chapter ten

forever and always-taylor's version

Parker has his hand on my knee while he scribbles on his notebook and Moon's leaning into my side with this little sneer and narrowed eyes. "Dude," she says into my ear, "I saw Lauren Mallory crying behind the vending machines outside the gym in the middle of third period."

I snort, half amused and half disgusted. I've never had any problems with Lauren Mallory but Lauren Mallory has had issues with me and also everyone else that's ever met her so I don't feel guilty talking shit. "For real?"

Me and Moon don't study during study hall. We don't and we never have. We talk during study hall and we annoy the people around us and Parker's here and he's not talking. He actually hasn't been talking to me since our date night turned into late night filming and he keeps telling me he's not mad but he scoffs when Mooney whispers, "Yeah she was just like, tucked into the corner with like, three people comforting her and dotting over her."

And that makes me lose it and I'm whispering, "I'm sorry, is this the same Lauren Mallory who started the school shooter rumor about Fallon when we were sophomores?"

"Yes! Literally yes!" Moon gets all excited now and she's leaning over her textbooks and the side of her arm is pressed into mine and I am suddenly reminded of why I love Moon. "And I'm pretty sure one of the Warner twins asked her out last year and she like, laughed in his face."

I remember Lauren Mallory spreading a rumor about me freshman year too and all the things that she and everyone has ever said about me and it's making my skin crawl. "This is why I don't get why people call me fake! Like yeah I may be super nice to everyone even if I don't want to talk to them but like at least I'm not out here exploiting someone's death for sympathy."

"Tatum," Parker interjects, voice sharp and me and Moon snap our heads towards him like we forgot he was there and I realize his hand is no longer on my leg, "did you know you have an extraordinary talent for making everything about you?"

Parker shoves his notebook and textbook back into his backpack, loud and aggressive, and he pushes his chair away from the table and he's running out of the library without looking back at us for a second. And for some reason all I feel is annoyed. He's annoying me and acting like he's at goddamn Degrassi High.

Moon looks at me and then back at the door that's still closing from Parker's exit and she looks back at me and goes, "What's up his ass?"

And I roll my eyes because that's all I can do. "I bailed on date night cause filming ran late Sunday. He thinks I don't pay him enough attention."

"You don't pay him enough attention," Moon laughs, leaning back in her chair.

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" I ask, throwing my hands up and the people around us are staring and glaring. "I'm busy and he's not."

"He'll get over it," she assures me, and that's it on Parker. We don't talk about him, typically. We talked about it before we were dating and then when we got together it was done. "What are we doing this weekend?"

"I sent you the film schedule," I tell her. "Scene thirty-three on Saturday and then my party at the Cullen's and Sunday's my day off."

Moon smirks at me. "No Bella this weekend?"

"Bella who? I don't know any Bella. I only have friends that aren't flaky and don't treat me like a doormat."

The bell rings. Moon packs up notebooks she didn't use and says, "Then why the hell are you still dating Parker?"

"What?"

"Nothing. I'll see you in chem."

"Okay, dad, do you like it better when it sounds curt and repetitive like this," I ask him sitting on the kitchen table with my acoustic guitar on my lap, playing a few chords and humming melodies over the sound of it. My dad is cooking, stirring something deep red while he tilts his head, eyes closed as he listens to me play, "or flowy and deeper, like this?" I ask, and switch my fingers and sing that same melody over a different sound.

The playing stops abruptly, and I bite down on the pic while I'm watching my dad. He's always liked my playing and always did his best to front the costs of my musical hobbies. I don't know but I think there's something about the sound of his money paying off that makes him proud of me. His eyes are still closed and he says, "I think I like the first one better," he says, and opens his eyes to return to his cooking.

"Hmm. That's what I thought too," I tell him, and I resume my playing, keeping my pic between me.

My dad turns and smiles at me. "Play me Big Iron?"

I get this big grin on my face and I start strumming. My dad likes country. Old country. Marty Robbins, Buck Owens, Pasty Cline. And he has a voice for it too. All husky and deep in that old man type of way, something familiar. I think maybe my dad wants to be a cowboy. Like a good old fashion wild west, mustang taming, gun slinging, rooting, tooting, cowboy. When he starts singing, I laugh, because he looks so goddamn happy it makes me smile. I like seeing my dad happy. He's a tired, weathered man with two dumb, shit for brains teenagers. A signing smile's a nice change.

And while I'm strumming and signing old country lyrics with my dads, I'm distracted enough to notice when my brother walks through the kitchen door. It's the big candle in the middle of the cake, burning bright and my hand falls flat against the guitar and I'm grinning.

"Happy birthday to you…"

Embry puts the cake in front of me and tosses his arm around my shoulder and all I can think is that eighteen feels no different.

Forest points his index finger at his car radio. The words coming from it are German and they make no sense to me. "No see, see, see," he says, red in the face, "those drums? That's fucking, that's art."

He's my favorite friend right now. Because Wes is kind of a dumbass and kind of landed himself in detention for a week and a half for ditching classes and he was my ride home and Parker doesn't drive me home because he has band practice and Moon has work all the time so I have Forest. Forest graduated and he doesn't work so now it's his job to drive me around. "It's so fucked up that'll we'll never make something as good as this."

"No, what?" he looks away from the road, wild indignation in his eyes. "We totally will. Maybe in like, five years, before we sellout, at least."

I laugh, leaning my head against the carseat. "Do you think we're gonna be one of those bands that puts out a bunch of albums and the only one people like is the first one?"

"God I hope not. Y'know I hate it when people are like-"

It happens so fast. At first I don't really think that anything happens. But the tires are squealing against the pavement and the car is spinning and there is something big and furry and huge and I don't know what it is but it jumps in front of Forest's car and we're spinning and we're screaming and my ears are ringing. It's gone, fast, and my breathing is heavy. The car stops. I lurch forward, my nose slamming into the dashboard. Forest's car on the side of the road, tires lodged in a ditch, side mirror knocked off by nearby tree.

My hands are shaking and I think about it. That big thing. I think about that big furry thing with the four legs and I think it had big teeth and I think about screaming again. "What the fuck was that?" I practically shriek.

"Holy fucking shit," Forest yells, breathless, "I think I pissed my pants. Am I pissing my pants?"

I don't listen to what he says. I am looking out at the tree line for whatever the fuck that thing was. I keep thinking about it. It keeps flashing in my head, the second I saw it, it's freaking me out and I think that I am going to die. "Did you fucking see that thing? What the fuck!"

"Oh my god we almost just fucking died!" Forest yells, and I realize that he's right. I realize that we did almost die and that I could be dead now and suddenly my focus shifts from the fact that I'm going to die to the fact that I almost just died.

This hits my guts like a pileo of bricks. "I'm gonna throw up!"

Forest is curled over, rocking and breathing heavy and he is freaking out and he yells, "You need to tell me if I pissed my pants!"

"How the fuck am I supposed to know!" I scream, throwing my hands up in the air.

"Well I can't fucking tell, I can't feel anything!"

"We just almost fucking died!"

And then Forest's focus shifts, and he's throwing his arm out toward the trees."What the fuck was that thing?"

"I don't fucking know! A fucking monster?"

Forest starts unbuckling his seatbelt but he's not really doing a good job and his movements are so jerky and frantic. "I need to see how bad the car is right now."

"Don't get out of the car!" I yell at him, confused and angry and so goddamn mad I'm shaking. "Are you stupid? Are you actually fucking stupid?"

"I need to see if we can drive the car away or not!"

"Well if you go out there, you won't be able to, because that thing will come back and eat you alive!"

Forest is now red in the face. "You think I wanna go check? I don't wanna go check! I don't wanna die!"

"Just call the fucking cops or something! I dunno! Do not get out of this car. Forest, I swear to god if you get out of the car that thing is gonna come back and it's gonna eat you and then it's gonna wanna eat me and I'm too pretty to die!"

"Oh yeah sure, just fuck me who cares if I die?"

"Call the police!"

Forest stops. "Alright!" he yells, and starts reaching for his phone. And I start shuffling around my backpack because I remember that my dad got me that stupid fucking bear mace and all the sudden it doesn't seem stupid. And now I'm thinking that I'm gonna be the one to save our goddamn lives.

We sit in that car for forty minutes. After Forest had a very frantic call with a 911 operator ("no-you clam down! I almost died, I don't owe you calmness right now!) we've kind of just been sitting in silence.

We don't get out until the cops show up, lights flashing. And by the time they do I'm all tensed up and I'm leaning up against Forest's car and whatever the fuck that thing was it hasn't come back but I'm all freaked out with my thumb on the trigger of the bear mace.

I'm biting down on my lip and I'm not speaking and I'm tense and scared but I'm controlling my breathing, tight and short.

I don't say anything. Forest talks to the cops and he's all freaked out but they're nice, they tell him he's not in trouble, that it's not his fault and the way he turned the car off to the side likely saved our lives. And he's talking a lot, panic dripping into his tone.

I have enough piece of mind to be glad Bella's dad's not here.

"Tatum! Are you alright?"

It's the sound of my father's voice that breaks my composure. He's running towards me, his own car parked behind the police cruiser, and my eyes water at the sight of him. I don't know why but I see him and I think about the fact that I almost died and my hands start shaking.

I leap towards him, arms around my father's waist like I'm a small child and I swallow my tears. "I'm fine."

He pets my hair, smoothing it out and his voice makes me feel better. "What happened?"

"Forest was driving me home from school and then all the sudden this huge grey, bear wolf thing jumped in front of the car. And I mean Forest like, saved my life because if he didn't turn the wheel in time we like, totally would have died and oh my god, Dad, we would have died," I rant, rushing through my words and I can't breathe and my throat is getting tighter and tighter with each word, each syllable.

"It's alright, Tatum. You're alright," he soothes, "How about we just go home, okay? Is Forest okay getting home?"

I lift my head away from my father. "For! Can you drive home?"

"Can I stay at your place tonight?" he calls back.

I look up at my father with big, pleading eyes. He sighs. "Alright."

Forest is knocked out on my couch. He begged me to get him the coziest blanket we had and now it's only covering half of his legs and it's spilling onto the floor.

I don't think I can sleep. I keep thinking about that big thing and how huge it is and how much I almost fucking died. Parker got me on the phone and he ranted into my ear about how glad he is that I'm okay and how much he loves me and I got embarrassed and I rushed out of the conversation.

And I dunno. I'm feeling weird. I'm acting weird too. I'm watching my friend sleep on the couch. He has the Sopranos playing and I tried to shut it off twice but he woke up to yell at me.

I think that Paul might call me or text me or do something to ask me if I'm okay but he doesn't. I keep checking my phone. It's something I can't get out of my head. Makes me mad, makes me uncomfortable.

He wakes up at seven and I'm already downstairs when he does. I couldn't sleep. I slept three hours. I can see the bags under my eyes and I'm sitting at the kitchen table eating a bagel and I'm on my third energy drink. Forest saunters in wearing the same clothes he was yesterday and his hair is all messed up in different directions.

"How'd you sleep?" I ask and he sits next to me, flopping and yawning and letting his limbs fall flat.

"I don't think I can open my eyes." His eyes are fluttering shut for effect.

I take a bit out of the bagel. It's an everything bagel and it has scallion cream cheese and it's the greatest thing I've ever tasted. "Did you ever like, tell your parents you'd be here?"

Forest laughs, humorless and quick and quiet. "Um, I don't think they noticed I wasn't there."

This makes me stop. I don't know anything about Forest's family and from his tone I don't think that I should. "Oh. Sorry."

"It's cool. Party tonight?" I quirk an eyebrow, head tilted. "For your birthday?"

Oh right. It's my birthday. "Oh, yeah. There were these super rich people who lived in town and then they like, up and moved and just left their house there. It's totally empty, so we're trespassing."

"Is it legal?"

I laugh. "No, absolutely not. No."

Forest grins. "Good. After yesterday I need some destructive coping."

I make a big deal out of my birthday. I throw big parties every year and I wear a big tiara and I dress cool and I invite too many people and there's alcohol and a big cake and everyone tells me how much they like me. There's cool people and cool music and I feel like the king of the world and I think that's something I should feel every day. I don't like people who don't make a big deal out of their birthdays. I don't like people who act like they don't matter and they think that the fact that they don't care makes them special or interesting.

I'm glad the Cullen's left. Because this party kicks ass. It's the best party of the year and it's my birthday party and the drama club can absolutely fucking suck it. Music is thumping and I'm wearing a cowboy hat and pinstripe oversized pants with a matching waistcoat and I look like a goddamn gangster from the ninety-forties and me and Moon are singing and its dark and its crowded.

Wes takes a photo, one with bright flash and I think that I look cool. I look cool and Moon looks cool and people are talking and having fun and I think I'm the fucking best. "How do you feel now that you're eighteen?" Wes calls over the music.

I give him a shrug. "Feel like the coolest bitch in the world!"

"I'll drink to that!" Moon calls, raising her drink in the air.

And everyone follows suit, beer bottles in the air followed by loud cheers and I get a rush of serotonin. I dance to pop music. I give Parker a kiss that last a little too long to be done in public. Me and Wes do shots. Me and Moon dance. I start to get drunk. I am drunk. I am drunk and I'm having the time of my life and he's there.

I see him, leaning up against the wall and he's not dressed for the occasion. His look at him with this stupid fucking smolder that makes my gut flip and when he sses me staring he smirks. He's taller than everyone around him. I don't know why but there's something about him that riles me up. His presence is intimidating and there's this aura around him and I don't know what's going on but seeing him reminds me of something. Makes me think of something unpleasant. A feeling that sinks in my gut and twists me up and I want it gone and I want him gone.

I storm up to him, long, angry strides and I'm fed up. "What are you doing here?" I demand once I'm close enough. I have a lot of thoughts I can't control. He smells nice. His arms and big and he's beautiful and I feel sick.

Paul smiles at me, one of those big, genuine smiles that almost makes me forget. I don't want to forget the way he hated me so instantly, so intensely. I remind myself of it. I repeat it over and over in my head. "I wanted to come and wish you a happy birthday," he tells me in a thick voice, "Not everyday you turn eighteen."

I'm shaking my head and I think I take an unconscious step towards him. "I don't want you here to wish me a happy birthday," I tell him, "I want you to leave."

Paul sighs. I watch his shoulders rise and fall. I want to close my eyes because if I'm not looking at him the sight of him won't distract me from my hatred. "Look, Tatum, I know we got off on the wrong foot-"

And I'm back again because this sets me off. This makes me remember that my hatred for him isn't my fault, it's something I made up. It was because of him, because of what he did. "No, we didn't get off on the wrong foot, you did. You got off on the wrong foot and there's nothing you can say or do that will make me forget that you're actually a dickhead. Now I'm going to go dance to Taylor Swift and pretend I'm too cool to know the words and I'm going to have fun and you're going to leave and not ruin my birthday for me. Okay? And don't look so sad, do not give me that face because I don't even know you and you're weird and honestly not even that attractive so the big sad eye routine is not working on me. Leave."

And he does. Without another word, he turns around and leaves. And it makes me feel weird. I dunno.

paul shaking and crying and throwing up rn

edit: the first time i posted this it only uploaded like ? half the chapter. weird. i usually wont post something under 3,000 words so