Page 52 of Mayhem

“What thing?”

“The stupid drunk clingy girlfriend thing.”

“Oh,” she says, realizing what I’m getting at. “Oh no.”

“Yup. I totally did it. I can’t believe it, but it’s all right there. Shit.”

“And how did he respond?” She asks, curiosity laced with humor in her tone. I don’t appreciate the humor. This isn’t funny.

And then it hits me.

He didn’t respond.

At all.

“He didn’t.” The finality of it rings hollow in the quiet room, and I can feel the weight of it pressing down on me.

Ivy is quiet. Ivy never gets quiet.

“Oh,” is all she says.

I turn my head to look at her, and she meets my gaze. I instantly see the remorse in her eyes. She’s thinking the same thing I am. It was way too early to celebrate anything last night, least of all my budding relationship with Brad.

We jumped the gun. And my constant texting really didn’t help at all either. If anything, it probably pushed him away even quicker.

Way to go Lagerfeld. You really know how to fuck things up, don’t you?

“I’m a fixer. I can fix this, right?” I ask, trying to force confidence I don’t feel.

Ivy’s not buying it, and I don’t blame her. This is bad.

“Sure,” she says, and the sarcasm in her tone hits the mark. We both know this is yet another major screw up by me in all things Chaos Fuel, and specifically Brad.

Since day one, I’ve done nothing but mishandle and mismanage my feelings for Brad. I’ve let them cloud my professional judgement, and now, even my personal actions. This is not me. This is not who I am.

I’m becoming some hormone-injected pre-pubescent teenage girl with my first boy crush, losing all my sensibilities. All of a sudden, I’m impulsive, when I’m usually strategic and thoughtful. I examine every angle before acting on anything. Now, I just let whims carry me away and do whatever the hell I feel like in the moment.

Well, look where that got me. Absolutely nowhere.

Can I blame Brad though? After the video incident, and now the drunken text barrage, he’s probably running for the hills. I thought we shared something special the other night, but maybe it was all one-sided. Maybe it was just me that felt something click between us. Maybe he met someone else last night at the show? Or ran into yet another old flame still carrying a torch for him that he was drawn to.

We haven’t talked about exclusivity, because why would we? We’ve technically only been on two official dates. I have no claim on him. He’s free to see whoever he wants, isn’t he?

I’d swear he was feeling for me what I’m feeling for him, but like everything else in my life right now, I could be reading that all wrong. I could be reading more into it.

My head starts pounding even harder, the blood pulsing in my ears. I just want to sleep for hours and forget everything. Forget the video post, the amazing dates, Brad, Charlie, the drunken texts, and the nonexistent replies to them. I want to forget it all. But, of course, my mind won’t let me.

I’ll replay every moment, examine every word, every gesture, to see if I can pinpoint the exact moments that everything fell apart. Because, God damn it, it feels like everything is falling apart.

I don’t like this feeling. At all.

Stop the world, I want to get off, please.

33

FOUR LETTER WORDS

TESS

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