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“Fuck space! Girls always think they know what they want, when really it’s just some crazy-ass test they’re putting us through. They say they want space, but they really want the exact opposite. They tell you to go away and leave them alone forever, but they really want you to fight for them and win them back.
Bitches are always setting us up to fail.”
Even though I wanted to hit him for insinuating that Cammie was a bitch, I believed he might actually have a point in his screwed-up, coffee-filled head.
“I’m just saying, text the girl. Call the girl. Don’t go silent on her just because she told you to. Show her you’re not going anywhere, and that you meant all those pretty words I’m sure you said to her.” Finished with his doughnut, Tucker brushed off his hands, then shoved away from the table and headed toward the exit.
“Asshole,” I said with a grunt as I contemplated his advice.
“I heard that,” he called out as the door shut behind him.
I had meant it when I’d told Cammie that I came back to the reunion for her. It wasn’t a line or something I told myself to get through cold New York winters. I wanted that girl, and I’d be damned if I would let her slip through my fingers twice in one lifetime.
Not. Going. To. Happen.
Not on my watch.
Fuck it.
The only thing this separation was doing was driving me certifiably crazy. I pulled out my personal phone and typed out a quick text. Or four. It was time for radio silence to end.
Dalton: Have you had enough space yet?
Dalton: How about now?
Dalton: I hate space. Space is stupid. Not like space, space. The other kind of space. Not the starry kind.
What the hell? The starry kind? Too late to take that back now; I’d already pressed Send. This woman turned me into a rambling idiot. I tugged at my hair, hoping she’d laugh and miss me, instead of thinking I was dumb. Typing out one last text, I finished with a bang. I was desperate for some kind of contact from her.
Dalton: It’s been a week since I’ve seen your beautiful face or heard your voice. I’m a strong man, Cammie, but I’m not that strong.
As I sent the last text, I wondered how on earth I’d gone ten years without having her in my life in some way. Maybe it was easier because I could look her up online anytime I wanted, and that gave me some sort of satisfaction. The knowledge of where she was and what she was doing comforted me when I was so far away.
But now that I’d seen her, spent time with her, and been inside her, I was like a man reborn. I couldn’t live without her anymore. Any length of time away was too long, and I fucking hated this. Every day away from her felt like a waste of time, like I was losing something incredibly valuable.
My phone vibrated with a text notification, and I glanced down to see Cammie’s name on my screen. Before I could read it, my phone vibrated again. And then twice more as I realized she answered each one of my texts with her own separate message.
Cammie: I think I’ve had a sufficient amount of space.
Cammie: Where are you?
Cammie: I love space, space. The stars are pretty. LOL
Cammie: I need to talk to you. In person. And don’t think for one second that you’re off the hook for going to see my mom! You don’t play fair, Dalton Thomas!
I was dealing with some heavy shit at work, so I knew my heart couldn’t take any more hurt from anyone, let alone Cammie. She might have gotten me to leave her house that night, but I wasn’t walking away forever. She’d have to fight me a hell of a lot harder than that to get me to leave her alone for good.
Shit. I sound like a stalker. Stalkers aren’t sexy.
I typed my response:
Dalton: This better be good news if you want to see me in person.
My phone vibrated in my hand, and I assumed it was her continuing our texting game. When it didn’t stop, I realized that she was calling instead.
“Hi,” I said hesitantly as I answered the call, suddenly feeling a little out of breath.
“Where are you? If you’re not coming over, then I’m coming to you. I need to see you.”
