Page 53 of All Bets Are Off

When we get to the street I know his house is on, I almost stop. I almost turn around and walk away and pretend my heart isn’t breaking inside of my chest, but then she stops. Right at the end of the path that leads up to his front door, she just stops. Like an invisible wall is erected between her and that house that she can’t get passed. No, she doesn’t want to get passed. I watch as her face turns cold, her mask melting away, and in its place is sadness and something darker I can’t quite place.

She takes another drink from the bottle and it’s jarring to see her look so solemn. Her smile is usually the brightest thing in the world, but now she looks as if her sun will never rise again. Maybe it’s the whiskey and I am just seeing things I want to see, but then I think about why she is even drinking in the first place. What could make her feel the need to get off her face all alone while she waits for her boyfriend?

She looks around the empty streets and shrugs to herself. I cock my head as I watch her, expecting her to move inside and out of my line of sight, but she doesn’t. Instead, she moves to a small alcove at the side of the house and sinks down into a white plastic chair I hadn’t even realized was there. She searches around the seat before coming up with whatever she was looking for. I move further down the street to get a better view of her.

From this new angle I can see her hunched over a small fire pit and can just barely make out the lighter in her hand as she gets a fire going. She tucks her knees up under her as she curls in on herself in a familiar position and continues to sip on the whiskey.

I stay out of her line of sight and slowly move around until I can get as close as possible without her noticing me. From my vantage point I can see her lips moving softly, but I’m not close to hear what she’s saying. Or singing if I had to take a guess.

She sits there, her eyes locked on the glowing flames, singing a song for her ears only as she twists and pulls on her necklace with one hand and holds the bottle of whiskey to her lips with the other. The shadows cast by the fire give her an eerie and almost haunted glow that somehow matches the look in her eyes.

I don’t know this girl. I don’t think anyone does. It’s a part of Brielle that lives only in the shadows, never meant to be seen by the light of day. No one is supposed to know she exists. No part of the girl I watch through dancing flames fits into the girl I fell in love with but she doesn’t fit into the picture she and Carson have painted either.

I’m witnessing something I shouldn’t be seeing. Something I have no right to be watching, but I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from the beautiful, broken doll in front of me. The cracks in her porcelain only made visible by the light of the flames reflecting the deep grooves she’s tried so hard to hide.

Pain lances through my chest as I watch her tilt her head back and close her eyes tightly. I can imagine the fine tremor that rocks her hand as she takes another long pull from the half empty bottle now. She’s going to regret that. I regret everything we’ve done, everything I haven’t done, since we stepped foot on this campus.

I don’t know what happened, but now more than ever, I know Brielle is broken. Broken from leaving us or broken from that night, or even something else altogether, I have no idea. But I have to believe there was a reason that she pushed us away.

I think back to the venom filled words she spewed at Elias after she found out Hudson had switched out her assignment for a plagiarized copy.

If I wanted you in jail, wanted to ruin your lives, don’t you think I could have?

She may have had us in cuffs, but it’s like she pointed out. No charges were filed, we were only ever detained. If Brielle wanted to bury us, she had much bigger skeletons she could have dragged out of our closets to get the job done. Instead she called in a tip on a case no one really cared about. Not even the kid who had his care stolen.

Even if we had been charged, it was never going to be one that stuck. Brielle is smarter than anyone gives her credit for. She would have known that. There was no point in doing it unless it was to make a point. To draw a line in the sand between her and us. To push us so far away, we wouldn't be close enough to see her slowly splintering apart.

Just what are you trying to hide from us, Baby? And what about it made you turn to Carson for help instead of us? Or fuck, even your parents? How is it Carson is the one holding you together now?

I know the guys think that it was that night that changed everything, and maybe it was, but I don’t believe them when they say Bri looks at all of us with fear in her eyes now because of it. I don’t think she turned her back on us because we were monsters.

Why kiss Eli if that were true?

Why would devastation flash across her face every time she said something that cut one of us deep? The others may not notice it, when her mask slips so quickly and faintly, but I do. I’ve seen her hurt and guilt. Even just today when she lied about finding football boring. No one had more fun at football games than Brielle in the past. You can’t fake that level of happiness.

She lied to diffuse the situation, choosing to appease and cajole Carson while hurting the guys in the process. Even if she didn’t like it, she felt she had to for whatever reason. Another chance to push us away.

I think it’s hurting her as much as it’s hurting us.

What else would drive her to drink alone like this when I already know her boyfriend is only a few hours away from spending the rest of the night with her? Something only a little while ago she showed excitement over.

I told Elias that Brielle looked lonely, but in this moment, that word doesn’t even seem to encompass the overwhelming emotion that radiates off of her. It’s something that I can’t even put words to as I fight to understand the complex girl I once thought I knew better than I knew myself.

Is she really planning on finishing that bottle by herself? It isn’t a large bottle but I can’t imagine she won’t be sick if she doesn’t stop soon. Almost as if she can hear my thoughts she puts the bottle on the ground beside her chair. She presses her fingers to her lips and I think I hear the cadence of her giggle as she sways in her chair.

She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head before brushing her fingers over her cheek. What is she doing? She hangs her head low and I’ve never seen Brielle so morose, much less so drunk Brielle. She has to be trashed or well on her way to being so with how much drank in the last hour and a half.

I scoff at myself. I can’t believe how long I’ve been standing in the shadows watching her like this. I never expected for our night to lead to this. To watch this intimate and vulnerable moment of hers.

When she first came out of that liquor store I thought I might see a side of her that I rarely ever got to see. The Bri that drank too many fruity cocktails and danced on tables with Vanessa. The one that couldn’t finish her sentences because she giggled too hard, but gave away her secrets nonetheless. The one that couldn’t lie or hide anything from us because one look was all it took before she’d be in stitches. The one who was open and honest not only in words but with her affections. Like the day that we all realized there could be something more than friendship in her eyes when she looks our way.

I wipemy hands on a dishtowel after handing Vanessa and Bri their drinks. My eyes widen as Bri drinks half of it in one go. There’s a lot of alcohol in there and she and V are already well on their way to buzzed. “Baby B, slow down,” I chide.

Vanessa whoops and I shake my head. Okay, maybe well passed on their way then. I turn to look for Eli but he already has his eyes on the situation and just shrugs, hiding his smirk behind his own drink. He’s excited for whatever may happen. I can’t help but be nervous every time Bri drinks. Even when it’s just with us. She leaves herself so vulnerable, and I know none of us would ever take advantage of that, but she lets so much more slip than I know she would be comfortable with. She’s always so embarrassed the next day when she wakes up and swears off drinking.

“Don’t be a party pooper,” Hudson calls out as he knocks his shoulder against mine.

“More drinks!” Zaide yells as he lifts his empty cup into the air. Bri yells in excitement with him before falling against his chest in a fit of giggles.

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