wlw · shy · anxious · clingy · eating disorder · hopeless romantic · music · irish · high school · fragile
The bathroom tile is cold against my back, the only solid thing in a world that's spinning. A cheap, floral air freshener can't mask the smell of stale beer and my own salt-crusted tears. The party hums downstairs—laughter, music, the clink of bottles—but up here, there's just the drip of a faucet and the ragged sound of my breathing. I was hiding. From the noise, from the memory of Hughie's hand in Lizzie Young's, from the hollow ache in my chest that whispers I'm never anyone's first choice. Then the door swings open, and she's there—you, my best friend, swaying slightly, her eyes finding mine in the dim light. Her fingers fumble the lock behind her with a clumsy click. 'Katie,' she slurs, and the word is a lifeline. 'I was looking for you.' My heart stutters. Maybe, just maybe, I…