Mackenzie

Dane has broken me. He's fucking broken me. I don't know what to think anymore. One day I'm getting snapped at, and the next, he's fucking insisting that I come to their party. I don't want to go to their party, because Grant has been on me all week.

I don't know where Grant's obsession with me has come from, but it's seriously creeping me out. I'm about two more ass-slaps away from filing a restraining order. His touches and his comments are making me so uncomfortable.

Of course Hannah is home and insists that I have to come to the party tonight. She's unrelenting, and so I finally agree, wishing that I could stay home and wallow in my misery. Anything would be better than a party.

I tell Hannah that I need to lay down for a bit and go to my room and stare at my ceiling. I haven't been sleeping very well. Instead, I'm constantly worried about Dane. Worried that he's not eating enough. Worried that he's in pain. Worried that he's never going to stop being mad at me. Worried that he's never going to be the same person again.

Mostly, I'm worried that he hates me. I'm worried that he truly, deep down to the bone, hates me. And I don't know why. All I wanted to do was help him. I don't know how going to the hospital to see him went so wrong. I don't know how defending him to his father had been a bad thing.

I'd tried to convince myself that it wasn't me, that he's just having a hard time, but I'm struggling with this concept. Noah tries to help by telling me that Dane is just going through it, that he'll get better soon. That he just needs to get his groove back.

Dane won't even accept my tutoring help. Even when I jokingly told him that I'd do it for free. I dread to think how he's doing in his classes right now. I hope he's doing well, but I can tell that he's not in it.

He's wallowing in his injury. I know that's what he's doing. He's wallowing in his loss, completely unfocused on everything that he still has. It makes me so mad.

When Hannah finally convinces me to leave, I shove my glasses and contact case in my purse out of habit, and follow her. We walk to the baseball house even though it's chilly.

"Are you doing okay, Mack?" Hannah asks on our way there.

"I'm just tired."

"From Dane?"

"Yeah, mostly."

"Mack, I know it doesn't seem like it, but I think you being around helps him."

"Doubtful." I mutter.

"No, I hear him talk to Noah through the door. He sounds cheerier after you've been there."

"You don't need to try to make me feel better." I tell her. "I appreciate it, but it's not worth it. Whatever was once there is fucking gone. He doesn't--" I can barely say the words "He doesn't like me anymore."

"Mack, wake the fuck up. That boy is head over heels for you." Hannah snaps, her voice unusually stern. "He's shit at dealing with his emotions, and he's hurt right now, but he likes you. I know he does."

I sigh but don't try to argue further.

The baseball house is already busy when we arrive and Hannah pulls me inside, hooking her elbow through mine. I let her yank me into the kitchen to Noah. Dane is standing in the corner, holding a red solo cup. He's leaned casually against the counter and I make eye contact with him.

Before I can help myself, I beeline for him. "That better not be alcohol." I say, snatching the cup away and smelling it. It definitely is, so I chug the whole thing and immediately hate myself. Dane stares at me in surprise. "You should not be drinking."

"Mack--"

"No drinking." I repeat. He has a small smile on his face, but nods.

I turn away when Hannah nudges me with a shot. I take it with a grimace and let her lead me to beer pong. This ends in another round of shots, and in the throng of all the people, I lose track of Dane.

Unfortunately, I also lose track of all my inhibitions, which is how I end up drunk on the dancefloor.