Bitter Sunshine

Sweaty Idiots

The indistinct hum of the radio pulses in the background as I awkwardly sit in Kayla's passenger seat. Kayla and Shay are chatting up a storm, discussing the latest Spanish test and the clingy Latino she had to invite.

"I thought you weren't interested in this Jarin kid," Shay says. I see Kayla flush out the corner of my eye.

"I'm not interested when he talks about the future, but I'll be damned if I said he wasn't a freak in the sheets."

"Too much information."

"Please," she scoffs, "we're all technically adults. It's not like you haven't heard the birds and the bees." I can see where this conversation is going, and it only makes me stiffen further. "s*x is simple, my fruity Arab. The d**k, or excuse me, p***s, is placed inside the lovely woman's-"

"Shut it!" I squeal, my face burning. That's not how Shay's s*x goes. Oh, did you not hear Red? Our best friend is a lesbian. Sorry I didn't tell you, but I just figured it out myself. Of course, I can't say that. Not only will it make me look bitter, it would spill the secret that was Shay's. No matter how much it kills me, she had the right to come out when she wanted to.

Kayla laughs. "You're thinking too much, Ly."

You have no idea.

"What's your deal anyways?"

I wish I could say.

"This is supposed to be a fun night."

I'm well aware.

Shay decides to butt-in from the back. For the first time in this car ride, she speaks to me. "Yeah. Tonight is a fun night." The hidden meaning is clear. She's moving on with this. I should too.

Well, if she wants to let it all go then we will. I apologized. That's enough. Frankly, the fact I said anything is a huge improvement for me. All my life I've been the stubborn one in the argument. If holding grudges was an Olympic event, I'd have a gold medal.

When I caught Adam in bed with Corinne Dickens at a party, anger came before the searing hurt. The whole night I spent fuming to Kayla and Shay, pacing my room with my hands in fists. I used to think that the anger is what helps me hold grudges, but it's not. It's that hurt. Anger is temporary; pain is forever. Adam's face has turned into a constant tug on my heart strings, and I think it's that feeling that's a constant reminder of what he did.

Could Shay's face turn into that tug?

I mean, I still feel like there's something wrong. But I could be wrong- that seems to happen a lot lately.

"Did you guys see Maya Gardner yesterday? She's so f*****g pretty, I swear she'll turn me gay."

Christ, for the first time ever I really want to get drunk.

Soon enough, the suffocating car ride ends as we pull into an alley illuminated in neon light. Music pulses through the brick of the large building before us. The Underground is a mini heaven plopped onto 3rd Street.

A bulky man with jagged tattoos covering his neck steps into the light.

"Hey girls, good to see 'ya," Snake greets. A small smirk adorns his face as he checks Shay out. "Look at how grown up you are, Little Bug. You got hot." She rolls her eyes, punching his shoulder. Based on the amount of muscle on this guy, it looks like it hurt.

"Stop being a perv," she laughs. Snake winks and motions us to follow him. I'm careful to avoid any broken bottles or puke as I do. I'm wearing heels and will not chance ruining them with someone's tossed lunch.

We go through the back entrance, revealing the raging crowd of drunk, sweaty idiots dancing to a dub-step song. Normally, this would not be my scene. But there's something about our The Underground adventure nights that are like a cure to my introversion. This week, summer, year has piled up stress that's lead to this night.

Kayla elbows me in the ribs. Her red painted lips are curled in a wild smile. "You better get trashed for me tonight, Ly. I'm stuck as designated driver and need to feed my cravings through you. Let's get f****d!" I laugh. She playfully pushes me onto the dance floor, joining me faster than you would think could be humanly possible. Kayla was built for this kind of scene. It's almost like her second home.

I have no idea how long we're there. I allow myself to get absorbed into the careless atmosphere, enjoying myself for once.

Until, of course, reality had to hit me like a truck.

I broke off from Kayla to get a drink. As I casually leaned on the bar, surveying the crowd, my thoughts are interrupted by a stumbling Shay. Her maroon dress' straps are falling off her shoulder, and her hem was bunched up to her upper thigh. There's no doubt she is drunk.

"Heeey," she slurs with a lazy grin. "I waaas juss o'er there and saaaw you all alone righh heyer! Why's you heyer?" I hold out my cup for her.

"Shay, maybe you should drink some water. You seem pretty out of it right now."

She breaks out into a fit of giggles, slapping the cup out of my hand, and clutching her stomach.

Well s**t, that was three bucks.

"Nooo! No water, Lyyyy. I'm having sooo much fun," Shay pouts.

"Maybe-"

"You know I cried a low- I m-mean lot when you acted like a total botch. I mean, b***h. Did you knoow that?"

I froze. My cheeks are probably the shade of a fire hydrant at this point. I knew she was upset, but I didn't realize she was that upset. Maybe I acted worse than I thought...

"I haate you Lyyy! Y-you make me sad. Like alllll the tiiime. Why you hafta make mee sad? Like, be happier. It's not haaard," she continues. I clench my fist and face the drunk mess next to me.

"I'm not doing this while you're drunk," I sniff. She rolls her eyes and grabs my arm. All her motions are erratic and sloppy from the alcohol.

"Shut up, Lyyy. Y-you always act, depressed s-since soophomore year-"

Her words are interupted by my abrupt push. Her drunk mind doesn't fully comprehend what happened by the time I storm away. I can't tell if I want to cry or punch someone right now. Probably both. Sadly, I doubt either will make me feel better.

But shots will.

"Red, I looove this song! Fudge, I looooove it soooo much!" I squeal. "Fancy" begins to play, eliciting a cheer from the girls of the crowd. At least, I think it was the girls. Everything began to bog down in my eyes and ears after shot number four. Even Kayla, only a few feet from me, is slightly blurred. Her red hair, however, still stands out like the sun.

"Christ you're drunk," she laughs. "You hate Iggy Azalea." Ignoring her, I start to move to the music, holding my cup in the air like some sort of sad teenage trophy. I can't believe I forgot how good it feels to get drunk. Alcohol slows down your brain into a delightful haze where only one thing matters- having a good time.

Kayla laughs some more and starts to dance with me. Shay took an Uber home about an hour ago, but I made Kayla stay with me to party a little more.

"I'm going to get another shot," I call out to my friend. She eyes me sharply, shaking her head.

"You're done, Ly. Get yourself some water so I don't have to drag you home."

"Booooo! You're no fuuun," I pout. Begrudgingly, I head over to the bar. The task proves harder than it seems as I'm pushed throughout the crowd like a pinball. A few drinks are haphazardly sloshed at my feet; I barely manage to stand upright. Everything's so hazy.

Eventually, I make it to the bar and order myself a glass of water. As soon as I get my order out, the bar tender sends me a knowing wink. Whatever. I'm not that drunk.

I scroll through my phone while I wait. A few Snapchats and whatnot. Lillian posted her highlight pictures from Cancun on i********:.

Adam posted a picture with Corinne.

My heart seems to pulse in my head. How could he rub that in my face like that? He knows I still follow him. We were on speaking terms, after all. Did he want me to see it? He's trying to make me go crazy. Without a second thought, I pull up his contact. A click of a button is all it took for the call to start.

Two rings and he picks up. "Ly, hey," Adam quickly says. I can vaguely make out a couple of voices behind him.

"Don't h-hey me, Adam. How could youuuu? Hmph, I just, er- you just make me so mad, you know? I'm always so made because of you. A-and, there's no way I'd say this sober, so I'll say this quick. You... we both- nothing," I stutter.

"Lyric, are you drunk? I can pick you up if you need-"

"No!" I interrupt. "Let me talk. I want to f-finish. Nothing will change the f-fact that you hurt me when I s-still needed you." I start hacking, the water starting to sober me up finally. Everything is still a slight haze around me, nothing quite sticking in my mind. There's this bout of courage still flowing in me that I refuse to let go to waste.

Adam seems hesitant on the other side. "Ly, I've told you how sorry I was. No, I still am. I'll delete the picture with Corinne right now. It was stupid- I am stupid. Give me a second," he pleads. For a split second in my drunken mind, I find comfort in his voice. A part of me missed him.

But that's not enough.

"f**k you." I hang up with a sense of definitive vigor that manages to surprise myself a bit. It felt good to say what was clinging to my brain for the past months. I should drink more often.

That notion is quickly forgotten as a race to the nearest bathroom, shoving a few drunks out of my way, and empty my stomach into the unsanitary toilet. All of the night's hard work is flushed away with a simple push of a handle. Despite the gross taste in my mouth, an urge to down another shot crept into my head.

I want something to block out the incoming shame.

"Oh god," I whisper hoarsely, still slightly keeled over the toilet. "Oh god."

Shay's words fling back at me, no longer repressed by cheap Tequila. I make her sad all the time- which is fair, no matter how much I hate to admit it. I didn't quite offer much to the world but baggage and half-funny jokes. That was sort of like my trademark: baggage. Of course there are so many other people in the world with much greater, deeper problems than I have, but the desire to hold a sense of optimism towards life had drained out years ago. With no hope for true quality of life, you're left with an undeserving-ly jaded teenager throwing up in a filthy bathroom stall. All the while her friend is actually having fun, enjoying herself with a guy.

Kayla's enjoying herself with a guy while a cry over one I never even loved.

Oops. That wasn't supposed to come out. I always wanted to love Adam; he said he loved me. At one point I thought I did too. I never said it back, but I assumed eventually I would be able to. Love was instilled in me as a child as something critical, though. My parents made sure of that.

I just figured lying about loving him would do more harm than good.

With a sigh, I pick myself up and wipe my mouth. Kayla is probably still good with Jarin, so I'm sure a text would suffice. I think it's best if I go home. The original plan was to go back to her house, but with Shay gone and Kayla busy, that seems to no longer be happening. I'll have to call a cab.

I walk through the building, narrowly avoiding the always moving idiots occupying it, and finally reach fresh air. I take a few slow breaths and savor it. Slowly but surely, it seems the alcohol is leaving my brain. A sense of clarity is there.

I pull out my phone to make the call when I'm interrupted by a honk. Squinting, a vaguely see a car parked across the street with its headlights on. Again, it honks. I look around. Besides the shortening line behind me, the streets were void of pedestrians. I cross the street, casually trying to get a glimpse at the driver. Maybe it was Shay? Van could've lent her his car.

Now able to see into the car, I know it's definitely not Shay. The passenger side window rolls down and the driver leans forward towards it.

"Lyric! Thank god. I figured you'd be here. Look, I know I'm not your favorite person right now, but can you get in? I'll take you home. I don't want you riding in some shitty cab," Adam says with a hint of desperation.

I look away. Normally, I wouldn't consider his offer out of spite, but I don't want to waste cash on a car ride. There was no doubt in my mind that Adam would do as he promised and take me home. The hard part would be the ride itself.

Swallowing my pride, I nod and open the passenger door. I hear him sigh in relief before starting up the car and immediately speeds down the road. Radio music hums distantly in the background, drowned out by the tension between us. He absentmindedly taps on the wheel with his pointer finger.

Eventually, he clears his throat. "About, uh, your call-"

"Do we have to talk about this right now? I was clearly drunk then, I think I'm still slightly drunk now... This doesn't seem like the most opportune time for a post-breakup conversation," I interrupt. My words come out with less ferocity than intended. I need my bed."

Adam shocks me with his next words. "No. We're talking about this, Ly. I screwed the hell up then and I did it again today and I want you to tell me about how much of a screw up I am. I want you to scream at me. Before you were angry, and I bet you still are, but you never raised your voice at me. So do it." Not once does he take his eyes off the road.

I barely control the urge to scoff. "I won't yell at you because you don't deserve that. What you did Adam broke us up, yes, but it did not break me. You hurt me. But that's expected, right? It's expected that the girl whose boyfriend cheated on her is hurt and angry. It's my choice of what to do with said emotions," I fire back.

"I know. I'm sorry, I just- I want to feel better about this. f**k, I know that's pathetic and I don't deserve it, but I'm a human who wants forgiveness. Lyric, I know I suck. I know we'll never get back together. I just can't stand living with this hole inside me every damn day that just feeds guilt into me. I don't deserve it, but I want it," he responds. There's tears gathering at his eyes.

I hesitantly touch his shoulder with a small smile. "I guess I'd know a thing or two about guilt, huh?"

Adam laughs dryly, wiping roughly at his eyes. A comfortable silence encumbers us as we drive on. After a moment, I decide to speak again.

"I don't think we loved each other."

For the first time he breaks his stare at the road, briefly looking at me with confused eyes. Before he can cut in, I continue.

"I know I didn't love you. I never really said it because I was scared, but based on how I feel now and how I should feel, I know for sure it wasn't love. And let's face it Adam, if you truly loved me you never would have slept with Corrine. Things were great, and we probably would have stayed together if that didn't happen, but we would've broken up eventually. We didn't love each other."

The next silence is slightly less comfortable than the last. Our breaths are heavy, weighed down by the severity of our words. This car ride is a send-off. A proper goodbye. Everything must be said before I leave, otherwise it will never be heard.

"I think you're right," he quietly says.

Outside, my street side comes into view. Our time is running out.

Adam clutches the wheel tighter and tells me, "I'll miss you. No matter what, I will." I genuinely smile and look at him. He still had the same dimples, the same chocolate eyes, the same tiny scar on his upper lip from his first shaving attempt. My chest still held hurt, but the hurt was slowly alleviating itself. Overall, I felt lighter.

"We lasted longer than we should've. One sad girl and angry boy? The world would never be ready," I smile. His eyes crinkle with a smile of his own.

Finally, we pull into my driveway. I don't know if I'm ready to leave. I have to, though.

I kiss his cheek and he sucks in a breath in turn. "Goodbye, Adam."

"Goodbye Lyric."

I get out of the car with my phone in my hands, watching him drive away. The light feeling in my chest had intensified, and I now stood feeling better than I thought possible.

I never loved Adam. But someone will.