Page 32 of Falling With a Spin

I glance up through glossy eyes to see Taylor silently crying. Before now, I had never seen her cry. She has gotten angry or upset but has never once shed a tear in front of me. I take the cloth napkin that holds our silverware in, wiping away the tears and makeup that were flowing down my face, and continue talking.

“Garrett and Justin found me in the hallway that night and took me back to their house. When I woke up, they explained to me what happened. To be honest, I wasn’t sure what was going on; everything was coming back to me in pieces, and it was hard to put together what really happened. Then I called you to come pick me up.” I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding.

She stands up from her side of the booth and comes to sit next to me, pulling me into her arms, and we cry together. This isn’t how I wanted to tell her, but my life is full of surprises. I pull away, and I look behind her to find our waiter awkwardly standing there holding our food.

“I have your edamame, California rolls, spicy tuna roll, and shrimp tempura roll, along with a side of fried rice.” He mumbles, setting the food down and stepping back. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

We shake our heads and mumble a thank you as he scurries away, probably scared to come near two emotional girls. Taylor stands up and goes back to her side before we dive right into our food. Telling her what happened feels like this weight has been taken off me. That someone besides my inner thoughts knows. I don’t feel so alone in this.

Taylor breaks the silence as she puts her chopsticks down, “Now that I have food in my system, I’m going to go kick his fucking ass.” She says, extending her arms out in front of her, palms forward, and cracking her knuckles.

“No, please don’t. Part of me feels as if it didn’t really happen.” And it’s true, even with what he told me that day in the quad. “We’ve had sex plenty of times before, so this is just part of that, right? I had a lot to drink and seduced my boyfriend, and this happened. Except the other side is saying, that isn’t how it works.” She looks at me with just pure utter shock.

“Emma, no. When you are in a relationship with someone, and they force themself on you, it’s still considered sexual assault. It does not matter the state of the relationship.” She grabs my hand, squeezing it. “He took a piece of you, babe, and that isn’t okay. Please don’t think for one second that this is your fault or part of being in a relationship.”

I nod my head, agreeing with her. But there's this nagging voice in my head telling me that it’s my fault.

Will it always be like this? This broken piece of me always shattered, unrepairable?

“Have you told anyone else yet? Your mom? Caleb?” She questions me. Guilt hits me that I haven’t told either of them yet, especially Caleb. We tell each other everything, all the nitty gritty things about each other.

“Um, no, I haven’t yet. I haven’t talked to Caleb since the day before the party.”

“Emma, he's your best friend, and he can help,” There’s a sadness in her eyes that I don’t quite understand. “I understand why you don’t want to say anything. You would rather leave it in the past and act like it never happened,” leaning forward and setting palms on the table, “but that isn’t the case here. You need to talk with someone about this and not bottle it up.” She says, leaning back against the booth and crossing her arms.

“I know, but right now, I would like to shove it in a small box and ignore it.” I push the plate back and lean against the cool leather of the booth. “Or at least until I can pass this class I'm currently failing, for which Hunter is actually my tutor.” I cross my arms, giving her a knowing look.

She completely ignores it and shoves the last California Roll into her mouth. “Okay, but I’m here for you and will support you through the process. I’m thankful you told me.” She reaches across the table, squeezing my hand. “Now we have one more thing to do unless you would like to go home?”

“I think I would rather go home.” After reliving everything and the amount of tears I shed, going home is probably for the best.

We get up from the booth, head towards the front to pay, and then leave the restaurant to go home.

We arrive home and instantly collapse on the couch. I turn on the TV as Taylor makes us some popcorn. For the next few hours, we sit on the sofa watching different shows on HGTV. I'm thoroughly obsessed with anything on this show; I will have it as background music while doing homework. Taylor’s phone buzzes on the coffee table, and she reaches over to grab it and jumps up immediately. I give her a questioning look as to why she is so excited.

“You know Daniel from my English class?” She asks. I shake my head because I don’t know anyone from her classes. “Okay, well, he’s throwing a party and has invited us. He has the best parties with a live band, food to die for, and so much alcohol.”

“Oh wow, that sounds like a lot of fun.” Sitting up, I cross my legs and play with the threading of the blanket in my lap.

In reality, it doesn’t sound like fun; it sounds like a killer hangover the next day and body aches from dancing.

When did I become like this?

“We will have a blast. Go get ready so we can leave, okay?” She says, walking into her room.

Did she really just say that?

“Taylor, I’m not going to go. I'm way too tired from today, and going to another party right now scares me.” I tell her and look away, hurt that she’d ask me this.

She sits next to me, taking my hands in hers, “Emma, that's totally fine, I understand. I’m sorry for not thinking clearly.”

I give her a small nod and a weak smile as she walks away to get ready.

I watch a whole episode of House Hunters by the time she exits her room. Taylor is wearing a black dress, and her blonde hair is curled slightly at the ends. She is effortlessly gorgeous, and it’s one of the few things that’s different between us. She is the friend who doesn’t have to try and has guys falling over themselves for her at every chance they get. I, on the other hand, am the one who has to wear makeup to look like I’m even trying.

“What will you do tonight?” She asks, packing her small clutch with the necessities.

The buzzing of my phone distracts me, and I reach for it. I see a text from Hunter, your future tutor. I laugh a little and click it open.

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