Chapter 31 | the break

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"Well, isn't this a sight for sore eyes."

A voice registers in the background, but I still don't get up.

My body feels like it weighs a ton right now, my limbs weak, eyelids plastered shut. There's a pounding in my head too, one that tells me I've finally sobered up.

"Bro," I think someone else is talking to me, and I barely register someone nudging my leg, but I really don't care right now. "Dude, get up, you've got a flight back to California in a few hours."

I refuse to move or get up from wherever I am. The truth is I don't really remember where I am, let alone remember where I've been or what I've been doing for the past few days. I just knew fall break was starting, classwork was done for a bit, and I needed to forget.

"Life is so unfair," a new voice grumbles.

"Huh?"

"That he gets to be that pretty," they continue. "And he has that monstrosity between his legs."

"Explains all the moaning and screaming from those girls last night." Another voice chimes in, laughter following and it's then I register a chill. A pit settles in my stomach as I slowly become fully conscious, peeling my eyes open.

Andrew, Ryder, and Justin stand above me.

Justin's eyes are wide, a look of awe on his face, Andrew looks amused, and Ryder looks slightly concerned, which doesn't help the unsettling feeling in my body right now.

"Look," Andrew chuckles. "It lives."

I groan, rolling my eyes as I lift my arms, scrubbing a hand over my face.

"Where am I?" I croak, my voice scratchy and hoarse.

"Our house." Justin sighs. "Or don't you remember meeting up at the bars last night? Then bringing home three different sorority girls and then having a foursome in our living room?"

I pinch my eyes shut again, feeling something inside me lurch at the thought that I truly don't remember a single event of last night. It's all blank, a blur of alcohol and pretty bad decisions from the sound of it.

"It was pretty epic," Andrew pipes up. "Gotta say you inspire me bro, those girls were fucking hot."

"You alright?" I open my eyes again to see Ryder giving me a look. One that says he's the only one that knows I don't typically black out. And so, something must be wrong. But I can't tell him what it is that's had me drowning myself in the bottle these past few weeks.

"Yeah," I manage eventually, sitting up and wincing at the ache in my body. My head feels like a brick, and I glance down to realize not only was I passed out on their couch, but I am also naked as the day I was born. "Fuck, I need an advil."

"And some pants." Ryder scoffs, something soft hits me with a gentle thud and I realize it's one of the blankets they keep in their living room.

"Thanks." I mutter, pulling the blanket around my middle and then leaning back against the couch cushions. I throw one arm over my eyes, taking a shallow breath as I try to get myself adjusted to being sober in the daylight again.

"I didn't mind the view," I hear Justin comment and then a loud whack sounds, followed by a squeal.

"Quit objectifying him man," Ryder chuckles and Justin grumbles something as I hear footsteps stomp away.

"I also have a flight in a bit," Andrew's voice floats towards me. "Gonna go pack and then we could ride to DIA together if you want?"

Silence.

It's then I realize he's talking to me.

Slowly, I lift my arm up and open my eyes again.

"Sure, sounds good," I nod, mouth running dry at the idea of having to get on a plane in this state today. But I'd have some food and water and an advil and then I shouldn't be too miserable. "I gotta get my shit first though."

"No worries, dude," he nods. "Just let me know, we can meet back here or at your place before we go."

I manage a weak smile, nodding again before Andrew just laughs and moves towards the stairs swiftly. Hoping up the stairs two at a time. I fall back against the couch then, sighing deeply until I feel the cushions shift next to me.

"You sure you're alright dude?"

I lift my head again, looking at Ryder.

There is concern etched in a crease on his forehead, eyes locked on me, waiting patiently for me to be upfront with him. He wouldn't look so concerned if he knew what had sent me into a spiral though. More likely he'd never speak to me again if I really was upfront with him right now.

Something inside me aches at the thought of her.

Aurora.

It'd been nearly three weeks since our weekend away, since that night in the rain outside her house, since I'd felt something crack between us when she refused to give us a real chance.

I know she loves me too.

I felt it, I'd been feeling it for so long, but she's scared. She told me herself she's afraid to feel, that she doesn't even know if she can feel, that because of her mother and her childhood, she didn't think love was worth it.

And I hadn't helped by reacting the way I did, but I couldn't think straight then. All I knew was I told her how I felt, and she threw it back at my feet. In the moment, I wanted to hurt her too.

Now, I feel guilty and angry and still hurt, yes, but mainly I miss her.

So once all my obligations were done for the semester, I picked up a bottle and didn't slow down until this morning. Until waking up naked on Ryder's couch without a single memory from the past three days.

"I will be," I say finally, managing another slow breath. "I think."

"Cryptic," Ryder says, smirking with one eyebrow raised now and I'm tempted to flip him off. Cryptic is the best I can do right now.

"Just the usual shit," I laugh. "Trust me, I'll work it out."

"Okay," he says, giving me one last look before standing. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks." I nod, and then he strolls off towards the kitchen muttering something about bagels. I feel another lurch. I would need to eat, but the idea of putting anything else in my stomach right now physically hurt.

My head sinks back into the cushions behind me, eyes falling closed as I try not to think about all the bullshit that'd gone on in the past weeks. Part of me wanted to call Aurora, apologize, and tell her I still want to see her. Want her in my life.

But part of me is also still angry and hurt.

She rejected me, and I'm not over it yet.

~



The only sound in my dining room is the clink of silver on fine china.

My mother sits at one end of our large dining room table, wearing a string of pearls and a pressed black dress, red lipstick stain on her wine glass as she surveys us. My father sits on the other end, stoic as he swirls the scotch slowly around in his rocks glass.

It's so quiet.

Too quiet for a family holiday, but our family had never been loud or warm or bright.

And to make matters worse, Ryder didn't come home for Thanksgiving this year.

Granted, I don't blame him. My mother would forever be bitter at the sight of him, the last living reminder of the woman my stepfather loved before her. In my mother's eyes, Ryder would always get in the way of the life she'd imagined with my stepfather. As long as Ryder was there, neither one of them would ever be able to forget the tragedy of Ryder's mother, and the gaping whole it left behind.

But now, even with Ryder still back in Colorado, spending the holiday with Jourdan and her family, the shadow hasn't left. It's not Ryder—it's his father. His father will never forget the woman before my mother.

Melany, a beautiful woman with wild, curly hair, bronzed skin and striking blue eyes.

Even though she's been gone for years now, and my stepfather has a whole new family, her picture remains all over the house. Memories and small glimpses of her.

If my mother was a better woman, she wouldn't be jealous of somehow who got very sick and passed away. If my mother was a better woman, she wouldn't ostracize her stepson. But she's not, and here we are.

A quiet family, in a large, still house, with nothing to talk about on Thanksgiving.

"How is your legal internship, Aurora?" I blink, looking up from my untouched turkey, potatoes, and vegetables at my father, who looks expectantly at me now.

"Oh—"

"She's doing very well," my mother answers for me. "With the experience and references she will gain there; I am certain you could have your pick of law schools."

I press my lips together, managing a small smile as I sit forward to grab my water glass.

"And you will be preparing to apply soon, I take it?" he continues.

"Well, she's been preparing since she was in high school," once again my mother answers for me. But she likes it better this way. After all, this is the one thing we have in common. Her interests in my future and making sure I fulfill them. "But yes, we are getting closer to the actual application date, how is the LSAT prep going dear?"

I stare, trying not to feel too irritated.

"Good," I say. Though I'd been pretty distracted in my tutoring sessions recently. "Yeah, my tutor says I'm making progress each time I practice."

"And?" My mother prompts and I swallow hard, what does she mean?

"And I'm still meeting with him twice a week." I offer and she narrows her gaze at me. There is a soft cough from my little sister Isla as she takes another bite of food, grabbing for her water glass as I give her a smile from across the table. Ollie, my younger brother shovels mashed potatoes smothered in gravy into his mouth next to me.

To an untrained eye, one might think he's just hungry. But I know based off the bleary, far-away look in his eyes that he definitely smoked before this and now he has the munchies.

"Aurora," my mother's voice shakes me out of my thoughts. "Is there anything else you'd like to share?"

"No," I snap. "Unless you have some ideas?"

"Well," my mother sighs, setting her fork down with a loud chink. "I tried."

She's looking at my father now, a small crease in her tight forehead, frown lines etched around her mouth as he tilts his head, giving her a warning look.

"I don't think this is the right time—" he starts but she tsks, turning her stony glare back to me. It occurs to me then that she might know more than she's letting on, and I feel anger begin to bubble inside me.

"Your father and I are very disappointed with you," she says, tone particularly frigid. "We both spend good money to send you to Boulder, we spend good money on your tutoring, on your prep courses, on everything you need to be successful in life. So, imagine our surprise and disgust to learn that you've been notably distracted in your last sessions, your work has been sloppy, and you canceled on the tutor, without rescheduling."

Suddenly I realize what's going on.

"You're having my tutor report back to you." I state and she narrows her eyes, she doesn't nod but I know it's true. Obviously.

"Your success is all I've ever wanted for you," she continues. "So naturally, I would take all measures possible to ensure this happens."

"Including spying on me," I reply, tone dangerously sweet. I ball my hands into fists in my lap, gritting my teeth as I try to resist saying something worse.

"We thought we'd give you an opportunity to come clean," she nods towards my stepfather, and I glance towards Isla who looks confused, big green eyes wide with concern. "But since you didn't and instead chose to lie, I'm afraid there will have to be consequences."

"Oh really?" I scoff. "It was one session mom; I wasn't feeling well so I canceled."

I leave out the part where it was the session after my weekend away with Wyatt.

"And the sloppy work and being distracted?" she asks. "What's going on Aurora, this isn't like you. The only conclusion I've come to is that you're wasting you're on drugs, you're partying too much, or, god forbid, you've gotten pulled into the web of some college aged boy."

I glare at her, the anger stewing in my belly as I try to come up with a response that wouldn't get my exiled.

"None of those things are true," I grit out. "How about college is stressful and I've got a lot on my plate, and I can't keep it together for you all the time."

"No." she quips, and I snarl.

"No?" I ask and she dips her head in a nod, one eyebrow raised.

I glance around the table, at the piles of decadent food that would be wasted. At the fine china and wide eyes of my mother family members. All waiting for me to bend to my mother's will again. At the wine bottles and scotch and pitcher of iced tea.

"God," I scoff, suddenly I'd had enough. No, this time I would not bend to my mother's will or her expectations for me. Not when I'd met and exceeded them each time they'd been set. "You know what?"

I turn slowly towards my mother again and she stares right back.

"Aurora," she warns but I ignore her.

"Fuck you." I spit and her eyebrows shoot up on her botoxed forehead. I don't think I've ever seen a discernable emotion on my mother's face. She's usually so good at schooling her expressions. But not right now, not today.

"E—excuse me?" she stutters, and I feel a rush of pride that I'd finally shaken the controlled, eloquently spoken lawyer sitting in front of me.

"You heard me," I press, leaning towards her. "I am so sick of your shit and the way you try to control me. New flash mom, I'm not you. I never will be. I'm going to have my own life and my own career, and my own relationships and they will be nothing like yours. If you'd been doing a good job at spying on me then you'd know that I haven't been distracted. I've been more focused than ever, my grades have never been higher, my job performance is exemplary, and oh, one more thing, I have been seeing someone. Someone who told me he loves me. More than love, I mean, I've really got this guy on the hook. Which is more than I can say for you."

"What did you just say to me?" she seethes, face splotchy and uncomposed now.

Ollie titters with laughter next to me, trying to keep himself contained and out of the line of fire. Isla whips her gaze back between our mother and me and my stepfather makes a choked noise, downing his scotch and running a hand tiredly through his thick, greying hair.

"Come on," I shrug. "You're smarter than that mom. You make it so obvious, especially with the way you treat Ryder. Who by the way, seems to have finally gotten the hint this year. That you don't want him around because he's a walking reminder of the fact that my stepfather will never love you the way he loved his first wife."

"Aurora Harris!" she screeches, slamming her palm on the table but I don't even flinch.

"I'm done with this conversation." I hiss, standing from my chair that scrapes harshly against the hardwood floors. I reach forward to grab the wine bottle and then turn, marking to march out of the living room.

"Young lady," my mother yells. "If you don't apologize this instant, for embarrassing me and your father, you will regret it. I'll—"

"You'll what mom?" I shout, spinning back around to glare at her. "You'll cut me off? You'll kick me out? You'll stop supporting your dream for me to become a lawyer? And then what? What will you do when you have nothing left to talk to me about? Will I even be your daughter then? Because we both know the only thing you've ever liked or been mildly interested in about me are the plans you have for me. Nothing else."

She snaps her mouth shut, fixing me with an unreadable expression again. I shake my head, then turn again, stomping my way through the house, up the stairs and my bedroom where I make sure to slam my door before collapsing to the ground on the other side of it.

It's not until I'm alone that I realize I'm crying, tears wetting my cheeks as I lean my head back against the door and stifle a sob with my palm. I'm sad and angry and part of me still aches the way it did that day in the rain in my front yard. When I hurt Wyatt, willingly, and let him walk away from me.

And then I had the nerve to bring it up today, like I was proud of the fact that I had Wyatt right where I wanted him. When the truth was that I'd probably broken his heart and that he'd never want to speak to me again.

That week I'd gone to our TA for our recitation, explained the situation and asked if there was any way for me to be moved into a different session. Normally, there wouldn't have been, but I think the TA took pity on me and so I'd switched. And I hadn't seen Wyatt since that last day, since the day he told me he loved me, and I'd thrown it back at him because I was scared.

He'd been right.

I am a coward.

But I wasn't one just now, instead I'd finally stood up to my mom and I wished so badly I could call Wyatt. That I could tell him what had just happened because he'd be proud of me. I can't though.

It's so stupid, especially because he's one house over from me right now.

And yet, he still feels farther away than he ever did before. 

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