Hey, Darling.

“I told you!”

I jerked up quickly, an automatic response to someone shrieking at eight o’clock in the morning. I rolled to my left, and then without a second of reaction, sprawled out on the hardwood floor. I groaned lowly, feeling the frustration already creep into my system.

It was then that I knew that today was going to be a bad day.

Mia was standing above me, hand covering her mouth as her body shook with convulsions of laughter.

I stared up at her for a few minutes, waiting impatiently as she attempted to calm herself down. I just kept blinking, using the silence to notice the dull ache in my head.

“Oh, fuck,” I groaned harshly to myself, turning over a little so the light wasn’t hitting me in the eyes.

Mia had finally calmed herself down, and she was now standing with a hand on her hip, a triumphant smirk on her face.

“I told you,” she said again, this time a little less loudly.

“Told me what?” I asked slowly, using my hand to shield my eyes as I sat up slowly. The tiniest bit of movement made my head throb.

“That you liked him. That you want to kiss him. How you secretly wish you could fuck him--,” She sang loudly, to an off beat.

I cut her off with a deadly glare and a rude gesture with my middle finger. I even surprised myself there. I usually wasn’t this vulgar.

“Advil.” I demanded, holding my hand out impatiently. I knew I was being kind of rude and childish, but I can’t even count the amount of times I’ve had to take care of Mia after wild nights. She owned me one hangover every now and again.

She turned over the bottle willingly, while she gestured to a glass of water on the bedside table.

I put the pills in my mouth quickly, before downing them with a big gulp of water. Now I just had to wait for the painkillers to kick in and send me off into a numbing, painless bliss.

“And I do not want to fuck him.” I said afterwards, staring at her darkly. “He kissed me! I was trying to shove him off when you saw us. I’m not lying, either. He’s a horrible kisser, all needy and impatient and trying to pretend he’s a laundry machine in my mouth!”

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” she said, not believing a word I said.

“It was!” I protested. “He didn’t even ask. He just jammed his tongue in there like it’s nobody’s business and got to work. I didn’t appreciate it. At all.”

“Hmm,” she looked contemplative, before nodding. “I’m sure if you kiss him again it’ll be better.”

“There will be no more kisses!”

Mia rolled her eyes at me. “You say that now.”

“I mean that now! I’m not you, Mia,” I exclaimed. “I don’t want some meaningless fling that’s going to make me feel great over the summer but feel like shit when we go back to California. My heart’s not like that.”

Mia looked hurt, for just a mere second, before her face shifted again. “I don’t want that, Molly. I’m just trying something new. John’s nice, okay? For once, I’m trying something out of the familiar. I’m having a little fun. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

She glared at me for a second, before turning around and exiting the bedroom in a huff. I knew I had crossed the line, stepped a little too far, but I didn’t really have the energy to care. I was hung over and sleepy, and even though I wouldn’t admit this to anyone, I was battling with my feelings.

It was hard to think it, say it, admit it to myself, but I knew that there was a part of me that wondered what kissing Kennedy would be like if he were sober.

There was also a part of me that wondered if I would really, really like it.

I was under the covers, all nice and content in my dream world, when Mia burst in loudly, marching over to the closet.

I was barely blinking myself awake when I heard the door fly open and her start ruffling through tops and dresses.

I raised the cover from over my head and sat up slowly. She was over at my side of the closet, looking at two dresses repeatedly.

“What’re you doing?” I asked slowly, my voice hoarse from sleeping.

“Going out.” She said stiffly, before shoving one dress back into it’s respective spot and looking over at my shoes.

“Oh.”

“Yup.” She bent down to pick up a pair of dangerous black patent stilettos and I could tell she was holding out on me. She wasn’t going to invite me.

I felt my heart sink a little, but did my best to cover it up. I sunk back down into the covers, letting them enfold me as I attempted to get comfortable again. A couple more hours of sleep couldn’t hurt.

“Molly,” she said sharply, and I rolled to my right to look at her through hazy eyes.

“Hmm?”

“Would you…” she looked pained saying this, and I knew she was still holding out her grudge from my comment earlier in the morning. I also knew that she would crack fairly easily. “…would you like to go out with us?”

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“I think we’re just gonna do breakfast/lunch thingy--”

“Isn’t that called brunch?” I interjected.

She ignored me. “’cause the guys are hungry. I think we’re just gonna go to Denny’s or IHOP, but then they want to show us around or something.”

“Are they all going to be there?” I tried to make my voice sound as cool and noncommittal as possible, but I knew she could see straight through me.

“Yes.”

She was looking at me as if that was going to change my mind. She wasn’t aware that as soon as the word slipped from her mouth I was sold.

I stumbled into the shower sleepily, trying to get clean and untangle my hair as quickly as possible. I shaved my legs, washed my face twice, and left in that three-minute cream to make your hair all nice and soft.

If you would have asked me why I was doing this, I would have told you that it was because I wanted to make myself feel nice.

I would have lied.

I changed into a pair of light yellow shorts , a navy tank top, and a pair of navy and white striped boat flats. I pulled my hair up into a messy bun and slipped on my glasses. I was going for understated and chic. I was pretty sure I looked like I was trying too hard.

I stared in the mirror for seven minutes before deciding that I was going to get any better looking and headed towards the door. I picked up my bag as I made my way towards the living room where Mia was waiting. My grandmother wasn’t paying attention. We slipped out of the house unnoticed, and then got into John’s black car silently.

She still seemed somewhat mad at me, but I didn’t say anything, my fear of confrontations getting in the way. John smiled at me through the rearview mirror as I slipped inside, but remained quiet. I think he could sense the tense air between us. I just smiled in return.

We approached a Denny’s within ten minutes. The air-conditioned diner was met with grace as we stepped inside, and I immediately spotted seven people sitting around a large, L-shaped booth.

“This way,” John muttered to Mia, and I noticed how their hands seemed to brush delicately, but neither of them had the balls to actually reach out.

I followed slowly, trying to make out the tops of the heads as we reached closer.

I couldn’t stop the butterflies that erupted inside of me as I thought about Kennedy. I both tensed in nervousness and smiled in anticipation. My heart was having a love/hate relationship with the situation. I wanted to see him. I craved to see him. But I was also embarrassed because of how things ended last time, and the way he made me feel was unwelcome because it was unfamiliar.

As we turned the corner, the booth became clear. I could see familiar faces of boys that I had seen at the night of the party, and the girls sitting there seemed familiar too, but I couldn’t recall a name.

I was just about to smile shyly to them all when I saw it. The finger lacing and the smiles shared between the petite brunette next to Kennedy.

Now, for the record, I am generally not a jealous people. True, I can be over zealous when it comes to certain things, and those feelings of anger and unjust might come off as envy, but they’re not. Honestly. I never cried when I didn’t get the new Barbie or cringed when someone’s shirt was by a more expensive brand. I‘m not like that. I swear.

At least not till now.

Because even though I repeated it over and over in my head about how not jealous I was, I couldn’t help but feel the fire erupt in my chest and that dropping sensation in my stomach.

Well, fuck.

I wasn’t supposed to be jealous.

I still smiled politely at the group, though it was a bit more forced than I had anticipated, when I slid next to a slightly chubby boy that sat across from Mia. As I looked at her, I could see all traces of anger gone from her face as she looked at me sympathetically. I just shook my head unnoticeably and put on another fake smile.

“Everyone, this is Molly,” Mia said loudly, trying to break a bit of the awkward air that had arrived when we all sat down. “You might have seen her when she spewed all over the backyard last night, but she’ll behave now. Promise.”

Everyone chuckled at this, and then the talking seemed to resume. I greeted everyone that greeted me before picking up the menu and turning it over in my hands. I didn’t feel very hungry.

There was a soft brush against my ankle, causing me to jerk and look up. No one seemed to notice. When I did look up, there was only one person looking back at me.

I looked down quickly, repeating my mantra in my head.

I am not jealous. I will not be jealous.

Why was it that even though I said it a hundred times, I couldn’t bring myself to believe it, not even once?