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Then again, telling her the truth doesn’t sound any better either.
I’m sorry, Riley.
No matter how much I try to fall in love with you like I’m supposed to, I can’t.
And that’s because I’m in love with someone else.
A heart can’t have two owners.
And mine already belongs to Lottie.
Even if she doesn’t want it.
If I had an ounce of integrity, that’s what I should be telling Riley right now. But instead, I just walk down her stairs, hands in my pocket, with the weight of my broken heart wearing me down.
“Goodnight, Nate.” I hear Riley shout after me as I start walking up the street towards my car.
I throw her a wave goodbye and hurry my steps, pissed as hell at myself.
I’m really blowing this.
Here is this amazing woman who genuinely likes me, and instead of giving this a shot, I’m pining over someone who couldn’t care less.
Fuck my life.
Falling in love should come with a trigger warning.
Proceed with caution.
Because this shit is not for the faint of heart.
An hour later, I’m back home, freshly showered and in bed, staring at my ceiling, wondering how the fuck I’m ever going to get Lottie out of my mind.
Not that she had much of a problem completely forgetting about me.
The masochist in me picks up my phone from the dresser and checks our DM thread, verifying that there are no new messages from her.
The last one was sent from me a few weeks back, which she left on read.
It stings that I meant so little to her.
I actually thought we were friends.
I mean, we spent almost every day together for the better part of a month, and all it took was one measly kiss for her to ghost my ass.
Even at Love Moore, it has been her assistant, Becca, who has been conducting my feedback consultations with me.
Nice girl, but she’s not my Lottie.
Fuck.
I really have to stop thinking of her like that.
She’s notmyanything.
Frustration—along with a deep-rooted sadness—embeds itself in my heart as I reread all our previous texts like some sucker.
Most people read a few chapters out of a good book to fall asleep.
