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Dylan
I’m holding my breath.
At least that’s what it’s felt like for the past two days. Hazel is still ignoring us, and my chest still has this sharp feeling that won’t go away.
I first felt it when she left but it went away as Andrew comforted me. Now, it’s back. With every text and phone call that goes unanswered, the sting gets a little sharper.
I hate what we did. It’s taken two painstaking days for me to see how wrong the Bang Book is. How could we not see it? Did we really think no one would get hurt by that? The same way we thought that continuing a relationship with a coworker wouldn’t get messy? How could we be so truly blinded by our own bullshit?
Hazel is so much more than any stupid game, or number. She’s warmer than sunshine and hotter than fire, but she’s not afraid to freeze. The longer she ices us out, the more I realize… We have fucked this up to the point of losing her.
There it is again. The sharp pain in my chest.
What would my life even look like without her? There is no way things could go back to the way they were before. This whole thing has changed everything. It’s changed Andrew, it’s changed my relationship with him, it’s even changed me.
I find the closest pillow on my bed and shove my face into it.
“Goddamnit!”
My eyes are closed so tightly, a crowbar couldn’t open them. Images of Hazel's tears rip through my mind along with her perfect features, knitted up in the middle, taking her freckles with them. The way her lip quivered plays on loop in my brain while the specks of yellow that were magnified by her tears, live rent-free in my head.
The hurt I can see on her face is one thing, but the disbelief is another. I remember her looking between Andrew and I like she didn’t even know us… like she was waiting for us to burst out in laughter and tell her it was all just a silly prank.
It was like each minute that passed, and she realized it wasn’t a joke- that the Bang Book was real, and her name was in it- was another knife in her gut.
I just want to know if she’s okay, but she won’t speak to me. In fact, I want to text her right now and say,‘What happened to communication, Hazel?’
I mean, she’s the one who wanted us to be open and honest, and now she won’t even hear what we have to say? I know my anger is shitty and toxic and just plain petty. But the thing is, I’m not angry at her- I’m angry at myself.
I breathe into the pocket of air my face is making in my pillow. All I can hear are the sounds of my breath entering and exiting my body.
Hazel has every right to be upset, not me. I feel like I have no self-control anymore.
My emotions can sprint from fear and anger to sadness and disappointment in minutes. Maybe I wouldn’t feel this way if the other night hadn’t been so perfect.
At least then I could tell myself it was just sex. There wasn’t really anything there. I’d at least have that delusion for some time.
I’m so scared this is going to be the death of the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
The buzz of my phone makes my heart leap out of my chest, but the disappointment hits me like a boulder. It isn’t her.
“Hello? Andrew?”
“Hey Dylan.”
“What’s up? Have you heard anything?”
“No, I haven’t. Have you?”
A pause falls between us as I let a light, resigned chuckle slide out my mouth.
“No…”
How do I word this without being rude?
“Um… what can I do for you?” I ask.
Andrew clears his throat on the other end of the line. He’s nervous, and I can tell, but why?
