Chapter 2

The cool night air hit me as I stepped onto the street, but it did little to cool the fire burning in my chest. Braylon and Dallas were right behind me, their footsteps echoing on the pavement. When we reached the car, I moved to open the passenger door, a robotic motion. But Dallas was faster.

She darted forward, a flash of blonde, and slipped into the front seat. The impact of her hip against mine sent a jolt of pain up my side. I stumbled, catching myself on the doorframe.

"Oops! So sorry, Eliza!" she chirped, not sounding sorry at all. Her eyes met mine, a triumphant glint in their depths. "Looks like I got here first, didn't I?"

I said nothing, just stood there, waiting. Waiting for Braylon to do something, anything, to acknowledge the blatant disrespect. He didn't.

"Dallas, you sit there. Eliza, you can get in the back," Braylon said, his voice clipped. "Dallas gets carsick easily."

My stomach clenched. Carsick? I got carsick too. For years, I' d carried a small emergency kit in my purse: ginger candies, a cool compress, motion sickness pills. Not because Braylon remembered, but because he never did. He' d forget my allergy, my name, my discomfort. He' d forget everything that truly mattered. I realized with a fresh wave of despair that my purse, with its vital contents, was still at the party.

"I get carsick too," I stated, my voice surprisingly steady.

Braylon sighed, an impatient sound. "Eliza, please. Don't start. It's late, everyone's tired. Just get in." He rubbed his temples. "Don't be dramatic."

Dramatic. That was his word for my pain. My frustration. My existence. I looked at him, truly looked at him, and saw a stranger. There was no point in arguing. I pulled out my phone, hoping to call a ride-share, but the screen remained stubbornly dark. Dead battery. Just my luck.

The street was deserted, shadows stretching long and menacing in the dim glow of distant streetlights. The air was colder now, biting through my thin dress. Fear, cold and sharp, pricked at me. I imagined the worst. Anything could happen out here. But I wouldn' t give him the satisfaction of seeing me afraid.

"Get in, Eliza!" Braylon snapped, his patience worn thin.

I bit back a retort, my jaw aching. With a heavy sigh that felt like it came from the depths of my soul, I slid into the back seat.

Dallas, meanwhile, was chattering away in the front, her voice bright and irritatingly cheerful. "Oh, Braylon, remember that time we snuck out of your parents' mansion and went stargazing? We got caught climbing back in, and your dad was furious!" Her laughter tinkled in the enclosed space, amplified by the car's interior, each sound a hammer blow to my temples.

Braylon chuckled, a warm, genuine sound I hadn't heard directed at me all night. "How could I forget? You were terrified, but you pretended to be so brave."

Their conversation wove a tapestry of shared memories, a private world I was locked out of. My head began to throb, my stomach churning. The familiar nausea of carsickness, amplified by stress and the relentless sound of Dallas's voice, rose swiftly. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, trying to breathe, trying to hold it back.

"And Braylon," Dallas continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "remember that promise you made me when we were kids? That you'd always take care of me?"

That was it. The breaking point. My control snapped.

"Can you two please just be quiet?" I yelled, my voice raw and strained, cutting through their intimate bubble. My head throbbed, my stomach rebelled.

Dallas twisted in her seat, her eyes wide, feigning shock. "Oh, Braylon, she's so mean! I was just trying to cheer you up. You've seemed so stressed lately, and I just wanted to remind you of happier times." She clutched his arm, her eyes filling with fake tears.

Braylon's face was a mask of stone, his jaw tight. He looked at me in the rearview mirror, his eyes cold and distant. He said nothing, but his silence was louder than any shout. It was a judgment.