. 

"I like how nice you are." I tell her. I lean down and press a kiss against her bare shoulder, watching as her body relaxes into my touch. "And I like how caring you are, even with people you don't know. I like how strong you are." I say before planting another kiss on her, this one on her collarbone. "I like your resilience and how you always are able to put yourself in a good mood, even when things are wrong."

Rylie's entire demeanor changes at that last part. Instead of smiling up at me and being all shy while also being sexy, she now shrinks into herself as a face of sadness comes over her.

"Things are wrong a lot." she whispers to me.

As much as I've had bad times in life, nothing compares to what Rylie's gone through. She's been abandoned by her mom, left behind in the care of her alcoholic father who hurts her. She was drugged and almost horribly assaulted last year. She hurts herself to deal with it, and yet, she still puts on this brave face. 

Every day Rylie gets up and she doesn't let the world or her situation harden her. She chooses to live life in the softest and lightest way she can, and for the most part, the things she's going through don't bother her. But then there's time like these where she's face to face with the problems she has, and they drain her which kills me to see.

"I know." I whisper back to her. My hand comes up to stroke her hair again, this time in a comforting manner. "Soon you'll be out of there, okay? We'll be away at school together and nothing else will matter."

Rylie nods her head as she continues to study the piece of hair she's holding. It's a tool she's using to deflect and put space between her and the situation. I know this because of therapy, and because she does it a lot. She can't just be vulnerable, she needs something to fidget with or use to draw attention to so that it's not all on her and her emotions.

"What if I don't get it?" Ry whispers to me. Her big, watery green eyes shoot up to me, looking for comfort. 

"You'll get it." I tell her. "You're in so many clubs and you're a straight A student. Why wouldn't you get it?"

"Because I'm not good enough."

"Oh, Ry. You're good enough. You're more than that."

"Only you think that."

"Everyone thinks about that, Ry. Everyone loves you. How could they not?"

Rylie grabs a lock of her hair, holding it with one hand as her fingers on her other hand strokes the end of her hair over and over again. Her attention is fully on her hair for a couple of quiet seconds, then she bites her lip and looks at me, her eyes unsure.

And then she says the thing that I know she's been keeping in deep down in her chest. The thing she thinks about it and doesn't want to tell anyone in fear that saying it out loud will make it a definite truth. 

"My mom doesn't."

It's times like these I wish I could trade everything I have to make Rylie's life better. I love my parents and I know how lucky I am to have such supportive and caring parents, but I would trade them to Rylie if it meant she never had to feel like this. I'd take her absentee mother and her abusive alcohol father as my own if it meant she could have the parents she deserves.

It kills me to know that I can't trade our parents. It kills me to know that there is literally nothing I can do to make it better for her, aside from just being there. There's nothing I can actively do to make her life better than it currently is. All we can do is wait until we get into school together.

"Your mom loves you." I say softly to her in my dark room. "She does."

"Then why isn't she here?"

"I don't know, Ry. Sometimes, I guess people love themselves more than they love us, and when that happens, they put themselves first."

"Why does she have to be like that? Why couldn't she love me more than she loves herself or her new family?"

Minutes ago, Rylie had been trying - and failing - to hide her tears from me as we talked about her mom. Now there's no hiding them. her tears fall down either side of her face, pooling on her pillow. I try my best to wipe them away, but they're coming fast and warm and I'm not able to get all of them.

"I wish I could tell you." I tell Rylie. "There's no answer to it. Sometimes we get good parents, and sometimes we get unlucky."

"It's not fair."

"I know." I say. I pull her into my chest, hugging her even tighter against me. "Have you stopped hurting yourself?"

Rylie hesitates, giving me my answer without actually giving me one. 

At the start of the summer, Rylie said she would stop hurting herself. She was doing good with it too at first. We both had a tracker on our phones to count how long it's been since she did it last. She managed to go the entire month of June without doing it once. There was a little slip up at the end of July, but that's normal. 

There's always some form of relapse in addiction, so we treated it like no big deal and she restarted. Things were going great until the first week of September. Since then, the counter hasn't made it past six days, and even that is pushing it.

Lately Rylie hasn't been updating the tracker at all. It's stopped on a day from three weeks ago, waiting for her to reset it. If she had been doing good with it since the start of summer, I would've thought she had simply forgot to update it, but as it stands, she hasn't been doing good at all with it lately which can only mean one thing.

"I'm trying." Rylie says. "Does that count for anything?"

I press a kiss on her forehead, letting my lips linger for a couple of extra seconds before I answer her.

"It counts for everything."

Chapter Text

Rylie

I'm on my way out of cheer practice, tired and sweaty and not looking where I'm going, and of course I almost run right into Nate. He's coming out of the boy's bathroom downstairs with a helmet in his hand, his head turned in the opposite direction, when we almost collide. Luckily, I lift my head right before we run into one another and stop dead in my tracks in order to avoid the collision.

"Watch it." I tell Nate, causing him to look over at me. A grin spreads across his face upon seeing that it's me he almost ran right into.

"Hey, Rio." Nate says, his tone warm and friendly.

"Hey. You joined football?" I ask Nate. "Or do you just really like helmets?"

"Ha, ha, funny." Nate says. He taps me lightly on the top of my head with his helmet. "I joined football. I played a lot when I moved and figured why not play here too?"

"You think you'll end up playing your old school at some point?"

"No chance. My old school is seven hours away. Doubt they want to play us bad enough for a seven-hour drive on a bus." Nate says.

"Probably for the best. We'd beat them anyway." I say.

"I don't know, they were pretty good."

"Pretty good doesn't beat Degrassi good."

"You have a point." Nate agrees. "Plus, we have something they don't."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Oh yeah? What's that?" 

"We've got hotter cheerleaders." Nate says with a charming grin.

Grade 9 and even grade 10 Rylie would've swooned over this. I would've thought it was the best thing someone had ever said to me and when I went home, I would've played the conversation over and over again in my head. Grade 12 Rylie flushes a little but that's about as far as it goes.

"Yeah, we're a good team." I say to Nate, keeping it as neutral as I can manage. "Anyway, I better head out."

"What's the rush?" he says. "You have somewhere to be?"

"Yeah, home. It's late and I'm hungry."

"Let's go get something to eat. The sushi place you like is just down the street."

I raise an eyebrow at Nate. "You remember that still?"

"Obviously. You made me take you there at least once a week."

I let my mouth fall open in an exaggerated 'o' shape. "It was not once a week. It was, like, once a month at best." I correct him. 

"It was more than once a month." he argues. "If it were once a month then I wouldn't still remember your order."

"You still remember my order?"

"Six California rolls, ten if you're hungry, and bubble tea, extra pearls." Nate says. "Not the exploding pearls, though. I made that mistake once and once only."

I look at Nate in amazement. It's been years since we've been there together or even see each other and yet he remembers so much about me. He remembers my sushi order and the way I like my bubble tea. He remembers where my house is, what my dad was like. The other day he asked me if I still listened to King Princess, my favourite singer back in the day. 

It's still weird to me, honestly. We're both different people, yet we still remember the small facts about one another. It's almost vulnerable.

"Am I wrong?" Nate asks upon realizing I'm not answering. 

I shake my head. "Not wrong. It's just kind of ...weird having you remember stuff like that about me."

To my surprise, Nate laughs at me. "You act like I'm the guy at Tim Hortons who takes your order instead of the guy you used to date for, what, a year and a half?"

I laugh too, mainly because I feel awkward and I'm not sure what to say to this. In a way, Nate kind of is like a random Tim Hortons worker. He's someone who knows me, yet doesn't know anything about me. 

"You going home?" Nate asks me.

"I'm trying to."

"Ha, ha. Want a ride?" Nate asks me. "I have to go by your place to get home anyway."

"N-"

"Don't say no." Nate says, cutting me off. 

"Why not?"

"Because."

I cross my arms as I look at him. "Because why?"

"You're really going to make me say it?" Nate asks with a sigh. He runs a hand through his dark hair, sending a cascade of hair falling over his forehead as it settles back to its natural state. I hate that I notice it. I hate it even more that I find myself realizing I like it.

I raise an eyebrow at him and nod as if it say what's up.

"I've been looking for an excuse to spend time with you, and this seems to be the only effective way so far."

I look at him for a second I see the guy I used to know. I see his floppy hair that was too long and covered his eyes. I see the chubbier cheeks he had and the breakouts he used to get on them. I see the sweet kid who used to open every single door for me and walked on the side of the sidewalk closest to the street so I would be safe. I see the sweet kid who, even though he had faults, tried his best to impress me and be kind to me for the most part.

"I hope you're taking that long to answer because you're coming up with an elaborate way to say yes." Nate says.

Even though I still want to say no because of my conflicted feelings towards Nate, I end up agreeing to let him drive me home. After all, everyone deserves a second chance, right? Plus, like Nate pointed out, it's a short drive. So short that by time we get to my house, we haven't had much time to talk about anything at all other than what classes we each have and how weird it is that we're almost adults by now.

"Want me to walk you in?" Nate offers as he puts the car into park in front of my house. "It's been a while since I've seen the place."

From the looks if it my dad isn't home yet. It's 4pm and the curtains are closed which is something my dad does when he gets home or when he's in a really bad mood and hasn't left his bed for a couple of days. During those times he says that the sun is too bright for him and he can't bear to even get a glimpse of the outside world. 

"Um, I don't know." I say still staring at the door. "My dad's probably home soon..."

"Even better. Your dad used to love me."

I almost tell him that my dad used to love me too, but I catch myself before I can let the comment slip out.

The only person who knows about my life - my real life - is Eli. Everyone else, all my teachers, my friends and my squad, and even my best friend, thinks that my life is great. To the outside world I'm a blonde cheerleader who is popular and funny and liked. They all think I have a great school, social and home life. I have to keep the appearance up which means saying no to every and anyone who asks to come to my house.

I always tell them that my house is a mess. I say that my dad has a million of papers for houses he's selling laying around. I also tell everyone that we have home project papers and folders laying around along with a bunch of For Sale signs all over the place. 

"Rio?"

I glance over to see Nate staring at me, a weird look on his face. I had almost forgot that he had said something to me.

"It's not a good idea." I say, referring to him walking me in. "Sorry. Maybe some other time?"

That same weird look stays on Nate's face for a couple more seconds before he nods at me, a polite smile forming. "Yeah, some other time."

I return the same polite smile. "Thanks for the ride."

"Any time. I'm actually going to be starting football soon, which I think is at the same time as cheer practice, so if ever you want a ride just let me know."

"Thanks, Nate. I'll, uh, definitely keep you posted."

"Great. Well, have a good night and I'll see you tomorrow I guess."

"Yeah, see you tomorrow."

"Rio?"

My right foot that was about to move out of Nate's car and onto the sidewalk in front of my house stops, hovering in the air. 

"Yeah?" I ask.

"Thanks for letting me back in. Not only with you but with Marisol and everyone." Nate says. "It feels nice to be back at Degrassi again, and I'm glad you're still here. Really glad."

Man, Nate really has changed. Thanking me for letting him in and not alienating him? Not that I would do that anyway, I'm not the type. But still, it's nice to hear those words coming from his mouth.

"Me too." I say to him. "It's nice to have you back."

"It's nice to be back." he says. "Alright, now go before I get in trouble with your dad. I'll see you tomorrow."

I try not to think of the comment about my dad as I give Nate my best smile before stepping out of his car.

Luckily, my dad isn't home yet which means I have time to eat a quick supper and exist in the house before I confine myself to my room. 

During that time and for the rest of the night, I find Nate creeping into my thoughts. I try not to, yet every once in awhile I find myself thinking of him again. 

It's weird to think that someone you used to know can be so different from the person that you know now. I used to think that people never changed. I thought that if you were a certain way it was because that's who you've always been and probably always will be. Yet, the evidence speaks for itself when it comes to Nate Hughes. Please God let it be true and not just another act.

Chapter Text

Eli

The bell for the end of first period rings out loudly in the classroom, jolting me out of whatever trance I was in. I blink a couple of times as I look around the classroom to where all the other students are grabbing their stuff and leaving. I do the same, shoving my stuff messily into my backpack.

I'm about to head out the door of the classroom when a hand grabs my forearm, holding me in place. A quick turn to the side shows me that the person grabbing me is none other than Nate. 

Great.

"Hey. You have a minute?" he says.

I glance out into the hallway. Rylie's class is right down the hall from mine, and typically we meet up in the middle of the hallway, but from the looks of it she's either at her locker or in the bathroom because I don't see her at all. I guess I could spend a minute slumming it with her ex-boyfriend while I wait.

"Yeah, what's up?" I say to Nate as I step back into the class.

"I wanted to say my bad for the other night." he says. "At the arcade."

Somehow this makes me hate this guy even more. To pull me aside and tell me he's sorry about acting like a dick, when we both know he's about to be an even bigger dick, is a ballsy move, and it's one that pisses me off.

But, for Rylie's sake, I try to play along.

"It's fine." I say through gritted teeth.

"I figured you would say that. Rio and I were talking about you last night when I drove her home and-"

I stop listening to whatever the fuck it is this guy is saying. My mind is caught on the fact that he drove her home last night, which is funny because Rylie and I talked last night and she completely failed to mention that fact.

I'm not insecure enough to jump right to conclusions, however I'm not exactly sane enough to keep my mind from visiting some of the worst possible thoughts.

"And look, I don't want you to think I was bragging about knowing her more than you do." Nate continues on. His lips are curved up in a small smile which lets me know that he fully well knows what he's doing here, and even worse, he loves it. 

"You don't." I retort dryly. 

"Yeah, sure. Just, with that whole candy thing and knowing her best memories with her family, you know, kind of seemed like I was trying to show off how much I know." Nate says. 

"Just seemed like a guy trying his best to stay relevant in memory lane." I retort. A jackass smile of my own is plastered on my face as I talk. If Nate wants to go low, I'll match his energy. No question about it.

"Stay relevant? I'm more relevant than you think, bud. I was all her firsts. First date, first boyfriend, first love." he says, listing each thing on his fingers. "First fuck."

Any sense of calm I had flies out the window. It's just like that time with Owen when I saw red then blacked out. My body reacts before my mind has the chance to and I grab Nate by the collar of his shirt and throw him into the wall behind him, and then I let my brain go on cruise control.

It's only when I throw him into the lockers in the hallway that I realize I lost control, but by then I've already laid several punches into him. I'm holding him by the collar of his shirt when I hear that dreaded sound approaching me.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

Rylie is standing beside the locker where Nate is. She stares at me with an open mouth, her eyes confused and angry. Nate, on the other hand, has a smug expression on his face, one that I want to smack right off his face.

"Eli." Rylie hisses. "Are you fucking kidding me? Let go of him!"

She says it to me as if it's the easiest thing in the world. To her, all I need to do is take a step back and a deep breath in and everything should be okay again, except that's the furthest thing from the truth. I can't revert back to fine right now, especially not after hearing all that shit Nate said and seeing his smug fucking face. No, all I want to do is pummel him over and over again until there's nothing left of him.

I hardly even care right now that Rylie is pissed about it too. Nate said he was her first - which means she's lied to me. I'm not misogynistic enough to care about something as trivial as being a girl's first partner, but that doesn't mean I'm okay with being lied to, so, yeah, you could say that Rylie being here isn't helping the situation too much.

Still, I do as Rylie says, and I let go of Nate. I don't do it for either of them, though. I do it for my future here at Degrassi. I may have an easy excuse with the whole bipolar thing, but Mr. Simpson warned me that it's not a get out of jail free card either, and if I continue how I am, I'll be expelled before the first semester is over.

Nate's smug smile stays on his face as Rylie turns to him and asks him if he's okay. Not able to take any more of this shit for the day, I turn and head towards my locker so I can get my stuff and leave. I'm in the mood to fight and if I stay at school any longer then I might just lose my grip and let myself get expelled.

I ignore the wide-eyed looks that everyone is giving me as I walk to my locker, and once I finally get to it and open it up, I all but stick my head inside to block out the sight of people gawking at me.

I grab my stuff quickly and I'm about to close my locker door when someone else does it for me.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Rylie growls at me, her hand still on my locker. "You can't go around punching whoever you feel like."

"Ry, he was-"

"I don't care what he was doing!" she says. "Don't you get that? I don't give a fuck what he does, I care what you do!"

"Yeah? I care about what you do too, and apparently you've done more than I know."

Rylie looks at me with her brows furrowed. "What is that supposed to mean?"

It's a shitty shot for me to take at her, especially right now in the middle of the populated school hallways. I'm just in such a mood right now that anything is going to lead to a fight, and I know this is a discussion we need to have, but not here and not like this. So, I swallow the anger as best as I can for the girl that I love.

"Nothing." I say, shaking my head. 

As expected, Rylie isn't satisfied by that answer. She crosses her arms over her chest and raises an eyebrow as she looks at me, her face still contorted with her own anger.

"Clearly it's not nothing." she says. 

"Obviously it's not, but obviously this isn't the greatest location for this." I say as I gesture around the hallway to our peers who keep looking at us.

"Then let's go somewhere else." Rylie offers.

Again, I shake my head. "I'm not doing this right now."

"Oh, okay." Rylie says with an angry laugh. "So, you'll beat the shit out of literally anyone in front of the entire school, but you can't talk to your girlfriend in a barely populated hallway?"

"It's different and you know it."

"How would I know that, Eli? You don't tell me anything. You don't explain yourself, you don't-"

For the second time today I can feel the anger inside of me starting to build up to the point of a near explosion. The heat creeps up my neck slowly, but uncomfortable enough to get my attention, and I feel my chest start to tighten as I try to take control of my emotions.

"Ry, I love you very much, but right now I need to get out of here because if I don't, I'm going to lose my cool and I don't want to do that with you."

Rylie's eyes narrow at me as her lips turn into an unhappy frown. For a second I think she's going to keep pushing on until I lose my mind and explode, but instead she surprises me.

"Whatever." she says before turning and heading back down the hallway towards where I left a bloody Nate.

My mind wanders, wondering if she's going back to him. Is she going to go get him a wet cloth and dab his bloody and broken lip? Is she going to let him sit close to her as she takes care of him, putting back together all the bits I broke? Does she like him more because he didn't fight back?

All these thoughts suffocate me, making me feel like I'm powerless in my own head.

Maybe I am crazy.

Chapter Text

Rylie

For the first time in what feels like a lifetime, I'm seeing my mom. 

I finally took the plunge and called her, and to my surprise, she told me that she had been thinking of calling me too. It bothered me that she said she was only thinking about it, because she should've just reached out to me for once, but I pushed those thoughts aside and asked her if she wanted to meet up. I half expected her to say no or to tell me that she's too busy right now, but she surprised me by saying she wanted to.

We made plans to meet up at a little coffee place in North York. I wanted it there because it was somewhere I figured dad wouldn't be, nor anyone else I know.

I got here early, partially due to nerves but mostly due to the fact that I overestimated the travel time. Just as I got a good seat and my coffee, my mom walked in, early as well and looking just as nervous as I was. She also looked older, which I know happens, yet I still for some reason wasn't prepared for that. In my head, she would look the same as she did last time I saw her, and she kind of does, except now she has shorter hair with no highlights, and she has hints of wrinkles in places she didn't have them before.

After the initial greeting, we sat down together and I quickly realized I hadn't planned any conversation topics, so I panic and choose the easiest one I can think of to start us off.

"How's the wedding planning going?"

My mom lights up like a candle at this. Her cheeks rise as she smiles and new wrinkles form around the sides of her eyes. They weren't there last time I saw her smile.

"Everything is completely set up. The big things, like the dress, flowers, venue and whatnot are all set in stone. We still have to decide on our first dance song, right now we're in between two songs, but I'm leaning towards one."

"Oh, which one?"

"So, we were deciding between How Do I Live by LeAnn Rimes, but ultimately I think we're going to go with You're Still The One by Shania Twain." she says, still beaming. "Those are way before your time, I'm sure you've never heard of them."

I would answer her to tell her she's wrong, except right now my throat feels stuck. 

When I was younger and my parents were still in love, they had a routine of cleaning the house every other Saturday morning. They would get up earlier than I ever did, around 7 or 8 in the morning, and my dad would go get them coffees from the Tim Hortons a couple of blocks over. While he was out, my mom would get all the cleaning supplies out and would load their six disk CD player up with some of their favourites. One of my mom's favourite singers ever is Shania Twain, so at least one of her CDs would end up in the CD player, and my mom would sing her heart out as they cleaned.

One of the songs she would sing loudest to is You're Still The One. Her and my dad would dance in the hallway to it, while she sang and he just grinned at her, appreciating the woman he chose to spend what he thought would be the rest of his life with.

Now, to hear that my mom is picking this as her wedding song, completely stumps me. How could she forget about those mornings with dad? How could she erase him from her memory completely, so much that she's willing to use what was arguably their song, as her wedding song to a completely different man?

It makes me feel like the day her and dad got divorced, she forgot everything about her life before. Including me.

My mom, completely oblivious as to how I'm feeling, keeps talking on about the wedding. She tells me about the colour scheme and all the small details that I never thought mattered, but apparently really do. She talks to me about Raymond and how excited he is about it. Apparently, he has a countdown on his phone, like he's so excited about making my mom his wife that he needs to be reminded on a daily basis.

Once the Raymond talk dies down, she moves onto the boys, my stepbrothers. She tells me about how they're doing in school and about how Derek won a soccer championship with his team last year, which she thinks they can win again this year. 

She talks my ear off about her new life and her new family - far better than her old one.

It's only after she exhausts the topic of her that she asks about me. 

Kind of.

"How're things with your dad?" she asks me.

I hate how she words it. My dad. Not dad, no, my dad. It's like she's putting a layer of distance between them. It must be nice to be able to do that. Because of her, I don't have that luxury.

"Dad's good." I say. "He works a lot, so I'm home alone pretty much all the time."

My mom doesn't pick up on the tone of my voice as I tell her this, because she takes it as a good thing rather than a complaint.

"You must love that." she says. "You get to have the place all to yourself."

"Yeah, but sometimes it gets long."

"I'm sure you're not there much. Last I remember, you were still cheering, right? And I'm sure you're still a social butterfly and always going out with your friends."

I'm actually surprised she remembers that I cheer. I was starting to get into it when she left us, I figured she would've left that detail behind with the rest of the stuff she left behind when she left us behind.

"I'm cheering still, yeah. I'm actually co-captain with Marisol."

"Marisol!" my mom says fondly, pressing a hand to her heart. "God, I haven't thought about her in years. How is Mare?"

"She's good." I say tightly. 

"Good. Good." she says, giving me a tight-lipped smile. She has no idea what to say now. She awkwardly taps her long, manicured nails against the glass in her hand. "Have you decided on schools? You're in your senior year now, aren't you?"

I almost laugh out loud at this. My own mother isn't sure what grade I'm actually in, she's probably done a quick math calculation in her head to get an estimate, but she's not actually confident in that answer. 

Anyone else's parents would be able to tell you what grade their kid is in, what their teachers names are, and what classes they struggle in, but my mom? My mom wouldn't even be able to tell you what grade I'm in, or when my graduation is. Not like she would be there anyway.

"I'm a senior, yeah. I've applied to a handful of schools, like Humber and McGill, but I'm ultimately hoping for Brock."

"Brock?" she says with a confused expression. "I thought the plan was University of Toronto?"

"It was the plan when I wanted to stay in Toronto."

"Why don't you want to stay in Toronto?"

My mouth answers her before my brain can think to stop it.

"Why would I want to?"

I caught my mom off-guard. She looks at me, her eyes wide for half a second before she adjusts herself, trying to act like she's not surprised at my answer for whatever reason.

"I figured since your dad's here and I'm here, and all your friends that you would stay..." she says, trailing off at the end. 

"Yeah, well, Brock is a good school and E-"

I cut myself before I can say anything else. I was just about to tell her that Eli and I want to go to the same school, but quickly realized what a mistake that would be since she doesn't know who Eli is - and for good reason. 

I highly doubt that my mom and dad would ever speak again unless completely necessary, however I can't risk letting my mom know about Eli in case she, for some reason, does tell my dad.

Can you imagine the beating I'd get if my dad found out that not only do I have a boyfriend, but that I've had one for months and he didn't have any idea about it? God, he'd probably throw me down the stairs or snap my arm in half. Not only would he lose his mind over the whole Eli and me lying of it all, but the fact that he heard about it from my mom of all people would make him lose it. 

My mom stares at me from across the table, waiting for me to finish the sentence I just quickly cut myself off from saying. In a panic, I come up with the first excuse that comes to mind.

"Either way," I say, as if that was what I was going to say anyway. "I don't think I'd get into University of Toronto."

"Rylie, you're such a smart girl, of course you'd get in." my mom assures me. She reaches out to put her hand on mine, however she stops herself before she can touch me and ends up just putting her hand in the middle of the table between us. "Who wouldn't want you at their school?"

"Maybe." I say with a half shrug. I didn't even apply to UofT, but there's no use telling my mom this, especially now that I've started this lie. "But I'm hoping for Brock. It has great programs, and I think a change of scenery would be nice."

"I hope you get in, then." she says with a smile. It's not her genuine smile that I used to see when I was younger, but it's close enough. I let myself enjoy it, losing myself in the vague familiarity of it. "Raymond knows someone on the board at Brock. Maybe we can put a good word in for you."

"Yeah, um, that would be cool." I say. it's my turn to nervously play with my cup now. "I just think that I'd rather get in on, like, merit or something rather than someone pulling strings."

"It would still be on merit." my mom replies. "Just a little helpful push as well. Not that I don't think you can get in based on your grades alone - we both know you can and will, but it doesn't hurt to have someone in your corner."

Someone in my corner. I have a couple of people I would put under that category, but my mom isn't one. Raymond - her soon to be husband who I've never even met before - isn't in that category either. I don't know if it's pathetic or laughable that my mom thinks I would consider either one of them as being in my corner. 

I guess my mom senses this, because she quickly starts trying to backtrack.

"I know I haven't been there for a while, Rylie, and I really wish I would've made more of an effort when your dad and I split up, but I want to be there more now." my mom says. This time when she reaches her hand out to grab mine, she actually does it. Her fingers are warm on mine, and her diamond ring is shining in the light right in front of me, almost like a cruel reminder of the reality we're in. "I want to come to your games to watch you cheer, and I want to go to the big moments of your life. That is, if you want me to."

Since the day my mom left, I've been waiting for her to come back and get me. The first night without her in the house, I kept my light on in case she came back for me. I actually did it for the first month until my dad finally confronted me, telling me I'm wasting time and energy - literally - waiting for my mom to come back. He told me she wasn't coming back, not for him, not for me, and at first I didn't believe him, but then weeks went by without a single phone call or check in of any kind. As they do, weeks turned to months, and still there was no contact. 

On my first birthday since she left, she called me. She wished me a happy birthday and told me she would come by when she had the chance, but she was working two jobs at the time and she didn't have a lot of extra time, and so she never actually came by. 

When I called her for her birthday that same year, she didn't even pick up the phone. I learned after that she had met Raymond then, not even a full year after divorcing my dad, and just like that, I realized my dad was right.

My mom moved on. We were too hard for her to love, she needed something easier, something better, so she went out and found it.

After that, the rare texts I got from her, stopped completely. She didn't check in with me, and I didn't check in with her. I was angry and confused and hurt, and I was young, but not young enough to know that it was her job as a parent to make sure I was okay - something that she wasn't doing at all.

By time last year rolled around, I had all but written her off. It was only in that one time of desperation, when the cutting and the beatings got bad enough, that I called her. But that call lasted ten minutes at most, and during that call, she told me that her and Raymond were getting married - and I wasn't invited.

So, yeah, sitting here with her now and hearing her tell me she wants to come back into my life kind of pisses me off. It makes me realize how much she wasn't there for. It makes me remember all those times dad hurt me and how when I was crying in my room praying for help, no one was there - not even her, the one person who should've been there to help me.

"Think about it." my mom says after a minute of silence between us. She glances down at her phone on the table, checking the time. "Shoot, I have to go, Rylie. I need to pick the boys up from practice."

My mom withdraws her hand from mine as she leans down to grab her purse, placing it on the table in front of her. She rummages through it until she produces a set of car keys and a pair of expensive looking sunglasses. My mom pushes the sunglasses onto her head and closes her purse, then glances back at me with a warm smile - an almost authentic one.

"I'll call you, okay? I want to do this again. I-I missed you." she says. She smiles at me, a wobbly, nervous smile, like the one's she used to give me when I walked into the kitchen when her and dad were having a fight. Back then I didn't understand her nervous eyes and her shaky movements, but now I'm the one who has to live like that and so I understand it better than she ever could. "Rylie?"

I realize then that I haven't said anything in a while. I've been staring at her with cold eyes, waiting for something to happen to make me feel better, but I don't think anything could right now.

Still, I suck it up and put on a good face for her.

"Yeah, I'd like that." I tell her. 

I watch as she walks towards the exit. She presses her phone to her ear as she walks, probably to call Raymond. No matter who it is, it doesn't change the fact that she doesn't look back, not even once. She walks through the exit door and just like that, I'm alone again, and once I am, I quietly whisper to myself.

"Bye, mom."

Chapter Text

Eli

For one of the first times since I've known her, I don't feel like seeing Rylie today. I hadn't planned on it anyhow, that is until she texted me asking to come over so that we could "talk", whatever that means. 

Given every stupid little thing Ry and I have been through, you would think I'd be eager to talk to her so we can sort out whatever bullshit is going on right now. That's how we've always dealt with our problems, by talking to one another to get to the root of the issue. 

Today, though? Today I want nothing more than to lay in my bed, music blaring through my earphones and just rot. Maybe read a book or play a videogame if I get bored, but more than anything I just want to be alone.

It's bad enough I've been torturing myself with all the thoughts and questions I have about Nate and my girlfriend, but if Rylie is to come here, those thoughts will all have to be voiced, and those questions will have answers and I'm not sure if I'll like those answers. Sometimes it's better to stay in the dark. Ignorance is bliss, right?

As soon as Rylie enters my room, she looks at me with an expression that tells me I should start justifying my case. She wants me to explain or defend what I did last week to her precious Nate. The only thing is, I want nothing to do with that right now, so I approach the situation in the only way I know how.

"Hi." I say to her. It's not really a great opener, it's a little awkward and weird, but I don't want to just launch into it either.

As expected, Rylie doesn't give me much either as a response. In fact, she gives me the exact same that I gave her.

"Hi." she says, her voice tense.

"How's it been?"

Rylie raises an eyebrow at me. "Really? That's what we're doing? We're pretending nothing happened and that things are fine? Because I don't really want to do that. I do that enough at home and with my friends already, I need more than that from you."

If we had been going through this fight a year ago, I would've crashed right now. I would've let my anger get the best of me and Rylie and I would have been yelling at one another right as she walked into my house. Since I'm not that guy anymore, I'm able to take a breath in and let myself try and keep the peace between my girlfriend and I. 

"Look, Ry, I'm not pretending nothing happened, I'm actually trying really hard to not make this into a huge thing, but I really need time to myself before I can talk to you about all this."

"Eli, you attacked Nate." she says as if I'd forgotten about it. "What the hell do you need to process with that? Like, do you need to make a new plan of attack before you can tell me about the old one?"

I thought maybe her and I could be adults about this, but clearly that's the last thing she wants, so, even though I know it's a bad idea and that I was trying to stay calm, I throw all that out the window and match her energy. So much for therapy helping, eh?

"I attacked him? The guy pulled me aside and told me some shit that you should've told me from the start and I reacted, and yeah, it wasn't the greatest reaction, and yeah, I never have the greatest reaction, but I didn't fucking attack him like I'm some rabid animal."

"Oh, so we can just fight whoever we want now because they say things that make us mad?"

"Now you're being dramatic."

"I'm being dramatic? You fought somebody! Again!"

"You know what's crazy? You never once thought to ask me what the fuck Nate could have said to get me to react like that."

"Who fucking cares! You shouldn't have reacted like that - ever. Nothing he could've said could warrant such a...such a deranged reaction."

"Deranged? Oh, that's rich coming from you. Because you're the epitome of normal."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I can't bring myself to say what I actually want to say. I want to tell her that the only reason she's so against physical violence is because she lives through it every day. I want to tell her that, even though it's not her fault, it's also not normal. She doesn't have any sense of a normal life, and the fact that she's here saying I'm deranged is next level crazy, but I can't bring myself to say any of that, so instead I give myself an easy out.

"You know what it means." I say to her. It still gets my point across without the betrayal of fully calling her out.

Obviously Rylie has been pissed off since even before she got here, but now she's at a different stage of angry - a worse one. Her voice is cold as she talks to me, each word dripping with pure anger and hate.

"Okay, well, I just wanted to come here and tell you how it went with my mom, but I guess that doesn't matter much anymore, does it?" she says as she snatches her bag that's on my bed beside her.

"Don't pull that card."

"I'm not pulling a card." she spits back, dropping her bag right back down, signaling that we're not even remotely close to done with this fight. "No one else knows about my shitty home life except for you, and so I wanted to come tell you - my boyfriend - what went on with my mom. Sorry for trying to include you in my life."

I know that dropping my hands in my head right now would make matters even worse than they already are, but, man, I can't fight the overwhelming urge to do it, so I don't fight it.

"Oh, you're stressed?" Rylie says, her tone angry. 

"Yes, Rylie, I'm stressed. This shit," I say as I snap my head up and gesture between us. "Stresses me out sometimes."

"Wow, it must be so hard on you to date me. Between all the fucking unhinged things I say or do, or the fights I get into on the daily, it must be hard." she says. "Oh, but wait, that's you who does those things, not me!"

"You're right. I do those things, but you know what I've never done? I've never outright lied to you about whether or not I've had sex before. I've never told you that I didn't, only to have someone else then tell you that I did in fact have sex, and that it was with them."

For the first time since she got here, Rylie pauses. When she speaks next, her voice is softer than before.

"Nate told you I slept with him?"

"I'm not the liar here, no reason to doubt me."

"I can't believe you believed him. No, no, I can't believe you didn't talk to me about it before now."

"Yeah, trust me, I had the same thought process." I say.

"Real mature, Eli." she says, that edge coming back to her voice. "You could've come to talk to me at some point rather than letting yourself get all in your head about it like you always do."

"Better to be in my head than someone's bed and lie, right?"

"I'm not a liar!"

"I didn't think so either, but then I started thinking back to last year. Like when you skipped school to go to Owen's, or-"

"That's so low of you to bring that up." she says. She grabs her bag from my bed and slings it over her should, throwing it so fast that it audibly slaps against her back. "You're really mean sometimes, Eli. And no, I didn't actually want to say mean, I wanted to say something worse, but unlike you, I don't just say whatever the fuck I want all the time because I actually have empathy for people."

I could've saved the entire fight here by saying two little words. I could've told Rylie I was sorry and that I overreacted and that, yeah, maybe she's right that I should've talked it through with her first. I could've done anything to make it better, but instead, because I'm me, I chose the exact way to make it worse.

"You seem to have given a lot more than just empathy to Nate."

Rylie stares at me, her mouth agape. Not only have I just insulted my girlfriend, but I've hurt her more than I thought I could. I watch as her eyes well up with tears, her mouth closing to a straight, wobbly line, and I know that as soon as she's out my front door, she's going to be sobbing in the streets of Toronto.

I know all of that to be true, and yet, I don't make any move to correct it still. My own heart isn't in a place where I can push it aside and make sure Rylie is okay, even when I know that it's selfish of me. I just can't bring myself to do it, no matter how much I know I should.

Rylie seems to see that as well, because she gives me one final look, then turns and heads out my room, slamming the door shut behind her as she goes. Not even five seconds later, the front door is being closed - albeit quieter than my door was - and her tears are probably already falling as my own start to populate my eyes.

Chapter Text

Rylie

Last night's fight with Eli is still lingering in my head 12 hours later. I told myself I would go to sleep and wake up feeling better about the whole thing, except when I woke up this morning it was still on my mind. I didn't even get a minute of peace before it kicked in either. Nope, I woke up and the whole thing popped right back into my head like a bad song on repeat.

I tried to push the entire thing out of my head as I got ready for school, and I did manage to for a bit, but only because my dad was in a bad mood this morning so that took over my thoughts. It wasn't bad enough today that I got slapped around or yelled at, I was lucky enough to only get a couple of remarks here and there. 

Still, the comments from my dad paired with the whole Eli thing has put me in a certified bad mood, one which is obvious from the look on my face.

I thought maybe no one would notice, however as soon as I walk into the front doors of the school, Nate falls in step with me. I don't actually look at him, but clearly he's looking at me because he voices his concerns right away.

"Uh-oh." Nate says. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Something like that." I mumble, keeping my eyes on the ground in front of us.

"Does it maybe have anything to do with my face?"

"Your face? Why would-" I start to say before I quickly cut myself off. When I look at Nate, I see exactly what he's referring to. An ugly bruise is spread across his left cheekbone. It's purple and blue, both colours so deep on his skin they almost look black. "Oh, Nate, I'm so sorry."

Nate waves me off as if it's nothing. "It's okay, really. I heard that Eli is a hothead, I guess I should've taken that as a warning to keep my distance."

"He's not, though."

"No?" Nate says, raising his eyebrows. "I heard he almost got expelled last year from fighting so many times."

My face flushes at this. It's true. Eli fought Owen on three different occasions last year, although I believe only two of them took place at school. Eli said each one was justified, and now that I know what kind of person Owen is, I'd have to say that I'm on Eli's side for this, but for Eli to go after Nate? That's a whole different story. This isn't a fight for a good cause, it's just jealousy.

"It's complicated." I say to Nate after a couple of seconds. I look at his bruise again and wince a little before I turn my attention towards opening my locker. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Uh, yeah, go back in time for me and stop me from getting my ass beat by a dude who is easily five inches shorter than me."

To my surprise - I laugh. Nate really did get his ass beat by a guy who's shorter than him - and easily too. There's just something so funny about how he's admitting it while also making fun of himself. It's not something Eli would ever do.

"I don't blame the guy." Nate says. "I would've beat my ass too."

I stop to look at Nate with my eyebrows raised. "Are you saying Eli had good reason to go after you?"

"I'm saying I don't blame him for seeing me as a threat." Nate replies. "If I were him, I'd want to throw hands too."

"Yeah, why's that?"

Nate put his arms high in the air, clasping his hands together as he stretches, leaning back into the hallway. His shirt pulls up as he stretches, exposing his abdomen and the trail of hair on it. 

Just as I'm about to tear my eyes away when Nate drops his arms and pulls back into his regular stance. Of course, he sees me looking and grins at me, a stupid knowing grin.

"No reason." Nate says, but truthfully I forget what we were talking about. "You have some time before class? Figured we could talk about why you're such a grumpy little Gus today."

"I'm not a grumpy Gus." I retort as I slam my locker closed which earns me a pointed look from Nate. "Okay, fine, maybe I'm a little grumpy."

"Come on." Nate says. He throws an arm around my shoulders as he steers us down the hall towards my first class.

As we walk, I feel everyone's eyes on us and I know what they're thinking. I'm with Eli and everyone knows it, yet here I am with my ex-boyfriend, walking down the hallway under his arm. It doesn't look great for anyone - especially me.

I try to shrug out from Nate's arm, but his arm doesn't notice because he clearly doesn't seem to notice. 

You know who does notice, though? The entire cheer team. We walk by them and I shoot them my best innocent and awkward smile. I'm met with a couple of the same smiles back, but for the most part I'm met with judgmental stares. 

Even the guys on Nate's team seem to be looking at us the same as my team is. Everyone regards us with a look of confusion and awe - except Owen. Owen is wearing this smug smile on his face, probably because he thinks I've broken up with Eli which must be a dream of his after all the shit Eli gave him last year.

Nate and I turn down the hall where my first class is. It's a quiet hallway where only a handful of people are, none of which look at us. We're nothing to these people and for right now, that's perfect.

"So, spill. What's going on?" Nate says as we sit side by side on a bench across from my first class.

I sigh. "Obviously it's the whole fight thing." I say, gesturing to his face. "He keeps doing this, and I get that sometimes it was for a good reason, but also I'm just, like, tired of it, you know? Like, obviously by now he knows that fighting solves nothing and yet he keeps doing it and I don't know why."

"I think you know why he started this one." Nate says as he gives me a pointed look. He's referring to Eli's clear jealousy that we saw come out that night we all went to the arcade. I swear I could actually see his face darken as Nate was talking that night, so it really was only a matter of time until something like this happened.

"I know, but, like, to do this days later with no other lead up is just...I don't know."

"Crazy?" Nate fills in for me. 

"No." I say sharply. "He's not crazy. He's just really...stupid, I guess, sometimes. Like, he thinks he has to worry about things in our relationship that he literally has no reason to worry about."

"Like me?"

"Exactly! It's almost like he doesn't trust me sometimes."

"Maybe he doesn't." Nate says.

I sit with the idea for a couple seconds. Could Eli really not trust me? I think he does. He acts like he does. And yeah, maybe in the past I've given him a couple of reasons to not trust me, like when I lied to everyone about him and I, or like when he heard me tell Mare I only want a good grade out of him, but that was a long time ago.

Besides those two situations, I've been honest about everything else. He's the only person I've ever told about the whole situation with my dad. He's also the only person who knows about my cutting too. 

I guess in the case of dishonesty vs honesty, I'm tied.

"Why don't we do something after school?" Nate offers. He takes the water bottle he's being holding and taps it lightly against my leg. "That way you can get your mind off things."

"No, I can't." I say almost instinctively.

"Because of Eli?"

"Well, yeah, he'd flip if he knew the two of us were hanging out alone, but also I already have plans to go to Mare's place after school." I tell him. "We're working on some cheer and student life stuff."

"And you can't do that any other time?" Nate asks, his eyes gleaming with hope.

It's funny. When Nate and I dated years ago, all I wanted to do was spend every second with him. I'd wait for him afterschool so we could walk home together. I kept my weekends free unless I knew he was busy already. I tried to be with him every second I could, and yet it never felt like he felt the same. Until now that is. 

Now he tries to get me alone as much as he can. He offers to drive me home after school, he tries to sit beside me in every class we have together. In gym class he runs beside me even though we both know he could lap me multiple times. He even tries to take all my free time afterschool and on weekends. If only he had done all this before.

"No, I already made plans and I'm not going to break them, like, four hours before I'm supposed to go." I say to him. 

"Okay...but I was going to take you to get popcorn then to that park with all the pigeons." he says. He bops my leg with his cold water bottle again.

"That's not fair. You know I love feeding those pigeons." I say. "And stop putting your cold, wet water bottle on me."

"Oh, this water bottle?" Nate asks as he holds it up, a grin on his face. He takes the bottle and hovers it right above my leg, threatening to put it against my skin again. "Is this the one you're talking about?"

"There's not another one." I say matter-of-factly. 

Nate's grin widens. "Ask nicely and maybe I won't put it on your leg."

"I already asked nicely!"

"No, you didn't. You ordered me to stop, you didn't plead for it."

There's no way he thinks I'm really going to plead or beg for him to stop putting his freezing cold bottle on my leg. I'd sooner shove the entire thing up a very choice place of his before I plead with him to stop touching me with his stupid bottle.

Nate dangles the bottle above my leg, moving it back and forth. 

"Well?" he says.

"Well, nothing." I reply. "You're not going to do it."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

We stare at each other as Nate's bottle continues to hover above my leg. Slowly, a grin spreads over his face and I know he's going to do it - and he does. The water bottle comes back down and presses against my skin, causing instant goosebumps all over my left thigh.

"You're gonna pay." I say to him as I grab his water bottle.

He holds onto it strong and pulls the bottle from my grip. It doesn't stop me, I still try and grab it again, and I almost do until he stands up. Nate holds the bottle up in the air way above what I can reach. It's not very fair of him seeing as how he's 6'1 and I'm only clocking in at 5'4. 

Being that I'm short and used to being able to reach absolutely nothing, I do the one thing I know will work. I jump. Of course Nate anticipates this move, so he moves his arm back even further to guarantee I won't be able to get close to it. I try again, jumping as I grab onto his arm and try to pull it down, but he's stronger than I am. 

I'm all but dangling off his arm when I hear a noise in back of me. I turn around and see Eli standing there watching us with a grim look on his face.

"Please, don't stop on account of me." Eli says, his voice cold. 

From behind me I hear the sound of Nate almost coughing on a laugh. I don't bother to turn and look at him. Right now my concern is Eli and Eli only.

"We were just playing around." I explain to Eli. "He kept putting his water bottle on-"

"No need to explain." Eli says. His eyes haven't left me yet, they bore into me making me feel weirdly vulnerable and nervous. "I'll leave you guys to it."

I start to protest, to tell Eli that I don't want him to leave, but he turns around and storms out the hallway before I can even manage to get a word out. A second later we hear the sound of the hallway doors being slammed open.

I fight with the idea of going after him. I could easily catch up to him and explain the whole situation, but what good would that do? He would just tell me to go back to Nate, or worse, he'd say nothing at all. 

Giving up, I slump back down onto the bench behind me.

And to think that today was actually starting to look good.

Chapter Text

Eli

Last year's whole situation with Owen and Rylie pissed me off more than I ever thought possibly, and I remember thinking to myself that nothing could get worse than that. ...And then Nate showed up. Ex-boyfriend, football star, pretty boy Nate. 

I told myself I was overthinking the whole thing. I know Rylie, I know what she's like, and she's not one to be disloyal. She's a faithful and sweet girlfriend, her loyalty and love never wavering.

But maybe I was wrong. 

Maybe I was love blind, caught up in a fantasy of what I wanted, rather than living in the reality that we're actually in.

Then again, maybe it's the alcohol talking. 

After spending hours in my room obsessing over Rylie and Nate, I decided I needed to turn my brain off, and I mean fully off. My pills help me to be able to control my thoughts and usually it works, but tonight I can't seem to shake any of the obsessive thoughts. It could be due to the lessened dose, or from the simple fact that I'm beyond pissed about the situation at hand, but either way, I decided I need to let myself out of my head tonight.

All week Adam had been talking my ear off about a club downtown that is lenient about checking IDs. He kept telling me that we should go this weekend because everyone was going this week, and I kept telling him that there was nothing he could do to get me to go to a club.

Turns out he didn't have to do anything, I talked myself into it myself. An endless supply of alcohol, friends, and music? Sounds like a distraction I need.

By time I get to the club, it's filled with Degrassi students along with what seems to be its regular crowd. There are people literally everywhere that I look. I see a group of people at the bar that I recognize, some of them from my math class, the others just from seeing them in the halls in general. 

It seems like the place where the most people are is on the dancefloor. There's an endless amount of bodies, jumping and twisting around together as the music booms loudly in the room.

I take a general look around, partially to see what's going on, and partially to make sure there's no one I know here - like my girlfriend. I'm about all clear on my basic scoping out and decide to make my way to the bar, when I turn and come face to face with Hanna. 

"Well, well, well." Hanna says with a troubling grin on her face. "What do you think you're doing here?"

"The same thing as you."

Until this moment, I've only seen Hanna as my right hand for the play. I've seen her as someone to bounce ideas off of, nothing else. Well, right now, that's changed. Now I can see her as much more than that. 

I take a moment to appreciate the way her dark brown hair falls against her shoulders, the dark curls spilling over onto her tan skin. Her dark, almond eyes have a smoothness to them that I've never bothered to notice before, but now I can't unsee them. Her high cheekbones and the freckle under her left eye are particularly endearing to me. I won't even go into the dress she's wearing, a tight red one that shows off every curve her body has.

But again, this could be the alcohol talking. 

Please let it be the alcohol talking.

"I didn't think this was your scene." Hanna says. She tilts her head a little to the side and takes a drink from the tiniest straw I've ever seen in my life. 

"It's not usually, but I needed it tonight."

"Oh?" she says, cocking an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

I try not to talk about my problems - ever. If I'm going through something, whether it's about myself alone, or Rylie, or anything else, I keep it in and I deal with it internally. In my head, all my problems are my own. If something shitty happens, like the whole scene I stumbled upon the other day, it's my business to deal with it. Why would I bother someone else with my feelings? The one exception I have is therapy, but even that I've managed to get my sessions lowered to twice a month instead of four times a month which is teaching me to deal with my own problems alone.

So, yeah, I could tell Hanna the whole bullshit situation going on, but what good would that do? She would tell me she's sorry, that Rylie sucks for acting how she's acting, and that would be that. It wouldn't solve the problem in the slightest, and God knows if Hanna's even able to keep her mouth shut, so I give her the easiest answer I can think of.

"It means I need 20 of whatever you're drinking." I say to her. "Actually, maybe I just need two of something 10 times stronger than your drink."

"Shot for shot?" Hanna says. "I'll take a shot for every one you take."

I'm not normally a huge drinker to begin with, so shots have never been my go to. I find them far too harsh to down, especially if there's multiple ones lined up, but as it stands, a couple of shots are exactly what I need tonight.

Hanna and I make our way over to the bar where she orders us three shots each. She orders us vodka, one lemon flavoured, one raspberry and the other mandarin. 

"Have you been here before?" Hanna asks as we watch the bartender pours our shots out in front of us.

"Nope, you?"

"Once or twice."

"Once or twice? You've hardly been back in Toronto and you've already been here?"

"Maybe I went before I left Toronto."

"What, when you were 12? 13?"

Hanna slaps a hand over my mouth. She glances sideways at the bartender who is still pouring our shots and doesn't seem to be paying attention to either of us at all.

"Wanna keep your voice down?" Hanna says quietly to me. She pointedly looks over at the bartender before glancing back at me. "This isn't exactly...legal." she says, the last word coming out as a whisper.

Hanna keeps her hand over my mouth until our bartender places our shots on the bar. Hanna grabs them, diving them evenly between the two of us, before she grabs one in her hand and offers me a devilish smile as she nods for me to pick one of my own up.

I take a deep breath out, trying to ready myself for the taste of the alcohol. I clink my shot against Hanna's then down it quickly, letting the bitterness course through me.'

Luckily, this is one of the better alcohols I've tasted in my day. There's still bitterness to it, but the mandarin flavour offers some sweetness, making it almost bearable. 

Bearable or not, Hanna picks up her second shot and tells me to do the same, which I do. We down them, then move onto the next shot, drinking that one as quick as we drank the others.

"That's exactly what this night needed." Hanna says.

I nod in agreement with her. The alcohol is making me feel freer - making all my problems feel like they're not really as big as I once felt they were. Overall, it's making me feel pretty fucking good.

"Well, that, and you." Hanna says. She reaches out and pokes me in the chest, which would be a friendly gesture if her hand didn't linger a couple seconds too long. "You want to dance with me?" Hanna asks, grabbing my hand before I can even agree to anything.

Sober me wouldn't hesitate to say no to her. Sober me doesn't dance with anyone except for my girlfriend. Drunk me, on the other hand, only wants to dance, and he wants to dance with whoever is closest by, especially if that person can seemingly see no wrong in me.

"Let's dance."

In the back of my head, I hear a warning. This place is crawling with people from Degrassi, some in my grade, some in hers. Everyone here, regardless of their age or grade level, has a phone in their pocket which they can use to record anyone here, myself included.

I'm about to give into the little warning in my head, when suddenly the thought of Rylie and Nate pops into my head. Did Rylie care the other day when she was pretty much climbing Nate in the middle of a hallway at school? Did she care when he dropped her off at her house after school, probably after spending hours in his car along together? Did she care at all about me during any time she's been alone with Nate? 

No. So I don't care either.

I let Hanna drag us out to the middle of the dancefloor. A couple of people near us shoot us - well, me - a weird look, probably wondering why I'm here with Hanna rather than with queen popularity, Rylie. 

Hanna and I dance together for a couple of minutes, during which I'm trying my best to put some form of distance between us when suddenly Hanna backs up, pressing her body against mine. An initial sense of panic sounds through me, telling me I need to get the hell out of here, and I almost do just that, yet something in me doesn't let me leave. 

Nope, instead, I close my eyes and I let myself lose myself in the music and the feeling. One of my hands comes out and places itself on Hanna's hip, and I pull her into me as my drunk brain tries to talk my rational self out of this entire thing.

The words repeating over and over in my head are "I shouldn't be doing this." I say them to myself on repeat, almost like a mantra and yet, I don't stop. I hold on tighter to Hanna, pulling her flush against me and I lose myself in the moment.

I let the alcohol take over and just like that, I feel free.

Chapter Text

Rylie

Marisol invites me over after practice again. Normally on a Monday I don't go out after school. I have enough going on at school already, plus my home life is shit and I don't like to chance getting in trouble for not being home enough, but as it stands, my love life is shit too and I bombed a test in history, so I needed the pick-me up.

We're sat on Marisol's bed, both of us on our phones when Marisol speaks up, asking me a question that immediately throws me into suspicious mode.

"Have you talked to Eli lately?"

"No." I say, my tone sharper than I intended for it to come out as. I'm holding a lot of bitterness right now towards my boyfriend but that doesn't mean I need to take it out on Mare, so I try my best to soften my tone. "He hasn't texted me back since Friday and I'm not going to chase after him."

Marisol does something very unlike Marisol - she hesitates. She opens her mouth to speak, then closes it right away. She keeps it closed until I nod at her, as if asking what's up.

"I don't think he wants you to chase him..." she says, trailing off at the end as she glances down at her phone.

"What does that mean?"

Marisol grimaces at me. Her free hand comes up and wraps around her other one as she holds her phone, pulling it into her chest in almost a protective stance. Clearly she doesn't want me to see whatever is on there.

Naturally, I need to see it now. I get right up in her personal space, leaning into her to try and look at her phone with her.

"Did he text you?"

Marisol shifts to put distance between us. She clutches her phone to her chest so that I can't grab it from her or look over at it.

"No, he didn't text me." she says. Even though her words are saying no, her eyes are telling a completely different story. One that I need to know.

"Come on." I plead, trying to lean in even more. "Show me what he said."

"He didn't say anything."

"Mare!"

"Seriously, he didn't text me."

I lean back, putting a little bit of space between the two of us.

Mare is saying she doesn't think he wants me to chase him, thus implying she knows something I don't, and yet he didn't text her or tell her anything, so where the hell is she getting this information from?

I guess Marisol quickly realizes that this is something she needs to share with me, because she straightens up and takes a deep breath before speaking.

"You have to promise not to freak." she says, causing me to freak.

At least my freaking out is all internal. Alarm bells sound off in my head and I find my brain going to the worst possible scenarios. Did Eli murder Nate? Did Nate murder Eli? Did Eli have a full breakdown and burn the school down? Or maybe he had a breakdown and is slandering me online on every forum and social media page he can find.

Despite all these thoughts running through my head, I do my best to remain calm on the outside. 

With the most stoic face I can manage to hold, I tell Marisol I won't freak out and I ask her to show me whatever the hell it is she's looking at.

"Okay, but before I do, it really looks like nothing, so-"

"Just show me, please." I say, cutting her off. The knot in my stomach is only getting bigger with each passing second and I don't know how much longer I can keep waiting for.

Marisol hands her phone over to me. There's a video playing on her screen. In the video I can hear the sound of loud dance music, the kind Eli doesn't like. There's people dancing all over the filled room, and for a second I'm starting to wonder why Mare made me promise not to get mad over random people dancing.

And then the video flashes across a face I know; a face I love. Eli is in the middle of the room, dancing. It wouldn't be so bad on it's own, except for the fact that he isn't dancing alone. There's a girl with him, someone I vaguely recognize but her hair is over the majority of her face and I can't make out enough of her face to place where I know her from. The girl sways her hips with the beat of the music as Eli does the same, both of them pressed so close together that there isn't a doubt in my mind that their bodies are touching one another. 

Just when I think it can't get worse than seeing another girl grind on my boyfriend, I watch as Eli's hand goes to her hip and he pulls her into him more. 

I watch the video over again and again, making sure that I'm really seeing this happen and that it's not some figment of my imagination. Each time, the same thing happens. Eli and the girl dance, and Eli pulls her into him. Again and again.

After about the fourth or fifth time, Marisol carefully takes the phone from me. I watch as she turns the screen off, the phone going black.

"It's just dancing." Marisol says weakly. "Right?"

She's right. It is just dancing. But it's Eli dancing. With another girl. Close. And it makes me sick to my stomach to see it.

For once in my life, I don't know what to say. I want to be understanding of Eli and his actions, but my own feelings are over-riding everything I want to feel. My mind is doing a violent tug-of-war over my thoughts, and honestly, the bad thoughts are winning.

"Who even posted that?" I manage to choke out.

"Um," Marisol says as she opens her phone up again to check. Her eyes flicker back to me, her face paling. "Owen posted it."

"Owen? Like Owen, Owen?" I ask, eyes wide.

"Yeah, Owen Owen."

"Okay..." I say slowly as I try to gather my thoughts. "So, if Owen posted it, then maybe..."

Marisol shakes her head at me. "No, Owen didn't trick him into this or something. Owen's a dick, obviously, but Eli would never fall for Owen's crap."

"But-"

"Rio." Marisol says, her voice taking on a stern edge. "There's no excusing it. There's no work around. As much as you want there to be one, there isn't."

My chest tightens as she talks. She's right and we both know it. I'm looking for a way to justify it; to make sense of it. That way, it won't be Eli's thoughts and actions that led to him grinding with some random girl, it will be someone else's doing and I'll be able to forgive Eli because he didn't know what he was doing. 

But Eli did know. He went out and danced with some girl knowing full well he's in a relationship and that what he did would make me uncomfortable. 

Maybe he did it to punish me for all the bullshit that's been going on with Nate. Maybe he did it because he wants to break up with me but doesn't want to be the bad guy, so if he does this shit I'll break up with him and he's off the hook.

Maybe he did it because he just felt like doing it.

"Are you going to talk to him about it?" Marisol asks.

"Honestly? I don't know." I tell her. I flop down onto my back beside her on the bed and close my eyes as I try to manage my conflicted emotions. "What the hell am I even supposed to say? Like, "hey, I saw you dancing with some random bitch. What's up with that?"'

"Yeah, why not say that?"

"Because it makes me sound childish. And jealous."

"So?"

"So, I don't want Eli to see me like that." I say. Never mind the fact that he in fact has seen me like that a million times. He's seen me way worse than that and he's still stayed, but something in me wants to not be seen so vulnerable. "He's never like that and I feel like I always am."

To my horror, Marisol laughs. She actually laughs. I'm being vulnerable and spilling my heart out and she giggles over it.

"Why are you laughing right now?" I growl.

"Rio." she says while still grinning. "You've seen Eli lose his temper and beat the shit out of people more than once. He's been childish with you so many times, and you're worried about you looking remotely bad? Get a grip."

I know there's some truth in Marisol's words, but I also know that she doesn't get Eli like I do. She doesn't see his calm, cool demeanor when things go wrong. She doesn't see him fix every single problem I have, doing it with grace and acceptance. 

Instead, Marisol will always see the impulsive Eli. Even now that they're friends, she sees his good qualities, but the impulsiveness and the anger is always going to be her first and most prominent impression of him, so of course she doesn't understand.

I could argue the point with her and tell her everything I'm thinking, yet I don't want to do that. I don't want to skew her perception of Eli even if it's for the better. That version of Eli is my version - and I'm protective over it.

So, I just agree with her.

"Yeah..." I say softly. "You're right."

Marisol looks at me, gauging my mood - which clearly she can see isn't good. Usually she takes on a more assertive and domineering stance, but in this moment, she's softer with me.

She nudges me softly, offering a supportive smile.

"Go talk to your boyfriend." she says. "He made a mistake, but he loves you, you know that. Go connect with him."

My eyes are filling up with tears with each word she speaks. By time she's done her sentence, I'm almost full on crying. I stare at a loose thread on her blanket, picking at it to try and seem like I'm occupied it, but we both know I could care less about it or anything else right now.

When my throat stops hurting and I'm finally able to speak again, I look up at her with my tear-filled eyes and ask her the one question I've been dreading to say out loud.

"What if I don't want to go connect with him? What if I can't?"

Anyone else would've given me some rose coloured, fantasy answer to help me feel better, but this is Marisol we're talking about. This is the same Mare that watched The Notebook with me 13 times after Nate and I broke up, crying each time with me. She's the one who stood by me when there were rumours about me at school in grade seven. She stood by me when the whole Owen thing happened, and she continues to stand by me everyday. When push comes to shove, Marisol is there, and Marisol is honest.

"If you feel like can't connect with him," she says. "Then you have to break up with him."

Chapter Text

Eli

I already knew I fucked up. 

The next morning after we went out dancing, I woke up to Hanna in my bed beside me. My heart jumpstarted and I all but leaped out of my bed in fear of what I'd done. It only took several seconds after that for my memory of the night before to come back to me.

After dancing for a couple of hours, I told Hanna I'd walk her home. Her place is only a 25 minute walk from my place, and drunk me doesn't mind any walking distance, so we set off to her place. Everything was going good for the first ten minutes of our walk, and then she realized she didn't have her keys on her, and waking her parents up was not an option.

I should've brought her home still. I should've walked her there and woken her parents up, or I should've brought her to a friends place. Anything else, really. But instead, I brought her to my place. I let her have my bed, telling her I'd sleep on the couch so that she could sleep off the alcohol and the wild night, but she begged me to stay beside her until she falls asleep, yet since I was also in the same state as her, I ended up falling asleep beside her rather than on the couch like I had intended to.

Obviously, nothing happened, but I know that won't mean much when I tell that to Rylie. 

I still let a girl that isn't my girlfriend spend the night in my house - in my bed. Worse than that? I also slept in that same bed. 

I'm not a shitty enough person to try and bury it, though. I'm also not shitty enough to let the issue linger, which is how I find myself at Rylie's front door first thing Tuesday morning.

I know I should've come here earlier, like the very next day after the fact, but I'm only human. I didn't know what to say or how to deal with all the lingering resentment on both ends, so I took the weekend to rehearse - lame I know.

I pray all my rehearsing will come in handy and force myself to ring the doorbell before I can convince myself to run instead.

Almost as if she had been expecting me to come by, Rylie swings the door open within a second of me ringing the bell. 

To say she looks pissed would be the understatement of the year. Rylie's eyes are dark and narrowed at me as soon as she looks at me. Her entire face is skewed with anger - which is justified, only seeing her look at me like this makes me want to crawl into the middle of the road and let a car hit me. Since that's not an option - or at least not an appropriate one - I suck it up and start the groveling ritual.

"I messed up." I say. 

Rylie crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the doorframe. "You think?"

"I was pissed about you and-"

"Eli, when aren't you pissed about me and someone?" Rylie says with a sigh. "Last year it was Owen-"

"Which was completely valid seeing as how-"

"I don't care if it was valid or not. You still lost your mind, and I know I shouldn't say that given everything, but sometimes it feels like you do lose your mind and go...crazy. And yeah, Owen was justified, but Nate? He's just a friend!"

"But he's not! He's trying to ruin everything we've worked so hard to build."

"So that means you can go dancing and have random girls grind up on you? Who the fuck even was that?"

"She's..." I start to say before I stop myself. 

What can I even call Hanna? She's not exactly a friend. She's the person I'm working on the play with - which Rylie should know - but I can't exactly say that either right now. If Rylie thinks there's something going on between Hanna and I, she'll lose her mind knowing we're spending easily two nights after school together working late hours. But then again, I don't want to lie to my girlfriend either, at least not fully, so I give her half of the truth.

"She's someone in the play." I say.

Rylie narrows her eyes at me as if she doesn't believe me. 

"Really?" she says. "Who?"

"She's like the behind-the-scenes runner." I say, which isn't exactly a lie. Hanna deals with a lot of the behind the scenes stuff, like helping characters into their outfits, or making sure all props are where they should be so that when our show does happen, we'll be fully functional without a doubt of things going good. 

"So, you're not close?"

"No, not really."

"Not really?" Rylie repeats, eyebrows raised. "You go out dancing with people you're "not really" close to a lot?" she says, finger quoting my words back to me.

"I didn't go out dancing with her. I was out, she was there, we danced."

"Then she was pressed against you, throwing it back and you didn't seem to mind."

Rylie is throwing cheap shot after cheap shot at me. I'd be upset if I didn't deserve it, but we both know I deserve it for this one. I fucked up and there's video proof all over the internet.

"I had a couple of drinks and we were dancing, I kind of...let it happen, I guess, and I know I should've stopped her-"

"You should've stopped her? You're the one who put your hands on her."

"I know, bu-"

"But you don't know!" she cries. Her eyes start to get watery and by the sound of it, she's trying really hard not to cry right now. "You don't know what it was like to open my phone and see a video of you dancing with some random girl. That hurt, Eli. And you're here trying to defend it rather than apologize or-"

"Rylie, the very first thing I did was apologize."

"No, you didn't. You said you messed up, but you never apologized for it. You didn't even tell me why you did it, and worst of all, you never said you wouldn't do it again."

"Obviously I won't do it again, come on, Ry."

"But it's not obvious. I don't live in your head, I don't know what you think or what's obvious to you. Sometimes I feel like I don't know anything about you, especially when you do shit like this."

I know she's right, but my ego had stepped in to fight this fight with me, and as it turns out, my ego has more strength than I realized. My ego can't let me admit I'm wrong because it's holding onto all the resentment I've been storing over Rylie and her so called "friend", Nate. 

I guess I should consider myself lucky, because instead of allowing me time to actually apologize, Rylie keeps talking, leaving me no room to say anything. 

"I need some time, Eli." Rylie says. Her entire demeanor has changed from a mere 30 seconds ago. Now, all the anger has left her and she's filled with something different now - something that feels worse. At least when we're fighting, I know she cares, but right now she looks like she could walk away from this and never come back. "This has been a lot, and I know I can't fault you because of...you know, but I'm also tired of it. I'm tired of defending my choices and I'm tired of fighting."

That rational part of my brain that tells me when I need to take a breather to calm down and think things through switches off. It happens sometimes, like when I'm panicked over something big - something like losing the one thing I never want to lose.

I guess in hindsight I should've realized early that losing Rylie is not an option for me, and I should've just bent myself to her will to keep her from every trying to leave me. I should've told her she was right, that Nate is not a threat. I easily could've fucked with him behind her back, there's no reason I had to involve her. God knows if I hadn't said anything to her, we'd still be fine, and I need us to be fine.

The truth is, even if Rylie thinks I come across as sure of myself and confident, I'm not always that. I get scared - mainly about losing her. I would do anything I need to in order to keep her in my life, even if it means fucking up someone else's or putting myself in constant agony.

So, I backtrack as best as I can.

"We'll stop fighting." I tell her, my tone desperate. "You're right, okay? I got too in my head about the whole Nate thing and I let it affect my actions, but Ry, I swear it won't happen again. I'll get rid of Hanna and we can be like how we were again, okay? I won't let anything get in between us. Ever."

Instead of swooning like I thought she would, Rylie is looking at me with an even worse look than before. She's sunken into the door even more, putting space between us, and her eyes are holding a look I've only see a couple of times before, mainly when she's at home with her dad.

"I need some time." she repeats, this time quieter than before. She glances nervously behind her, then takes a step back, putting even more space between us. The front door hovers between us, her hand on the knob as she slowly inches it forward. "I'll see you at school, okay?"

She gives me one last look then she shuts the door, quickly and softly, leaving me there to deal with the realization of what I just saw. 

She's scared.

She's scared of me.

Chapter Text

Rylie

It's no secret that things have been...tense lately with Eli. It seems like we've fallen into this weird spot that neither of us knows how to get out of, and every time we do try to get out, we only dig ourselves deeper down into the problem. 

Things took a turn for the worse the other day when he come over to my place to apologize. Well, I say apologize, but he didn't actually do that, instead he kind of just talked his way around an apology. But that wasn't even the worst part of it. Nope, the worst was the end. He started spewing off some weird stuff about us being together no matter what, his words all caught up as he continued to ramble. Even that wasn't the worst part, though. 

The worst part was the way he looked. His eyes were so...haunted. He looked like he had actually gone mad, and it scared the shit out of me.

He was talking about us being together as if he would do anything - and I mean anything to make it happen. I'm not going to lie, I got pretty scared for both Nate and the girl in Eli's play. He said he would "get rid of her", which I'm not entirely sure what he meant by that, however I'm also not entirely sure I'd like to find out either.

I've tried to shake his words and the look he had out of my head, but it's hard to do considering I've never seen Eli like that before. 

I remember one time I was talking to his mom, Cece while he went out to pick up supper for us. Cece was telling me about Julia, Eli's ex-girlfriend. She told me about how they were together, how much they matched one another's character. She was going on about it, telling me all the things Eli won't, when she let something slip.

After Julia passed away, Eli was in a dark place. Completely understandable. His girlfriend had just died, he was in shock, dealing with such anger and confusion and at a young age too. His symptoms for bipolar disorder were starting to show, and they were coming out in scary ways. Cece told me that Eli would often go driving at night, usually for long periods of time, and when she asked him what he was doing, he confided in her about all the risky things he was doing. 

He would push his gas pedal all the way down, pushing his car to as fast as it could go, so fast the steering wheel would shake, and he'd close his eyes. He said he wouldn't keep them closed for long, just a couple of seconds, but just enough to feel the fear. 

He would skip school for days on end, sometimes even weeks. He would shoplift, taking things he didn't need in order to feel a rush.

I already knew some of the stuff he did, like the casual promiscuity and the light substance abuse, but hearing his mom tell me all this, watching the way her heart broke as she told me it, it really put into perspective how much Eli has been through. 

Because of that, I've always given him a break when it comes to things like his temper or any issues going on, yet I can't find it in myself to forget what he did with that girl, and the weird way he acted the other day.

It's a given, then, that things are awkward between us. Especially now, as we sit side by side in class, not talking.

Eli said hi to me when he came in today, albeit it was a very awkward, almost performative hi. I issued one back, but my voice came out all weird and I think it made both of us feel even more weird about the whole situation, so here we are, not talking.

I figured it'd be fine since we're in class, listening to the teacher talk, but 30 minutes before the end of class, our teacher told us that we're free to talk and work as long as you're talking quietly to your desk mate. 

Neither Eli nor I say anything for the first minute or two. We both hyper focus on our work, until Eli drops his pen and leans back and lets his head dangle back over the edge of his chair. I let myself sneak a quick look at him, appreciating his good looks.

His hair - that was dyed darker last year - is now returned to its natural brown colour. There're some faint lighter brown highlights in it from this summer when I put lemon juice in our hair and made us sit outside in the sun to "dye" our hair. It didn't really work as well was I thought it would, but Eli seemed to like it. I still remember the way he showed his mom, bending his head down all proud to show her his hair.

Now the colour has faded, but he still looks good with it. Hell, he looks good with anything. Even the clothes he's been wearing, the slightly less black, looks amazing on him. 

All in all, Eli is a good-looking guy. I can see other girls notice too whenever we go out or when we're walking down the hallway. They fawn over him, and he doesn't even notice.

"I can feel you staring at me." Eli says to me, causing me to quickly look away as I blush. He doesn't even crack an eye open or glance my way, so the fact that he can feel me looking at him gives me goosebumps. 

"I wasn't staring." I say even though I indeed was. 

"Were to." he shots back. "I felt it."

"You can't feel like I'm looking at you."

Eli finally opens his eyes to look at me. There's a hint of a smile on his lips as he tilts his head forward.

"I obsessed over you for months, you really think I'm not fully in tune to what you're doing and feeling?"

"You didn't obsess." I mumble. 

Eli's mouth turns up into that signature smirk of his, the one that makes myself and other girls lose their mind.

"I still obsess." he says. 

There's a hint of humour behind his words, however we both know that he means it genuinely. I'm sure he's spent every waking minute thinking about the other day, as have I, but I know he's tortured himself over the whole thing. Because of that, I have half a mind to let him off easy, however Eli's taught me to validate how I'm feeling by being open and honest with it, so I do just that.

"I'm still mad, just so you know." I sat matter-of-factly.

Any semblance of happiness drops from Eli's face. I think maybe that's one of the things I've always liked best about Eli. He doesn't fake it. If he's upset, you know it. So, when I tell him I'm still upset, he doesn't pretend like it's not a big deal or fake a smile, instead he lets me see him for exactly how he's feeling.

"I figured as much." Eli says, his voice tenser than before.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It doesn't mean anything deeper than what I said. I figured you were still mad. Highly doubted one half casual conversation in English class would fix everything." he says. "And I'm sure my mad rambling the other day at your place didn't help my cause either."

I wasn't sure if one of us was going to bring up how he was the other day. Honestly, I had tried my best to forget it, figuring that Eli would brush it under the rug or would blame his medication or something on it. I definitely wasn't expecting him to bring it up, and especially not in class where we're surrounded by people.

"I am sorry about that." Eli says. "I was having a rough day and, well, you know I have to catch myself when I get in those moods, but this time I wasn't able to. I let myself spiral a little too much."

"It's okay." I tell him.

"It's not."

I don't know what else to say to this, because he's right, it's not okay, but I don't want to say that right now so instead I grab my pencil and I sketch a little arrow on the corner of my notebook. It's lopsided, so I try to fix it, but I end up making it worse before I draw a little box around it and colour it in with my pencil.

Even though I don't know what to say about the whole situation, I still do want to talk to Eli. I crave that connection we have, the one that allows us to be completely ourselves with one another, so I muster up all the strength I have and reach out to him.

"Maybe...maybe if you want, we can do something this weekend?" I say. 

"I'm having a guy's weekend with Adam."

Due to the current events happening lately, I find myself asking a clarifying question that I never felt the need to ask before.

"Just Adam?"

Eli catches the meaning in what I'm asking him. He knows I need reassurance that it's only Adam with him this weekend and not someone else, someone like this Hanna girl.

"Yes, just Adam." Eli says.

"What're you guys doing?"

"We're going to that convention I told you about a month ago, the one that Adam really wanted to check out. We're leaving Friday night, we'll probably go out for a bit, then the convention is Saturday. I'll be home early Sunday if you're free and want to do something."

I'm pretty sure I remember Eli mentioning something like this weeks ago. I think Eli said it was a convention for some show or game or something that Adam got Eli into. If I recall correctly, it was original an older videogame that's coming back to popularity now that they created a TV show for it.

I also remember that Eli said it was in Montreal, which means they have easily a five hour drive there and back. If they're coming back early like Eli said then that means they're leaving first thing in the morning which means they're hardly going to sleep, especially considering the fact that they'll probably be at the convention late Saturday.

"Won't you be tired?" I ask Eli. I really want to see him, but I also don't want to drain the poor guy either.

"Yeah, probably."

"Then you should rest, no?"

"I can rest some other time. We've hardly spent any time together lately."

I still want to advocate for him and tell him that he should rest, but I don't want him to take it the wrong way. And plus, I selfishly really want to see him.

"Okay, yeah. I can be there Sunday." I say. 

I want to ask Eli if we can talk about everything going on, but I find myself hesitating. We're having such a nice, normal conversation, I don't want to say anything that could potentially push it over the edge.

As it turns out, I don't need to worry about starting the subject of our talk, because Eli sees me nervously biting my lip and takes the initiative to lead us where I'm unable to.

"We'll talk Sunday, Ry, and I mean really talk. I think we need it."

To my horror, my throat feels dry at the mention of this. Just the fact that Eli knows what I need to hear right now and is willing to say it, is enough to make me emotional.

In the grand scheme of things, Eli is a really good boyfriend. He's attentive and caring, he always has my best interest at heart and he stands up and fights for me when I'm unable to do it myself. He's always there for me if I need anything, even to the point of providing for me before  I even need it, like when he can see I'm low on water so he refills my bottle for me, or like when he knows it's cold out so he brings one of his sweaters to school to me since he knows I run cold. 

I've never once doubted him nor our relationship until the last couple of days with the whole dancing situation, and even though my heart hurts for us, I know we can make it through. We have to.

Chapter Text

Eli

The convention kills. We got there early, right as doors opened so we would have more time to look around, which as it turns out was a great idea because the size of the place and the amount of things going on in it were more than either of us expected. 

Not only were there people dressed in crazy accurate costumes, but there were also people selling homemade things from the franchise. Adam bought a pin from a booth that had a cute girl at it, which I'm sure is the reason he bought the pin in the first place. He also got a shirt from another booth which he put on right away since he felt like we weren't dressed the part.

We walked around for hours, taking in every corner of the place. We did the games that they had, we spun prize wheels, we talked to people who are also huge fans, and then when we realized that we were dragging our feet from one place to the next, we decided to call it quits.

Our hotel for the night is only a 15 minute walk from the venue, and seeing as how it's a nice night out, Adam and I decide to walk it. Granted, our legs feel like there's 20 pound weights attached to each of them, but we'd rather take the effort to walk than to try and get a cab right now given the fact that everyone seems to be leaving the convention and getting in one.

We manage to make it down the second street before Adam brings up the dreaded topic, the one we managed to avoid all day long until now.

"You're an idiot for the Hanna thing." Adam says to me. "Absolute idiot. Just thought I'd let you know."

I glance sideways at him. Both of us are too tired to really get into this, Adam just needs to express himself and I need to try and take it not so personally.

"Yeah, I realized that already, thanks."

"I don't think you realize just how dumb you are." Adam continues on as if I hadn't answered him. "You have Rylie Manson. You know how many guys want her?"

"I know of one." I say under my breath.

"Dude." Adam says in that scolding tone he uses whenever I'm being petty or stupid, which apparently is right now.

"What?"

"You need to let it go or whatever."

"What?"

"The whole Nate thing. Let it go." he says, dragging out the 'o' sound.

"Easier said than done. Besides, if you-"

"Nope."

"Nope?"

"Nope, don't give me scenarios. I wouldn't let some guy come between me and my very beautiful, very loved girlfriend. You knew when you got with her that she's wanted by everyone, now it's time to deal with it."

"Yeah? And how should I do that? By just letting it go?" I say, mimicking the way he said it moments prior.

Adam throws me a lopsided grin and is about to make what I can only assume is another smart ass comment, except instead something catches his eye behind me. His brows furrow together as he takes it in, and I watch as his eyes search around frantically.

"What the hell is going on over there?" he mutters,

I turn and look at the scene that's caused him to pause, and as I do, I find my own eyes lighting up at the sight of it.

The street behind us is in a state of total chaos. There's garbage bins strewn in the road, there's spray paint all over the road as well, different sentences scrawled out in bright, bold red paint for anyone to see. There's groups of people wearing all black, some with bandanas over their faces, and in the middle of all this sits a car. On fire. A black flag is waving overtop the burning car, and in the middle of the black flag is a red circle with an 'A' in it.

"What the hell flag is that?" Adam muses out loud as we continue to stay rooted where we are to watch the burning car.

Before I can open my mouth to answer Adam, a new voice joins us.

"It's the symbol for anarchists." 

Two guys and a girl, all of which look a couple of years older than Adam and I, stand beside us. The guy and girl furthest from us look like they're siblings. Both have jet black hair, however the girl has a section that is dyed bright red. Both of them are tall with slim faces and the same blueish-grey eyes. The guy closest to me, the one who spoke to us, is a shorter white dude with sandy blonde almost brownish hair that is buzzed short. I'm not sure if he's wearing eyeliner or if he's just sleep deprived, but either way, these people are exactly what I'd imagine people in an anarchy group would look like.

I glance to Adam and see he's having the same thoughts as me. He's looking the three of them up and down, his eyes widening at the giant, black spiked boots the girl is wearing. All three of them are dressed in some level of black, and all of them must have at least 10 different pockets in their clothing. I'm not really keen to find out whats in those pockets.

"Are you guys...part of this?" Adam says, breaking the silence first.

The guy closets to us grins, flashing us an almost smug smile. "Part of it, but I'd say the government started it."

"The government set the car on fire?" Adam asks, a confused look on his face.

The guy looks at me now. Just by the way he's looking at me, I can tell he thinks Adam doesn't get it, but he knows I do, and weirdly enough, I do find myself getting it.

"Metaphorically they started it." I say to Adam. "They started it by upholding rules and regulations only when it benefits them."

"You get it." the guy says. He extends his hand out for me to shake, which I do. "Vaughn."

"Eli. This is Adam."

Vaughn nods to Adam as a hello before stepping back to gesture to his two friends. "This is Kade and Teagan. Are you new to the scene?"

"This scene?" I ask, glancing at the burning car not too far from where we're all standing. "No. No, I'm not in the scene at all, not even remotely close."

Vaughn gives me an up and down glance, and I instantly know what he's thinking. Here I am, dressed like these guys, standing near the symbolic burning car, and yet I'm not in the anarchist scene. 

"Not even remotely close." Vaughn repeats. "Not your style?"

"Uh, no." I say, looking back at the car. It's now more engulfed in flames than before to the point where the entire car is covered. "We're actually still in high school."

"I was in high school when I first joined in." Teagan says. "That's the best time to do it. You're too young to deal with real repercussions. It's once you're an adult that you need to be more careful, but before that you can get away with so much more."

"Yeah..." I say slowly. "But there are also repercussions to any action."

Kade speaks up next.

"Do you not want to fight for the wrongs in the world? For all the people who are getting stepped on for those who want to get even higher in the world? The one percenters of the world have a tight grip on society, and no one is doing any fighting against them." 

"How does lighting a car on fire fight anything?" I retort. I get it - at least I think I do - but the public destruction of something to this degree doesn't exactly sit right with me either. There's a lot of people that could get hurt because of what they've done, and in my opinion, it's not exactly justifiable without a good reason behind it.

"It teaches them to be afraid in the way that they've made everyone else afraid. The destruction of an object isn't nearly as bad as the destruction of lives." Vaughn says. "A riot is the language of the unheard."

"We're fighting back against the injustice of the world - would you be quiet and peaceful, or would you be loud and destructive to call attention to the cause?" Kade chimes in. He has this passion in his eyes when he talks, just like Vaugh and Teagan, and it lights something in me, some excitement by proxy. 

Adam doesn't seem to be sharing the same sentiment. He actually backs away from the group, walking down the block a little to where a bench is where he grabs a seat. He nervously glances at me every so often, it's clear from his body language that he's not a fan of this and he doesn't think I should be either, yet we both know I'm intrigued. 

"I think we made him uncomfortable." Teagan says with a grin akin to a wolf. 

"Yeah, I should probably go with him, we have an early morning tomorrow." I tell the group. I know an out when I see one. 

They try for a couple more minutes to recruit me, before eventually figuring out that I'm not interested in this exact moment. Maybe if they had caught me before the non-stop nine hours of convention we'd be having a different conversation.

Before I leave, Vaughn gives me a card. The front of the card is all black except for a red A in a circle, just like the one on the flag that's now catching fire. The back of the card has a location on it which I can only guess is either where they meet up, or it's the next location where they're going to set a car on fire. Either way, I slip the card in my pocket, say my goodbyes and catch up with Adam.

As we walk away from the group and from the burning car, I can't help but feel a weird tingling sensation in my brain as I mull over the idea of anarchy. It's the power behind it, the idea of meeting injustice with your own version of injustice. It's fighting fire with fire - sometimes literally. 

"That was weird, eh?" Adam says once we're out of earshot from the group.

I agree with him, albeit halfhearted. I'm too busy trying to calm the excitement that is piquing in my body.

Anarchy may just be the answer to all my questions.

Chapter Text

Rylie

With everything going wrong in my life lately, I find myself surprised to see that the only thing going right seems to be my mom.

Never in my life did I think we'd have a relationship again. After she left my dad, I figured that was it, I'd never see her again. I'd forever be stuck at home with my shitty father and I'd have to wonder what kind of life my mom was having. When she first left, I actually did that.

I pictured her somewhere warm with a beach, like Cabo or Fiji. In my imagination, she lived in a cute but small two story bungalow that was white with teal shutters and a teal door. She had a screen door that let the draft in and she always walked around barefoot, even though she would bring sand into her house from the beach, but she didn't care.

In this imagination, she had a boyfriend but he wasn't anything like Raymond. His name was Sammy and he was a surfing instructor who spent his days in the water. My mom took one of his classes, but she's not the most coordinated, so she ended up falling right into him, and since then, they fell in love and have been together for years.

The thing I pictured most in this fake life of hers was how much she missed me. She had a photo of me next to her bed and she would look at it every night before bed and even morning as soon as she woke up. She'd think of calling me to invite me down, but she didn't want to mess my schedule up, so she kept her longing to herself so that she didn't have to hurt me.

The fake life I created for my mom kept me going as well. Whenever I was having a rough time with my dad, I'd close my eyes and I'd be at the beach with my mom, both of us with our toes in the warm sand and not a care in the world.

By time I turned 13 I stopped imagining her life. I would forget for months and then one day I'd have a passing thought of it and I'd feel bad, like I forgot about her, and so I'd close my eyes and check back in with her, but it wasn't the same. At that point I knew about her new life with Raymond and her step-kids, my step-brothers. My mom didn't need an imaginary life anymore, her real one was good enough.

When I turned 15, I stopped imagining it altogether. Instead, I pictured my own fake life, however it wasn't as bright or exciting as my mom's was - real or fake. I decided then that I had to stop living in a fantasy and live in a reality, and the reality was, I had a bad dad and no mom.

Until now. Now I still have my shitty dad and all the bad things that revolve around him, but at least I have my mom.

Okay, I don't really have her like I wish I did. She's still not overly present in my life and she still has her new family that she clearly loves more than her old one, but I do get to see her every couple of weeks now. 

I thought last time would be the last time I saw her. Even though she told me she wanted to see me again and told me she had the best time, I still figured it was a one off. I thought she'd go back to her life and forget about me just like she did years ago, but instead she texted me a week later asking to plan another meetup. I texted her back right away telling her I'd love to, to which she replied asking me to meet her at a bakery we used to go to when I was younger, which is exactly what we ended up doing.

We spent the last three hours together at the bakery. We tried all of their cookies and we each got a latte. My mom got their ultra vanilla latte whereas I went with their salted caramel one, which was even better than I remembered it being.

This time we ended up talking more about me than we did her. My mom bombarded me with questions about my life, asking me everything from my favourite subject in school to my plans for school next year. She told me that she'd come visit me in my dorm when I go to Brock, even going as far as to say she'd love to have me come to her place during the Christmas break.

By time I walk back into my house, I'm all but floating. I have a pep in my step that should carry me through the next week, however it's short lived because as soon as I get home, I realize that I'm not alone in the house. 

My dad's voice calls me from the kitchen. His voice is tinged with annoyance, yet it's not fully angry yet. He also sounds fairly sober, but I can tell that he's had at least one glass of something strong. All this to say, I can easily get out of here safe and sound if I play my cards right.

As I walk into the kitchen, I see my dad at the kitchen island. He has his laptop open in front of him and there's an empty glass beside him, proving that I was right about how much he's had to drink. 

"Hi." I say to him. I stay by the door of the kitchen until my dad motions for me to come closer to where he is.

"Where were you?" he asks me. He types something on his laptop as he talks, not even bothering to look at me.

"I was studying with Marisol."

This gets his attention. He stares at me silently for a couple of seconds before he turns back to his laptop. He clicks around the screen a couple of times, then closes his screen. Cautiously I watch him as he gets up and rounds the kitchen island. 

"Where?" he asks me.

"Where we're we studying? At the Dot."

My dad grabs a bottle of Scotch from the top cabinet near the fridge. He pours himself another drink and downs it all in one shot.

"Was anyone else with you?" he asks once he's swallowed down the scotch. 

"No."

"No? No. Okay. See, what I find strange about that is that I saw Marisol while I was out. I saw her with her mom at the pharmacy. I'm wondering how someone could be in two places at once."

"She didn't stay the whole time." I say quickly. I can feel my heart beating faster in my chest and the panic threatens to set in. "Her mom picked her up-"

My dad's hand slams down against the kitchen island, slapping the surface so hard that the dishes in the sink topple over. My dad seemingly doesn't notice the dishes, though, he's too busy staring into my soul with dark, angry eyes. 

"I'm going to ask you one more time where you were and you better not lie to me this time."

For half a second I consider making a break for it. The door to the backyard is right in back of me. If it's unlocked, I could throw it open and be in our backyard in all of five seconds, which would be abut five more seconds than it would take for my dad to get to the door. All I would have to do once I'm outside is jump our fence which I'm sure wouldn't be too hard if I'm going fast enough. 

I would do it if it weren't for the fact that I'm sure my dad would give me the beating off a lifetime when I get back in the house. Plus, my phone is near the front door and I don't want him having full access to my phone when I'm out, so I stay rooted where I am.

"I was at that bakery on Eglinton."

"Which one?" my dad asks, not missing a beat.

"Phipps."

"Alone?"

I'm at a lose-lose here. If I say I was alone, my dad won't believe it. He'll think I was out on a date - something I'm not allowed to do. At the same time, if I tell him I was with my mom, he'll either be pissed or the subject will be so sore that he'll end up isolating himself for the next couple of days. I take the gamble.

"I was with mom."

I've never actually gambled in my life being that I'm 17 and I've never had the chance to do it, yet I can still tell when I've lost the hand I'm playing. My dad's entire face darkens at the mention of my mom. His fists clench into two tight, shaking balls and I know that I've fucked up.

"What're you seeing your mother for? Are you not happy with everything I've given you? Huh? You need to go run to her?" he hisses, each word spoken with pure hatred. 

"N-no, I'm not running to her for anything, we've just been-"

I don't get to finish the rest of my sentence. My dad steps to me and backhands me straight across the face. The force of his slap throws me off balance and sends me falling right into the bar stool next to me. Just as I hit the ground, I find myself being yanked up by my arm. The feeling is painful, the heat searing into the area of my arm that my dad is gripping.

"What did you tell your mother, Rylie? I'm not messing around." my dad spits as he yanks me close to him to the point where we're mere inches apart. I can see all the anger in his eyes and it makes me so nervous I struggle to find my voice, but I know things will be worse if I don't answer, so I quickly try and pull myself together.

"I didn't tell her anything." I cry. "We've been talking about her life, not mine."

"You expect me to believe you haven't told her anything?" he asks, his grip tightening on my arm. "Do you think I'm that stupid?"

"I didn't say anything, I wouldn't do that!" I say, trying my best to not cry so that my dad doesn't get even angrier with me, but I can feel the tears starting to spill onto my cheeks, big and warm as they pour out. "She would've done something by now if I told her, you know that."

I don't expect this last part to get to my dad. I'm sure he's about to tell me I'm a liar and hit me again, except he doesn't. His grip on me softens as does the stare of pure hatred. 

"I better not find out you're lying to me, Rylie." my dad warns me as he points an accusatory finger at me. "Believe me, Rylie, you won't want to know what I'll do to you if I find out you're lying to me."

My dad drops his hand from my arm. The imprint of his hand is still on my skin, leaving a white mark that is turning red. I see the mark of a bruise being formed already where he was gripping me, and I realize that I'm going to have to wear long sleeves for the rest of the week.

My dad grabs his phone and laptop off the kitchen island. His movements are calm like he didn't just hit and shove me. I watch him as he goes to the fridge and pours himself a glass of water from the Brita, his hands steady. After he puts the Brita back, he exists the kitchen without even a glance at me. I hold my breath so I can hear him walk up the stairs, making sure he goes up all 11 of them.

Once I'm safe in the kitchen, I sink down against the island until I'm fully sat on the ground beside the knocked over bar stool. I draw my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them, pulling them even closer into me to make myself as small as I can, and then I silently sob.

Chapter Text

Eli

Rylie shows up at my place right at 10am like we agreed upon. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail that sways when she walks. She's dressed down for once in yoga pants and a black sweater, and I find myself smiling as I realize that she's actually dressed in my sweater, the one I gave her during Christmas break. She wore it almost the entire time, I pretty much had no choice but to give it to her.

I grab us some sparkling water from the fridge - she gets the lime and tangerine one, I get myself a cherry one, and we head to my room for the dreaded talk.

As soon as we take our usual positions, Rylie on the bed and me in the chair across from her, I kick things off. I'd rather get out what I have to say right out the gate than wait too long and clam up.

"I'm sorry about the other day at your place. I'm not sorry I showed up, but I'm sorry about the end." I say. "I was rambling, like I am now, but it was going in this crazy direction which I know I'm not supposed to say that word when talking about myself, but honestly I was going off the deep end."

"You weren't going off the deep end, you were just..."

"Going off the deep end." I finish for her with a grin. Rylie tries to fight a smile, but she does a shitty job with it and it comes through anyway. "What's going on lately sucks. I feel like half the time I'm losing you to Nate, and the other half of the time I'm losing you because of me."

"You're not losing me at all." she says, her face no longer showing any signs of a smile.

"It feels like it."

"Well, it's not true. I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'm as in this as much as you are."

I want to leave it at that. My ego actually tells me to. It says that Rylie is telling me she loves me and that's good enough. She's telling me we're in this together, so I should just shut my mouth and stay happy with what I have, yet there's still something bothering me.

"I need there to be at least 20% less Nate in our lives." I tell Rylie. "Ideally it would be 100, but I'll settle for 20."

"Eli, he's in our friend group. He and I have classes together, as do you and him." she says. "It'll be kind of hard to have less of him around."

"I'm not saying to change classes or anything. I'm asking if the drives home after school can be stopped, same with the private moments in the hallway where you're close together looking like a couple."

"We were just playing around, it didn't mean anything."

"Maybe to you it didn't. I replayed that moment over and over again in my head until I felt like my head was going to burst."

"Okay..." she says slowly. "But we also know that you're obsessive sometimes. It's not a bad thing, just, sometimes you take things to the extreme, like your thoughts. But I'll try my best to distance myself, okay? If it means we get back to us, then I'll do it."

Just as she finishes talking, her phone starts going off. It vibrates against my bed, long vibrations that indicate a call is coming through. Rylie glances down at it, then her eyes shoot back to me almost out of guilt.

"Is that him calling you?" I ask, yet I already know the answer.

Ry doesn't even try to hide it or lie, she comes flat out with it. "Yeah."

My body tenses involuntarily. The fact that we can hardly manage to have a Nate-free day is getting to me more and more as the weeks go on. I thought that Nate would be a fad. He'd come into play, lose interest after realizing Ry is taken and I'm not going anywhere, and that would be that. Yet it's not how it's playing out. Instead, he's calling my girlfriend first thing in the morning on Sundays which to me means that this is something they do often.

"Did you guys have plans or something?" I ask her.

"No, he just calls me sometimes."

"And you answer?"

"Sometimes."

"How often does he call you to talk?"

It's start to feel more like an interrogation than a conversation, I just can't help myself. I have all these questions already that are rattling around in my head that I need answers to.

"I don't know, once, twice a week." Rylie says. She flips her phone over so the screen isn't visible anymore, and after a couple of seconds, it stops vibrating.

"And you answer, what, once?"

"Sometimes I answer both times, but only if I'm not doing anything else anyway."

"How convenient for Nate." I scoff.

"You know it's not like that, Eli. We've known each other for years, okay? We're friends and friends talk sometimes. It's the same as Marisol calling me."

"You used to date Marisol? I must have forgot about that."

Rylie gives me a look. This conversation is close to falling into fight category and we both know it.

 "That's not what I meant and you know it. I dated Nate, yes, but that's in the past. I can't undo it now."

"You can try."

"You know, it's not really helpful when you say things like that. It makes it feel like this conversation is a joke to you."

"Believe me, this is the furthest thing from a joke for me. If it were a joke, I'd at least be laughing but I haven't been doing a lot of that lately."

"Yeah, well, me neither."

Rylie says it differently than I do. She says it in that doom and gloom voice she often doesn't have, only when things are really bad, which means things are really bad. 

"What does that mean?" I prod.

"Nothing."

"Ry, what's going on?"

"I don't want to make a big thing out of it, so promise me if I tell you, we just move on after, okay?"

Yep, things are really bad.

"Okay."

"I've been seeing my mom lately."

"Ry, that's great! I didn't realize you saw her again." I exclaim, momentarily forgetting about the topic that brought us to this conversation. All I'm focused on is how excited I am for Rylie to have something good in her life. I know she's been wanting to spend more time with her mom, so just knowing they met up again is the best thing. Or so I thought.

"Yeah, well, it'll be the last time." Rylie says.

"Something happened with her?"

"Not with her."

I'm about to ask what that means when it dawns on me. "Your dad found out?"

"Yep, and you can imagine how pissed he was."

"Did he hurt you?"

"I have makeup caked on for a reason." she says with a halfhearted laugh. She unzips the sweater she's wearing and pushes it off her left arm to reveal a hand shaped bruise on her upper arm. If I look close enough I can make out each finger imprint on her skin. "And thanks to him, I'll have to wear long sleeves this entire week too." 

That same lump I feel in my throat whenever she talks about her homelife comes back, paired with a rise of temperature as my anger spikes. It's one thing to hear about the stuff she has to go through, but seeing the marks left on her from it is a whole other thing altogether.

Sometimes at night when she's sleeping in my bed because she had a rough time at home, I hold her and I dream of all the ways I would hurt her dad like he's hurt Rylie. The only difference is, I would finish the job.

"Why didn't you come here, Ry? You know my parents love having you, even if I'm not home."

Rylie shrugs at me as she replaces her sweater. "I didn't want to intrude or anything. I didn't know if you'd want me here when you got back."

"I always want you here."

"Even when you're mad at me?"

"Yes, even then. If it keeps you safe, then I want you here." I tell her. "Promise me you'll come here next time, okay?"

She nods at me. "I will."

Even though I know Rylie wants nothing more than to change the subject away from her shitty home life, I want to continue talking about it. I need to press on to make sure she's okay and that she's not being strong just for me. Before I get the chance to, Rylie changes the subject and because I know she needs this, I let her.

"So, um, how was the convention? Did you and Adam have fun?"

"It was really good, we saw everything there was to see there. Adam made us do laps of the place, I swear we must have done the entire tour at least four times."

"Wow, eh? He must have been in heaven."

"He was." I say. I hesitate for a second, not sure if I should let her in on this next part, however I'm too excited to hold it back. "We met this group after. An anarchist group."

Rylie's eyebrows shoot in the air, alarm bells sounding in her head. Her bipolar, hothead boyfriend met an anarchist group, and I'm sure she's only thinking the worst things right now about it.

"Oh, that's...cool." she says. "You met them at the convention?"

"Outside of it, actually. When we got out there was this protest going on, I don't know what for, but there was a car on fire in the middle of the street." 

Again, her eyebrows shoot up, this time even higher than before. "There was a car on fire in the middle of the road? What the hell happened?"

"These guys lit it on fire I guess. It was a protest, you know? They said they'd rather destroy objects than destroy people, like what the government is doing." I explain to her. "At first I thought it was crazy too, and, well, I am the expert, but as they told me more and more about it, I kind of...got it."

"Eli." Rylie says in an exasperated tone. "Don't tell me you're going to join that kind of group."

"The kind that fights for the rights of people who don't have any? Why not? I'm still young so there's less chances of me getting thrown in jail or something."

"Less chances, but still a chance."

"I know." I say because truly, she's right. If I were to join in, there's still a chance I'd end up in a jail cell because of it, and yet I can't help but feel excited about the whole thing. "It's the fighting for people's rights that entices me. Knowing I made a difference or inspired someone, I...I want that."

"But you do that already. You've done it for me. You've done it for everyone in your production or anyone who feels like an underdog because they're not the same as everyone else. Seeing you and how you are, it's made differences in peoples lives already."

"And I want more of that. I want it on a bigger scale, on one that actually matters."

"It matters now."

I didn't expect Rylie to get it - and for good reason. Rylie doesn't see the good side of it. She sees the car light ablaze and the anarchist group as violent and crazy. 

The violence reminds her of home. It reminds her of a place where she feels trapped, one where she's a victim, so of course any talk of something remotely aggressive is going to make her uncomfortable.

The crazy part reminds her of me. She's seen me when I've fully lost my cool and it's scared the shit out of her every single time. This group gives me a way to let the crazy out more often, to really get in touch with it, so that scares her.

Rylie doesn't do scary or bad. She's a good girl. She tries her best to get good grades. She's co-captain of the cheerleading squad, she's in yearbook and I think the student government too. She has an arsenal of friends that she touches base with on the daily. She never talks back, not even when its justified, and she never, ever resorts to any semblance of violence. 

Rather than pressing on to tell her all this so she can see my side of it, I drop the subject altogether. There's no point in bringing this up, especially when I'm not going to join it anyway, right? So, instead we put a movie on, snuggle up, and I enjoy the feeling of having my girlfriend in my arms again because at the end of the day, this is all I want.

Chapter Text

Rylie

Eli and I find ourselves at yet another party. We weren't going to come tonight, but as it stands, Naomi is throwing it and she's on the cheer squad with me, so I couldn't exactly miss it. Eli, on the other hand, could've easily skipped out if he wanted to - which he did - however, he decided to stick it out for me seeing as how we haven't spent much time together.

To show my gratitude for him coming with me, I dragged us up to an empty spare room an hour or so within us getting to the party. Everyone watches us go off, probably thinking we were going to have sex. Instead, we lay on the bed facing one another as we talk about everything we haven't had the chance to.

Eli grabs my hand and threads his fingers through mine. His thumb rubs against my skin in circles, sending waves of calmness through me.

"Tell me about your mom." Eli says into the dark room. 

I already told Eli about how I went to see my mom again, however I didn't tell him how it went. Instead, we talked about how pissed my dad was when he found out that I was talking to my mom, so Eli and I never got the chance to get into the actual good aspect of the whole thing.

"What do you want to hear?" I ask him. I rub my thumb back on his skin a couple of times, loving how soft and familiar it feels.

"Everything."

"I don't know, there's not much to say. She's getting married soon."

"Yeah, in a couple of months, eh? She must be excited."

"Yeah, she is. She showed me her dress and everything." I tell him. "She, uh, actually said something kind of cool the other day. She said she'd want me to go over for Christmas break next year when we're in university."

"You kidding me? That's great, Ry. I'm glad this is working out for you."

"It's not really, remember?" I say, referring to how my dad found out and was pissed. He all but banned me from leaving the house after. Even now, a week or so later, it's still tense at home. 

The most my dad has said to me since then is that he was working more for the next couple of months and told me that I had to remember to make a dentist appointment soon because I'm overdue for a cleaning. Other than that, it's been silent at home. Most people would see this as a bad thing, however for me it means there's no risk of a fight.

I'd be lying if I said it didn't make me nervous, though. Historically, whenever my dad gets mad like this, he starts drinking more. The more drinking he does, the more he overthinks and the angrier it makes him until he completely blows up, taking it out on me. 

Except these days he isn't like that. Sometimes he starts a fight seemingly out of nowhere. Things are good one second and then hours later, he's pissed. I also noticed that he's not necessarily that drunk when he tries to fight me. Sometimes it seems like he's stone cold sober, so either he's gotten better at hiding it - which isn't likely as I can tell how sober he is right away - or he doesn't need the liquid courage to hurt me anymore.

Of course, I'd never tell Eli all this. He knows the big details already, he doesn't need to know the nitty gritty of it.

"You're out of there soon. After that, you can see your mom as much as you want and never see your dad ever again." Eli says. His thumb is still gliding over my skin in a circular pattern.

"So, you think I should spend Christmas break with her?" 

"Why not? If things are still going good, you definitely should."

"I think I will. It's either that or I stay at school over the break."

"Yeah, not like you have any other options. Not like your boyfriend's family loves you or anything." Eli jokes.

Despite the fact that Eli tells me all the time that his family loves me, I don't believe it. In my head, Cece and Bullfrog only tolerate me because I'm their son's girlfriend, they don't actually like me, they're just nice. Eli tells me I'm wrong about that, that they adore me, and deep down, I think maybe, just maybe he's telling a bit of the truth. 

After all, they do make sure my favourite snacks and drinks are in the house. Cece will buy little things for me that she knows I like. Both Cece and Bullfrog make it a point to come say goodnight to Eli and I before they go to bed, even going as far as to kiss our foreheads. I thought it was weird at first, but now I kind of like it. 

Yet, despite all this, I feel like they're putting on a show. Why would they even like me? I'm me. I'm weird and anxious and always in the middle of some useless drama that I've brought upon myself. But more than anything, one thought rings through my head whenever I find myself feeling loved by them. If my own family doesn't like me, why would they? 

"Stop stressing." Eli says, pulling me out of my head and back to where I am with him. "It's hurting my head."

"My stressing is hurting your head?" I say with a laugh. "I'm going to stress even harder then. Just to hurt you."

"Queen popularity, you're a cold, cold woman sometimes."

"I'm not cold, I'm very warm. Feel." I say as I grab his hand and place it on my exposed hip.

"Very warm." Eli says, his eyes burning with desire. His hand that I've placed on my hip slides up my body before going back down again. He wants to touch me more and because of that, it makes me want to touch him too, so I do. 

I get closer to him, so close that our bodies are touching as we lay on our sides. I lean into him even more and I kiss him. Without hesitation, he kisses me back and it makes me feel a certain way, a certain wild way.

I eventually get on top of him as we continue to kiss. I'm trying not to be a tease about it, yet I keep moving my hips against him as we kiss and I can easily tell that he likes it. I can feel how much he's enjoying it, and that makes me like it even more.

Without even thinking of the reasons now to, I lean back from Eli's face so I have enough room to take my shirt off. Before I can even raise it halfway, though, Eli's hand is on mine, stopping me.

"Ry." Eli says, his voice soft and his tone deep. "We don't have to do that."

"I want to."

Eli doesn't say anything more. I think he doesn't want to offer to stop again in case I take it to heart and realize that I to want to stop. The thing is, I don't want to stop. I don't want to stop, like, at all. My body is responding eagerly to every touch of Eli's. My toes are curling in my socks as he continues to touch me, my body is arching up to meet him and even my thoroughly kissed lips are tingling.

I grab my shirt by the bottom again and this time Eli doesn't stop me. He lets me slide it over my head before I toss it beside me on the bed, only I miss and it slides off onto the floor. Eli doesn't notice. He's too busy looking at me - at my body. His hands are on either side of me, sliding up my body and feeling it all.

Last year the thought of being half naked with Eli both thrilled and terrified me. I thought I'd feel self-conscious or anxious, but instead I just feel ready. So, I let him know.

"Do you have anything?" I ask him. I may be horny, but I'm not dumb.

Eli looks at me with an expression he doesn't often have - shock. I've caught him off guard with my question. He never would've expected me to be ready right now of all times. Not only are we at a random house party, but we've also been having our faire share of issues lately, and now all of a sudden I'm asking him if he has protection so we can have sex.

"No, I don't." Eli says after his couple of seconds of shock wears off. "I didn't think we'd be doing it for the first time here at...who's place are we even at? Naomi's?"

"I didn't either, but I don't know, I just feel ready right now."

I watch as Eli suppresses a groan. This must be killing him right now. At this point, we've been dating nearly an entire year. Actually, as of a couple of weeks from now, it will be an entire year. During that time, those 365 days, I haven't been ready once to have sex with him, and now here we are, and I'm telling him I want to but neither of us have protection and we're in a stranger's bed. I know my timing is killing him.

"Do you think you'll still be ready when we get back to my place tonight?" Eli asks.

"If we leave now, yeah."

"You want to leave now?"

I shrug at him. "Yeah, why not? Everyone I want to see is in this room with me already. And, besides, it's not like anything's going to happen at this party that won't happen at the next, right?"

"Does this mean you're going to get on me like this at the next party too?"

"If you play your cards right, then, yeah, maybe."

Eli grins at me. "I'm going to play every single card I have."

"I'll play them all for you tonight." I tell him, a grin of my own illuminating my face. "Let's go."

Eli doesn't need any more convincing. In a flash, he's off the bed and adjusting his clothing back to its normal state. I follow suite and adjust my clothes again, pulling my shirt back over my head. People may have thought we were coming up here to do something, it doesn't mean we have to prove them wrong.

"I'll bring the car around while you say goodbye." Eli says as he grabs his phone from the beside table.

"My god, someone's eager."

He looks over and grins that devilish grin and winks at me.

"You have no idea, queen popularity."

I flush at this. That, and the face he's giving me. Everything together just validates how much I want this with Eli.

We hold hands as we walk down the stairs, both of us taking them a little quicker than we need to. When we come to the bottom of the stairs, a couple of people turn around to look at us, then turn back to their friends. No doubt they're talking about how they think we did it.

I ignore them and look around for Marisol. She got a ride with us, I want to make sure she'll be fine getting home. I'm sure she will be, Naomi's is right by a bus stop which leads to Mare's house, but still, I'm not going to just abandon her without letting her know we're leaving first.

Before I can spot Mare in the crowd, I spot Nate. He's standing with some guys from the team, all of them with a drink in their hand. I watch as Nate's eyes float over to me and his face lights up. It dims a little as he glances at Eli, which I choose to ignore. As soon as he looks back at me, his grin is back and he throws a little wave our way.

"I'm gonna go say hi." I say to Eli, my eyes leaving Nate's for a couple of seconds so I can gauge Eli's reaction.

Eli looks back at me, unamused. "Do you have to?"

"I'm queen popularity, aren't I? I need to greet my people."

Eli isn't entertained by this notion. Maybe saying "my people", thus referring to Nate as mine, was a mistake, but whatever. They need to learn to get along. They're both present in my life, the least they can do is be cordially towards one another. At this point I'd even settle for discrete hostility instead of the overt hostility they've been showcasing.

"I'll be out in no more than five minutes." I tell Eli. "I swear. If I'm not out by then, come back and save me, okay?"

Unhappily, Eli agrees, and off he goes to get his car and pull it around so I won't have to walk outside in the cold weather. 

I start towards Nate, who quickly excuses himself for the group of people he's with so he can meet me halfway. We stand in the middle of the room together with all but five feet between us.

"Where's he going to?" Nate says, nodding towards the disappearing Eli.

"He's going to pull the car around."

"You're not leaving too, are you?" Nate asks.

"Yeah, I'm heading off." I tell him. "We have other plans."

Nate raises an eyebrow at me. "Other plans?"

One of my least favourite things about having fair skin is the way colour shows up on my face. Instantly, my cheeks flush an embarrassing bright red, which, of course, Nate notices. His eyes go over to where Eli was mere seconds ago.

"Lucky guy." Nate says. 

"I didn't even admit to anything." I say, even though we both know he's right. "We could be going to see a movie or going skating or something."

"Are you?"

My blush deepens. At this point my entire face must look like it's been painted red.

"No." I tell Nate. 

"Didn't think so." Nate says. He glances around the party for a second like he's looking for an out, however instead of leaving, he leans into me so his mouth is close to my ear. "Let me know when it's my turn."

I jerk back from him in surprise. Did he really just say what I think he said? My heart hammers fast in my chest as dark eyes are locked onto his.

The truth is - and I hate myself for it - I'm not reacting to Nate saying that like I should be. Don't get me wrong, part of me is pissed. Nate knows I'm with Eli, he shouldn't be saying those things to me, especially not in the middle of a very public area. 

But then there's the other part of me. The part that likes what he said. The part that is actually turned on by it, even though I know I shouldn't be. I just can't fight it. There's attraction here whether I like it or not, and I think Nate knows that too so he plays it to his advantage by slipping little quips like this into our conversations.

Still blindsided by Nate's remark, I find myself absolutely speechless. I know I should tell him to not speak to me like that, yet I can't find the strength to move my mouth and voice the words.

Nate, on the other hand, seems to be having zero trouble controlling himself. His lips curve up into a smirk, like Eli's. 

"I don't mind keeping a secret." Nate says. 

"She can't keep her mouth shut to save her life."

Both Nate and I turn to see Owen of all people standing beside us. I don't know how much of the conversation he's heard, but from the looks of it, it's enough for him to have jumped into it.

"You know she went around telling everyone I'm some fucking creep." Owen continues on, his voice loud enough that everyone has stopped their own conversations to turn around and listen to ours. "Told everyone!"

Nate steps up before I can. I'm stuck in the same place, eyes wide as Nate steps towards Owen. He puts a hand on his shoulder as if to calm him.

"Hey, man, I think you should go. Clearly you've had a bit too much tonight, it'd be better for everyone if you just walked away." Nate says. His voice is levelled, and to most people they would think he's calm, but I know him better than that. He's fighting his own control to calm Owen down and diffuse the situation for me.

"Just walk away?" Owen says loudly. He pushes Nate's hand off of his shoulder before stumbling back a little. He points right at me, then louder than ever says "This bitch-"

"No, we're not doing that." Nate says, cutting him off. From behind him, I see Eli entering the house again, his eyes dead focused on Owen. He doesn't even hesitate before making is way over to us, no doubt ready for a fight. "Don't call her that, she doesn't deserve it."

"She ruined my life!"

"I didn't ruin anything, you did." I spit back, finding mt voice finally.

Last year I was anxious any time I saw Owen. For weeks afterwards, he'd pop up around school and try to talk to me. He said he wanted to apologize, that he's not that guy and it was a lapse of judgment. Every time he cornered me to talk to me, I was like a deer in headlights. I froze and stayed there, looking for any help instead of helping myself. It's a learned response, I guess. 

But not this year. Now I'm standing up for myself. No one has the right to make me feel anyway - only I give them the power to influence me. At least, I'm trying to. 

"You were hanging all over me, what did you expect?" Owen retorts. From the look in his eye, I'd say he's had far too many already and he's not thinking clearly. I wish I could use that to justify his actions, but I've seen what he does when sober too. He's just a bad guy.

Owen takes a step forward which causes the panic in me to rise. I take a step back to put someone I know will protect me between Owen and I. Instinctively, my arms raise so I can grab onto his back, hiding against him.

The only issue with this is - I'm not behind Eli. He's standing right beside where I was  - staring at me as I cling to Nate for protection.

I no longer pay attention to anything that's happening with Owen and Nate. They're both a distant memory to me right now. All I can focus on is Eli. The look on his face is enough for me to realize that I've fucked up now, and it's on the same level as the whole Eli and Hanna thing was.

After all the things I've put Eli through since I've known him - Owen, my dad, Nate, I don't know if he'll have any forgiveness left in himself. From where I'm standing, I don't think he has any.

"E-"

I'm unable to get the rest out, because in that moment, Owen decides to push Nate backwards which also sends me flying back. We tumble back together, Nate knocking me down, and me knocking him down in return.

I figured with us down, Owen would lay into Nate the same way Eli always did to him, but nothing happens. Owen doesn't come down to our level, which means something's stopping him from doing it, yet when I look up, I don't see Owen anymore. I don't see Eli either.

"Shit." I say under my breath. 

Nate leaps up from the ground and turns, offering me his hand. I accept it, letting him pull me up, and once I'm up, Marisol is by my side, asking me if I'm okay. She looks me over to make sure I don't have marks on me. I do, but not visible, and not from Owen or Nate falling on me, so I'm not worried about that. I am, however, worried about the fact that Eli and Owen are gone.

"Where's Eli?" I ask Marisol, my eyes scanning the room in a hurry. "Or Owen? Where'd they go?"

"Some guys from the team grabbed Owen." Mare informs me. She looks around the room too. "I don't know where Eli is. I think I saw him leave."

I continue to scan the room, not believing that Eli isn't beating into Owen right now. Out the corner of my eye, I see Owen in the kitchen. He's stumbling clumsily as he tries to push past a couple of guys on the football team. No Eli in sight.

Everyone flocks towards Nate and I to ask if we're okay, if anything is hurt. Both Nate and I say we're fine, however deep down, I'm not. Not because of what happened with Owen, but what happened silently between Eli and I. 

I was in trouble and I chose someone else. I didn't seek out Eli's help, I went to someone else - someone that is already a threat to Eli, and now I've just gone and shown him that when it comes down to it, I'll chose him.

Maybe nothing on my body was hurt tonight, but my relationship definitely was.

Chapter Text

Eli

Last night's events have left an ever-present sour taste in my mouth. 

I want to say that I appreciate the fact that someone stepped in to help when they saw a situation going south. I would've been pissed if no one had done anything at all. That said, the thing I don't appreciate is who stepped in and how.

While everything was going down, I was standing there ready to get into it. My sleeves were pushed up, I was squared up and ready. The only issue? Rylie looked to Nate. He was on her left side while I was on her right, and she looked to her left, to Nate.

Nate, being the white knight he is, jumped in and handled the situation, and if you ask Rylie, she'd probably tell you he handled the situation better than I would've. He didn't overreact. He neutralized the issue and took it no further than that. He behaved properly.

I'm not entirely sure I would've handled it that in such a tame way. Hell, I'm still unsure if I can handle it in a tame way, which is how I find myself confiding in Hanna. We're supposed to be prepping for the production, but instead we're sat on the side of the stage side-by-side as I run her through last night's events.

"So, you lost it a little, so what?" Hanna says flippantly. To her this is no big deal, but to me it may be the last mistake I've made to break my relationship.

"It's more than that. I knew I should've stayed calm, but I couldn't. Again."

"I'm sure you didn't do anything you shouldn't. You're good like that."

"Why do you say things like that?" I ask, the question stumbling out my mouth before I can stop to think about it.

Hanna cocks her head to the side. "Like what?"

"Like..." I pause for a second, contemplating what I want to say next. "Like you think I can do no wrong. You know, you talk like I'm not some crazy, impulsive, aggressive guy who loses his temper on almost a daily basis."

Hanna stares at me blankly. "Is that who you think you are?"

"It is who I am."

"Not to me."

"How can I not be that guy to you?"

Hanna doesn't reply at first. She looks ahead of her, staring off onto the distance for a couple seconds before she turns back towards me.

"You're emotional at times, but only because you have so much passion and life inside of you. I've watched you take the time to build this play up to something amazing, something no one else could've done." she tells me. "And I see all those times on set, or when it's just the two of us. I see when you're close to losing your patients because somethings not going right, but I also see you fight it. I see you ground yourself back to the moment."

"I hardly manage to."

"Yet you still do. You're not losing your mind and throwing stuff or yelling at people. You might step out for a bit, but you always come back, and you come back calm." she says. "Maybe some people don't see that. Maybe they see you only for when you slip instead of seeing the entire picture, but that's on them, not you."

"It's still on me for slipping up."

"Oh, come on, Eli." Hanna says with an exasperated expression. "Everyone slips up. You're really going to tell me that you think you're the only person in the world who makes mistakes and loses their cool sometime? Fuck no. Yet, you try, and you keep trying. So, no, I don't see you the same way you see yourself because I know that mistakes are inevitable and progress isn't linear, but I see the way you still give 100% to everything."

For the last couple of years, everyone has held me to a higher standard than they've held others. My parents have done it, my teachers, myself, Rylie. It's like because of the fact that I'm bipolar, I need to be better to prove that I can be. I need to prove for myself and everyone who has bipolar disorder that people who have it can live a normal life - a better life. I have to work twice as hard. 

But here with Hanna, I don't feel like I need to do any of that. There's no jumping through hoops to prove that I'm able to. There's no need to prove I'm okay all the time or to talk through why I'm not okay. With Hanna I can just exist as myself, not as Eli who's bipolar but just as Eli, and man, it's refreshing.

"Look, I'm not trying to tell you what to do with your life, but why are you keeping people in your life who see you in such a negative light?" Hanna asks me.

Hanna's kept her sentence neutral enough that she could be talking about anyone in my life, yet I know her well enough by now due to all our hours working together that she's not being neutral, she's just being vague as to not cause any issues, but I know she's talking about Rylie.

"You mean Rylie?"

"Duh. If she sees you as such a loose cannon, why is she still here? And a better question is why do you want her to be? It feels like all you're doing is having to prove that you're not a threat."

"It's not like that." I say, shaking my head.

"Oh no?" Hanna says, raising an eyebrow. Her tone implies that she knows something and she's going to let me in on it. "Because I heard you fought the same guy five times last year because of her."

"It was three times."

"Like that's better." she says with a scoff. "And now you're fighting with her, like, every other day it seems and it doesn't feel like it's getting better."

"It's just a rough patch."

"Eli, you're in your senior year of high school. Next year you're going off to university where there's going to be so many different girls. Do you really want to settle down now with someone from high school?"

I don't even need a second to think of the answer to that question.

"Yes."

Hanna drops her head into her chest and shakes her head at me. 

"You're going to miss out on so many things." she tells me.

"Like other girls?"

"No, not just other girls. Like life. Like evolving into yourself."

"I'm not going to miss any of that, I'll be experiencing it with Rylie."

"Okay, and what if she gets to university and decides she wants to experience it all for herself? What then?"

The thought had never crossed my mind before. Despite all the overthinking and obsessing I do, I never once considered the idea that Rylie and I could go off to university together but not end it together. In my head, we're in this until the end, and I thought Rylie would feel the same, but now this idea is ping ponging around in my head and I don't have an answer for it.

"I don't know. Then...then I'll deal with it then, I guess. But I know Rylie, I know she's not like that."

Hanna rolls her brown eyes at me. "Sure, and she told Nate she would never move on from him, and yet two years later that's exactly what happened."

"How the hell do you know that?"

The entire time I've know Hanna, I've only known her to be confident. She's always so self-assured, never second guessing herself and she never hesitates. Except for right now. Right now her face has gone paler, almost white, and her eyes are wide like she's anxious about something. Not only that, but she can't seem to find her voice. I've just struck either a nerve or gold - and I'm not sure I want to know which, but I need to know.

"Hanna." I say slowly. "What do you know that I don't?"

"Don't kill me." Hanna says quickly. She closes her eyes shut like she's on a rollercoaster ride and she's about to go over the highest point but she can't bear to see it. "Nate's my brother."

The words hit me like a ton of bricks, and I struggle to grasp the reality of them. 

Nate Hughes, the same Nate that is Rylie's ex-boyfriend, is Hanna's brother. Nate Hughes, Hanna Hughes. There's no way. There's no way they're siblings, and there's no way I didn't piece it together beforehand.

"Hold on. Hold on." I say as I straighten up, leaning back from her. I need to put some distance between us right now. "Nate, the guy I've been complaining to you about for weeks, the guy who is actively going after my girlfriend, is your brother and you've failed to mention that until right now?"

"I know you're probably pissed-"

"You're fucking right I'm pissed. You kept this from me for weeks, Hanna."

"I know, but can you blame me?! Since I got to this school all I heard about was how cool you were. Everyone talks about you all the time, and then I found out you were head of the play - which only made me want to meet you even more - and I didn't want to fuck it up by telling you that my brother is public enemy #1."

My immediate thought is to lose my mind. I want to scream and yell. I want to get up in Hanna's face and make her regret ever lying to be about something like this. I want to slam chairs around and beat something. 

But I can't do that. 

I focus on taking deep breaths in - the kind that my therapist and I have been working on. I take a breath in for five seconds, hold it for ten, and let it out slowly, the air decompressing my body as I blow out.

As I breathe my way to calmness, I realize that I can't exactly be mad at Hanna. I can be upset that she didn't tell me something this big, especially when it's affected my life in more ways than I care to admit. I can be mad that someone I've come to trust has kept a secret from me for apparently no reason, but I can't be mad about the fact that they're siblings. I can't be mad that she got stuck with something she didn't chose, and I can't be mad that she didn't want to admit it, especially given how tied together we all are.

Once I feel calm enough to speak, I make sure my voice is as leveled as I can manage and I approach it calmly - something which I wouldn't have been able to do last year.

"You still should've told me." I say. "And people do not talk about me all the time."

"Oh yes they do. You might call Rylie queen popularity, but you're king."

"Not true."

"So true and you know it."

"Still doesn't change the fact that you lied to me for weeks." I say, sensing that we were quickly losing track of what's important right now.

"I'm sorry, Eli, I really am. I didn't want to blow my chance at knowing you, especially since this has happened before. At our old school, I had a whole group of friends, but one by one, Nate ran through them and eventually he took everyone away from me."

"He ran through them?"

"Yeah." she says softly. She looks down at her feet when as she continues talking. "Nate's a charming guy and he knows that. He would talk to my friends, tell them that they're the only one for him, blah, blah, blah, and they would all fall for it. Of course, once he got what he wanted from them he'd dump them and move on, and my friends would be pissed, right? So, I ended up with no friends at the end all because of him."

I feel bad for Hanna, I do. It's not like she made the choice to have Nate as her brother, she was just unlucky enough to end up with him. I'm sure if she had the choice, she would swap Nate out in a second, but that's not how life works, so she's stuck with a shitty, man whore of a brother.

It reminds me a little of Rylie, how she got unlucky with her parents. One left her while the other hurts her. There's no way she'd have picked that if she had the choice and the same goes for Hanna with Nate. 

I don't think myself as having much pity for people, except right now I feel exceptionally bad for Hanna. Her entire friend group turned against her, making her an outcast at her school. I know how that feels. I know the feeling of being alone in crowds of people and feeling completely different than everyone else, an outcast. I feel for her.

"Is that why you guys came back? Because he fucked everything up at your other school?"

"Partially."

"And the other part?"

Hanna hesitates for the second time now. She purses her lips together as if to physically keep herself from saying something she doesn't want to, then, with a nervous voice, she answers me.

"The other part is still because of Nate." she says before quickly adding " You know sometimes I think he wants to make everyone's life miserable, like it's his mission in life."

I scoff. "He's doing a good job at it."

"You shouldn't let him affect you like this, it's what he wants. Pretend like he doesn't exist, like he's not a threat to your relationship and eventually he'll get bored and move on."

"That advice would've been nice weeks ago."

"I know, I'm sorry." she says. "So..."

"So?"

"So, am I, like, still part of the play? Still your right hand man?"

"I wouldn't kick you off the play for this." I say. "And besides, it'd be too late to replace you even if I wanted to."

"But you don't want to leave, you want me to stay here with you." Hanna says, that familiar tone in her voice coming back. It's akin to a cat's purr, or at least that's what I think she's going for.

"That has to stop if you want to stay on." I tell her.

Innocently, she blinks at me. "What needs to stop?"

"The flirting. I'm with Rylie and nothing is going to change that."

"Maybe I'm just nice, not flirting. Did you ever consider that?"

"I did consider it briefly, and then the next day when I was setting up the set bed on stage, you told me I'd look even better in your bed. Kind of made it obvious that day."

A small blush creeps over Hanna's words as I remind her of the things she's said to me in the past, things that are more than just being "nice."

"Okay, yeah, that's on me." Hanna admits. "I'll stop. Strictly professional from here on out."

"Good, I'm gonna hold you to it." I say before quickly adding, "And don't tell me you want me to hold you."

Hanna laughs. "That's exactly what I was going to say!"

I shake my head at her, then hold my hand out for her to grab so we can get up and do the job we came here to do. She accepts my hand with a friendly smile, and I find myself realizing that we have something good here.

Nate's sister or not, Hanna is a good friend.

Chapter Text

Rylie

It's a Thursday night and I'm sitting with Marisol at her kitchen table, drinking vanilla Coke and doing one of the most boring things in the world. We're working on our backlog of homework, subjects ranging from French to ethics to science, all of which we're behind on thanks to extensive extracurricular activities keeping us busy. 

My phone buzzes next to me for probably the hundredth time in the last twenty minutes. Almost instinctively, I reach out and grab it, eager to see who's texting me, even though I already know who it is.

"Can you put your phone on don't disturb so we can work on this?"

219, whatre u doing? I wanted to see u today

I smile at the text from Nate. The nickname 219 goes back from a long, long time ago when Nate and I first started talking.

Before we dated, I was smitten over Nate. We were all the same age, yet Nate was always so much taller and mature than everyone, and that was only in grade eight.

In September of grade nine, Nate looked even better than he had at the end of grade 8. He looked older somehow, more mature. Somehow my lucky stars aligned and we ended up being in all the same classes except for gym class. I didn't think someone like Nate would notice that, but on the first day of the second week of school he spoke to me.

He came up to me at the end of the day as I was jamming my books into my locker. He leaned against it, so casually that it made me crush even harder on him.

"How'd you do it?" he asked me.

"What?" I asked. A genius response.

"You know what you did." he said.

I was frozen to the spot as I stood there being questioned by Nate. All grade 8 I had existed near him, both of us running in the same crowd, but we had never had a conversation on before. We especially had never had a conversation like this before.

"I literally have no idea what's going on." I replied to him.

I looked around the hall to see if there was anything out of place or if someone was nearby. I searched for anything that I could have done wrong, yet came up with nothing.

"How'd get you switched out of my gym class?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at me in a jokingly serious manner.

"I didn't." I told him. "I'm doing gym next semester."

"Okay, but I'm onto you now." he said, his eyes still narrowed. "If you just disappear from one of my other classes I'll know where to find you." he said, his eyes floating up to my locker. "Locker 219."

With that, Nate turned and started walking away. He managed to get about five lockers down from mine before I yelled out to him.

"Hey." I called out.

To my surprise, Nate turned around with a grin on his face almost like he had been waiting for me to call him back to me.

"How'd you even notice?"

Nate's grin widened. "You're asking me how I noticed that the prettiest girl in all of Toronto was in every class of mine except for gym?

I swear I almost blacked out. Nate Hughes said I was the prettiest girl in all of Toronto. Me! Of all people. I hardly even thought I was the prettiest girl at Degrassi.

"I look for you, Rylie." Nate said to me. "That's how I noticed."

Ever since Nate got back, I've found myself reliving old moments we had. Sometimes he'll do something or say something and it'll shoot me right back into an old memory of us. Like, when we went out for Chinese a week ago, Nate ordered wonton soup and eggrolls and dunked his half-eaten eggroll in his soup so it could get soggy, and it woke up that memory in my head. Everyday there seems to be an old memory I recover, and when I do, I find myself reliving it again and again in my head, just like moments ago when remember when we first really talked for the first time.

I try not to do it, but I can't help myself. It's nice to go back to good times. I'm not saying now with Eli isn't good because it is, but it's different. I'm different.

"Who're you texting so much?" Marisol asks me. 

"Nate and Eli."

My hand has been glued to my hand since I got to her place. Every time I text Nate back, he answers me in a matter of seconds, almost like he has his phone in his hand just waiting for my text to come in. I'm texting Eli too, but he's not answering in the same way Nate is. Eli's working on his production right now, which means he's answering me whenever he can, which is usually every 30 minutes if I'm lucky.

"Ooh, the boyfriends." Marisol says.

"The boyfriend." I correct her. "Just the one."

"Could've fooled me."

"Why's everyone keep saying that? Even Eli keeps bringing it up. He thinks somethings going on because Nate's back. Just because we dated back then, doesn't mean I'm interested now." I say to her.

"Obviously Eli will be threatened by the presence of Nate. He's your ex boyfriend. Not only that, but Nate was your first ever boyfriend." Marisol says. "That means every first you and Eli are having, you've already had with Nate."

"So? Eli's dated before too." I say to Marisol.

"Yeah, but his girlfriend isn't coming back." Marisol says. She drops her voice down as if she doesn't want anyone to hear her despite it just being us two here. "She can't."

I gasp at Marisol then smack her arm. "Mare! That's horrible."

"But I'm not wrong." she says. "There's no threat for you because she's gone. In Eli's case, there's a lot of threat since Nate is back."

"But there doesn't need to be." I say.

"But there is."

"I can't believe you're siding with Eli. A year ago you hated him, remember?"

"I didn't hate him." Marisol argues. "I think he's a bit dramatic and a bit ...different. But he's a good guy. A really good guy."

"Yeah, well, he's not acting like it."

"Maybe because you're acting like he comes second."

"Mare-"

"Don't even deny it, Rio." she says. "I see you with him. Last night at the party? All on you, babe. Sorry to say it."

I stare at her, mouth open. "What? How? Nate jumped in to defend me, how was that on me?"

"Seriously?" she asks, unamused. She sighs and drops her phone down onto the bed. "Rio, you went to Nate for help. Eli was right there with you. You saw him come in to help you, I saw him come in to help you. We all saw it, and then when you needed help, you jumped to Nate."

"I looked to Nate because he was in my peripheral vision! I didn't see Eli right there."

"Why would Eli not be there? Be real, Rio. You knew they were both there and you picked the one you wanted to step in without having to say it."

I want to defend myself more by pushing the point that I didn't see Eli beside me, yet I know Marisol has me with the last point. Of course Eli was there, Eli is always there when I need him. I saw him coming over to me, I knew he would be right there waiting to jump in. I should've looked for him instead of looking to Nate.

I don't even know why I did it. One second I was having a good time, there were no issues in life, and then the whole thing broke out and I'm automatically looking to Nate like I used to back when we were together years ago. It just felt familiar to have him step in.

Also, I know that Nate isn't the type to take it over the top. Nate won't beat the shit out of someone to the point where I need to step in and make sure he's able to regain his control like I have to do with Eli. Considering the history with Eli as well, he'd most likely never regain control and the party would've been turned into a crime scene.

"You need to figure out what you want." Mare tells me, pulling me from my thoughts. "Because Eli isn't the kind to step aside and watch his girlfriend fall for some other guy."

I'm not one to get angry easily. I'd say I feel anger maybe once a month at best, but right now, sitting here and being accused of something that's not happening by my best friend of all people, pisses me off. The fact that she thinks she can see what's going on in my life more than I can, blows my mind.

"That's not what's happening." I tell her flat-out.

"Isn't it?" she retorts, her tone holding an air of arrogance.

"No."

She stares at me for a couple of seconds, her mouth pulled to one side.

"Look, I'm not going to tell you what to do, okay? What you're doing right now is going to get you in trouble in the long run with your boyfriend, and, really, I don't think that Nate is someone who's worthy of losing your relationship over."

"What does that mean?" I ask. My blood is all but boiling right now. 

"Nate isn't going to love you like Eli does, and you know this. Nate's great, I get that. He's funny and sweet and cute, but he's only those things when he wants to be - or when he wants something." she says. "Don't forget last time you guys were together."

"That was years ago." I reply back. "That's like me judging you for who you were years ago."

"Fair...but I've clearly changed. Has Nate?"

Of course he's changed. Nate from years ago was immature and manipulative. He knew how to work each person to get what he wanted, and he had no problem doing it either. Everything was a game to him, including me.

Now? Now I see a genuinely nice and caring guy. Anytime I need something, he's there. Even when I'm adamant about the fact that I don't need any help, he still offers a hand. He's always there to cheer me up whenever I need it. If I'm sad, he cheers me up. If I think I'm going to bomb a test, he helps me study. If I'm stuck at school after practice he'll drive me home. He's a good guy. I don't know how Marisol can't see it, especially when he's been nothing but good to her too.

Why does it seem like I'm the only one who sees the good in him?

Chapter Text

Eli

Despite the fact that I said I was going to put the whole anarchy thing behind me, I find myself at The Dot - with Vaughn, the guy/leader of the whole anarchy protest I saw while in Montreal. He called me yesterday to tell me he was going to be in the neighbourhood and that he wanted to meet up if I was free.

I won't lie when I say I struggled deciding whether or not I should go. On one hand, I have enough going on right now. I'm dealing with the downfall of my relationship, I have a production that is in the middle of dress rehearsals, and I'm trying to plan a future. But on the other hand, the whole thing intrigues me more than I want to admit. The thought of rebelling and causing a scene to take a stand for what's right appeals to me in an almost desperate way.

Still, I picked up the phone to call Vaughn to tell him I'm not interested only to find myself agreeing to meet up with him. 

For the past hour we've been catching up, with Vaughn telling me about another protest they did last week in Ottawa. Thankfully, this one didn't have any cars on fire, only megaphones and signs, which they eventually used to create a "mini" riot as he says.

Vaughn runs me through all the action, encountering the close calls he got in with the RCMP and police forces - both of which threatened to arrest them if they didn't calm down. He goes through detail over detail before telling me that they could really use someone like me on their side.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm definitely interested, just now isn't the best time." I tell him.

"There's more important things going on in your life besides fighting for justice?"

"What you do is a lot more than fight for justice. You're creating a sense of panic in people."

He takes a sip of his coffee - black, of course. "To spread a message." he says as he puts the cup down on the table.

"Spreading a message or not, setting fire to cars or rioting in the streets isn't going to look good to the universities I'm trying to get into." I say. I know it's selfish to think of myself in the trying times of social justice, but I can't help it. I'm setting myself up for my future, joining into this thing now might hinder it.

Vaughn leans back in his seat. "Ah, so that's what this is about. You're scared schools will revoke your admission if you get caught up in something."

"It's definitely not a bonus for them to have an anarchist for a student, especially one that's openly known for it."

"We protect our identities."

"With the amount of surveillance and social media these days, I doubt any amount of protection isn't enough."

"I think you're making a mistake, Eli."

Part of me thinks it too. I want to join in on the chaos and fun. I want to create panic and fight for what's right in the world. I want to be in the heat of it, fighting alongside likeminded individuals who are using their power and privileges to get the people who are broken and beaten heard. I want to do it all, just not right now.

"Look, I'm not saying no. Right now isn't the best time for me to join any slippery slope groups. Once I'm in university, that's a different story."

Vaughn takes a minute to sit with this. He plays with the wedding band on his left ring finger, spinning it around his finger as he thinks.

"You should be hearing back soon, eh?" he says.

I nod. "In a couple of weeks, by the end of February or March, yeah."

"Let me know when you get your acceptance, okay? We can talk more then." he says before picking up his cup and downing the rest of his drink. "I need to head out. You need a ride somewhere?"

"Nah, I'm parked a couple streets over."

"The hearse, eh?" he asks, which earns him a grin from me. "Figured. I expect to hear from you soon, Eli."

"You will." I tell him. "See ya."

Vaughn nods one last goodbye to me before he heads out, leaving me there alone - my entire brain buzzing from the entire thing. I'm so wired from the thought of joining the group that I can't stand to sit still any longer. I down the rest of my drink and all but sprint out the door onto the dark, cold streets of Toronto.

I hardly notice my surroundings as I beeline for my car. I fail to notice the broken streetlights down where I'm parked. I fail to notice the dead quiet in the air, the dark barking down the street, or even the two people following me. It's only when I turn down the street I catch sight of them behind me. 

I try to lose them by turning down another side street, one that brings me further from my car. I quicken my pace, telling myself that if I can make it down this street, I can take the street on the right and escape them, only when I go to cross the street to my escape route, I see that it's blocked off. Construction. Of course.

I pivot so I can continue down the street I'm currently on, however this doesn't prove to be a good escape either. It's a cul-de-sac.

Almost like they know that I'm cursing myself in my head for being stuck, one of them calls out to me down the street.

"HEY!"

So much for getting away. I turn around to assess the situation, more so who I'm up against and whether or not there's a way for me to get out of it, and as it turns out, I'm faced with nothing but the worst situation. 

Owen and Nate - the dream team - have me cornered. Owen is on the left side of the road where Nate is on the right, leaving me right in the middle with nowhere to go.

"Should've figured this was a thing." I say, motioning between the two of them. "Got to stay in the same IQ bracket, eh?"

"Funny." Owen says, his face implying that it's actually anything but funny.

"Thanks, I try." I reply. I do my best to sound sincere, but the impending doom kind of makes it hard. It doesn't help that both of them are moving in on me, leaving me with very limited space to move which means limited space to run if needed. "So, did you guys team up to increase your odds, or was this always the plan?"

"You seem to think you're a smart enough guy, you can figure it out." Nate says in a manner that let's me know that the answer is obvious the latter.

"It was always the plan." I say. "Since you found out I existed it was the plan, right?"

"Smart guy." Owen says to Nate with a cruel, twisted smile.

Even though they're both in front of me right now and running my mouth off will get me a monumental beatdown, I can't help it. I need at least get one more jab in before they get theirs.

"Bet no one's ever said that to you before, eh?" I say to Owen.

There's no response. At least no verbal one. Instead, Owen's fist comes flying at me and hits me square in the cheek, bordering a little on my nose. He draws back and hits me again, this time more on my jaw. As he pulls back to land another blow on me, I spring into action, getting a hit or two in on him before I'm being pulled back. Nate grabs my arms, pulling them behind my back so Owen has open access to any part of me that he wants.

Owen doesn't waste any time. He wails into me, delivering blow after blow. I do my best to minimize the impact by twisting away from him each time he lands another punch, however it doesn't actually do much. The pain hurts all the same and the blood starts to flow down my face.

When Owen reels up again to hit me, I decide enough is enough. I use the anchor of Nate behind me to lift up with my legs and I kick Owen square in the chest. I was aiming for the face, but I'll take what I can get.

Nate, realizing what's happened, lets go of my arms and throws me down to the snowy ground. I hit it with a thud, landing on a chunk of ice that is no doubt going to leave a good bruise. That's the least of my worries, though, because as soon as I manage to get over the pain of the ice, I feel Nate's foot connect with my stomach. He winds back and kicks again, this time in the ribs. And then he does it again. And again.

I can hardly focus on whos' doing what as the pain is becoming unbearable. I try my best to cover myself, using my hands as protection to minimize the pain. It doesn't work. The only thing that feels better is the instant relief when the kicks finally stop. Nate's feet stay planted on the ground, as do Owen's, as they stand over me for several seconds before they hurl off some insults to me before they turn and leave.

Normally I'd try my best to get up and fight back. The worst fight you can have is one where you lose - and I lost this one, but I have no fight in me to land any punches or kicks myself. Instead, I lay there on the ground  in the same fetal position for what seems like forever.

I manage to pull myself up from where Owen and Nate left me on the ground, laying halfway in a pile of now bloodied snow and ice. My breathing hitches as I stand up from the no doubt bruised ribs. I try not to think of it as I put one foot in front of the other, eager to get to my car. 

I'm about ten steps in when I realize that Nate and Owen together are a big threat to me, but an even bigger threat to someone else I know. Someone I love.

Without a moments of hesitation, I pull my phone out and call Rylie. I half expect her to not answer and send me to voicemail, however by the second ring she's picking up.

"Hi."

Rylie's sweet voice floats over the phone and right into my ear. It makes my breathing slow down a little and all the anger I have simmers just the smallest bit ever. 

"Hey."

"Are you okay? You don't sound good." she asks, her voice tinged with worry.

There's no use of lying about it. My eye is throbbing from being hit by Owen, there's blood in my mouth from my nose, and my lip is busted. My ribs hurts, my stomach hurts, and worse of all, I feel like I deserve it. So, no, I don't sound good right now for a good reason, but I can't tell Rylie all this right off the bat. First, I need to warn her about her own safety because between the two of us, she matters more.

"I'm not good." I tell her. I start to take a breath in to ready myself to tell her about Owen and Nate, but she speaks before I can.

"What's going on? Are you...are you mad? At me?"

"Yeah, I'm mad at you. A couple of others things too."

"I know, and you have every right to be mad at me, I'm so sor-"

"I'm not calling for that." I say as I wipe the blood from my busted lip. It stings - and not in a good way.

There's a pause. "Oh. Uh, okay. Then...what's up?"

"I just came from The Dot with Vaugh, and-"

"The anarchy guy?"

I turn the corner and see my car - finally. If I hadn't been with Vaughn tonight, I would've been at home - safe. I wouldn't have been convincing someone to stop trying to recruit me to an anarchy group, and I wouldn't have been getting my ass beat in a dead-end street afterwards. Fucking anarchy.

"Yep."

"Don't tell me you're joining in on that."

"I'm not." I say, the thought of it now sour in my mouth.

"Okay...good. Sorry, go on."

"Nate and Owen are friends. Or something."

"What? What do you mean by that?"

"Like, hanging out, bro-ing it up, chilling. However you wanna say it, that's how they were."

There's a second of pause before Rylie speaks again. "You can't be serious."

I finally make it to my car. I open the door and drop down into the drivers seat, making sure to be careful to not bend in a weird way. I still manage to, though. The pain makes me hold my breath as I try and fight through it.

"Trust me, I didn't want to believe it either, but the black-"

"No, I mean you can't be serious." she says, tone accusatory. "Nate literally stood up to him at that party, telling him to leave me alone. Why the hell would he be friends with him after that?"

"I don't know, Ry. I'm just telling you what I saw. They-"

I wanted to tell her about the fact that her ex-boyfriend and ex-friend/stalker or whatever just gave me the beating of my life, but the sound of her sighing over the phone stops me. 

I've put up with a lot of shit in my lifetime, especially when it comes to Rylie. I've had to defend her from the one guy that just beat the shit out of me, I had to step in between her and her dad before. I've had to put up with her judgmental friends and her overly-protective, overly-possessive best friend. I've forgiven her for talking shit about me, for lying to me, for everything. But now? Now I'm coming to her and telling her something for her own good, for her own protection, and she's sighing over the phone because she thinks I'm making things up. 

"You know what?" I say into the phone. "Never mind. You won't believe a word I say anyway."

"Eli, I never said I didn't believe you. It's just, Owen and Nate, really? Even you have to admit it's hard to believe."

"If you were telling me it, I'd believe it. No questions asked. I guess we're not the same, though." I say, and with that, I hang up.

I may have just got my ass handed to me. I may have just had my girlfriend call me a liar. I may have been doing everything wrong thus far regarding the whole Nate of it all, but make no mistake, I won't let it slide any longer. I may not get the girl in the end - but I'll get even. Believe that.

Chapter Text

Rylie

The sound of a door slamming alerts me to the fact that my dad is home, and by the sound of it, this isn't good news for me. As any kid who's in an unsafe house does, I hold my breath so I can hear as much as possible to try and gage if the door slam was an accident, or if I'm in trouble. 

From downstairs I can hear the sound of keys hitting against the glass table near the front door, and by the sound of it, the keys were thrown rather than placed down. Right after, the sound of my dad's laptop bag being thrown against the closet door rings out, and then another sound hits against the closet door. I'm trying to figure out what the sound is when I hear it again, then again, and I realize it's my dad hitting the door.

It's a rare occasion that my dad comes home and is this pissed off already. Usually, he'll come home already on edge about something at work or the traffic he had to go through to get home, but he's never mad like this from the start. This means I'm in for trouble.

Almost like he's sensing my thoughts, I hear my dad call out my name, his voice laced with anger. If I answer him, I'm screwed. I'll be his punching bag for the next 30 minutes minimum. 

With this in mind, I do the only thing I can. I quickly and quietly get off my bed, grabbing my phone as I move to the window. I throw the window open, the top flying up so quick that it hits against the top of the windowsill. I don't care about that, though. I only care about making it out of here before my dad gets in. Sneaking out like this is one thing, but getting caught is a whole other thing.

I quickly step out with my left foot first, making sure I have enough traction to stand on. When I feel comfortable enough, I move my right foot over as well, then grab my phone from the windowsill and quickly put the screen back in the window. I put my phone in my front pocket as I lower myself to a sitting position on the roof and look down to plan my exit.

I really only have one exit route available for me. I need to move from where I am outside of my window, to the right where I can get onto the back porch roof. After that, I can grab onto the tree that's leaning right over the back porch, and then I can climb right down. The only things standing in my way are getting caught by my dad, and the steep slope between where I am and the back porch, but if I go quick enough, neither should affect me.

With nothing but pure adrenaline and fear pumping through me, I get moving. I take two small steps to bring myself right in front of the slope separating myself from the back porch roof. Nervously, I glance down and see the ground below me. If I fall, I'm going to break something.

I feel my heart start to beat faster than before at the fear of falling, and then, I hear the sound of my dad's voice calling my name. From the sound of it, he's in my room. If he comes over to the window, he'll see me outside and will come out here and dragging me in himself. That alone is enough to get me moving. 

I jump over the slope and land perfectly placed on the back porch roof. I press myself against the house as I slide over to where the tree is. I take one last look back to see if I can see my dad, even though the only way I could see him right now is if he got onto the roof with me, but clearly he's unstable enough for that to be a possibility. Luckily, today it isn't my reality. 

The tree portion of my escape is easier than I thought it would be. There's a sturdy branch right within reach for me. I wrap my arms around it and move backwards so I can climb down it and onto the ground. I only run out of branches when I'm about four feet away from the ground, which isn't a huge deal as I can easily make the jump - and I do. I land on the ground with not a single scratch or bit of debris on me.

Now that I'm free and on land, I realize that I don't actually have anywhere to go. I'm in pajama bottoms with the matching pajama shirt, and I'm not wearing shoes. It's not like I can exactly go far like this. Plus, my phone is on 5%.

My first thought is to call Eli, but given everything going on with us lately, I feel like I can't turn to him. He was already still mad at me from the whole party thing, and now I've gone and called him a liar, so I'm willing to bet he's even madder at me and doesn't want to see me right now.

With Eli out, my next thought is Marisol. I know she would come and get me, no questions asked, except I'm pretty sure she's working today. That, and she doesn't have a car. But I know someone who does have a car and would be willing to come get me no matter how busy they are.

I sneak down the backyard and hop the fence near the garage so my dad can't see me. Even though I'm off my property, I'm still paranoid, so I put some more distance between myself and the house, walking about 50 steps down the alley, and only when I'm there do I feel comfortable enough to call someone to pick me up.

I pray a silent prayer as I hit the 'Call' button. I don't need to wait long for an answer. On the second ring, I'm greeted by a familiar voice.

"Hey, you. What's up?" Nate says into the phone. 

In the background I can hear the sound of people talking and laughing, like he's out somewhere already.

"Hey, are you busy right now?" I say. I'm trying my best to level my voice so it comes out normal, however, my voice is still shaky and we can both clearly hear it.

"Nope, was just shooting some hoops with the guys. What's going on?"

"So, you're busy. It's fine, I-"

"I'm not busy." he says.

I bite my lip. Obviously he's out right now, and even though I really, really, want someone to come save me, I also don't want to ruin his plans right now by asking him to come get me. But, again, I really, really want to be somewhere not here - somewhere safe.

"You sure?" I ask him, giving him one last chance to tell me he's too busy for me.

"Yeah, I'm sure. What's going on, Rio?"

"Can you come pick me up?"

"Yeah. Where are you?"

"Um, outside my place in that back alley that leads to the corner store."

Nate pauses for a second, probably because he's wondering why the fuck I'm waiting in a back alley instead of my house, but he doesn't push for an answer, instead he says "Okay, do I pick you up there?"

"Please."

"Alright, I'm leaving now. I should be there in no more than ten minutes."

"Okay." I say, and then in a rushed, embarrassed voice I add "Thank you."

"You know I got you."

I thank him again and then hang up the phone. Nervously, I keep glancing towards the direction of my house to see if my dad is going to come crawling over the fence just like I did. A couple minutes pass and there's still no sign of my dad, which should make me relax a little, but I know I won't be able to do that until I'm out of range of the house. Once I'm away, I'll text my dad and tell him I'm staying late at Marisol's tonight so he'll think I wasn't home at all to begin with, and thus saving my ass from any future repercussions.

I'm crafting the message to my dad when a car turns down the alleyway, the bright lights shining directly into my face as the car slows to a creeping pace in front of me before it stops moving. Without a second of hesitation, I beeline for it.

"Hey." I say to Nate as I slide into the passenger side seat. The seat warmer is on which is sweet, and the radio is on my favourite station. "Thanks for picking me up."

"No problem at all." Nate replies. He turns and reaches into the backseat for something. I hear the sound of a plastic bag rustling, and then he turns back to me, holding a bag of Nerds. "These are for you."

"Did you, like, have these in your car already?"

"Nah, I was closer to you than I told you, so I used the extra time to stop at the store and get you some candy."

I'm actually very touched by this. Not only did Nate come to pick me up, no questions asked, but he also managed to get me my favourite candy to cheer me up. It's an incredible thought, incredibly kind, and incredibly Nate thing to do.

"Nate, you didn't have to do that." I tell him as he throws his car in drive and brings us out of the alley and back onto the street.

"I know, but I figured from the way you sounded when I called that you needed something like this." he says with a grin. While still keeping his eyes on the road, he leans down and grabs something from the pocket of his car door. Wordlessly, he reaches over to me and holds it out, motioning for me to take it. "I figured you'd need this too."

It's a flask. A full flask from the feel of it too. I unscrew the top of it and bring it under my nose to try and see what kind of alcohol is in here. It smells like vodka. Strong vodka.

"I have another one in the trunk." Nate tells me. "Just in case we run out."

Greedily, I tilt my head back and press the flask against my lips, downing the alcohol in it. It's strong and it burns going down my throat. The warmth of it hits me right away, and I know that with this flask by my side, I'm going to have a good night after all.

"So, where to?" Nate asks me. "I'm more than happy to just drive around if you want. We can also go somewhere too."

"Like where?"

"Two choices. One, you come back to my place. We eat too much candy and watch a movie. I'll even let you pick the movie if you're nice."

"And two?"

"We go to that lookout spot we used to go to. You know, the one where we saw that squirrel commit suicide? It's just around the block."

"I still can't believe we saw that."

"Me neither. It's still seared in my brain."

"You ever think he made the smart choice?"

"The squirrel?" Nate asks with a laugh. He looks over to see if I'm laughing too, except I'm not. I'm staring straight out the windshield, my jaw tight and my face serious. Seeing this, Nate switches up, changing from laughter to a dead serious face in a second flat. "Rio, no. He made a stupid choice that he can never undo. It's not a smart choice at all, it's a dumb one."

"It's not dumb."

"It is dumb, and selfish. It's a selfish, permanent thing that blows up lives around you. Like, imagine how your dad would feel."

I can't help it - I laugh. It's a cruel, sarcastic laugh that tiptoes the line of psychotic, almost tilting right over it. 

"It's not a joke, Rio." Nate says. He's obviously not as amused as I am, but then again, he isn't as fucked up as I am either. He's also not as tipsy as I am, either, and we all know tipsy and anger equals dangerous.

"No one would miss me. My dad wouldn't care, my mom could care even less, and I'm sure at this point, Eli would care even less than my two parents combined."

"Don't say that."

"Why? It's true."

"People would care."

"Like who?"

"Like me."

I don't reply to Nate. I know he's just said something nice to me and I should say something back to him, but right now it feels like my heart is going to break right out of my chest which makes it kind of hard to concentrate on anything else but that. I guess Nate sees it too because he reaches over and lightly places his hand on mine, stroking the back of my hand with his thumb.

"Let's go to my place." Nate says with the softest voice ever.

"Okay."

When Nate gets to the next stop, he takes a left, turning us in the direction towards his place. I sit on my side of the car and press myself close to the window so I can watch the world around us as we drive. 

We pass an older man walking a fluffy little dog. I'm not sure what kind of dog it is, but it's white and fluffy and kind of tall. By time I go to ask Nate, the man has already turned down another street and is out of my sight.

We turn down another street which has a group of kids around 7-8 years old playing basketball on one of the kid's yards. One of the kids, a shorter one with black curly hair, throws the ball and misses. His friends immediately point at him and laugh, which causes him to laugh as well. A small smile even finds its way to my face. 

"Do you remember the neighbourhood?" Nate asks me. "It's the same one we lived in before."

I glance around to try and find something familiar, but nothing stands out to me. All the houses look new, with their brick paved driveways and the classic grey brick and wood finished houses. It doesn't look like the same area that Nate and I used to race down the streets in, but I guess all things change over time.

"Not really." I answer Nate. I wish I could tell him I remember the area, but no matter how deep I reach down in my memory, I can't find anything. "But it's nice."

"It's okay." he says nonchalantly. Nate's family is used to money and fancy neighbourhoods, this is nothing to them. Nate nods over to a house at the end of the street, a big house that has lights coming down from every arch. "This is us." 

I try not to gawk at it. I'm used to nice houses as well given the fact that my dad is a real estate agent, but this house is bigger than any I've seen. The grass out front is perfectly levelled and cut with perfectly cut lines in it. The driveway, like everyone else's, is brick paved and leads right up to a three car garage. The door to the garage opens automatically as Nate pulls up to it, opening up to show a huge, spotless garage.

"My dad's favourite part of the entire place." Nate says as he puts the car in park. "I swear one day he's going to start sleeping in here."

Nate's dad is not only a business man, but also a man that loves being hands on working on projects, like building new cabinets for their house, or fixing up everyone's car. It's one of the things I admire about him the most. Anyone else in Nate's dad's tax bracket would pay to have all and any work done, not him. He says it clears his mind, and, well, everyone else loves it too because they benefit, so why not?"

"Want the full house tour?" Nate offers. We're still sitting in the car buckled in, not moving. "Or do you want to go to my room?"

Normally I'm a nosey girl and would press to see the entire place. Right now, though, in my pajamas, at my ex-boyfriend's house after running away from my own house, it doesn't sound like fun to be paraded from room to room to see a happy families life, so I decline.

"Alright, my room it is." Nate says. "Let's go."

We move at the same time, unbuckling our seatbelts and getting out of the car. I allow myself a couple of seconds to look around the garage before I follow Nate to the side door leading into the house. We go down the hall, then up a flight of stairs, down another hall before making a left that brings us to Nate's room. 

Nate leads us through the door, then lets me step in before he closes the door behind him. 

"What do you think?" he asks. "Same as before?"

Nate's old room was similar to his current one, only this one is like his old room on steroids. Now, instead of having one or two trophies, he has a whole shelf of them. There's about 10 or 15 of them, most for hockey and football. There's LED light strips on his ceiling, only these aren't the 20$ ones you can get at Wal-Mart. These are ones that look built into the room. The entire room represents him so perfectly.

"It looks kind of...the same?" I say. "But different too. Like, your walls are painted almost the same colour, but your entire vibe is different."

"Different good?"

"Yeah, different good. I like the beanbag chair. I like the globe." I say, turning as I point out the different things I like in his room. "I'm a fan of bed too, it's really big."

"It's a king." he tells me. "I could fit six of you in here. Maybe seven if one of you was rotated this way on the end of the bed."

"We couldn't fit seven of me in here." I argue. "Maybe five."

"Let's try it out." Nate says. He pats the bed next to him, motioning for me to get on. "Come here, I'll measure you on the bed."

Despite the fact that the alcohol I've had is infiltrating my system and is making me loose some of my inhibitions, I know better than to get on the bed with Nate right now. Being at his house, alone in his room with him is one thing, but getting onto his bed with him? That's a whole other story, one that Eli wouldn't want to read.

I guess Nate senses this from my hesitation because he rolls his eyes as he scoots to the complete opposite side of the bed I'm near. "There, now you can get on without worrying about me going after you or something."

"I wasn't worried about that." I mumble, even though it's obvious that it's exactly what I was worried about. Still, with Nate now on the other side of the bed, I climb onto the side closest to me because it does look really comfortable and the alcohol is making me sleepy. I climb right up to where his pillow is and I drop my head down onto it with a happy sigh. I let my eyes flutter closed as I enjoy the comfort of it. "This is a really comfortable bed."

"I know."

"You snuck up on me. You said you'd stay on the other side of the bed."

"No, I never said that."

I think he's right. I think he moved over, but never said he wouldn't come back. I'm not exactly sure anymore. The two flasks of alcohol I finished are taking over, making my brain feel like it's in the clouds instead of down here on earth. 

"Want to watch something?" Nate offers. "Maybe Uptown Girls? Or Grease? I know you loved those back then."

"I still do." I murmur. "Can we watch Uptown Girls?"

Nate turns and grabs the remote from his nightstand, the one on "his" side of the bed. As he turns, his shirt rides up a little and I find myself entranced by it. I know I shouldn't be. I have a boyfriend. A boyfriend that isn't Nate. But the boyfriend also isn't here, and his shirt isn't riding up for me to see, Nate's is, so I appreciate it.

Nate turns back and - because of the alcohol - I have a delayed reaction time, so my eyes don't leave the patch of skin of his until he's fully turned and looking at me. A slow grin spreads across his face, and yet he doesn't say anything about it, he just leaves it at that.

"Do you want something to eat or anything?" Nate asks me as he searches for the movie. "Or a sweater? You look cold."

"I am cold." I say to him. "I thought the alcohol would warm me up but it's not doing a good job of it."

"How dare the alcohol not help you." he says. He finally lands on the movie and clicks it, starting it, and then gets up and heads to his closet. A second later he produces a green and tan sweater. He holds it up to me for approval. "You want this one? It's my warmest one."

I nod at him. I'm not exactly in a position to be picky about the sweater I'm borrowing, especially when I showed up here in nothing but pajamas.

Nate tosses the sweater to me and I quickly shrug it over my head. It's huge on me. The sleeves cover my hands by a couple of inches, and the entire thing floats on me. That alone is enough to make me comfortable, and the mere fact that it smells like Nate is maybe the best part about the whole thing. 

"Comfy?" Nate asks with a knowing grin. 

He comes back on the bed, crawling over towards where I am. This time, I don't act weird or anything, I just accept it. Even when Nate throws an arm around me and pulls me into him as we watch the movie, I accept it. 

I let myself close my eyes and picture what my life would be like if my parents never got divorced and Nate never moved away. I bet I would be right here with him just like we are right now, only I wouldn't have got here because I was running away from home, I would've been here because it's where I was meant to be, and maybe...maybe it still is.

Chapter Text

Eli

"She's being an idiot."

Marisol texted me ten minutes earlier to come join her in the library, stating that she needed help with a research paper for a class I'm not even good at and don't even have this semester. Since I'm on my free period anyway, I made my way to the library where I found her in a mountain of books, not because she was reading them, but because she was busy spying on Rylie and Nate who sat all but 20 feet away from her at a table of their own. 

Marisol dragged me down to the table with her, giving me my own book shields - which I refuse to use - and here we are, ten minutes later, still watching as we talk.

"She is being stupid." Marisol says, doubling down. "And on some level she knows it too."

I look at Marisol in surprise to which she just shrugs at me, almost as if saying it is what it is. I never thought that Marisol would ever go against her best friend, especially when I'm involved. It's no secret that we've never got along beforehand, and now she's seemingly on my side of the situation.

"I don't think so."

Marisol glances back towards where Rylie is sitting, completely unaware of Marisol and I watching her. Mare takes a deep breath in then twists her entire body towards me and scoots her chair closer to me so that there's only a couple of inches of space between the two of us.

It's the closest I've ever gotten to Marisol before and I take a couple of seconds to appreciate her. Even though I've found her annoying since the moment I met her, she is a beautiful girl. Her light brown hair compliments her skin beautifully and her round, brown eyes are easy to get lost it. Plus, she smells great. Not as good as Rylie, but still good.

Marisol realizes that I'm spending too much time looking her over and calls me out on it.

"Do not look at me like that!" she gasps, a small smile on her face. "Just because you're in a rough patch with my best friend it doesn't mean you can move on to me."

"I'm not trying to move on to you, I was just...appreciating." I tell her. "You're my girlfriend's best friend, but I'm not blind either. You're good looking, take the compliment and don't make it weird."

Marisol scoffs at me. "You're making it weird, not me. But, yeah," she says as she tosses a lock of hair over her shoulder. "I am good looking. And you're not so bad yourself."

"Really?"

"Yeah, but don't let it get to your head, okay? I still think you're weird."

"You're weird, not me."

Mare rolls her eyes at me then scoots in even closer to me. "Whatever, I have some top-secret info to share with you."

"Is this info you should be sharing with me?"

Mare glances behind her to where Rylie is, still blissfully unaware of the two of us. She turns back to me, her face dead serious. "No, but I think you need it right now." she says before taking a big, dramatic breath in. "The other day after the whole thing at the party, Rio was at my place and we were talking about all of it."

"Oh great, I can only imagine how that went down. Let me guess, you convinced her to break up with me so she can date Nate instead?"

Again, she rolls her eyes at me. "No. I told her she was putting you second and that she was ruining your relationship."

I blink at Marisol in surprise. "You told her that?"

"Yeah, she needed to hear it."

Marisol has been a longtime hater of me since the very beginning. On my very first day at Degrassi, Marisol told Rylie that I was bad news and that I wasn't someone to be hanging around with. Mare sabotaged us at every stage of the game, and it wasn't until the very worst of times that she came around to see that all I ever wanted to do was help Rylie, not hurt her. Because of this longwinded history of dislike, I find it hard to believe that Marisol spoke on my behalf in regard to anything, but especially in my relationship.

"Yeah, no, for sure, I'm just surprised it came from you." I say to her.

"You act like I have it out for you."

"Historically you have."

"That's before I knew you, emo boy. Back then I only knew you were a bit of a slut and that you were potentially dealing drugs. Oh, and that you stabbed a kid, which I'm pretty sure is true."

"Yeah, none of that is true."

"Sure..." Mare says as she eyes me wearily like she still doesn't believe me. "But anyway, I told her straight that she was going to ruin this if she kept going the way she was."

"And what'd she say?"

"She rambled off a bunch of bullshit about Nate just being there and not by her choice, but we both know she's making the choice to keep him around." she says. "Honestly? I think she's just trying to relive the dream she had for them years ago."

"So, I'm in the way."

"I don't know." she admits. "Maybe she'll wake up and realize that she's screwing up with a great guy for a not-so-great guy."

"Hold on." I say, holding out a hand. "I thought you" I say, pointing at her. "Liked Nate?"

"I thought I did too, but I don't know, there's something...off about him. I felt it years ago, I convinced myself I was being stupid, but now that he's back I feel it again."

"What, like bad off or weird off?" I ask. Since Nate's been back, all I've ever heard anyone say is good things about him, so to hear Marisol say she senses something weird gives me a sense of calm.

"No idea, just off." she says with a little half shoulder shrug. She glances over to Marisol, then looks sideways at me as if trying not to be obvious. "What happened to you? Like, the bruises and everything. You getting beat up at home?"

I almost laugh at the irony of this. Marisol doesn't know that the joke she just made is her own best friend's life. It's so twisted in a funny, not-funny way.

"I think you can guess what happened." I tell her.

"Nate? That makes sense to me, actually."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, like I said, he's off."

I glance over at our target. Rylie is standing now, however she still has her back to us and still doesn't seem to have spotted myself or Marisol. In fact, I'd argue she's more blissfully unaware right now than she was the entire time we were sitting now. Now, her entire back is to us, so it's safe to say we're in the clear. With this, I lean into Marisol to give her my own hot gossip.

"Well, in the spirit of sharing, Hanna, Nate's sister, did tell me that they came back here because of him but she wouldn't tell me why. She stayed vague about it, but I could tell it was something big."

"Why the hell would Hanna tell you that?"

"We're friends. Sort of."

"You're friends with Hanna?" Marisol asks. She says Hanna's name like it's a bad word.  "Since when?"

"I don't know, since the start of the production." I say. I'm sure Marisol forgot that Hanna was in the production or that I was even directing it at all. "Why? Is there something wrong about her too?"

"Nope, just surprised you'd get that close to Nate's sister considering everything."

"Yeah, well, I didn't know that part until a couple of days ago." I admit to Marisol.

"No way!" she gasps, mouth open. "Shes been conning you since the start of the year?"

"You can imagine how thrilled I was when I found out."

"I'm surprised she's still alive."

"Heh, me too, but...I kind of get it, though? I'm not a fan of Nate, so if he were my brother, I'd try and hide it too."

"Yeah, but for this long? It's almost like she was keeping it a secret for more than just the fact that she's ashamed." she says.

"I don't know, I think she genuinely wanted to not be associated with him. I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt anyway."

Marisol lifts her eyebrows. "She never used to mind being associated with him before."

"What's that mean?"

Marisol leans in even closer to me. "Back before they left-"

"Am I interrupting?"

Marisol and I were so busy gossiping that we got lost in the moment and didn't realize that our target, Rylie, was on the move. It's more on me than Mare, I was the one facing Rylie and somehow, I let myself get distracted long enough for her to walk right up to us without either of us noticing.

"No, not interrupting." Marisol says. She doesn't move back from me, instead she flashes Rylie a grin as she leans forward a little, getting even closer to me. I don't know what kind of game she's playing, but judging from the look on Rylie's face, it's not a good game to be playing.

"What're you guys doing?" Rylie pushes on as she glances at us and the mountain of books we have on the table, none of which are remotely close to being about the same subject. We have a book on volcanos, World War Two, Psycho, The Grapes of Wrath, and a couple other books about wildly different subjects. 

Marisol beats me to the draw again. "We were just talking." she says.

"Since when do you guys talk? You guys hardly even get along."

"We've been getting along for a while now, Rio. Maybe you're too preoccupied to have noticed it."

My eyes widen as I glance at Marisol. I shoot her a 'what the fuck' look and she shoots me back a look as if to say 'what?'. I don't push on. Clearly Marisol has a plan here, and even though it seems like its going bad, I have to let her lead on this one.

"I'm not preoccupied." Rylie retorts. "I've been just as busy as you've been, okay? And sorry if I didn't notice you trying to cozy up to my boyfriend before now."

"At least someone is cozying up to him." Mare mumbles. I'm sure she meant to say it under her breath, but it comes out loud enough for all three of us to easily hear it.

"What the hell does that mean?"

Marisol doesn't back down. She flips a piece of hair over her shoulder and looks Rylie square in the eyes. "You know what it means."

Rylie stares down at Marisol with the angriest face I've ever seen her with since I've known her. She's never even looked at Owen or her dad with as much as hatred as she's looking at Marisol with right now.

"Can I talk to my boyfriend? Alone."

Marisol gives Rylie a fake-nice smile before she turns to me and gives me a real one. 

"Good luck." Mare says, tapping my thigh with her hand twice before she lets it rest there, probably to piss Ry off which it seems to instantly do. "Text me if you need anything, eh?"

Marisol gets up all innocently. She slowly grabs her stuff from the table, and slides them into her bag, making no attempt at hustling. Next, she takes down her book tower, placing each book carefully on top of one another before picking them all up, waving a small goodbye, then saunters off without a care in the world. 

Rylie stares after Marisol as she walks off, waiting until she's fully out of eyesight before taking her eyes off Marisol and focusing them on me.

"How close are you guys?" Rylie asks me, an annoyed look still on her face. 

By her mood, I can tell this isn't going to be a good conversation. Rylie is already angry and talking too loud which would be okay if we were anywhere else, but as it stands, we're in the middle of a very quiet library filled with people we know. Not an ideal location for yet another fight.

"You think we could take this somewhere else?" I ask her. "Somewhere private, like my car maybe."

Rylie agrees, mostly because as queen popularity, she needs to keep appearances up which means she can't exactly be seen yelling at her boyfriend in the middle of school.

We walk silently to my car. Along the way a couple of people stop us to talk to Rylie. She flips a switch when she gets stopped, putting on her best smile and happiest tone she has. No one else has any idea that she's faking it right now. She's so good at putting a performance on for people that they're none the wiser.

Whatever performance she was putting on drops as soon as we close the doors to my car. Right away she turns and looks at me with that same unhappy face.

"So?" she says. "You and Marisol? What the hells going on there?"

"You know we're not that close."

"Then why were you talking and looking so buddy-buddy."

"We were talking about a mutual shared interest." I say. "That's it."

"What interest?"

I know where this conversation is going. Rylie is feeling insecure over seeing two people she thought could never be close, be close. She's thinking she has something to worry about now that Marisol and I get along. Marisol's body language towards me and her hand on my leg certainly didn't help the whole thing either, in fact, I'd wager anything that if she hadn't done that, Rylie and I wouldn't be having this conversation right now.

"Ry, you don't need to feel threatened by your own best friend." I tell her in an attempt to stop this whole thing now before it goes further.

Rylie reaches out and slides her finger around the volume adjuster in my car. "She's taken girl's boyfriends before."

"She still calls me emo boy, I don't really see us making it far with that nickname in play."

"Maybe you like getting tortured."

"If that's the case then I'm dating the right person already."

Even though it's obviously a joke, Rylie doesn't even show a hint of a smile at this. Her frown deepens at this, the corners of her mouth turning down more than they already were. Her green eyes look a little darker, filled with anger.

"That was a joke." I say to her.

"Funny." she says, but obviously it was anything but that.

Rylie goes back to tracing her finger around the volume knob in my car. Neither of us say anything. The only thing I can manage to come up with as a conversation topic is the dying tree near the exit of the parking lot, or the fact that Sam, some guy Rylie is friends with, is talking to a 9er. Neither of these seem like good options for a conversation, so I keep looking around until Rylie finally speaks up.

"What happened to your eye?" she asks. Her tone implies she doesn't actually care, except deep down I know she's dying to know. I, on the other hand, was hoping to avoid this conversation completely, especially considering the nature of our conversation on the day I got my black eye, but as it stands, its a hard one to avoid.

"I'm sure you know the answer to that already."

Rylie stops tracing the carved name on the table and looks up at me. "You're saying Nate did it?"

"Not just Nate."

"Not just Nate? Who else wo- oh, don't tell me you're trying to say Owen helped Nate out?"

"Here we go again."

"That's exactly what I was thinking. It's one thing to say you saw them hanging out, but to insinuate that they teamed up to, what, beat you up? That's...that's crazy."

"That's me for ya; crazy."

"Seriously, Eli, it's not funny."

"I never said it was."

"Then why do you keep doing this?"

"All I'm doing is telling you the truth. As my girlfriend, you should believe me."

"I would if I thought even an ounce of it was true. Honestly, why the hell would Nate and Owen hurt you?"

I give her a look. "Seriously? You really have to ask that?"

"What, you're saying it's because of me?"

"I'm not saying anything. What's the point of even saying anything, you're convinced I'm crazy."

"Do you really blame me? It's not like it's the first time you've... you know."

For the most part, I'm fine with accepting that people will think there's something wrong with me. Hell, I agree with them. I'm impulsive and reactive and I'm not one to follow the same crowd, so I've gotten used to it. But to hear Rylie say that shit? It hurts me.

I'm tempted to react rather than respond, but what good would that do? I'd just be proving her point, so instead I take a deep breath and answer as calmly as I can manage.

"I haven't gone off the rails once during this entire bullshit situation. Last year I would've, but I'm not that guy anymore. It'd be nice if you could see that." I tell her.

"I do see it, but I also see the jealous you have and the way you have it out for Nate. He would never hurt anyone. Like, at the party. He didn't lay a hand on Owen past what he needed to."

I'm about to respond by trying to advocate for myself again when a flash of what Hanna says goes through my head. Why am I trying to prove myself to someone who doesn't want to see who I am, just who I was? Why am I wasting my own breath? 

"Ry, I wish you could see what's going on right now from my point of view because it really sucks. I love you, but I hate what's going on between us lately, and I need to remove myself from the situation."

"What does that mean, remove yourself from the situation? Are you breaking up with me?"

I didn't expect to be doing this at school of all places. Actually, I didn't expect to be doing this at all - ever. I thought that Rylie and I would stand the test of time, and I really tried to, but five months of feeling like someone else is being prioritized over me is a lot. It's causing a great deal of pain to me and my mental health, and even though I want to be with Rylie forever, I can't keep doing whatever the hell this is right now.

"No, I'm not breaking up with you, I just...I need a break."

"From me."

"From the whole situation."

"That I caused."

I sigh -heavily. "Rylie."

"What? It's true! You're dumping me because I'm too much to deal with." she says. At this point she's in tears. They spill over her cheeks, rolling down quickly. It guts me to see, to the point where I almost take everything back, but I can't do that.

"I'm not dumping you. I think we just need a couple of weeks apart."

"Weeks?!"

"Yes, a couple of weeks. I'm not saying months or anything, but some time would be good for us."

Rylie drops her head into her hands, covering her face from me. Her blonde hair falls around her like a protective blanket. I want to reach out and stroke it to comfort her, yet I can't bring myself to do it.

"I can't believe you're breaking up with me." she cries. Half of her sentence comes out normal, and the other half sounds broken as she chokes it out in sobs.

"I'm not breaking up with you, I-"

"A break is breaking up!" she cries out.

The school bell rings, signaling that our free period is over and we have 15 minutes to get to our next class. It doesn't take long for the school doors to open and students to come flooding out. Even though it's cold out, kids still want to leave the school for even a couple of seconds to take a break. Some even walk off the property to smoke a cigarette or two while they have time. Rylie and I sit in the car silently with me watching people around us, and her crying, trying to pull herself together before we go inside. 

"I guess that's that." Rylie says, her voice cracking with every word.

"Rylie." I say softly. I reach out and put my hand on hers, and suddenly I'm hit by the memory of last year when I would dream of touching her like this. All I wanted then was to be close to her, and now, it seems like we're further apart than ever. "I don't want this to be forever."

"Then until when?" she asks, turning her tear-soaked face towards me.

"Until you figure out what you want."

"I want you." 

"You want more than that. If you don't want to admit it to me or even yourself, fine, but it's not fair to try and have both of us."

"I'm not trying to have both of you! I just want you."

"That's not how it looks from here." I tell her. "Right now, it feels like I'm an outsider in my own relationship, and maybe you don't see it, but I do, and it sucks." I say. Rylie opens her mouth again, probably to argue about it, but I keep going. "Take some time to figure out what you really want. If it's me, then great, that's what I'm hoping for. I love you so much and you know this, and I'm here for you through everything, even during our break. And...and if you choose Nate, then that's okay too. I want you to do what's best for you."

"You're what's best for me."

"If that's true, then a couple weeks apart will prove it even more, okay?"

Rylie nods at me, her eyes now filled with fresh tears. 

"Do you want to go back in? I can drive you home instead." I offer. I may be a bad guy for placing us on a break, but that doesn't mean I need to be a shitty person either.

"My dad's home today." Rylie says, implying that her place is a hard no.

"Okay, do you want to go to my place?"

"You just broke up with me - sorry, you just put us on a break, why would I go to your place?"

"Because I still love and care about you, and my family does too. And you know you're welcome to come over anytime you want, no matter what's going on with us."

I expect her to argue with me about the fact that I've broken us up and therefore I don't care about her, but instead, she nods at me and says she'd like to go to my place for the afternoon. 

I drive her to my house, not even caring that we're both missing our next classes. I grab her some chocolate from the kitchen and set a movie up for her, and then I leave her in my room alone, and I hit the road to clear my head, hoping that the long stretch of asphalt with provide me with the answers I desperately need.

Chapter Text

Rylie

It's been two days since Eli put us on a break. Two days of feeling like I've failed Eli and our relationship and myself. Two days of crying myself to sleep, which actually isn't that uncommon for me, but usually it's not because of Eli, except now it is and it's all my fault.

The whole thing is my fault. I've always been too hard on him. I treat him like he's an ill wired bomb that could go off at the slightest touch. I've mislabeled him as a danger, and I've been so hard on him when all he's tried to do is help and be there for me. 

I've ruined the whole thing well before Nate came into the picture, but now I've done unrepairable damage to us. 

And to make matters worse? I'm acting like I don't care. I'm pretending like Eli and I being on a break is no big deal. I'm still smiling and laughing at school. I'm working even harder in cheer, performing better than I ever have. 

And I'm still spending time with Nate. He texted me asking if I wanted to work out in the gym with him. He explicitly made it clear that the gym was empty - just him, and that he wanted me to come stretch with him.

I could've said no. I could've ignored the text completely and texted him back hours later to tell him that I'm sorry, I hadn't seen the text come in. But I didn't do that. No, instead, I grabbed my bag from the cheer floor and headed to the weight room where Nate is - alone.

The walk to the weight room is short. I head right from the gym, then hang a left near the media room, and just like that, I'm at the weight room. As I walk in I notice that Nate was right, no one else is in here, just him over near the free weights with two gym mats on the floor.

"Hey, stranger." Nate says as I stroll over to him. "You got here fast."

"I was at practice." I say, shrugging up my gym back as proof. "I was just going to leave when you texted me."

"Good timing then, eh?" Nate says.

I toss my bag down onto the floor beside my mat and flop down onto it. I stretch out my legs, pointing my toes down as far as they can go as I stretch my hands up over my shoulders, making myself as long as I can. I let my eyes close as I stretch, enjoying the feeling of the release and peace wash over me.

"You look tired." Nate says to me.

"I'm always tired." I say. 

"You look more tired than usual." he says.

"Yeah, it's not like anything's going on with me or anything." I say, referring to the Eli situation.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot about that." Nate says. I hear him move on the mat, and when I open my eyes to look at him, I see that he's also moved to the same position as me. He lays on his back, holding the stretch I was in for a couple of seconds before dropping it and letting his arms come back down to beside him, his palms flat on the ground on either side of him. "Do you love him? Eli?"

I hate that I do it, but I hesitate. It's not a long hesitation, it only lasts a total of maybe three seconds, but with the question lingering in the air, and Nate's eyes on mine, it makes those three seconds feel like an entire lifetime. 

"Yeah, I do." I tell him, but that pause is hanging between us.

"And me?"

My breath catches in my throat. I feel like everything right now has gone completely still. Nate and I are locked here together, so close from one another yet so close to diving over an edge we've both been teetering off of.

"What about you?"

"What do you feel for me?"

"I-uh..."

"Don't say nothing either, Rio. I can see it when you look at me."

"You're wrong." I protest, but it's a weak protest that both Nate and I know I'm lying about.

Anyone on planet earth could see that there's something going on between Nate and I. It's obvious-er than obvious. Whenever someone from our friend group tells a funny joke, Nate laughs and looks at me right away. His eyes glimmer when he looks at me, his eyes crinkled in the way they do when he smiles big.

"I feel it too, Rio." Nate continues on. His hand comes to my face, stroking the side of it just like he used to do when we dated years ago. "I want you back so bad."

"Nate." I say, placing my hand on his to stop it. It's a mistake, though, because when I touch his hand with mine, his entire face changes to one of want. His eyes flutter from mine to my lips, looking back and forth like he can't decide which he likes more. It's hard to concentrate when he's looking at me like this, yet by the grace of God, I manage to find some strength in me to try and fight it. "I can't do this, Nate. Eli..."

"He isn't here, Rio. It's just you and me." Nate growls out. 

Nate's moved in so close to me that we're pretty much right on top of one another. Our hands both stay frozen to their spot, neither of us wanting to fully take the plug in it, but neither of us willing to back out either. We've been wanted this for so long, and now the moment is finally here.

All thoughts of Eli fly out of my head. In this moment, the only thing that exists is Nate and I, and, man, I need to be with him, like - really - be with him.

I'm not sure which one of us lean in first. We both seem to do it at the exact same time, making our mouths meet in the middle. His hand grips my face even harder, pulling me a little in to him as if he's worried that I'll slip away if he doesn't keep me here. 

The thing is, I wouldn't leave right now even if you paid me to. Every single part of my body feels like it's on fire. My brain is so overstimulated by the feeling and smell and taste of Nate that it almost feels like my entire body is getting electrocuted in the best way possible.

Nate moves back, pulling me with him as he moves to lay on his back. He grabs one of my legs and gently pulls it on the other side of his body, making it so I'm straddling him as he lays back on the hard gym mat underneath us. His hands are all over my body, grabbing it roughly as if he's worried that if he doesn't hold on tight, I'll disappear. 

Nate's lips leave mine and trail down my neck, planting hard, wet kisses on my skin. A little sigh of pleasure leaves my lips which motivates Nate to keep doing what he's doing, only now the kisses are faster and more desperate than before.

Just as Nate's lips start up towards my own, the familiar sound of the gym door closing comes into focus - causing Nate and I to freeze in fear. Both of our head's whip over to the gym door to the left of us, and much to my horror, the worst person imaginable is standing in the gym doorway, staring at us.

I all but throw myself off of Nate immediately. I back up from the mat so I'm on the ground away from Nate. Nate, on the other hand, hasn't moved a muscle. He lays on the mat in the same position, his face a mix of smugness and pure joy.

No one says a word for the first couple of seconds. The boys stare at one another, an unspoken conversation going on until I interrupt it with actual verbal words.

"Do you mind?" I say as I grab my sweater from beside me and shrug it on, needing the cover up right now. Neither of the guys notice me throw my sweater on or even talk. They're still stuck in a weird sort of mental battle, so I speak up again. "Owen, can you leave or something?"

Finally, Owen's eyes flicker over to me, and when they do, a slow, skin-crawling grin spreads over his face. 

"Might want to get a room instead of fucking in the gym. You never know what kind of rumours this could start." Owen says more to me than to Nate.

"We're not fucking in the gym." I spit back. "Now get out."

I know I'm acting like a bitch right now. I can't help it, the anger in me is rising and rising because of so many different factors. 

I'm embarrassed that Owen, of all people, caught us. He caught me straddling Nate - a guy that is notoriously not my boyfriend and is notoriously a man whore. I'm also ashamed because even though we're on a "break", I'm still technically with Eli, and now Owen is almost threatening to expose us, and I'm pissed that Nate isn't moving or saying a single fucking thing. More than anything, though, I'm mad at myself. I'm mad that I let go of my self control. I'm mad I fell into Nate's charm - again - and I'm mad that I always sabotage myself and everything good in my life.

To make matters worse, Owen is still standing there with that stupid fucking smile on his face, like he's one upped me or something. After everything, the fact that he would stand there so comfortably and smugly makes my blood absolutely boil.

I think Nate senses my genuine discomfort, because he finally decides to speak up.

"Want to give us a couple minutes to get out of here? Gyms all yours after." 

Owen's eyes flicker from me to Nate before going back to me. "Yeah, I'll let you guys...finish." he says, his voice dripping with that same smugness his smile carries. 

Thankfully, he at least does finally turn and leave the room, leaving Nate and I and all our shame behind.

"Guess we should get out of here." Nate says. "Want to come back to my place?"

I don't even need to think before answering.

"No."

Nate studies me, his eyes searching my face. I, on the other hand, am too ashamed of what I've just done to even meet his eyes, so instead I focus my attention on the machine directly behind him.

"Rio, he's not going to tell anyone." Nate says. "I'll make sure of it, okay?"

"Yeah, and how are you going to do that?" I ask. I dare to look at him for just a second, but those brown eyes staring back at me are too intense, so I look away before I can stop myself.

"I'll talk to him. I'll ask him to keep his mouth shut."

"I hardly doubt that'll do anything." I mumble.

"Trust me, okay?" Nate says. He reaches out and grabs my hand in his, bringing it to his mouth before planting a kiss right on the back of my hand. "I'll fix it for us."

I nod at him, a lame, sad nod. Not only because I doubt that Nate can fix this, but because I know that I've officially just put the last nail in the coffin of my relationship. 

Wordlessly, I get up and start collecting my stuff. I shove my headphones and my water bottle into my gym back. Nate, seeing that I'm ready to go, starts getting his stuff together too. We both end up zipping up our bags and putting them over our shoulder at the same time. 

I take a deep breath in as we start for the gym doors. The last thing in the world that I want right now is to walk through them and see Owen - and possibly others - waiting on the other side of the doors for us. Since we don't have any other exit, I put on the bravest face I can manage as we push the doors open, and much to my luck, no one, not even Owen is outside waiting for us. I silently breath out a sigh of relief.

As I'm silently celebrating, Nate takes the chance to grab my hand. "Come with me."

I shake my head at him and pull my hand away from him. "I think I need to be alone right now."

Nate's eyes narrow at me. "You're going to see Eli." he says. It's not a question, it's an accusatory statement.

"I'm not. I'm going home to be alone." I tell him. "Seriously."

Like I would go see Eli right now. How the hell could I even bring myself to do that? I was just grinding on some other guy two days into our break. There's no way I could bring myself to go see Eli, look him in the face and lie about what I was doing. Hell, I can hardly even face myself right now, facing Eli would take every ounce of courage I have in me, and we all know I don't have much.

No, right now, I need to be alone. I need to take a good, long look at myself and figure out what the hell I want in life because this right here isn't going to cut it for me. Not only do I hate who I am right now, but I hate what I could become if I keep going down this path. I need to get back to myself, and only then can I get back to Eli.

Chapter Text

Eli

"Turn, hell bound, turn!"

"Of all men e-"

"Pause!" I yell through the auditorium. Four sets of eyes on stage and three off stage all turn to me. "The line is "Turn, hellhound, turn. Not hell bound. Let's start again from Macbeth's first line of this scene, please."

All actors on stage reset to first position before they start again from the first line delivered by Macbeth. I cross my arms over my chest while holding the script still in my right hand and I study them, making sure they're hitting every single line on time and every single mark they need to hit. 

They move through the scene without a single hitch - almost. When Macduff comes on stage with the prop of Macbeth's head, he trips over an untaped wire and stumbles, nearly dropping the head as he catches himself. Much to Macduff's credit, he stays in character through the near fall and even uses that adrenaline for his last lines of the play.

After Macduff delivers his last line, Malcolm delivers his last ones, and then the entire ensemble forms a line on stage to deliver the last lines of the entire play. Section by section they speak, one line followed by the other until the last words are spoken. 

Buzzing with energy, they all stand there, grinning at one another and myself as they wait for a critique or a note - anything. 

"As you all know, we're performing this play in two weeks." I say as I walk towards the stage. I take the stairs slow to build very unnecessary anticipation. "Fourteen days of rehearsals are left until we're going live in front of the entire school. And you know what I have to say?"

I look around the room at everyone. There're mixed emotions on everyone's face. My Macbeth and Macduff are still breathing a little heavy from the fighting scene they've just completed. Both of them look at me with anxiousness all over their face, no doubt nervous about their performances. Amongst the crew, a lot of others are nervous too while some are beaming with excitement. 

Off-stage, Adam and Hanna are both waiting for me to continue as well, their breathing still as they wait for me. Hanna's eyes are twinkling with that excitement my own eyes hold. 

I turn back to my group on stage while trying to keep my expression as neutral as possible as to not give myself away.

"I think we're ready now." I say. 

As expected, cheers erupt from all around the stage. People are patting one another on the back, some loud whistles are let out, and everyone is beaming as they congratulate one another on the work they've all been putting in.

"You guys should be really proud of yourselves." I continue on as the noise dies down a little. "Everyone here has worked so hard these past couple of weeks, and you should all be thrilled with the work you've put out, because I know I couldn't be any happier. Thank you to everyone for all you've put in, I'm beyond excited to see this production go live."

Another round of applauds and yells break out as the cast celebrates their success. People break off to join their friends in celebrating. Some retire backstage to gather their stuff to move on to their next extracurricular activity. A handful of people come up to me to thank me and to tell me they're excited for official dress rehearsals, and then one by one, people are filing out of the room leaving only Adam, Hanna and myself left in the auditorium.

"What do you guys think?" I say as I walk off the stage towards where Adam and Hanna are sitting in the first row of the audience. "Was I too soft up there?"

"Way too soft." Adam says with a straight face that he manages to keep for all of five seconds before a grin breaks out on his face. 

"You were great." Hanna assures me. "Perfect amount of soft."

"Good, good. I don't want them think they can slack off or anything, you know?"

"We know, and you did great." Adam says. He swivels in his seat to look back at the empty auditorium. "Wasn't Rylie coming today to watch with us? I didn't see her."

It's true, I haven't told anyone yet about what happened the other day between Rylie and I. I don't know why I haven't told anyone, it's not like we've officially broken up, so it doesn't really count as newsworthy in my head. 

More than that, though, I just didn't want to bring it up. If I brought it up, it was admitting that this was happening and things are bad between us, and I've wanted Rylie for far too long now to admit defeat already. 

That said, I chose to admit it. 

"Rylie and I are, uh, taking a little break right now." I say. I force a fake, cheery smile on my face to try and convince them that I'm fine about the whole thing. "I'm totally fine, so no need to freak out. We just released we needed some time apart, no big deal."

"Eli..." Adam says, his voice serious. "That's a really big deal. Why wouldn't you tell us earlier?"

"I don't know, I...I didn't want to bother you guys. And you know I didn't want to pull attention from the play." I say, my voice still fake happy. "And, really, it isn't a big deal. I'm fine with it, I promise."

Adam looks at my skeptically "Are you sure?"

"Yes!" I cry out. "I'm the one who pushed for the break, I'm obviously okay with it."

Adam is still looking at me like he thinks I've been body snatched or anything. He also looks like he wants to cry or something. Seeing this, I realize I'm not as convincing as I thought I was.

"Guys." I say sternly. "I. Am. Fine. I promise. I'm not going to go do anything stupid or irresponsible, okay? I'm good. I swear."

Still not looking convinced, Adam nods slowly at me. "Okay, if that's your story." he says. "I got to get going, big family supper tonight. I'll see you guys tomorrow, okay?"

Both Hanna and I bid Adam a farewell, wishing him good luck for his supper. He gives us one last wave before he walks outside the auditorium, leaving Hanna and I alone together.

"What'd you think?" I ask her as I take a seat beside her. "Good last rehearsal before the full-dress rehearsal, eh?"

Hanna shifts her body towards me and nods. "It was really good, Eli. You should be proud of yourself."

"Couldn't have done it with you." I say. I bring my hand closest to her over to her thigh that I give a couple of pats to before I let it linger there, warm on her leg. "Thank you. For everything."

Hanna comes jumping out of her chair towards me so quick I don't have time to react. Her lips are on mine - soft and warm. And messy. And not Rylie's. And they feel good. And because they feel good, I kiss her back. I kiss her hard, deepening the kiss as soon as it begins, but then it's like cold water is thrown over me and I realize what I'm doing. 

I pull back so hard I almost knock myself out of my own chair. Hanna opens her eyes in confusion, wondering why the hell I pulled back so hard.

"You said you guys broke up." Hanna says, an answer to the question I haven't asked yet.

"That doesn't mean this can happen." I say, gesturing between the two of us.

"Why not?"

I don't even need to think of an answer, it comes right to me. "Because Rylie's the only person I could ever love."

Hanna presses her lips together as she nods. "I figured as much." she says, and then unexpectedly, starts laughing. She drops her head into her hands as she laughs, her shoulders shaking from how hard she's laughing.

"What the hell is so funny?" I ask, a smile of my own finding its way to my mouth.

"That's so embarrassing of me." Hanna manages to choke out between laughs. "I'm sorry, I'm so deluded sometimes."

"Hey, I've been there too." I say with a laugh.

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah. A lot."

Hanna grins at me. "Friends then?" she asks, holding her fist out to me.

I bump it with my own fist. "Friends."

Chapter Text

Rylie

I find myself in a familiar place. Nate's bed. The warm comforter underneath me makes me feel even more comfortable as I settle down into the bed, my head pushing against the plush headboard in back of me.

Nate is placed beside me, his head back against his headboard too as he lays on his side of the bed, his eyes glued to the screen in front of us as the action movie he picked out plays on his TV in front of the bed.

I stretch my legs out in front of me, pointing my toes down towards the bed. By instinct, I realize I've just drawn myself closer to Nate by doing this, so I cross my leg that's closest to him over my other one, thus putting an extra inch at most between us. Nate realizes right away, raising an eyebrow at me.

"You can get closer to me Rio." he says, voice deep.

"I know."

"And yet you're not doing it."

"I'm sorry, I have a boyfriend name Eli."

Technically I don't. Technically we're on a "break", which I know means we're not together anymore but just a gentle version of it. Even though we're on this break, my heart is still with him. I still feel like I'm with him, which is exactly why I haven't told Nate about the break.

Despite the fact that I haven't Nate about Eli and me, it seems like Nate knows somethings up. The other day Nate asked me a question about Eli, and I my face instantly went from smiling to dead serious. The next day at school, we passed Eli in the hallway and Eli nor me glanced the others way. We pretended like we didn't exist to one another, and Nate noticed it right away.

Still, Nate hasn't brought it up. I guess he figures we're just in a fight or something, and I supposed technically we are, so I haven't said anything either.

"Oof, I'm sorry too." Nate says in response to my comment about Eli being my boyfriend.

"Funny." I say to him, my face unamused.

Nate grins at me and bumps my arm with his. "I'm kidding."

Any other time I would've probably laughed at Nate's response, or at least I would've mellowed when he said he was joking. Not today. Given the current situation of my relationship, I don't feel like it's a joke, and especially not one worth laughing over.

All the resentment I have in me seems to bubble up at this, turning my mood sour - quick.

"No, you're not." I say to Nate. "You can't stand Eli and it's obvious, and it's really fucking shitty that you can't even support me in my relationship. Like, yeah, you have your reasons or whatever, but you can still try and be supportive for someone for once."

"Woah." Nate says. He pulls back from me a little, his hands out in front of him in a surrender pose. "I was making a joke. No need to get so dramatic over it."

"I'm not being dramatic, I'm saying it how it is. Unless I'm wrong and you like Eli, because if so, go ahead and tell me it."

Nate rolls his eyes at me. "You know I don't like him."

"Yeah, and for no good reason."

"Oh, believe me, I have a good reason."

Nate and I are locked in one's another's gaze as he says this. Both of us know the reason, and that reason is me. He wants me, and Eli has me, so for that, he despises Eli. The realization makes my stomach clench in both a nervous way, and a typical butterflies in the stomach kind of way. 

Nate moves before I can. He closes the distance between us, his lips landing on my eager ones. Kissing him again feels so familiar in a way I've never felt before. His lips feel like they did years ago, soft and warm against my own. He kisses me softly like he used to for the first couple of seconds, and then the kisses get harder - more lustful.

Nate's desperate and warm lips leave mine and go to my neck, trailing a patch of kisses down my skin. I let my head roll back in euphoria. With my head back and my mouth open from the pleasure, I let my eyes flutter closed. Nate continues to kiss me, making a collage on my neck, when all of a sudden, he bites me - hard.

My eyes snap open and I jump back as much as I can from him. My hand instinctively slaps over where he bit me. Nate just grins at me, a dark, devilish grin.

"You bit me!" I say in surprise.

Nate's grin widens. "I wanted to leave my mark."

"Leave your mark? What does that -" I start to say, when all of a sudden, the meaning of his words dawn on me. He wanted to mark me as his for everyone to see. Everyone like my boyfriend. "What the fuck? What the fuck is wrong with you? Eli's going to see this!"

"Good. He should know that we're supposed to be together."

I look at Nate, absolutely bewildered. He just left a mark on me on purpose so that he could outright claim me as his? Like I'm some prize. Because that's who Nate is. Nate plays games with people. Nate uses people. Nate is manipulative and maybe even narcissistic. Nate is a bad guy and I've fallen for the entire fucking thing. I fucked up my relationship for this guy.

"Rio." Nate says, reaching out a hand to touch my leg. I pull it back before he can touch it. "Hey, what's wrong? I thought you were into it."

"I'm not into getting bit! Especially when you know that I'm with someone, and that this," I say, gesturing between us. "Is a huge mistake that I can't believe I actually just made."

"A mistake?" Nate says, coming closer to me. "Rio, no, the only mistake was not being together again sooner."

"No." I say, shaking my head in disagreement. I untangle myself from him and move on the floor mat so we can some space between us. "No, we can't be together. I don't want to be."

"You don't want to?" Nate says. His voice is tense now, and each word comes out feeling like a threat. I cower nervously on the mat, scared of where this might go. "Rio, you even know what I had to do to get you here with me like this? It's been a grueling couple of months."

Nate's words hit me - hard. They stop me dead in my tracks, even to the point where it feels like my heart and the entire world stops. Nate planned this. Nate treated this like a giant game of chess where he was gunning after Eli's pieces one by one, taking them down so he could get the piece of his that he wanted most - me. 

I stare at Nate with a shocked expression on my face. "You planned this?" I ask, my voice nearly above a whisper.

"No shit I planned this! I want you, Rylie. I did whatever I had to do to get you."

"Oh my God." I whisper as his words settle over me. Not only do his words settle into me, but the realization of how wrong I was settles in too, and when it does, something even worse comes to light. "Eli was right about you."

"So what if he was? You obviously want this too, Rio." Nate says. He comes closer to me to try and close the distance between us, but I take a couple steps back to keep the distance between us.

Now that I know Nate planned every single move between us, I realize that he's capable of way more than I thought possible. Not only that, but if Eli was right about Nate trying to put a wedge between us, what else was he right about?

I get a weird feeling in my stomach as I think about everything Eli's told me, specifically one thing. One really bad thing that I now know Eli wasn't lying about.

"Why were you with Owen?" I ask Nate.

Nate's features are lined with surprise. "I don't spend time with-"

"Eli told me." I say, swallowing hard. "He told me what you guys did."

"And you believe that guy?"

"I do." I tell him. "Are you going to tell me it's not true?"

"I'm telling you that he's dramatic and embellishes details-"

"Nate. Is it true?"

"Come on, Rio. You know he's always running his mouth, saying shit he shouldn't. I was trying to talk to him, and he kept saying shit. I lost it, I guess."

"He said you had him on the ground and that...that you were kicking him in the stomach. Like, repeatedly." I say. My voice is shaking at this point as I think about how much pain Eli must have been in. How much pain he's still in. It makes my heart ache to think about it. "How could you hurt him like that?"

"He's hurt people like that too, Rio." Nate says in a way of confirmation.

"Like Owen?"

Nate's mouth hardens into a straight line. "Yeah, like Owen."

"You're friends with him." I say. It's not a question now, it's an accusation. An accusation I hoped was wrong, but now I know better and I know it's true.

"I'm not going to abandon a friend because of one story."

I stare at him - mouth agape. "One story? Nate, it's my story. He did that to me. Doesn't that mean anything at all?"

"Yeah, and obviously I'll never ask you to hang out with him or anything, but I'm not going to end my friendship with him because he did one thing wrong. And besides, it's not like he killed anyone or anything, he was just too excited to get a chance with you. I mean, look at you. Can you really blame him?"

"Yes."

"Okay, and that's your decision and it's valid, but I'm not going to cut him off for one mistake."

"It was more than once."

"But it was the same thing."

"Exactly! Which means he doesn't care if it was right or wrong. He actually knows it was wrong and still tried to do it again. You wanna bet that he's done this to other girls too?"

"I haven't heard anyone else making a big deal of it like you are." he says, as if this fact will help me realize that what Owen did wasn't a crime.

"A big deal of it?" I repeat in utter disbelief. "I can't believe this. I can't believe you."

"Rio, you're blowing this completely out of proportion." 

"No, I'm not."

"Rylie." Nate says. He comes over to me and reaches out to grab me, but I move back before he can make contact with me. He tries again, and I move again, backing myself into a corner. Nate's eyes gleam with anger. "Seriously? You're going to act like a child now?"

"I don't want you to touch me."

"Rio." Nate says as he moves towards me again. "If-"

"I don't want this." I say, the panic starting to really set in. I'm full backed into the corner of Nate's room now and all I can think about is the fact that if he's okay with what Owen did, he's okay doing it too, and by the looks of it, I'm the target. "Just leave me alone. I want to go home. I want to go home right now."

My voice is raising with each word, my tone nearing hysteria as I push into the corner even deeper. 

"We're not doing anything." Nate says as he still continues to approach me. "You need to calm down, Rio."

"I can't." I say. By this point tears have built up in my eyes and spilled over onto my cheeks and I feel myself starting to hyperventilate. "I can't calm down with you cornering me like this. I can't even breathe."

That seems to do it for Nate. That, or the fact that I'm all but yelling at this point and I know for a fact that we're not alone in this house which means if I keep it up, someone will hear me eventually and will come to check out what's going on.

Nate backs up, walking backwards until he's by his bed, allowing me enough room to feel somewhat safe again.

"I'd never hurt you, Rio." Nate says, his voice soft. I can hear the anger and danger behind his tone, though. Now the spell or whatever is broken and I can see Nate for who he is, not for the act he's putting on. 

"I can't be here." I tell Nate, ignoring what he said. I slowly and cautiously go over to where my bag is sitting by the door and grab it, throwing the straps over my shoulder. "I don't feel comfortable here anymore."

"Rio-"

I hold a hand up to stop him. "I don't want to hear it. You orchestrated and executed this whole plan to drive my boyfriend and I apart and you're close friends with a guy who tried to hurt me more than once."

"You're being dramatic again, Rio." Nate says. He's trying his best to stay calm except I can see the anger in his eyes. I'm not safe until I'm away from him.

"I'm not." I tell him, my voice steady. "I'm being finally being rational, and rationally speaking, I never want to talk to you again."

The anger that Nate is trying so hard to conceal flashes strong in his face. "You don't mean it."

I open Nate's door behind me and step out before I speak again, just to ensure that if anything does happen, at least I have a fighting chance of getting away.

"I do mean it." I tell Nate. "Don't ever talk to me or anyone in my life again. I never, ever want to hear from you."

I don't know if Nate says anything back, because I turn and I beeline for the front door as soon as I'm done talking. This way he isn't able to say or do anything back that might hurt me more than he already has.

It's only when I get out the house, down the street and onto the bus that I feel safe. My heart is still hammering in my chest like crazy, but at least now I have some distance between Nate and I, and I hope that it stays that way forever. 

I may have fallen for Nate's bullshit and lies twice in my lifetime, but believe me when I say this was the last time - ever.

Chapter Text

Eli

"It's not fair that you're going to win again."

I glance over to my left where Hanna is sitting on my bed. She's sitting with her legs crossed as she leans forward, like that's going to help her win or something. I have to hide the smile that comes across my face as I watch her. I don't want her to think I'm making fun of her, and I don't want her to think that I'm interested either. Rylie and I have been on a break for all of one week now, running to someone else would be my second biggest mistake I've made in the last seven days.

I shove the idea of Rylie out of my head just as quick as the thought of her came into it. This is supposed to be a fun, Rylie-free headspace and day.

"Practice makes perfect." I tell Hanna.

"Yeah, or you're cheating." she retorts without a second of hesitation.

I laugh at this. A dry, slightly amused laugh. "I'm cheating just because I'm winning?"

"Yeah."

"Sounds like someone's jealous." I say. "Hey, watch this, I'm about to win."

My character, who is way ahead of everyone else, speeds towards the upcoming finish line smoothly. I'm about ten seconds away from coming in first place in Mario Kart when the sound of my doorbell rings - and doesn't stop ringing. One after another, the ding sounds, then again, and again.

"Who the fuck?" I say out loud to myself as I get up and put the gaming controller down on my chair. I don't bother to pause the game, I just let my character stay stopped five feet from the finish line. "I'll be right back."

"You want to pause it?" Hanna offers, her finger hovering over the pause button.

"No." I say, shaking my head. "You can win this round for once."

Hanna flips me off right before I walk out the room. I can't hide the grin on my face even if I tried.

The doorbell has slowed down since I've started my trek towards the door. It only rings two more times before I get to the door and pull it open, expecting there to be some overly eager girl guides or a pissed off or deranged neighbour, but instead I come face to face with Rylie. She's wearing her favourite black coat with the fluffy hood, and she has her typical black leggings on paired with her favourite black ankle boots. More than anything, I notice her face. She's sporting a very perplexed face, like she's had an epiphany of sorts - and not a good one from the looks of it.

"I need to talk to you." she says.

I glance behind me in the direction of where my room is to make sure that Hanna hasn't come out. Not only would it look bad for me, but I know it would make Rylie lose it, especially considered the fact that we're on week one of our break.

"Now's not a great time, Ry." I say to Rylie.

"Can we make it a good time?" Rylie asks me, her doe eyes staring into mine, begging me to let her in. "I really need to talk to you."

With every ounce of internal strength I have, I grab the door from behind me and step outside with Rylie, closing the door behind me so Hanna doesn't hear Rylie and vice versa. That's the last thing I need right now.

"Why can't we go in?" Ry asks me, voice pouty like how it used to be when we were just friends and she would show up here drunk and looking for a place to crash at.

"I have someone over."

"A girl?"

I feel my jaw tighten as the words come out of Rylie's mouth. Go figure she would be jealous that I'm hanging out with someone of the opposite sex, when she's been spending every second of her free time doing the exact same thing as I am right now. Only differences are, I don't have a past with Hanna, and I'm not trying to build a future with her either.

"A girl that I'm platonically friends with, yeah."

"Hanna?" she says. I guess my face registers the surprise I feel over the fact that Rylie knows about Hanna and I being friends. "Yeah, Nate told me."

I scoff. "Figures he would've."

I expected Nate to mention my friendship with Hanna right away to Rylie. I figured he'd run his mouth off about it, making it into something it isn't, and I definitely expected him to have done it weeks ago, but he didn't. This either means one of two things. One, he could've been waiting for the perfect moment to tell Rylie, a final nudge to push us apart so he could swoop in and get her just like he planned all along. Or, two, it means that Hanna never mentioned it to Nate so he had to find out on his own which I'm sure he would be less than thrilled with.

"I shouldn't have had to hear it from him. I should've heard it from you." Rylie says to me.

"There wasn't much time to tell you considering the whole Nate part of the situation."

Rylie bites her lip, a nervous habit that she's never gotten out of. It's also her one habit she's never learned to control, which isn't good for her because she could never be a professional poker player with a tell like that, but it's a good thing for me since it means I can read her like a book.

"I need to talk to you about that." Rylie says.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. I'm so tired of heading about Nate. I'm so tired of being dragged in the middle of Rylie's feelings for him - feelings she doesn't want to admit but clearly has. I'm tired of the whole thing.

I've spent nights staying up, trying not to think of the whole thing, yet it keeps sneaking into my head and replaying over and over again. Every single detail replays on a torturous repeat, and the only thing I can do to keep myself sane is to push Nate - and Rylie - out of my head completely.

"Ry, I really don't want to go over this again." I say to her.

"No, it's not that, I-"

"If Nate's what you want, go for it, okay? You have my blessing. I figured it was coming anyways."

"I don't want Nate, I-."

"Really? I heard you were at his place the other day?"

Rylie's winter pale face turns a shade of deep red in the matter of seconds. She's normally one to blush easily, but this isn't her usual shy blush, it's her 'oh shit, I've been caught' blush.

"Yeah, I bet Hanna couldn't wait to tell you that."

"She actually didn't want to. Since her and I are friends, she thought I should know."

"Please, like she was trying to be the good guy."

"Between her and Nate, yeah, I'd say she is the good guy."

There's a moment of hesitation from Rylie. She looks at me silently, her face unsure for a second, and then she speaks up to defend Nate again.

"He's not all bad." she mutters, her tone uncertain.

I lift up the left side of my shirt to reveal the still bruised ribs I have. "This is the kind of person you're involved with."

"Jesus." Rylie hisses under her breath. Out of pure habit, Rylie reaches out and carefully puts her hand on the side of my ribs. Her thumb cautiously slides over the bruises on my skin, tracing the outline. "Eli...I can't...I can't believe Nate did this."

"Can't, or don't?"

Rylie doesn't give me a verbal answer. She bites her bottom lip and looks up at me, her green eyes filled with doubt. That's enough of an answer for me. I remove her hand from me and let my shirt fall back down, covering the bruised ribs her new boyfriend gave me.

"That's what gets me the worst. You come here, begging me to listen to you, yet you can't even hear me out?" I say. "That's not fair, Ry."

"I, just...I don't know what you want me to say. I've never seen Nate be violent or anything before, Eli. Even when it's justified. I don't know what could've happened to make him lash out like that. Like, what happened?"

"You think I brought this on myself."

"I didn't say that!"

"You didn't have to."

"Eli, that's not fair."

"Not fair? Rylie, if you want to talk about what's not fair, let's do it. It's not fair that I got my ass kicked by your new boyfriend and your old fling. It's not fair one of them held me back as the other punched me repeatedly. It's not fair that Nate got me on the ground and kicked me in the stomach over and over again to the point where I almost passed out, and it's especially not fair that not only do you not believe me, but that you're still hanging out with him."

"I do believe you! I-"

"You obviously don't, and that's fine."

"No, Eli-"

"Rylie, it's fine." I say, interrupting her before she could spew off some lame excuse about how she knows Nate and she knows me and she knows everything. "You don't have to believe a word I say, but I also don't have to stay in a situation where I'm not being listened to."

I'm about to keep going on when I feel the rush of air on my back as the front door swings open behind me. I turn around and see Hanna standing in the doorway, one hand still holding the gaming paddle she was using when I left her alone in my room.

"Eli, what are you do-" Hanna starts to say before she cuts herself off as she sees Rylie. "Oh. Oh, I'm sorry, I'll, uh, leave you guys alone." she says, the rest of her sentence coming out in an embarrassed mumble.

The door closes quickly, leaving Rylie and I alone again. When I turn back to her, I see that she's now looking like an absolute storm cloud of a person. Her eyes are dark and her face is angry, something that I'm not used to seeing from her.

"Just friends, eh?" Rylie says angrily. "Why's she in your sweater?"

"She was cold, Ry. It's winter, if you hadn't noticed."

"So? It was winter when she came over, she should've brought her own sweater."

"It's not a big deal." I reply.

"That's my favourite sweater." she mumbles. "And a sweater is always a big deal."

I lean back on the cold, closed door in back of me. This year, I've spent so much time trying to catch myself when I feel my emotions slipping somewhere negative. I've practiced all the breathwork a person can do. I've done the tricks to calm my nervous system, like counting five things I can feel, four things I can see, etc. I've done it all, and thus far, it's been effective.

However, right now I feel my brain begging for release. My brain wants me to flip out, to lose my shit and yell and say exactly what I want, how I want. But I fight it. I breathe in a deep breath and hold it for 10 seconds before I slowly let it go. I do it two more times before I feel like I'm calm enough to talk again.

"Ry, I don't want to do this." I say, my voice steadier than it was moments ago.

"What? Talk to me?"

"No, argue with you."

"We're not arguing."

"It's all we do lately."

"Okay, then let's not talk. I can come over, we can, you know..."

I freeze on the spot.

"We can what?"

Rylie, who is normally shy about these things, doesn't back down an inch. No, instead she moves towards me, her eyes dead set on mine, and she bridges the gap between us. She reaches out to me, grabbing my hand in hers. Its soft and warm and familiar and I let myself close my eyes and enjoy the moment.

Almost right after I close my eyes, the kisses start. Rylie's lips press against my fingertips, leaving a trail of kisses down towards my wrist. Her lips jump up to my sweater clad shoulder, and then she's tugging that sweater to the side so she can kiss my neck all while I let her, not a single complaint leaving me.

Rylie's kisses move up my neck, and as they do, I get that familiar scent of her. It's a mix of her vanilla body wash, her pear shampoo, and her chocolate perfume. It smells so good - so like her. My entire body is screaming for it, so it's no wonder that when she moves to my lips, I let her.

Scratch that - I don't let her; I actually encourage it. I let my hands come around her, pulling her body into mine as we kiss on my doorstep. I pull her tight so I can feel as much of her as I can manage to in the giant winter coat she's wearing, and as I pull her into me, I kiss her with a desperation I didn't know I had until this very moment. I kiss her like my entire being depends on it, because right now it feels like it.

Rylie feels it too. She lets out a moan against my mouth, the feeling of it vibrating against my own lips. It feels so good to be here like this with her, hearing her enjoy it, feeling her enjoy me. It feels so good that when Rylie tells me we should go to my bedroom, I almost agree. Almost.

"Hanna's in there." I say, breaking our lips apart.

"Tell her to leave." Rylie says before she closes the gap between our lips again. "I want you."

Again, I almost give in. I almost tell her to wait in the living room as I get rid of Hanna. My hand is on the doorknob behind me, ready to barge in to go see Hanna in my room to ask her to leave when I stop and think it through.

Even though every single part of my body wants this, my brain knows better. Way better. Sex doesn't fix anything, it just puts a band aid on the problem, and I refuse to let myself fall victim to my other brain.

Since I can't exactly take a step back right now, I gently push Rylie back away from me.

"It's a bad idea." I tell her.

"What? Sex?"

"Yeah. It won't solve anything."

"But it might."

"Rylie." I say softly. "It won't. I know it won't."

"Oh, and you're the expert since you've had sex before and I haven't?" she says angrily. That anger is short-lived, though, because a second later it's replaced with a softer and sadder emotion. "I thought you wanted me." she whispers, her eyes filling up with tears of betrayal.

"I do." I tell her. "But not like this."

"Or at all." she says. "Maybe I shouldn't have come."

With that, she turns and starts walking away. I watch as she shoves her hands deep down into her pockets as she quickens her pace, no doubt eager to get away from me. Since I'm only in a sweater with no shoes on, I call after her, hoping she'll stop, but as expected, she doesn't. She keeps walking, putting more and more distance between us, and I can't help but wonder how much distance we're able to stand before we realize that the ditch between us is actually a valley gorge.

Chapter Text

Rylie

There aren't a lot of habits that I've made this year that I'm proud of, but the one and only one that I love is the one between my mom and I.

At least once a month we try to meet up and go out together, whether we go get coffee, supper or go shopping, we try and make sure we plan something.

Today's outing was a quick shopping trip at the mall so my mom could find some stocking stuffers for the boys. She manages to find a couple of good items, and even buys some of the stuff I suggest which makes me feel happy. Christmas is a couple of weeks away now, and it seems like everyone is out shopping, so my mom and I zip in and out the mall.

I figured that would be it for us once we left the mall, however my mom said she was dying for a peppermint mocha coffee, so we hit up the coffee place right near her place. 

We talk for a while, and whereas I try to be as present as I can, there's something weighing on my mind. Something big only someone like my mom could understand, so I build up the courage in the form of a deep breath in, and I ask her.

"Can I...can I ask you something?"

My mom's brows furrow ever so slightly in worry. "Yeah, of course. What's up?"

"When did you know dad wasn't a nice guy?"

My mom freezes in her spot. Ever since we've been talking again, we've kept talk about dad to a minimal. Mom would ask me how he was and I would say good, and that's been the extent of it. There's been a couple of moments here and there where she would ask about his job or if he's dating, but that's as far as it's went. 

Neither of us wanted to bring up the old times. Those weren't days to reminisce about, they're days to daydream of getting away from. At least that's how it is now. I don't know how it was for mom before, not really. I mean, I know it was bad enough to divorce him over, but was it good enough that she thought leaving me there would be fine?

But this isn't about me and dad. This is about me potentially ruining my life with a dumb choice that I should've never gone with.

"I, um, guess I knew about a year or two after being together." my mom says. Her hands go to her new engagement ring. She moves it nervously from left to right as she talks. "By time I figured it out, I was pregnant with you. I know I should've left then, but I wanted you to have a father, and I thought he could change by time you were born."

My heart breaks for my mother. She was ready to flee to freedom, to leave something that was hurting her, and then she found out I was part of the picture, so she thought for both of us, putting me first. I wonder what we would be like had she left.

"He didn't change." I say to her.

"No, he never did. He got better for a while, and then he went right back to who he was." she says, a sad smile on her face. "Is everything okay at home, honey?"

Nows my chance. Its the moment I've been waiting for since I started talking to mom again. All I've wanted was for her to ask me if I'm okay and then take me out of there so I could stay with her.

...But I can't do it. As much as the beatings and the screaming hurts me, I can't do that to my dad. I can't be the reason for his downfall, and if everyone knew what he did to me, there would be a downfall. 

So, I keep my mouth shut and keep my secrets.

"Yeah, everything's good." I lie to her. "I was asking because of this guy I know. Well, you remember Nate Hughes?"

My mom nods slowly. "Yes, the tall one, right? He was 6 foot tall at 13."

"Yeah, well, his family moved back at the start of school, and we reconnected, but I don't think he's a good guy." I tell her. It's my turn now to soothe myself by rubbing the bracelet on my arm that Eli bought me for Christmas last year.

"If you think he's a bad guy, then it's probably for a reason. Trust your instinct."

"What if my instinct was wrong at first?"

"That happens sometimes." my mom says with a casual shrug. "Some people are very good at hiding how bad they are. Don't forget that. It's the ones who continuously prove that they're good that are to be trusted."

My mom's right. Sometimes instincts are off. I mean, she didn't know my dad wasn't a good guy for a long time. I thought Eli was a bad guy when I met him, and it turns out he's actually the best person I've ever met. Sometimes instincts are wrong. Sometimes we're wrong.

"You okay, honey?" my mom asks me. "You're kind of worrying me."

"I'm okay, I promise." I say. "I just needed some advice, but I promise everything's okay."

"You're sure? Nothing's going on at school or with a boy? Or at home?"

That giant lump in my throat comes up in my throat. That lump is my wanting to tell her everything that's happening at home, but just like before, I swallow the lump down - hard. 

"Everything's great, mom. Really." I say. Against my better instincts, I break. I've spent so long keeping secrets in that this one bursts out of me. "I was seeing this guy for a year. Eli. He's great, really." I say, a stupid grin coming to my face as I talk about him. "He's sweet, but, I, um, messed it up."

"I'm sure you're able to fix it." my mom says to me.

"I don't think so. I really messed up."

"There's no such thing as unfixable." my mom replies. She reaches across the table and put hers hand on me to comfort me. "You've got this."

Even though everything feels wrong right now, my mom's hand on mine makes me feel a sense of calm and security that I haven't felt in a long time. I feel truly protected, like nothing could hurt me right now.

The world must have it out for me or it has a very sick sense of humour, because in the midst of thinking that I'm feeling safe, my phone starts ringing on the table beside me, and of course, it's Nate.

I watch my mom glance at my phone and try to hide her raised eyebrows. Neither of us move. The call rings through and eventually the screen goes black again. It' short lived, though, because before either of us can say anything, my screen lights up again with another incoming call from Nate.

"I'm not going to answer it." I say to my mom. Even though I say it as a statement, we both know it's me asking for permission to not answer it. I need to know it's okay and I'm not being dramatic.

"You don't have to answer it if you don't want to." my mom says. She purses her lips, something she always used to do when she had something to say but didn't want to say it. 

"But?" I ask her.

"But if you want to say your peace, now is the time." she says.

"Is it even worth saying?" 

"Do you think it is?"

I take a moment to mentally recap every situation I can remember with Nate. 

When we started going out all those years ago, he would try his best to make sure he always had my favourite snacks at his house. He would take the bus all the way out of the city to get these specific sour cinnamon candies I liked that were only sold in one small, family owned corner store in Ajax.

Nate would also always try to meet me outside of school in the morning so we could walk in together and he could carry my books. He brought me to the zoo for my birthday and bought me a pair of mittens that looked like a koala's feet. He was sweet.

But he also would blow me off when we had plans. He would call me after the fact and tell me that something important came up while never specifying what that important thing is. He'd also look at other girls at school, at the mall, at the park, you name it. When I would question him on it, he would tell me I was overreacting and that looking is harmless.

And now...now I don't know. Now Nate is the sweet, kind guy that I always wanted him to be years ago. He knows how and when to make me laugh, he knows my favourites from my past and my favourites from now, and he's always there when I need him.

The whole Owen part of it is the issue. Nate doesn't see an issue with what Owen did. To Nate, Owen made a mistake, that's it. It's not a decision he made or a choice he took, but an error that was done. 

I don't know if I can see around that. I don't know if I can be around someone like that, someone who diminishes the extent to what their friend did.

Almost like a light switch going off, I get the answer to the question my mom asked me.

"I need to go." I tell her. I quickly shove my phone - that's ringing again - into my pocket and I finish the last sip of coffee in my cup. "Can I text you later maybe?"

My mom smiles that warm, motherly smile at me. "Of course, you can call or text me any time about anything. Go do what's right."

I smile at her, and then because I'm feeling so good, I lean in and press a kiss to her forehead just like I used to do when I would say goodbye to her when I was younger. I watch her eyes widen in surprise, then close happily as she enjoys the small moment between us. I let myself enjoy it too, but only for a couple of seconds, and then I'm on my way to go see the boy I love.

Chapter Text

Eli 

As soon as I walk in the door I know something isn't right. 

For one, my mom is sitting in the living room, waiting. She has her hands in her lap and a nervous, unsure look on her face. It's almost the same look she gave me when my grandmother died, except this time she looks more worried than sad.

The second thing that tips me off to whatever's going on, is that there's hardly any noise in the house. Despite the fact that it's just the three of us, there's always some level of noise happening at any given time. Whether it's the TV, the radio that's always on, or someone talking, there's noise. Today, though, the noise is minimal. The TV is on in front of my mom, but the volume is so low I can hardly hear it.

"Hi." I say, my brows furrowed together as I look at my mom. I slide my bag off and drop it beside the closet as quietly as I can. "Everything alright?"

"That's for you to decide." my mom replies. She drops her voice down lower and says "Rylie's in your room waiting for you."

Even though I haven't said a word to my parents about anything that's been going on between Rylie and I, they've definitely noticed. At least once a month we try to all go out together for a little excursion.  Sometimes it'll last two hours, sometimes it'll span over a weekend, but regardless, we try to do something fun with just the four of us. 

It raised suspicion the first time Rylie missed it. I told my parents she was busy with school and all her clubs, which my parents believed without a doubt. The second time it happened, my parents were suspicious but they didn't push on. Then Rylie stopped coming by the house and I stopped talking about her, and by then, my parents had somewhat figured out that something was going on, albeit what exactly happened, they weren't sure of. 

Still, they never pressed on. They accepted that something was happening and that I wasn't ready to share what it was yet, so they silently waited by until they day I'd let them in.

Then Hanna started coming around more, and now, in a complete turn of events, Rylie is back and she's in my room waiting for me. If my parents think it's a rollercoaster for them, imagine how its going for me.

"Alright." I say to my mom, keeping my face completely blank. Truth is, I don't know whether I should be happy or sad or even scared right now. "Thanks."

Walking to my room feels somewhat like a death march. Anything could be going on on the other side of those doors. For all I know, Rylie could be there with Nate, ready to get my blessing for their union. Hell, maybe no one is in there at all. Maybe Rylie regretted waiting for me and left through the window. 

No matter what's waiting for me on the other side of the door, there's only one way to find out. I take a deep, settling breath in and open the door.

As my mom said, Rylie is in there waiting for me. She's sat on my bed, her back leaning against the wall with her legs bent at the knees, her arms wrapped around them. When she sees me, she offers up a friendly smile.

"Hi." she says softly. "I hope it's okay I'm here."

"I told you that you could come anytime." I reply. I kind of linger by the closed door, not really sure where to go. "Is everything okay at home?"

Rylie nods. "Yeah, they're fine. I'm here for, um, something else."

I feel my heart sink as I picture the next 30 seconds. She's going to tell me that she thought hard about it, but ultimately Nate is the guy for her. She'll tell me how great she is and she'll try to fight the smile that comes to her face when she talks about him, but she won't be able to fight it. She loves him and he gets to love her back.

Last year, hearing that would've sent me down a spiral. It might do it now, but at least I won't lose it in front of Rylie. I'll get it together and pretend I'm fine, and only after she leaves will I let myself breakdown.

"It's okay, Ry." I say to her. "I figured as much anyway."

She cocks an eyebrow at me. "Figured what?"

"Nate. You guys are together, right?" I say. 

"No, not at all. I, uh," she says as she nervously picks at a piece of fluff on her pants. "I made a mistake. With Nate. Well, with you. The whole thing, really. I fucked it all up."

This was not what I was expecting at all.

"I know that I was super shitty to you, and maybe I always was." Rylie continues. "But I...I want to do better if you let me."

"You're already doing good." I tell her. That need to comfort her is always in me, ready to go, and right now is no different. 

"I wasn't, though. Not only with the Nate thing, but especially with it." she says. She looks up at me, her green eyes filled with tears. "And I'm really, really sorry. I think I just...my life isn't great, right? I know I have my friends and you and everything, and I am talking to my mom now which is great, but in total, like, it's not the best."

"Right..." I say slowly, not really getting where this is going."

"When I was with Nate years ago, that's when my life was at it's best. I was happy. My family was decently together, and my dad wasn't, well, my dad now. And with Nate now, if I closed my eyes, I could pretend that my life was still like that. I could pretend that everything was okay because things were how they were before." she explains. "But they're not the same."

"No, they're not." I agree. 

I feel for her - I do. All Rylie wanted was to feel like she once did, back when she was safe and happy. She may have done it in a backwards way, but I can't exactly blame her for trying to make her life feel okay again. 

Except I became collateral damage in a game that I wasn't aware I was playing, and for that alone, I don't know if I'm able to move on from where we are.

"I didn't mean for this to happen." Rylie continues on. "I thought I was putting up good boundaries between Nate and I-"

Instinctively I laugh. I don't mean to, but the sound comes out of my mouth before I can even think to stop it. Rylie stops dead in her sentence and looks at me, her eyes narrowed in on me in annoyance. 

"Sorry, shouldn't have laughed." I say. "Go on."

Rylie stares at me with that same look for another couple of seconds before she opens her mouth to talk again. "Like I was saying, I thought I was putting up good boundaries between us, but now I can see that I really didn't put up any, and that wasn't fair to you."

"It wasn't." I agree.

"I know." she says, dropping her eyes in shame. "And I'm really sorry."

I want to tell her that it's fine. I want to say I understand why she did it to begin with, and I get why she thought she could make it work, but to tell her that would be a lie. The truth is, it's not fine. Nothing will make it fine because what she did sucks. It sucks that she took away all the trust we had built up between us. It sucks that she chose someone else over me, that she prioritized a different person. It sucks that she chose to throw away everything we were working towards, and even though I know why she did it, it still sucks.

"Do you...do you think we could be us again?" Rylie asks, her voice small and hushed in the quiet room.

The entire thing leaves me in an awkward position. Rylie fucked up and she knows it, and now she's ready to come back to me. If I say yes, then I'm saying what she did was okay. I'm saying it's fine that I was placed second in her eyes for month. But if I say no, we may never be us again.

My heart and brain are pulling me in separate directions. Do I want to be the guy that goes back to someone who could push him aside like that? For Rylie, I would be that guy, but for myself? I don't know if I can.

What if we get put in a similar situation down the road? Will Rylie do the same thing and choose someone else over me again? Will I have to stand to the side and feel like a third wheel in my own relationship? So many questions are swirling around in my head, and I don't have an answer to any of them.

Rylie shifts on the bed, pulling her legs even closer to her chest. She rests her head on top of them in a pitiful position. "I'll take the silence as a no." she says.

"I didn't say no." I say. I go over to the bed and sit on the edge of it. "I...I need some time."

"Some time for what?" she asks. "To decide if you still want to be with me?"

"Some time to decide if I still can be." I tell her. Thus far, we've avoided talking about how I feel about the whole Nate thing. It's a given that I'm not thrilled by it, hell, anyone can see that, but I've never told Rylie the way the whole thing has made me feel insecure and less than. Now is a good enough time as any, though. "These last couple of weeks it felt like I didn't matter at all to you."

Rylie starts to open her mouth to protest, but I beat her to the punch.

"I know you're going to tell me that I'm wrong and that I always mattered, I know. That's not how it felt, though. I felt like I had been cast aside, like you were done with me and that was it. And that sucked, Rylie." I say. I feel my throat starting to tighten as I talk, and I know that there's a real possibility I might cry now, but I keep going anyway. "I love you so much, more than you'll ever know. Feeling like I was nothing to you absolutely killed me."

"You're not nothing to me, you're everything." Rylie protests. She unravels herself from her current position and comes over to me. "I mean it. Everything."

"You say that, but that's not how it's felt lately. It's felt shitty, like, really shitty." I tell her. "So, yeah, I need some time."

"How much time?"

Despite the seriousness of our conversation, I laugh. It's a mix of the desperation in her voice and the genuineness of the question. As if I actually have a timer on how long I'll need to figure out the future of us. It's sweet in a very childish way.

"I don't know how much time." I say to Rylie. "I have a lot going on right now with the play and everything, and I have to dedicate myself to that before anything else."

Clearly this isn't the answer Rylie was hoping for. I watch her hopeful face drop, replaced with a look of pain. Even though it obviously isn't what she was expecting, and it devastates her, she still manages to find a smile to put on her face.

"I understand." she says, nodding as if to convince me - or herself. She untangles herself from me, stretching her legs out until her feet meet the floor. I feel the weight of the bed shift as she gets up, leaving me sitting alone on it. "I guess I should go, eh? Thanks for talking to me."

Rylie grabs her bag from where it was laying on the floor and swings the handles over onto her arm so they sit right at the inner elbow. She turns and gives me one last look before she starts for the door.

Something in me doesn't want to let her leave. It's a weird nagging feeling that's telling me that if I don't move now, this may be the last time I have her in my room. Even after all the bullshit that's happened between us, I can't let that happen. My body and brain crave her in a way that I don't grasp.

Rylie grabs my door handle in her hand and opens the door. She's about half a step out into the hallway before I get up and grab the door, stopping her from pushing it over any further.

"What're you doing next Friday?" I blurt out. 

Rylie furrows her eyebrows at me, both for the erratic way I got up, and for the out of the blue question. Still, I see a glimmer of happiness under her initial confusion.

 "Um, nothing, why?" she says.

"You should come to the play." I say. "It's opening night."

Her face drops a little. This wasn't what she was expecting, but it's still something big and she knows that. 

"Yeah?" she says, wanting confirmation that I mean it.

"Yeah, I'd love to see you there. You know I'm going to be nervous. Seeing a friendly face will calm my nerves." I say, rambling on as I stare at the beautiful girl in front of me.

"I'd love to come, Eli."

"Great, I'll leave a ticket for you at the door next Friday then."

Rylie smiles at me - a genuine Rylie smile. "I'll be there."

Chapter Text

Rylie

The grand opening of the production Eli has been working on all year is finally here, and it's spectacular.

The auditorium is packed full of eager viewers of all ages, all of them enjoying every last second of the play.

The only person who doesn't seem to be enjoying themselves is Eli. I didn't see him when I first got in. I went backstage to try and see if I could wish him good luck before the show only to be told that he was stressing out and busy making sure everything was fine. 

During one scene where multiple people exited off curtain all at the same time, I managed to catch a quick glimpse of him. He stood there, eyes glued to the actors on stage, arms crossed over his chest with one hand glued to his mouth, biting his nails to soothe his nerves.

By time intermission was called, I knew I had to go see him. Those 15 minutes of break are great for the audience and actors, but knowing Eli, I figure he'll take those 15 minutes to go over every "issue" he saw during the first half.

I weaved through people in the hallway, ducking through crowds and dodging people who tried to get my attention. My only goal was to find Eli, and I did just that.

I had a hunch where he would be. A hunch or a prayer, I'm not sure which is more fitting, but it was right anyways.

Peering into the little window on our science class last year confirmed my hunch. Eli is sitting at our old desks, head in his hands as if breaking down.

Quietly, I turn the knob as to not make too much noise. I watch as Eli's head jolts up towards me, eyes wide in panic.

"Can I join you?" I ask as I step into the classroom.

He breathes out a sigh of relief. "Always."

I walk over and take a seat next to him. It feels so familiar yet so different to be sat here again. This time last year, we weren't us yet. We were two kids who knew what they wanted but were too afraid to go after it. Ever second sitting beside him felt like teetering over the edge of the most exciting roller coaster ever. It felt so risky yet it felt like falling into comfort.

Now, sitting here with him, it almost feels the same, only now I know this ride. I trust it. And I want to be on it forever.

Despite my own feelings being confusing and overwhelming, I push them aside. Right now isn't about me, it's about him.

"Why are you in here all alone?" I ask him, my voice soft.

"I needed a minute to gather my thoughts." he says, his voice as quiet as mine.

"I can leave if you want." I offer, feeling bad that I'm taking up his thought processing time.

His response comes quick. "No, don't. You help to push my thoughts aside."

"So...I make you thoughtless? Like brainless?" I joke.

Eli grins at me. "Exactly."

That boyish grin of his fades as quickly as it came on, replaced with the ever existing nerves. Eli laces his fingers together, holding them on his lap as his legs bounce anxiously.

I've seen Eli nervous before. Even if he's a stoic guy who acts like he has it together, he still is human. He panics just as much as the rest of us, he's just better at hiding it, especially when he's around people that he needs to put on a mask for. With me, he doesn't need that mask, and right now I don't think he could manage to pull it on.

"For what it's worth, the play is amazing." I say to Eli in way of comfort. He looks over at me, the nerves still clear on his face, all his features are lined with worry and anxiety. "Eli, it's great."

"Yeah?"

I run my hand up and down his arm to comfort him. "It's so good."

"You're not just saying that?"

"No! It's great. It's the perfect mix of classic with your own twist on it. It's genius, and it's truly amazing work."

"You don't think the graphics are too much?"

I have to admit, some of the scenes are a bit - a tiny, tiny bit - too graphic. Twenty minutes in there's a scene where someone gets their hand cut off for a crime they committed, and let's just say that there wasn't much detail spared in the cutting off the hand. I think someone in the front row got fake blood sprayed on them.

Regardless, it's an amazing production. The cast is acting in such a natural way while still maintaining the essence of theatre. The energy alone that they're bringing is unmatched to any production I've seen before, including some professional Broadway ones. The audience along with myself are eating every single part of it up.

I voice all this to Eli then follow up by reassuring him that it's truly a perfect performance. 

He visibly relaxes after hearing this, and a true smile even manages to find its way onto his face.

"Thank you, Ry." he says to me. "Thank you for believing in me, and more than that, thanks for being here."

"Yeah, always." I say softly. "I'll be at every other production you do in the future too."

"Don't get my hopes up." he says with a half laugh, but we both know that the truth is hiding behind his words.

Truth is, I did damage this year to him. Damage that won't heal overnight, or maybe at all, and I have to learn to live with that. I need to give Eli time to come around to me, to forgive what I did. If he doesn't, that's okay. I understand. 

But him allowing me to be here with him, not only at the production itself but back here during the intermission, is a big step. It means we still have a chance, and I'll do anything to make sure that I don't blow it. Not now, not ever.

Chapter Text

Eli

After a long two weeks of not seeing Rylie, she's finally coming over today. March break is done and so is her vacation with her family, and the first stop she's made is to come see me.

I think there's only one person who is more excited to see my girlfriend than I am. As soon as she walks into the door, my mom is pushing my aside to run over and throw her arms around Rylie. She squeezes her tightly, holding her as if she'll shatter if she lets go. Over my mom's shoulder, Rylie throws me a look of desperation and mouths for me to help her.

I shake my head back and mouth back "Good luck."

Not happy, she mouths back to me "You suck."

I grin in reply as I watch them hug. Truthfully, this warms my cold, black heart. Julia was a great girlfriend and she got along with my parents well enough, but nothing compares to the way my mom and Rylie get along. Both of them see one another for who they are, and they both accept that and love one another for it. It's nice to have in my life.

But if I want it in my life still, I need to separate them before my mom accidentally suffocates Rylie.

"Mom, I think Ry needs to breathe a little." I say. 

"Oh, I'm sorry!" my mom says to Rylie. She pulls back and holds either side of her arms and smiles at her. "I'm glad you're back."

Rylie's smile matches my moms. "I'm glad I'm back too." she says, then her eyes turn over to me again. She pulls something out of her back and flashes it towards me. "Maybe I'll even move in next year if this turns out bad."

I narrow my eyes to see it's an envelope. From Brock University. My own unopened letter is sitting in the kitchen on the table. It's been a constant topic of avoidance from my parents and I.

The letter came in at the beginning of last week during March break. My mom came home from the mail with the letter clutched in her unsteady, excited hands. She handed it to me, anxiety clear on her face as she asked me to open it. I didn't. Rylie was with her mom and her family for the entire week and we said we would open them together, so I placed the letter on the kitchen table where it's still sitting.

"You open yours yet?" Rylie asks as she holds her unopened envelope up still.

"No." my mom says for me. She shoots me a glaring look. "He's refused to."

"I was waiting for today." I say. "Like a gentleman."

My mom sighs at me. "Can the gentleman open the envelope now then?"

"I will." I tell her as I walk towards the kitchen. "In my room. With my girlfriend."

"And your mom?" my mom calls out to me.

I grab the envelope from it's trusted spot on the kitchen table and walk back out with it. Rylie's face lights up at the sight of it, my mom's face clouds with worry.

The truth is, I'm not the best student to exist. I'm not the worst either, but there's certain subjects that I excel in, like English, science and history, and certain that I'm not so great in, like everything else. 

First term I managed to pull a strong 75% average together. Despite all the drama going on at the time, I knew that this semester mattered a lot towards my university acceptance. Whenever I had even a second of downtime, I was studying or writing essays, making sure everything was perfect to increase my chances of getting into Brock.

Now's the time to find out if it was enough.

"I'll let you know as soon as I open it." I tell my mom. I walk over to Rylie and lace my hand in hers and pull her lightly so we can head to my room. 

"You better." my mom calls after us.

Rylie and I assume our usual spots in the room. She sits on my bed, pillow propped up as she leans back against my wall, and I sit adjacent to her, my back against the other wall. Both of us look at one another with excitement and anxiousness, both ready yet scared to open up the letter and find out our future - if we even have one.

"Should we go one by one, or should we do it at the same time?" Rylie asks me.

"Same time." I say. "So that we don't have to wait even longer."

She purses her lips together and nods at me.

Even though I'm nervous for the answer, I know Rylie is way more anxious than I could ever be. This letter is her ticket out of her house. This ticket allows her to get away from her dad, and to get away from all the shit she's had to deal with here. All the people, all the bad memories will seem far away when we're both at Brock together, so as much as I want this for me, I want this more for her.

"Are you ready?" I ask her.

"Yeah, I'm ready." she says, biting her lip as she smiles. "Are you?"

"I'm ready." I say. I blow a big breath out and look at her. "On the count of three, okay? One...two...three."

We rip into our envelopes like hyenas tearing apart their prey. Somehow, we pull the letter out at the exact same time, both of us falling silent as we unravel the letter and read the words on the page. 

Dear Elijah Goldsworthy,

Congratulations! On behalf of Brock University, I am very pleased to offer you admission to the Bachelor of English Literature Program.

I feel my heart go still in my chest. I got in. I GOT IN!

I glance over at Rylie who's face has gone completely still. There's not an ounce of indication as to whether or not she's gotten into the program that she applied for. Her eyes scan the paper over and over again like she's not understanding what she's read.

"Ry?" I ask, voice soft. "Is it good news?"

"That depends..." she says as she keeps reading it. "Is an acceptance good news?" she asks, an unstoppable grin forming on her face. 

"You got in?!" I ask, my voice loud and happy. "I knew you would! I'm so proud of you!"

"Never mind me, did you get in?" she asks. She moves forward to try and see my letter, but I pull back before she can read anything. A second later, her hand flies out and grabs the letter from me anyway. I grin as she reads it. "You got in! We're going to Brock together!"

"We're going to Brock together!" I repeat in excitement. 

From the living room we hear the faint sound of my mom cheer, a sound that makes the both of us crack up. We may be excited about our futures, but clearly there's always going to be someone more excited than us combined. 

"What do we do now?" Rylie asks me. "We have to start planning stuff, right?"

"Planning?" I repeat. "We just got in, we should be celebrating first."

"Can't we do both at once?"

I laugh, but I also give in to her. "Okay, what do we need to plan?"

"Um, hello? We need to live somewhere?" she says. 

"Okay, so we'll find a place." I tell her. "Right off campus. A small, little apartment with a lot of sunlight for all the plants you want."

Rylie's eyes light up at the sound of this. "We're going to live together?"

"Why not?" I say with a casual shrug. "You pretty much live here already, and we don't know anyone else going to Brock. Besides, it'll be good practice for the future."

"For the future." Rylie repeats softly, the corners of her lips turned up into a smile. "I like that."

At the same time we both lean over, meeting in the middle with our letter still clutched tightly in our hands. Rylie closes her eyes as I kiss her, soft and sweet. 

This is a moment of celebration, not only for us as individuals, but for us a couple. 

This is the start of our new lives together. 

This is the start of us, her and I, forever.

Chapter Text

Rylie

In autumn Eli and I will begin a new chapter in our lives as first year students at Brock University. He'll be going into the English program while I'll be going into the stellar Media and Communication Studies program. I'm not sure if we're more excited for the school itself or for the fact that we'll be living together off-campus. 

Last week we went up to where Brock is and scouted for apartments. We looked at three different ones, all within roughly the same walking distance to the school. 

The first place we looked at had too tiny of a bathroom that was just beside the bedroom. The living room was huge and the floors were nice, wood floors, but ultimately we decided we couldn't live there knowing we would hear one another perfectly when we went to the toilet.

The second place was a step up from the first. It was right down the block of the first place but it couldn't have looked more different. All the doorframes were oval shaped, the kitchen was adorable, but there were three windows in the whole place. One in the bedroom, one in the bathroom, and a single, decent sized one in the living room. This went against my dreams of growing as many plants as we could, so we decided to turn this one down too.

The third one we looked at was perfect. Gorgeous, big windows all over, tons of sunlight spilling it. A beautiful kitchen that lead right into a nice and big living room, perfect for a sectional. Our room even has a mini walk-in closet, and we have a balcony right outside the room. We signed the papers for it on the spot.

With that figured out, all that was left was to get through the last semester of senior year. One would think it would be easy, but we had some challenges along the way.

The first challenge, the most expected one, was Nate. I had made a giant mess of everything between Nate and I, and Eli and I. After learning about the Owen involvement and what they did to Eli, I finally decided that enough was enough. 

With as much courage as I could muster, I went to Mr. Simpson. I told him everything that Owen did last year. I told him about the drugging, the attempt of assault, everything. I then told him what Owen and Nate did to Eli.

As expected, Mr. Simpson listened calmly, taking in all the information. He thanked me for coming forward with everything, telling me that keeping what happened a secret would only ensure others were hurt. He also told me that things may not take place right away, but he would work on making sure that the school was a safer place.

After spilling my secrets about Owen and Nate to Mr. Simpson, I felt empowered. It felt good to be believed and even better to feel like I was taking control of the situation. With that feeling pumping me up, I did something I never thought I'd be capable of doing.

I called my mom.

I told her everything. I told her about my relationship with Eli, I told her about Owen and Nate too, and then, even though my voice shook and I was scared out of my mind, I told her about dad. 

It was hard. Really hard. Both of us cried several times during it, but I didn't stop. I kept going, telling her every detail she needed to hear and I needed to say.

By the next day, I was moving into her and Raymond's house to complete the rest of my schooling. Obviously, my dad wasn't happy about it. He fought my mom tooth and nail, telling her that she can't uproot my life like this so close to the end of the school year. My mom hit back, telling my dad that he can't treat me like his personal punching bag.

After the move, my dad tried to contact me. He would call and text, telling me he's sorry and that he misses me and he didn't mean to hurt me. He would bombard me with calls on repeat in the middle of the night, and one time he even showed up on the doorstep of my mom and Raymond's house. Raymond chased him away, telling him that if he sees him again, it's going to be in a body bag. I started liking Raymond more after that.

The rest of the last semester of high school went by in a breeze after that. About a month after talking to Mr. Simpson, Owen and Nate were pulled out of school. I don't know what happened to them, and I don't really want to. All I know is that I had my life back. Cheering was fun again, I was spending time with Marisol more, and her, Adam, Eli and I, officially made Friday night our hangout time. 

Things were going so amazing that I didn't think anything could top it, and then prom came around. My mom took me shopping for a dress. We said we would make an entire day out of it, except the first dress I tried on, we bought. It's a beautiful, light pink, floor-length mermaid cut dress.

If I thought I loved it, then there isn't a good enough word for how Eli felt. He went absolutely wild over it. All night long he couldn't help but tell me how good I looked in it and how beautiful I was. When we got home from prom, I told him to prove that he thought I was beautiful, and, well he definitely did.

As far as things go, life is pretty great. Everything I've ever wanted is a reality. I'm starting a new chapter in eight weeks, my love and social life is booming, I have a family again, and I'm happy. Genuinely happy.

It may have taken a while to get here, but it was definitely worth the wait.

Here's to the future.

Chapter Text

As always, thank you to everyone who took time to read this. You guys know it means a lot to me.

I was gearing up to write another story for Rylie and Eli, one for when they're in their last year of university, but as it stands I think two stories is more than enough. I do maintain the fact that they do end up living happily ever after.

Again, thank you to everyone who read the first story and this one. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

All the love,

D.T💕