Page 29 of Greased

Pike, Sonny, Dacre, Nicky and Dawson are standing in front of me.

In Pinks’.

In front of me.

In Pinks’, in front of me.

It feels like the entire world shuts down. Even worse than a pandemic condemning the world.

The breath gets caught in my throat. I’ve completely forgotten how to breathe. I long for that break outside to gather myself. But the possibility for it now seems far away.

A feeling of anger washes over me. I have to hold myself back to not storm up to the men looking down at me dumbfounded and demand answers. To relieve me of my grief. To make me understand why I wasn’t good enough. Why they broke my heart to pieces all those months ago. Shattered me beyond repair.

They built me up only to allow me to crumble back down.

A sob gets stuck in my throat. Tears threaten to spill from my eyes. I do my best to will them away but I don't think I’m that strong. I pretend I am. After these past weeks, my emotions are raw. The bad ass bitch persona I’m desperate to claim and hold onto is currently sitting in the corner crying.

While I feel so goddamn angry at them, so beyond betrayed as they stand in front of me, why do I feel relieved? Why do I feel the need to run into their arms? Would they even want that? Did they ghost me because they didn’t want me anymore?

Why do I feel elated when they are the ones that have caused me so much pain?

A million questions run through my head. I’m a slave to them. A slave to my emotions as I feel my soul get dragged through the pits of hell. Tortured by Satan himself as we stand in front of each other in some kind of shoot-out.

How are they here right now? Why aren’t they saying anything?

My question is immediately answered as Dacre’s soft voice chokes out, “My Star.”

The new nickname doesn’t even register as he pushes through the other four boys who are standing in front of me looking like stunned mullets.

Smoking hot stunned mullets.

I curse the thought away just as it comes. Damn them. I will myself to not allow those kinds of thoughts through. Not until I get some kind of explanation.

Dacre reaches me before I can even blink, slamming into me and taking the last dregs of breath I had in my lungs.

The tears then come in full force as he holds onto me in such desperation. There is no hope in stopping them. Not when one of the men I fell desperately in love with is holding me.

My head and heart are at war with each other. Fighting over what I should be doing right now. How I should be reacting. But I shut them out. I allow myself to feel the relief, even if whatever will follow this embrace will crush me.

I need this. I’ve needed this more than I realised.

Even though months have passed with no contact, I can’t help but love them. Love him. The things they made me feel. The way it felt like I had known them my entire life. How normal it felt to be with them. With Dacre, it's different. It was even back then. We just get each other. I see his demons and he see’s mine. We had this instant connection, something that I haven’t felt with anyone else before.

I feel Dacre’s shoulders start to shake knowing like me, he has been reduced to tears.

“Shh, my sweet boy. I’m here,” I whisper through the tears into his ear giving him a small kiss to the side of his head.

His hands tighten around my body. We are a mess of broken pieces as we grip each other, both desperate to know if the other is real.

“Scar. You’re here. You’re real.” His voice is so quiet that if I wasn’t this close to him, I wouldn’t have heard him. I keep my voice low. This moment is for us.

“I’m here and I’m real. I’m never letting go, sweet boy.”

We hold each other for a little bit longer before I pull back and hold his head in my hands slowly lifting so he is looking at me. To be honest, I don’t think he plans on letting me go anytime soon.

God, those green eyes of his. They seem to be brighter even in the dim lighting of the club.

I wipe away the tears running down his cheeks with my thumb.

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