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He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: Me too. Everyone was afraid she’d never date after I kind of screwed her up in the head.
Me: How’d you screw her up?
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: I broke your heart, and she couldn’t understand why. She figured that if we couldn’t make it, why should she even bother trying to find something for herself? Trust me, I know how messed up it sounds, but even she’ll tell you that after everything went down, she stopped believing in happily ever afters.
My heart cracks as I’m reminded of how much our breakup affected everyone around us. How snippy I was with my parents, biting off their heads for no reason at all. How lost my sisters were without an older brother to look after them. How I had to cut ties with Nora, my third baby sister, who apparently lost all hope of finding a good guy after the one she looked up to broke my heart. Sniffling, I type my response.
Me: That’s a lot of pressure on you.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: It is what it is. But then her boyfriend came around and it just kind of…happened. I’m happy for her. She deserves to be happy.
Me: You do too.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: It’s funny. Sometimes I think that’s true, but other times, I feel like I deserve to be where I am. It was my decision to screw up my life the way I did. Sure, I was young and impressionable, but in the end, I was too stupid to really understand, and I threw it away.
Me: Do you ever feel like there’s a lot of pressure when it comes to us? That if we tried again, everyone would be watching, waiting to see if we make it? Or if we screw it up again?
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: Maybe a little. But I stopped caring what other people think about my relationships the moment it cost me the only one that mattered.
My eyebrows tug at the center as I reread his message.
Me: What do you mean?
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: Nothing. Just that I don’t want to live for other people’s approval or disappointment. I want to do what feels right to me and you. That’s it.
Me: And what about Grady?
I can see the little blinking dots on the left side of my screen, but they disappear a few seconds later. Forcing myself to release the oxygen from my lungs, I change into some pajamas, then splash some water on my face before checking my phone again. It buzzes.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: I’m trying not to get my hopes up here, but this conversation is a little too important for me to have over text. I don’t want either of us to misinterpret each other’s feelings. Can I see you? Outside of school? And before Monday, if possible? The sooner, the better if we want to keep my sanity intact, though I know how much you like to make me lose my mind.
I laugh.
Me: Which Star Wars movie are you on?
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: With Turner and Grady?
Me: Yeah. Maybe I can tag along…if the invitation is still there.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: Hell, yeah, it’s still there. Grady asks about you every time we plan it. Turner is coming over tomorrow because Mandy’s working for Black Friday. We were going to have a double feature. Do you want to come?
Me: I’d love that. What time?
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: 2 pm?
Me: Okay. Can I bring anything?
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: Nah. Just yourself. We’ve been collecting plenty of junk food ever since the tradition started.
Me: Okay. I’ll see you then.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: Okay. Goodnight, Say.
Me: Night, Owen.
I set my phone on the nightstand before it buzzes with another notification.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: Hey, Say?
