This Is How You Get Her Back

Eight

[TW: alcohol]

"s**t. What the f**k have I done?" I growled as I slumped back on Francine's sofa. "It's been 2 hours and I've looked everywhere and I've been calling her nonstop and she hasn't picked up and I don't know where she is and f**k I'm going crazy," I cried, my head between my hands.

Francine sits next to me, her arms wrapped around my shoulders. "Hey, it'll be all right. Just give it some time."

"I just... what if something bad happens to her? I'll never forgive myself. I didn't even let her explain."

"She might be at Juliet's, you know."

My heart physically hurts at her words. "No, she wouldn't do that to me. She wouldn't. Can you try calling her again, please?"

"Look at me."

Sobbing, I comply, and look into her familiar blue eyes with my green ones.

"Just give it some time. What will be, will be, okay?"

"Thank you for always being there for me, France. I don't know what I'd do without you."

She smiles. "Do you want to drink?"

"You know I don't drink."

"Maybe you could make an exception tonight."

"No, thank you."

"I insist."

"I don't drink—"

Out of absolutely nowhere, she leans forward and captures my lips between hers. Shocked and admittedly nostalgic, I gently push her away and move farther from her.

"What was that?" I ask as I wipe my lips with the back of my hand.

Tears form in her eyes and she buries her face in her hands. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Lauren."

"I don't understand what's happening. Why'd you kiss me? What the hell, Francine?"

She looks at me with her eyes almost as red as mine. "Don't you get it? You're so f*****g blind."

"Wha—I don't understand."

"I still love you, okay? I never stopped loving you. I want you back—heck, I need you back. I—I've loved you longer than Alessandra has, and it's so f*****g unfair. And I'm so sorry. I—I thought I'd feel good after all of this, but seeing you—"

"Wait, what are you talking about? What do you—"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't know it would be like this—" she tries to hold my hand, but I stand up and move away.

"What the hell is going on?!"

Guiltily, she looks down on her hands. "It was all me, okay? It was all me. She was innocent. I... I took her flowers before they reached you, I told you she was with Juliet when she wasn't, I distracted her from you as much as I could, I—"

"Screw you," I curse at her before I walk out of her place.

The last words I hear from her are, "She told me it would work."

Spending every second trying to call Alessandra, I walk going home for over an hour.

"Alessandra, baby, please call me back. Let me explain. I'm so f*****g sorry. Please just tell me where you are. I need know if you're safe. Just please be safe," I desperately beg, knowing that my message would be sent to voicemail anyway.

The pain in my chest arouses my urge to screw up my life and destroy myself and give up. As I walk home, I silently curse at the bars and clubs practically begging me to go inside. If I don't get myself together, I'm going to relapse. My mind is too full of Alessandra to even think about him.

I spot a little rustic bar a block before my apartment, and I finally give in. I walk inside and I'm hit by the smell of cigarettes and beer. I sit down by the bar, and not 2 minutes pass and I'm already offered drinks by three different men.

Not caring about whether or not my drinks could be spiked, I drink up. My first drink tastes like vodka and soda and years of sobriety and regret. And it is absolutely addicting. The nostalgic feeling of alcohol down my throat urges me to drink whatever I'm given until my tongue feels numb and my brain slows the hell down.

I stop feeling anything at all after my 12th drink.

-

"Man, I can't believe you've slept with both Francine and Alessandra. How is Ale even cool with dating her bestfriend's ex? Don't girls have a bro code or something?" Jeremy, one of my closest friends, asked me as we waited for our professor to come.

"Shut up. Francine and I have been over for years. Alessandra's cool with it," I replied.

"Wasn't Francine your first real girlfriend though? Like, before she cheated on you and you became an asshole?"

"Shut up. That was over years ago, and I'm over it."

"Speaking of those smokin' devils," he said as he jutted his chin towards the doorway, where I saw Alessandra and Francine waving at me. This boy has no attention span.

I waved back enthusiastically at both of them. Alessandra blew me a kiss before she left, and I swore my heart melted.

"Bro, you're so f*****g whipped that it's actually disgusting," I heard Jeremy say with a laugh, earning him a punch on the arm.

-

I open my eyes to the blinding sunrise and a killer headache. With a pounding head and squinting eyes, I sit up, my stomach feeling like it's eating itself. I look around and realize that I'm clueless as to where I am.

But my eyes widen and my chest hurts when I remember the events from last night. I need to call Alessandra. I need to fix this. I feel for my phone in my pockets, but I find them empty. Then I notice that I don't have a top. Just my sports bra.

Fighting my killer hangover, I groggily stand up and leave the room. I'm greeted by a familiar living room.

I'm at Francine's.

What the hell?

After smelling French toast, I walk to the kitchen, and I spot Francine with swollen eyes and a defeated expression on her face. When she sees me, she looks away immediately.

Strangely, I feel bad for her.

"Your—" she clears her throat because of her weak and croaky voice, "your shirt's on the sofa. You spilled your drink so I washed it overni—"

"Why am I back here?" I asked.

Terrified, she flinches at my voice. "I was worried about you last night so I—"

"Where's my phone?"

"Living room. With your shirt. I... I made breakfast. If... if you want."

"I don't want anything to do with you," I assert emptily before I leave the kitchen. I wear my shirt and check my phone as I walk out of Francine's place.

Why do I feel weird?

Shaking off thoughts of the past, I check my phone to see that I have only one unread message. When I realize it's from Alessandra, I open it immediately.

[Ginger Ale ]: we need 2 talk. i wanna take a break

I ignore the odd messaging style (because Alessandra doesn't text like that), and I dial her number. She picks up on the third ring.

"Alessandra, oh my god where are—"

"Who's this?" I hear a foreign female voice answer.

"Who the f**k are you and why do you have Alessandra's phone?"

"Oh. Hi Rubio. This is Juliet."