Page 41 of Outspoken

After eating so much tiramisu my stomach is ready to burst, I say my goodbyes because I need to get home to Mom so Patty can leave. As I’m outside fishing my car keys from my pocket, Paige sends a text:

Amber will be at an outdoor taco festival next weekend. I offered to go, but she said it’ll be a lot of people and that she’s going with a group of classmates. You could “accidentally” bump into her. Be distant but friendly. Text me if you need advice. I’ll be your wingwoman.

I respond:Copy that, little sis.

She sends a GIF of confetti and then an overly excited puppy jumping around.

I laugh, but then something cloudy entered my thoughts, pulling my mood down. I'm happy to have an ally, and a festival sounds fun, but I really hope this move isn't a mistake. I still need to find the right time to tell Amber how we met, and unlike what Mom believes, the wrong decision could put me miles away from where I'm meant to be.

Chapter Eleven

Amber

MUSIC THUMPS IN THE DISTANCE as I wait in line to get my wristband for the taco festival. The swarming crowd around me eats at my nerves. After spending the past year being a homebody and focusing solely on work and school, I'm out of practice socially—even just the bunches of people here in line are suffocating and overwhelming. It's a small taste of what Paige struggles with every time she goes out.

I'm glad I talked her out of coming. This wouldn’t have been fun for her, and lately I feel bad whenever I pull her away from Brody. Last year was so hard for them, since she was stuck in a group home more than an hour away. I completely understand that they want to spend all of their time together and plan for their future, so guilt stabs me whenever I ask Paige to hang out at Jackie’s or go for a walk in the evening. She's happy spending time with me, but she’s with Brody now. They’re in that honeymoon phase of love, and I’m just…I’m just dead weight.

Plus, I’m the absolute worst for lying about meeting classmates today. I’m meeting someone, just someone I shouldn’t.

A middle-aged guy under a blue canopy waves me forward. With an uninterested expression, he scans the ticket on my phone and checks my ID. Then he grabs a blue wristband off a folding table and asks, “Will you be drinking?”

I stare, my lips parting. “What?”

“Do you need drink vouchers? You get three included with your ticket, but you can buy more now or inside. Cash only.” His eyes dart to the person behind me, eager to move the line along.

My mouth is dry and I really need a drink—a drink of water. Or…What if it was alcohol? I could say yes, get my blue drinking wristband, and no one would know. Not Paige. Not Brody. No one. Only me. I’m just a normal casual drinker here with all of these strangers. It’s not like I have Oxy to make this really dangerous.

Whenever I was spiraling in the past, I happily mixed Oxy—my favorite euphoric drug—with drinks, but I did my best to put space between them. I never had more than a shot if I was going to mix it with the warm embrace of that little invincible pill.

But I don’t have Oxy or any pills with me now, so…What’s the harm of a few drinks? I have a high tolerance, anyway.

“Miss?” the guy asks, narrowing his eyes. “You’re holding up the line.”

“Uh, no. Not drinking.”

He drops the blue wristband and gives me a white one instead. I move out of the way, a heavy weight in my stomach. Therapy lied to me—saying no has not been getting easier. Completely the opposite.

Whatever.I'm not drinking. I said no.

I roll my eyes.Yay me.

Sighing heavily, I scowl and trudge away from the entrance into a larger mass of people. I used to love the craziness of large crowds, all the potential fun and excitement of the hot men around. Now it just feels exhausting. I'm getting too old for this.

Depressing.

The festival spreads across a large, grassy field—a collection of mostly white canopies, with a stage at one corner. There's also a wrestling ring, and I'm curious to see what that's all about.

After buying a $6 bottle of water and chugging it—because apparently, only alcoholic drinks are included with the ticket price, as if that's not a fucked-up system—I wander around some vendor booths. I stop to smile at a T-shirt that reads:I wonder if tacos think about me too?

Next, I spot a food truck with a short line and grab a $2 street taco. It was a bad pick because the carne asada is dry. I brought a limited amount of cash, so I'll need to make better choices—probably food trucks with longer lines.

I meander, relaxing more in the crowd and activity around me. Getting out was a good idea. It's at least a distraction from school, work, and every other mess in my life.

I pass a couple who are giggling and staring deeply into each other's eyes. The guy whispers something, tucking a strand of hair behind the woman's ear. She smiles, playfully batting his shoulder before they kiss. My chest aches, so I quickly turn and start walking in a different direction. I hug my stomach, trying to shove the tender moment I just witnessed from my mind. I step into a booth filled with keychains and other trinkets.

After grabbing a keychain of the Mexican flag, I run my thumb over the colorful enamel surface. I’ve never cared much about guys or relationships, so it’s stupid to be caring now. Though I've had a few official boyfriends, they were always toxic and I never had serious feelings for them. All I wanted was someone familiar to hook up with so I wasn’t always on the hunt for new guys at parties.

Maybe this strange ache inside me lately is horniness. I haven’t had sex in forever, so it's probably time to start looking for a hookup. Guys can be a good distraction, at least when they’re not pulling you into their drama.Miguel.

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