Be there in 5, love you
Pretty Girl
Love you!
It was a simple exchange, but one I took for granted. I always meant those words when I said them, but did I always make her feel them?
Did I always make sure she knew that she was the best thing in my life?
Any word can be said with the best of intentions, but when it’s not backed up by actions, it becomes meaningless. And I’m starting to see how meaningless I may have made her feel. The problems in my head felt as if they eclipsed my whole world, like every day became just another day to get through.
I begin to type out some messages.
Hey, so I know you agreed but
I hit delete until I’m staring at the empty message bar again.
Did you block me?
I delete that too, shaking my head.
I drop my phone down, the unlocked screen staring up at me as I run my hands down my face. The button-down I’m wearing feels like it’s choking me, so I pull the collar away to get more air, my chest tightens slightly before I remind myself to take some deep breaths. I pick my phone up again, thoughts swirling in my head. Maybe I’m making this harder than it needs to be.
Me
Hey
I hit send and immediately grapple to take it back.
Me
It’s Kane by the way
I hit send on that too and laugh out loud at myself. I’m about to type out another message when one from her pops up on the screen, and I swear I feel my heart stop.
Pretty Girl
I know who it is lol
I chuckle with her. I agonized over this text for hours and ended up making a bigger idiot of myself than I did yesterday. It’s as if she short-circuits my brain and I no longer know how to function when she’s around. Everything between us just feels so precarious right now that I’m scared to do or say something that will damage us permanently, something we can’t come back from.
Me
I just wanted to text you the details for Thursday night. It’s at my parents’ place at 6:30. Did you want me to pick you up? I’m out of school a bit earlier that day.
The longer the seconds tick by with the dots appearing at the bottom of the screen, the more my chest tightens.
I text a follow-up.
Me
Which you don’t have to come to. If you don’t want to. I can handle it
The need for her to know she’s off the hook is so strong. I don’t want her to come out of pity—I never want anyone’s pity when it comes to my parents. I almost jump out of my chair when my phone vibrates with a message from her.
Pretty Girl
Shut up, I’m coming.
