Chapter 42

We played beer pong, and to my surprise, I actually enjoyed it—like, really enjoyed it.

Now I get it. I finally understand why people like to party so much.

The buzz in your veins, the constant background of laughter and music, the way everything feels lighter for a while—it’s intoxicating in more ways than one.

The games, the fun, the alcohol… even the flirting and hook-ups happening around me—it was like I’d stumbled into some strange new world. And somehow, instead of feeling awkward or out of place, I felt… reborn.

Like a different version of me had stepped out for the night, one that didn’t carry a broken heart and didn’t care what the world thought.

It was wild. Teenagers were literally in the corner eating each other's faces.

I stared for a moment, blinking, then shook my head and laughed to myself. That’s… something.

Kate had barely left my side the entire night. Her arm was often draped casually around my shoulder or resting against my waist. Sometimes she’d even reach for my hand, intertwining her fingers with mine like it was the most natural thing. And maybe it was. Maybe I just didn’t care enough to stop her. I was having fun for once.

"Hey, are you okay?" Kate leaned in close, her face just inches from mine, her breath brushing against my cheek. I guess she had to get near me with how loud the music was.

"I am sooo fineeeee…" I leaned over her shoulder and spoke near her ear, exaggerating the last word until it turned into a laugh.

There was a part of me that was still holding back, reminding me not to get carried away. But there was another part—a louder, freer part—that just wanted to go with the flow. To enjoy the night for what it was and stop overthinking.

“Anyways,” I said with a grin, “I need a refill, so…”

I stood up quickly, maybe too quickly, because I started to sway as soon as I did. Kate caught me with both hands, steadying me with a laugh.

“Hey, slow down. You're not gonna run out of alcohol, you know?”

I laughed along with her, but when I glanced at the clock on the wall, my smile faded.

It was only 9:30.

And just like that—like a cruel reflex—my thoughts darted to Emma.

I reached for my phone in my pocket, fingers trembling slightly. Maybe she messaged. Maybe I missed it.

But when I unlocked it, the screen was painfully blank.

Nothing.

No new messages. No missed calls.

I stood frozen for a second, staring at it.

Kate noticed.

“What are you doing?” she asked, gently taking the cup from my hand and setting it down. Then she reached for my phone.

“Stop it, Kate. Give it back,” I muttered, trying to pull it away.

“What the hell? Are you texting her? Jenny, you were just having fun like three hours ago. Why would you ruin it now?” Her voice wasn’t angry, but it was definitely frustrated.

“I’m not ruining anything, okay?” I replied, weakly. “I’m just… I don’t know.”

Kate didn’t buy it.

“No, Jenny. You need to wake up. She doesn’t care about you.”

Her words hit like cold water splashed across my face. I blinked at her, mouth slightly open, trying to form a response.

“She hasn’t texted you in what? Two days?” Kate went on. “Two days, Jen. If she gave even the slightest damn about you, she would’ve reached out by now. Just one message. One. But she didn’t. She fucking didn’t.”

I was speechless.

“I know I said I’d support you or whatever. But this? This has to stop. You’re hurting yourself. You’re looking desperate, and it’s hard to watch.”

It wasn’t her voice that hurt me—it was the truth.

Everything she said… it was right.

Emma didn’t even check on me. Not once.

And here I was, clinging to the hope that she might suddenly show up, call me, text me, apologize.

But she didn’t. She was probably curled up with her perfect boyfriend, laughing at some stupid inside joke while I cried myself to sleep like an idiot.

“What am I doing?” I whispered, mostly to myself.

I stood there, suddenly feeling stone-cold sober.

Kate watched me closely. She didn’t apologize for what she said. Her face was firm, unapologetic.

And honestly, I appreciated that.

“I’m not sorry,” she said finally. “Maybe that was brutal, but you needed to hear it.”

“I know,” I whispered, then looked up. “I’m not disagreeing with you. Actually… thank you.”

Kate blinked.

“I’m—what? I’m sorry, what did you say?”

She handed me my phone slowly, like she wasn’t sure what was happening.

I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. Her face was so confused.

“What? What’s so funny?” she asked, her brows furrowed now, almost offended.

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “I just… heard you. I mean it. Everything you just said—it made me think. You’re right, Kate.”

“Oh.” Her voice was small with disbelief.

And yeah, I couldn’t blame her. Just a few hours ago I was giving her a whole speech about Emma—how I was gonna fight for her, how she mattered to me.

And now here I was… agreeing with her enemy.

“Anyway,” I said, picking up my drink again. “Like you said—let’s not ruin the night.”

I took her hand, gave her a small squeeze, and gestured for us to head back to the living room.

We danced. We sang at the top of our lungs with the music. We played another round of games. Drank more. Laughed more.

I was determined to forget Emma for the night. I wanted to stop feeling sorry for myself. And Kate made it easy. She didn’t let me out of her sight, and honestly, I was grateful for that.

The party had started to thin out. Some people left. Others disappeared upstairs in pairs or trios—who knows what was happening up there.

I chuckled at the thought.

“Hey, what’s funny?” Kate asked.

We had collapsed onto the couch by then. She was leaning back against me, using me as a pillow, and holding my hand while playing with my fingers.

It felt nice. Comforting.

I looked down at her and smiled.

But suddenly, a familiar memory crept in. Me and Emma on the couch. Watching dumb horror movies. Her stealing popcorn from my bowl. Her hand sneaking under the blanket to hold mine.

I froze.

“Hey? You okay?” Kate asked again, turning around to face me.

“Yeah. Of course,” I replied quickly, letting out a fake laugh to cover up the sting of memory.

I tried to stand, but dizziness hit me like a wave.

“Whoa…”

I stumbled forward, falling right into Kate’s arms.

She caught me, laughing.

“You’re not going anywhere, my Jenny.”

My heart fluttered at the way she said that—“my Jenny.”

I knew I was drunk because that shouldn’t have made me smile.

But it did.

I giggled, burying my face in her neck, breathing in the soft scent of her perfume.

Then I felt her hands start to roam—one on my lower back, the other resting gently on my hip before sliding down, almost teasingly.

I froze for a second, unsure.

Then she pulled back slightly, just enough for me to see her face.

She was staring at me, eyes unreadable, her expression serious.

What was she doing?

Then her gaze dropped to my lips.

My breath caught.

Was she going to kiss me?

I should stop her.

I should say something.

But I didn’t.

Because I was drunk. And confused. And tired of being heartbroken.

And maybe… maybe I wanted to be wanted.

Her lips brushed against mine.

Soft. Warm.

I didn’t pull away.

My eyes closed on instinct.

My mind screamed at me that this was wrong.

But my body?

My body leaned in.

Her lips moved slowly, sensually, waiting for me to meet her halfway.

And I did.

I kissed her back.

Not because I was in love with her.

But because I wanted to forget.

Because I wanted to feel something else.

Because I wanted to stop thinking about Emma.

Kate’s hands explored gently, never pushing, just coaxing.

And I let her.

For tonight, I let her.

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