Expectations.

Parts of this chapter may be slightly triggering. If you feel you might be triggered by this, please do not read.

She weaves her way through the crowd of bands, searching for Elliott.

“Hey, Presley! Come sit with us.” Her wrist is suddenly grasped by Matt Nicholls and she pulls back with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I can’t right now. Have you seen Elliott?” He suddenly looks very uncomfortable.

“Last I saw him he was over by the bathrooms.” She nods, waving goodbye and heading off towards the back of the restaurant.

The sight she sees makes her stop still.

She had found Elliott all right, but he wasn’t alone. A sweet looking brunette girl was sitting in his lap and his hands were rubbing up and down her skinny thighs as he listened intently to whatever Stephen Gomez from the Summer Set was saying.

His eyes dart towards her for a second before going back to his conversation. Presley feels her heart sink and gulps, turning to the bathroom.

She locks herself in one of the pastel colored stalls.

I thought he liked me. I thought I actually had a chance this time. Maybe if I was prettier or skinnier or funnier or less awkward or just not me. Maybe.

Tears fill her eyes and she angrily wipes them away.

Only I would cry over a boy. Who am I to think he would like me anyway? He’s too good for me. He deserves someone like her. Beautiful, petite, lovely. I just have to show him I’m all of those things.

She pushes the stall door open and stands in front of the small mirror. Her normally ocean blue eyes were now bloodshot, leaving them more of a sea green than anything.

The bathroom door is pushed open to reveal the girl from earlier. Her heart shaped lips that were tipped in a smile turn down, frowning.

“Are you okay?” Her brown doe eyes widen.

Presley swipes at her eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” She smooths her hair down before exiting the bathroom.

She strides past Elliott’s table, not bothering to look back at the boy.

Spotting Bren, she makes her way to his booth, sliding in next to Vic Fuentes. Two days ago, she would’ve freaked out over even spotting Vic, much less sitting next to him. But now, it’s almost normal.

“How are you guys?” Her question is met with a chorus of “fine”s before they all carry on with their conversations, be it across the table or across the restaurant.

“Don’t bother saying you’re not hungry,” Bren says a moment later, “I’ve already ordered some eggs for you.” She rolls her eyes. “Whatever, Dad.”

Vic leans down to whisper, “Have you been crying?” She blinks several times, willing any signs of tears to go away. “Me? No, I never cry.” Her bitter answer makes him furrow his eyebrows together as he pulls her in for a hug.

“Look, I don’t know you that well, but everyone who does says you’re an amazing person. If you ever need to talk, I’m here. Especially if you’re ever triggered.”

What was supposed to be comforting makes her heart plummet. If he knew about her secret then who else did?

Sensing her panic he says, “I just saw the scars on your hips when your shorts started sliding down. It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone. That’s your place to say, not mine.” She leans even further into his embrace, sighing in relief.

“Thank you,” she mumbles into his chest.

Elliott glares at the pair from across the restaurant.

“What are you thinking about babe?” Hazel asks, tugging on his shirt sleeve.

“Nothing.” He mutters, annoyed with himself that he wishes it was Presley calling him babe, not his attempt to make Presley jealous. That attempt goes by the name of Hazel.