Page 64 of Since Always

"Cassidy," I whisper. Hearing her pain is a knife in my gut. "This is for the best. Not just for me. For you too."

"This is not for the best for me. I want to be with you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Don't blame me for this."

My chest feels tight. "You're right. I'm sorry. This is on me."

I can hear Becca in the background as she walks into the room.

"Cass, are you okay? Cass, what's wrong? Who are you...Oh no. Hang up the phone."

"I have to go," she says.

"Yeah. Drink some water. Call me tomorrow, if you remember. If not, I'll see you at your party on Saturday."

But the line is dead before I can even finish the sentence.

CHAPTER 21

Cassidy

When I wake up, it takes me a few minutes to figure out where I am. Becca's plush guest room is still mostly dark, with just a sliver of early morning glow seeping through the curtains. Even that hint of light hurts my eyes. My head is pounding, and my mouth is dry as a bone. I stand up, still dizzy, needing to make my way to a glass of water.

The events of last night are hazy, but I think I crashed pretty early. I remember Becca's boyfriend and co-star, Max Walters coming over at some point, and the three of us having a dance party in the living room. I know I ate a lot of the fast-food tacos he brought. I think there was a game of 'Never Have I Ever.' We toasted to my birthday on Sunday many times, with Becca using it as a reason to keep getting me to take shots.

"We're celebrating," she kept saying, as she refilled my shot glass.

“You are as bad as my brother. You are throwing my party on Saturday night in Denver," I had reminded her. "Won't we be celebrating then?"

"You have got to start embracing the importance of The Birthday Week."

"That's not a thing," I'd said, taking the shot anyway and knowing I was talking to a girl who had insisted on celebrating her 'Birthday Month' since we were kids.

I make my way back from the kitchen and grab my phone as I crawl back into bed. I immediately see a notification from Owen, and my heart leaps a little.

Over the past few weeks, there have been a few mornings where he will send me a good morning text. It's become my favorite way to start a day, even if it hurts a little each time.

Owen: Good morning, whenever you wake up. I hope you are feeling okay. Two Aspirin and water.

Wait. How did he know? Did I talk to him...?

Oh no.

I shoot up in the bed, panic overcoming me. There is nothing from last night in our text messages, but a quick check of my call log confirms my worst fears.

I drunk-dialed him.

Oh, God.

If I have been trying to show him how mature I am for my age, that had to do the trick.

The room is spinning now and I close my eyes, hoping I can blink this one away. What did I say? I think back over last night, getting flashes. I was in the living room. I had come in from the pool, I remember that. Becca came in and...

Oh.

I cried. I can't remember what I said, but I do remember Becca walking in the room and me hanging up and collapsing into tears in her arms. Was I crying before I hung up the phone? Did he hear me? What horrible, emotional confession did I make?

I have been trying so hard to be mature about all of this, and to not end up begging him to love me and be with me. The problem is that is exactly what I have wanted to do for the past two months. And if I was babbling drunk, who knows? In vino veritas, right? What truth did I let out?

Well, fuck.

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