Fly Away

As I didn't move, Leslie whipped her petite body around, her eyes bulging out of their sockets.

"TYLER!" she screamed. Everyone starred at us, in mid-dance and the DJ cut the music.

Immediately, his once joyous face turned surprised, like he didn't know I was going to be at the dance. His lips danced off the stranger's, and she looked at Leslie with the eye of the devil.

"Yeah?" his agitated voice beckoned across the room.

"What are you doing?" I frantically whispered to Leslie. Her bold eyes skimmed across my face, prepared for water works. She quickly returned her gaze to him.

"Me? Well I am standing up for your girlfriend," she snapped.

As soon as the word "girlfriend" popped out of her mouth, the girl who was sucking face with him only seconds before, ripped his arm off of her shoulder and stormed away. But not without a few choice words, of course.

"She ain't my girlfriend no more," he automatically replied, unfazed that he had just got dumped by his last victim.

"Oh really? I can see she isn't either," Leslie pointed out, referring to the woman he was just with.

He got closer, his bravado increasing, along with his anger.

He got so close to us, that I hid behind Leslie, hoping she knew what she was starting.

"I dumped you," he stabbed me, looking directly at me.

I quivered and felt so embarrassed. I wasn't thinking straight and before I knew it, I had emerged from my hide away and was blurting out words.

"I thought you loved me."

His eyes suddenly sunk, and his entire appearance switched from brave, to guilty. He didn't say a word, but instead, walked straight out the door.

The entire crowd continued to make a spectacle out of me and my private life. I looked around the room to find a variety of people, witnessing my secrets. Witnessing my relationship. Witnessing my denial.

I couldn't take it and I began crying. Leslie finally looked down at me and we ran to the bathroom. As I slammed the door shut, I heard the music go back on.

They don't have a problem with any of this.

She plopped me down on the ripped bench with an old cushion near the sink. She then grabbed some tissues below the mirrors that were cleaned just for the night. She handed me a bunch and dabbed them under my eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Kimber," she comforted me. She sat down next to me and I sobbed into her shoulder, full of sparkles and dignity.

I just kept crying. I couldn't believe any of this was happening.

"Why doesn't anybody love me?" I asked.

Why couldn't I have somebody to love? What had I done that could ever lead to this?

"Oh, don't even think of saying that. I know someone who loves you," she answered reassuringly. She wrapped her warm arms around me and I felt so much better. I felt wanted, needed, completely opposite from what Tyler did to me.

My tears began to slow, but I still felt like crap. As I thought about what Leslie had said, I tried to think about who loved me. Mom? She loves me, but she kind of has to. Dad? If he really loved me, he would he would have stayed. Drake? I mean, we're friends but I don't think "love" is quite the word that describes us. Tyler? Absolutely not. Then who did love me?

"Like who?" I asked, looking up at my best friend.

She looked down at me, and her face hinted at what seemed to be the start of a smile.

"Like me."