Page 118 of A Dark Melody

“I looked for you during my set.”

“Sorry.”

“For?” He hangs his head and looks at the floor. Panic is creeping up, but also anger. Something happened between them, that much is clear. “For what, Wes?” I ask again.

“So much.”

“Did you fuck her?” I blurt out, desperate to know if she wormed her way back into his heart.

“No.” He looks up at me, his face full of pain. “I would never cheat on you.”

“Then what happened?” I ask. “What did she say to you outside while I was in here having a fucking panic attack?” I snap.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I missed your set. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I’m so sorry, Abbey.”

“What did she say?”

“Abbey.” He says my name slowly. “I’m so sorry.” He repeats himself and puts his head in his hands, crying.

I want to comfort him, but I’m still angry. Even more so, I’m scared because he isn’t telling me what she said.

“Wes, what happened?” I kneel in front of him. “We are best friends. Just tell me.”

He looks up at me, tears in his eyes. “I messed up this whole thing up.”

“What did you do?” My voice shakes with both anger and fear.

What could have happened?

“I’m so sorry Abbey. I wanted to be different for you. I wanted to be the guy you deserve, not another asshole.” He wipes at his eyes.

“You fucked her, didn’t you?”

“No, Not tonight. I fucked her three months ago.” He pauses. “She is pregnant.”

A history that can’t be erased makes sense now.

I’m going to be sick.

He reaches out to touch me, but I recoil, standing up.

Could it really be his? I mean, she cheated on him plenty of times before.

“Abbey. I’m so sorry.”

I walk out of the dressing room to the main bathroom. Girls look my way as I enter. I find an empty stall, kneel in front of the toilet, and throw up. It looks like blood from the vodka cranberries I’ve been drinking. I wipe at my mouth with some tissue, flush, and get up.

Eyes are on me as I exit the stall. I wasn’t very quiet about what I was doing in there. I couldn’t help myself. It just happened. I didn’t technically make myself throw up, but I know it still looked bad. Very bad.

I would not be spending time on Wes’s bus. At this point, I didn’t know if I still wanted to. Or if he even wanted me to.

I don’t know where we stand.

I wash my hands in the sink, feeling the eyes linger on me. It’s strangely quiet in the bathroom. I know I should say something like too much to drink or some kind of excuse. I should laugh it off and play it wasted, but I just dried my hands and walked out of the bathroom.

Sue catches me leaving the bathroom and makes a b-line for the dressing room, following me into it.

“Abbey.”

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