Messy

“Happy blood moon, Bella.”

Taylor raises her eyebrows with a smirk. “Blessed be,” she adds, her British accent dipping into something softer, something almost teasing.

Bella stares at her, wondering—not for the first time—how one woman can be so insufferable, yet somehow it doesn’t really bother her. There’s something about Taylor that gets under her skin in a way no one else ever has.

“You know what, Taylor?” Bella exhales, straightening her shoulders. “No. I’m having a great time, and I’m not letting you ruin my night.”

She turns away, body swaying back into the rhythm of the music, blending into the sea of people on the dance floor. But Taylor isn’t done with her yet.

“Look,” Taylor’s voice cuts through the bass-heavy music, drawing Bella’s gaze back to her. “I’m sorry I had to go over your head, but I need you to understand who you’re dealing with.”

Bella just stares, unimpressed. The club lights flicker across Taylor’s face, casting sharp shadows that make her look even more infuriatingly confident.

Taylor tilts her head, stepping closer. “I will happily play this game all year long,” she murmurs, her tone dropping into something lower, something dangerous.

For a brief, fleeting second, Bella almost finds it… hot?

She snaps herself out of it just as Taylor continues, “So do yourself a favor—” a pause, a smirk “—leave me alone. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Bella is so done with this conversation. “Okay, Taylor, you win.”

Taylor’s expression falters. Just for a second. Just enough for Bella to see it. She clearly wasn’t expecting that response.

“I’m done,” Bella continues, voice flat. “I’ll focus on students who actually want my help and happily ignore your existence.”

Taylor blinks. Bella doesn’t stick around to watch the reaction unfold.

She turns on her heel, making her way back to the party. “Light a hundred candles under your flammable drapes,” she calls over her shoulder, “and when you wake up on fire, don’t text me. Because, huh, you don’t need help. See you never.”

Taylor stands there, dumbfounded.

She watches Bella disappear into the crowd, her brain still trying to process what just happened. Was it the alcohol making everything feel surreal? Or did she just—

No. Forget it. Who cares?

Still, she can’t shake the strange, hollow feeling settling in her chest.

Bella, on the other hand, doesn’t look back. She spends the rest of the night laughing with her friends, dancing, drinking, celebrating Leighton’s last night before she leaves. But every now and then, in between sips of tequila and belting out song lyrics, she feels the ghost of Taylor’s expression lingering in the back of her mind.

And for some reason, it doesn’t feel like victory.

—————————-——————-——

Bella wakes up to the sound of someone shouting her name.

Her brain is foggy, limbs heavy with exhaustion. She groans, barely prying her eyes open to glance at the clock.

4 AM.

Who the hell is calling her at 4 AM?

Cursing under her breath, she stumbles out of bed and swings the door open, ready to rip into whoever it is.

Instead, she finds a wide-eyed freshman standing there, rambling a mile a minute. Something about—

Wait.

Taylor.

Medical facility.

Drunk.

Bella is suddenly wide awake.

Before she even knows what she’s doing, she’s pulling on a hoodie and rushing out the door, adrenaline replacing her sleepiness.

She barely hears the nurse as she checks in. Barely registers the guy sitting beside her in the waiting room, who’s trying to make conversation. Something about FAF? She nods absently, pretending to listen, but her focus is elsewhere.

Her knee bounces. Her hands won’t stop shaking. She feels sick.

Finally—

“You can come in now.”

Bella is on her feet before the nurse even finishes her sentence.

When she steps into the room, her breath catches.

Taylor looks… small.

She’s curled up on the hospital bed, mascara smudged beneath puffy, red-rimmed eyes. She looks fragile in a way Bella has never seen before. In a way that makes something ache deep in her chest.

Bella sits at the edge of the bed, voice softer than she expected. “They had to pump your stomach.”

Taylor won’t meet her gaze. She stares down at her shaking hands, avoiding Bella’s eyes like they burn.

“One more drink,” Bella continues, “and things could’ve been so much worse.”

Taylor looks up at that—just for a second. Just long enough for Bella to see something raw flicker across her face. Shame. Fear.

Then she looks away again.

Bella sighs, dragging a hand through her hair. “Look, I know you don’t like me, and I know you think you’re invincible, but this is—”

“I need help.”

Bella freezes.

Taylor’s voice is hoarse. Broken. Honest.

Bella swallows hard, waiting.

“I was sober for over a year,” Taylor murmurs. “I thought I could handle it on my own, here in the States, but…” Her voice cracks. Her hands clench into fists in her lap. “I slipped.”

Bella doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath until Taylor looks up again—eyes glassy, voice trembling.

“I need help,” she whispers. And this time, it’s not just a confession. It’s a plea.

Bella doesn’t hesitate.

“Right,” she says. “Of course. I’m here.”

Taylor’s lips part, just slightly, just enough for something like relief to flicker across her face before it’s gone.

They don’t speak of that night again.

But Bella makes a silent promise to herself—She’s going to keep an eye on Taylor. Whether she likes it or not.

Time passes.

Taylor is doing better. At least, that’s what she insists. She laughs. She smiles. She clinks her red solo cup against others at parties—though Bella always watches closely, waiting to see if she actually drinks.

Then one day, out of nowhere—

She’s leaving.

Bella stares at her, stunned. “You’re moving in with Ash?”

Taylor just shrugs. “Yep. Fresh start.”

Bella pulls her aside, heart pounding. She doesn’t understand why this is bothering her so much. But she is bothered.

“Are you sure about this,” she blurts.

Taylor raises an eyebrow. “About what?”

“This major change. This can’t be good for your sobriety”

Taylor lets out a bitter laugh. “Why do you care, it’s not your problem.”

The words sting in a way Bella wasn’t prepared for.

She opens her mouth, but Taylor’s already shaking her head. “You made it clear months ago that you were done with me, Bella. So why does it matter now?”

Bella doesn’t have an answer. Or maybe she does, but she’s too much of a coward to say it.

Taylor sighs. “I have Ash. I’ll be fine.”

Bella watches as she walks away—watches as she melts into someone else’s arms, someone else’s life.

She should be happy for her.

So why does it feel like she’s losing something she never even had?