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“I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m saying,” I lie, attempting to wave her off.
“Oh no. We’re not doing that. Sit down and talk,” she says, gesturing over towards the side of the bathtub.
I glance at her, weary of opening up to someone.
“Look, I know I’m not Mallory, and I’ll never be her, but I’m here, and I want to help you if I can,” she says, grabbing my hand.
Tears are pooling in my eyes, because I’m scared. I haven’t opened up to anyone in a long time. Sure, she knows what’s going on between me and Clark. All the superficial stuff anyway, but not how I’m truly feeling.
Sighing, I walk over to the tub, sitting on the edge. She joins me, grabbing my hand again for reassurance.
“I don’t know how it happened. When Mallory and I were young, we always fantasized about how cute Clark was, but it was just that, a fantasy. He’s so much older, and we were just silly little girls. The night of Mal’s funeral, he found me, and just sat with me. It was something I needed, just for someone to be there, you know? There was another encounter, which he probably wouldn’t even remember…” I say, trailing off.
“What happened?” she asks.
“Shh,” I yell, instead of whisper, at Delaney, and she bursts out laughing.
“You’re the one being loud.” She giggles.
We’re standing in the front yard, both high out of our minds and drunk off our asses. I’m not sure how we got home, or who dropped us off.
“I’m going to walk home,” she says, stumbling around.
“I don’t feel like that’s a good idea,” I say, laughing.
She flips me off and turns to walk down the sidewalk. I walk over towards the street so I can watch her.
“Marley?”
Clark James. Fuck, he’s nice to look at.
“Am I dreaming?” I ask, waving my hand in front of his face.
He grabs it, glaring at me.
“No, but why are you drunk standing next to the street?”
“Making sure Del gets home,” I say, pointing down the street.
“What the fuck is wrong with the two of you?” he curses.
“It’s not like we drove or anything,” I respond, rolling my eyes.
“But you’re still standing by the street in the middle of the night.”
“What are you, my dad?” I sass.
“Not even close. Let me help you get inside,” he says, grabbing my arm.
“I’m fine,” I say, shaking him off.
“Please, Marley, let me help you before your brother sees you out here, or worse, Claire.”
I sigh but relent. He leads me into the house and up the stairs. I don’t know how we manage to go undetected, but we do.
Once we’re in my room, I peel my dress off.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he snaps, turning to face the door.
