Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Izzy
The music thumps, heavy and loud, vibrating through the floors.
The scent of cheap beer, sweat, and stale perfume mingles with the faint burn of cheap liquor, and it all smells wrong.
Like a reminder of everything I’m trying to forget.
But it’s easier to drown in the noise than sit with my thoughts, so I keep drinking.
Ashley’s arm is slung over my shoulder, her face flushed with the kind of excitement only a party can bring. She laughs loudly at something one of her friends says, but the sound is distant, muffled. I nod along, pretending I’m enjoying myself, pretending this is what I want.
I take another sip of my drink, the burn of tequila spreading quickly, leaving me temporarily numb. The laughter around me feels like a thin layer of glass I can’t break through. But it doesn’t matter. I wasn’t meant to fit in here.
"Come on, Izzy! Dance!" Ashley shouts over the music, tugging at my arm, but I shake my head, her voice fading as the distance between us grows.
I step away, slipping toward the far corner of the room. The weight of the air presses down on me, making it harder to breathe. Suddenly, the walls feel like they’re closing in. I need space.
I step outside and catch a whiff of something in the air.
A familiar scent of cologne. I freeze as the blood drains from my face.
My throat tightens, and I try to shake off the sensation, but it won’t go away.
It smells like him. Like oil, gasoline, and that damn woodsy aftershave he used to wear on dates, the one that lingered on his hoodie and stayed with me even after I left.
Three years. I’ve been gone for three years, and every time I catch a scent, hear a song, or even feel the damn wind blow, it reminds me of him. After three years, I still love him and miss him. But I’m not a homewrecker. I won’t put myself or him in that situation.
I swallow hard, trying to breathe through the sharp memory that floods in, uninvited. The scent lingers in the air, taunting me. It’s as if he’s here, standing behind me, ready to pull me into a conversation I’m not ready to have.
I look around frantically. No one is familiar. The crowd is a blur, everyone swaying or laughing, their faces painted with the kind of carelessness I can’t seem to adopt.
I turn back to the drink in my hand, but it tastes wrong now. Every sip, every gulp, feels heavier, and the alcohol isn’t easing anything. It’s turning the world around me into something darker.
Then I hear a voice. A laugh, and my heart stops. It’s a laugh I recognize too well. Too much. And there he is, across the room, standing in the doorway like it’s the most natural thing in the world, a shadow in the light.
A guy who looks too much like him. Not in his face, not exactly, but in the way he carries himself, in the way he looks around, like he’s sizing everything up. Like he’s waiting for something. The confidence he always had, no matter where we were or what was happening.
For a second, I swear it is him. My chest tightens. My pulse speeds up. My stomach churns, but I can’t look away.
I turn to Ashley, hoping she’ll see me and rescue me from this sickening moment. But she’s gone, lost in the crowd, caught up in her own whirlwind.
I don’t want to think about him. Not here. Not now. I don’t want to think about how his smile still lingers in the back of my mind, how his presence used to fill the room, making it feel like home. Everything about tonight is setting me off. Every part of me is on fire, and I can’t put it out.
Then the song comes on. It’s one we used to listen to when we’d drive around after the races, windows down, the wind rushing in, loud and carefree. The beat comes through the speakers like it’s mocking me, like the universe is taking a swing at me while I’m already down.
My breath catches in my throat, and the room suddenly feels like it’s closing in again.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think. Everything I’ve been trying to ignore floods back.
His touch. His voice. The way his hand used to find mine in the dark, as if he were holding onto something more than me.
The way he would worship me, as if I were his queen.
I finish my drink without thinking, then grab another.
I drink because it makes the ache in my chest a little quieter.
It dulls the way my hands tremble when I think of him.
When I remember what we were before everything turned into this.
I finish the second drink too fast, then another.
I’m not trying to get drunk. I’m trying to forget.
Then the tears start. Quiet and hot. They burn behind my eyes, blurring the room as everything inside me feels like it’s coming undone.
I can’t even stop them, not even when the guy who looks too much like Xavier steps closer, his presence pulling me back to that dark place I swore I’d never revisit.
A voice pulls me out of it. "Izzy, you okay?"
It’s Ashley again, her voice too loud, like she’s speaking from miles away. I try to smile, but it’s shaky, uncertain.
"I’m fine," I say, though I know she can see right through it. "I need some air."
But I don’t leave the party. I stay here, suffocating under the weight of everything that’s been building. And when I can’t take it anymore, when I feel like I’m drowning in the past and the present, that’s when I do the one thing I never thought I’d do.
I reach for my phone, and I call Xavier.
I don’t know why I do it. I don’t even know why I still have his number saved. Why is our picture still his contact photo? Hell, I don’t even know what I expect from this.
The phone feels like a weight in my hand, the screen glaring at me with the name Xavier at the top, like a goddamn neon sign flashing at me, telling me to stop before I do something stupid. But I’m not thinking straight. It’s too late for that now.
I hit call.
The first ring hits me like a punch to the chest. My heartbeat is too loud in my ears. The second ring almost makes me hang up. What the hell am I doing? The third, he answers.
"Hello?"
I don’t speak at first. My throat’s tight, and the ground beneath me feels like it’s tilting. I swallow hard, trying to steady my breathing.
"Xavier?" My voice cracks, and I hate it. I fucking hate it.
There’s a long pause on the other end. I can hear him breathing. I can almost hear him thinking, like he’s weighing whether or not to hang up. I brace myself for that. But instead, he sighs, and I swear I can feel it all the way through the phone.
"Where are you?"
I blink, surprise hitting me harder than the alcohol in my veins. "I’m... I’m fine."
"You don’t sound fine," he says, quiet but firm. "Where are you, B?"
Tears well in my eyes when he calls me B, but I push them back. I can’t stop a small laugh from escaping. It’s bitter and rough. "Does it really matter?"
"I’m not doing this with you," he says, his voice low, as if forcing the words through clenched teeth. "Where are you?"
"I’m at Ashley’s friend's house, but I’m leaving. Just... give me a second." The room spins around me. "I just... I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, X."
There’s a beat of silence. His response feels like it’s been held back too long. "Okay. Stay on the phone until you get home. Got it?"
I close my eyes, my thumb hovering over the screen.
I don’t argue. I don’t have the energy. I don’t even know why I want him here.
Why do I need him to be the one to listen?
But somehow, the thought of him hanging up before I’m safe feels like it’ll break something inside me that’s already hanging by a thread.
"I’m not going to be good company," I warn, the words coming out slurred as I try to stand. "I’m a mess."
"I don’t care," he replies, and I can hear the edge in his voice, like he’s trying to hide something. "Just get home."
The sounds of the party fade in the background as I step out into the night, the cool air hitting my skin like a slap. My mind is hazy, and all I can think about is how much I hate that this is the only choice I have.
I can hear him pacing on the other end. I wish I could see him right now, how he’s holding himself back.
He was always so damn good at it. Always so calm, so controlled.
I can feel the distance between us like it’s a damn chasm, but it’s a distance we never quite closed, not even when we were in the same room.
"How’s school?" he asks after a moment, like we’re having some casual conversation.
The words come out before I can stop them. "You know, I don’t even care about it anymore."
"Don’t say that." His voice sharpens, and I’m taken aback by how quickly it changes. "You always cared. Don’t throw it away over some stupid shit."
I laugh again, but it’s hollow. "Yeah, well, people throw things away. It happens."
There’s a long pause. I wonder whether he regrets answering. Or maybe he regrets picking up the phone in the first place.
"You’re not alone, Izzy," he says, softer now, quieter. "You’re not alone in this."
I want to tell him he’s wrong. I want to tell him I’ve never felt more alone in my life. But the words get stuck.
"I’ll be fine," I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper. "I always am."
I’m almost back to the dorm. Just a few more blocks. Then I can get inside, shut the door, and pretend everything’s okay again. Maybe I’ll even fool myself.
"You’re almost there?" he asks, the tension back in his voice.
"Yeah. Just..." I hesitate. "Thanks for listening, Xavier. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t answered."
There’s a shift in the air. A space between the words, between the breaths we both take. It’s quiet for a long moment, the sound of my footsteps and his shallow breathing.
"Get inside, okay?" he says, almost too softly. "I’ll be here."
And just like that, I hang up, slipping my phone back into my pocket before I can overthink it.
I make it to my door and step inside. The silence of my empty dorm wraps around me like a cold blanket, but I don't feel the relief I expected. There’s still too much left unsaid.
But at least... I’m home.
For now.