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I’m not really sure why I say “miss you” when I just saw her, but I miss this side of her. I miss the side that sees something more in me. I miss her letters.
Before I can get up to open my door, Bug bursts through it. “I was trying to be polite, but I could have freezed out there.”
“In the hallway?” I roll my eyes at him.
“Let me guess—writing a note to your girlfriend?”
I quickly shake my head. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
Bug sighs as he sits down on my bed. “She could be.”
“You literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Whatever.” Bug laughs and bumps his shoulder against mine. “So, how was your Christmas?”
“It was really good.”
“Like the best you ever had?” Bug smiles knowingly.
“You know I don’t like to think like that.”
Bug is the one person who actually understands. I don’t even talk to my mom about it because I don’t want her to somehow blame herself. Which she absolutely would.
“Well, maybe you should start.” He stares at me with a serious look on his face that I normally don’t see from him. “Seriously. You’re the most amazing person I know, and you deserve all the best things. It’s about time you start believing that.”
“It’s not that I don’t believe it. It’s just…”
“You don’t think good things can happen to you.”
“Can you blame me? I run into my dad a few times a year, and he looks right past me. He treats me like just another stranger he’s passing on the street.” I scoff as I think about it. “Worse, actually. I’m sure he smiles at strangers.”
“You can’t let that prick get to you. If you do, he wins. Do you really want to let him win?”
“Never,” I say with a snarl. The last thing I want is for that asshole to win anything.
“Good. The best way to win is by being happy. I think it’s about time you do that.”
I nod slowly as I take it all in. It’s so much easier said than done. “I will be. Well, I am.”
“Wait a second. What did you just say?” Bug puts his hand up to his ear and smirks.
“I said ‘I am,’” I answer quietly.
“You are what? Spell it out for me, please.”
From the way Bug is staring at me, I can tell there’s no way I’m getting out of this. “I’m happy,” I say in a normal tone. When he continues to stare with both eyebrows in the air, I raise my voice. “I’m happy, okay? H-A-P-P-Y happy!”
“Damn. Your therapist is going to be so proud of you.”
I laugh and shake my head at him even though I know he’s right. “She really is.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you, too. Next step is telling Marjorie that you’re the person behind the notes.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“I don’t know that.”
I groan because we’ve been over this multiple times. “I told you. She doesn’t—”
