The moment was ruined when her phone buzzed violently in her hand, cutting though the moment like a knife.
The name flashing across the screen made her stomach twist. Zayne
He noticed instantly, a worried look on his long last seen friend on his face. It was supposed to be a nice reunion without any overthinking involved.
"Are you okay?", he asked, tilting his head. He was curious but the word question felt heavy between them.
She didn't answer, instead she muttered something about needing to take the phone call and pushed her way toward the back, weaving through the crowd as if being chased. Her pulse was louder than the bass now, thundering in her ears. Inside the bathroom, the music was muffled
The phone won't stop buzzing. Her grip tightened, knuckles whitening as if holding it still might silence the truth that was trying to claw its way out. Zayne. Just his name across the screen made her chest burn with guilt, but she pressed decline without letting herself think more about it.
Her reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror showed too much, flushed cheeks, seared lipstick, pupils wide from the rush of adrenaline. She splashed water on her face, willing the panic to wash away, but her pulse only pounded harder. Out there, he was waiting, her friend and wondering where the hell she disappeared into out of nowhere. She wanted to go back to that warmth, that safe gaze, but the phone in her hand dragged her back to reality.
Zayne's name lit up again.
This time she let it ring, her thumb hovering over the screen. The sound vibrated through her veins like a chilling feeling, if she answered, she would have to lie all over again and what if this time the lies catch up to her?. If she does not answer then he would knw something is up.
The bathroom door cracked open, letting in a blast of music and the smell of sweat and alcohol. She shoved the phone into her bag as if hiding it would erase the problem
"Everything okay?", her friend asked.
"Zayne keeps calling, I don't know what to do...", I sighed. The silence between them was suffocating. Her pulse roared in her ears, matching the vibration of her phone. She hated how exposed she suddenly felt, as though the bathroom walls had peeled back and left her naked under the weight of someone else's knowledge.
"He doesn't have to know", she whispered, more to herself than her friend.
"If I answer, everything will fall apart."
Her friend's gaze softened, but only slightly. "Or maybe it already is"
The phone stopped buzzing, for a moment, relief washed over her face, until she took it out of her bag and saw the notification: 7 missed calls .
"Fuck Brooklyn, I'm in deep shit now.", she looked at her friend in shock. The bathroom drama clung to her like perfume she couldn't wash off, but Brooklyn wouldn't let her sink deep into it. By the they stumbled back to the bar, two shots were already lined up, glittering amber under the neon light.
"Forget him", Brooklyn insisted, sliding one glass into her hand and tipping back her own.
"Tonight is not about Zayne, It's about you."
Her childhood friend, safe, familiar, always lingering on the edges, clinked his glass against hers with a smile. "She's right. One night won't kill you".
The burn of liquor hit her throat before she could protest. Then another and another. The music swallowed her guilt, Brooklyn's laughter dragging her further away from reality. Each glass blurred the sharpness of Zayne's name on her phone screen, replacing it with warmth, with dizziness, with recklessness.
Outside, headlights cut through the midnight air, Zayne's hands tightened on the steering wheel as his GPS pulsed a faint blue dot across the map. He hadn't planned to find her tonight, especially not in a club. He told himself he was done, but the thought of her name lighting up someone else's screen made his chest burn hotter than the drink he left untouched.
The warmth in her veins turned heavy, the kind that makes the room tilt even when she stood still. Brooklyn's voice blurred into background noise, soft, worried but fadinf with every shot she took.
"Okay, that's enough", Brooklyn said, trying to steady her as she swayed. "Your're gonna be sick baby", she said in a concerned voice.
She only laughed, the kind that cracked halfway through. Her lipstick was smudged, her eyes glassy. "I'm fine", she slurred, reaching for another shot that Brooklyn quickly snatched away from her hand. "Talk to me sweetie", Brooklyn urged. "What's really going on?".
And that was it. The dam broke.
Tears spilled before she could even form words. "He just left me", she whispered, voice trembling. "Caleb didn't even say goodbye, Brook, he saw me crying, actually saw me crying and just walked out like I didn't even matter." Brooklyn froze, unsure if she should hold her or let her vent.
Her shaking hands fumbled for her phone. The screen lit up her face, streaked with mascara. She opened the chat-- Caleb.
"I miss you"
"Please answer"
"Why would you leave like that?"
"I just needed you to stay"
Each text sent faster than the last, desperate thumbs slamming against the keyboard. The three little dots appeared.....then disappeared. No reply.
The silence hit harder than the liquor. Her sobs came out in short, broken breaths. "He left me on read", she choked out, clutching her chest. "He doesn't even care, shit"
Brooklyn pulled her into her arms, whispering, "You're drunk baby, you need to rest", but she shook her head violently, crying harder. "No, Brook. I'm tired of being he one everyone leaves"
Brooklyn sighed, helping her sit up, brushing her short red, afro hair, the ones that stuck out wildly from the chaos of the night. The girl in front of her wasn't the confident, sharp-tongued version she always showed the world. This was the raw version, the one who kept bleeding behind her smile. As the lights flickered over her tear streaked cheeks, she stared blankly at the screen, the read still sitting there, mocking her.
For the first time in a long time, she didn't try to stop crying. She let it all fall, the liquor, the love, the lies, until she was nothing but shaking breaths and a whisper that barely made it past her lips.
"why wasn't I enough?"
Brooklyn didn't have an answer. The music faded, but the question hung in the air heavy, unanswered and painfully human.