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I'm so tired of being nice Gigi, who goes along with shit she doesn't always agree with because I was scared if people looked too closely, they would unfairly judge me so I skirted any and all drama. I think I used my friends as a crutch for a long time because I found comfort in them when I couldn't find comfort at home. Now that my home life isn't consuming my every waking moment and filling my head with dread, I can see things clearly, and I know that I am being used as well.
I was the spare wheel, the single girl to tag along with Ashton and TJ to parties because who doesn't want single chicks showing up at parties? While I didn't have much, I had a car to get me from point A to point B, and Ashton didn't, so I was her ride. Even Bryce uses me, he's always wanted to be more than just friends, but he knew I didn't want that. So, what does he do? He goes and becomes everything I want and need exactly when I need it in hopes that he'll wear me down and I'll eventually see him as more.
Anymore I'm starting to feel like I'm better off alone. I can't be used when I'm alone, and I don't use others. I don't want to hurt anyone, and as much as it kills me to admit it, I know I'm using Mason. I meant it when I told him I would give him everything I had. The only problem is I don't know how to fix my heart, and I don't think it was made for love.
There’s only one conclusion I can draw from all this, and it’s that I need to let go of all the chains I’ve put on myself. I’ve drawn myself into a box because of the way I was raised, but I’m an adult now. I can be who I want to be, and fuck whoever doesn’t like it.
Everyone blazes their own trail, I can still have everything I want, the job, the education, the freedom. I just need to embrace the pace of my own journey. There’s no record of right or wrong here that says I must check ‘x’ number of boxes by said time. The only way forward is to choose me, and that’s exactly what I plan to do.
It's11:15amMondaymorning, and I'm walking out to my car to meet Bryce. While I can't escape the prying eyes that hide behind the windows that run the entire length of the Reds building, I've learned to park in the back of the lot. This way, I'm at least not giving everyone a front-row seat every time I sit in my car or meet a friend for lunch.
Spring in Missouri is hard to dress for. The mornings are freezing, and in the afternoons, the heat picks up quickly. I wore black slacks with cute tan crisscross espadrille wedges and a white V-neck sweater. I'm pretty sure I tossed a flowy white poet shirt in the car this morning just in case I got too hot. Sure enough, when I get to my car, I see the white blouse laid out on the back seat. Thank God I had the foresight to bring it or I'd be melting.
I'm wearing a white camisole underneath, so I’m just pulling my sweater off when I hear a guy whistle, followed by "looking good." Turning around, I notice Bryce walking up. I throw my sweater in his face.
"Ha-ha, very funny. Did you drive the truck? I didn't notice it when I walked out." Bryce chucks my sweater into my car as I open my rear door to grab my extra shirt.
"No, Chica, I rode my bike. I parked right over there." He motions to the aisle right behind me, and sure enough, there's his bike parked in the shade of the dogwood tree.
I go to put on my new shirt, but he goes in for a hug before I can. It's not meant to be sensual, but he holds me for a beat before releasing me and sitting on the trunk of my car. Pulling my shirt on, I walk around the back of my car and meet him.
"So, what's up? Are you here to give me the I'm a terrible friend speech?"
He shakes his head and smiles. "You already know I don't think you're a terrible friend. But, no, I just came by to say goodbye. I didn't like how we left things on Saturday night after everything. I wanted to see you before I took off."
He shrugs and then hops off the car. I nod and wait to see if he's planning to elaborate on anything else because I feel like I'm reading this entire discussion wrong. Not to mention he's the one that called this pow-wow.
"I just want you to know that leaving you will be hard for me. You're actually one of the reasons I'm going."
I let that sink in for a minute. Did he just hit me with a double negative? I'm the reason he's leaving, that’s news to me. I pull in a deep breath before looking up to find him watching me, ensuring that he doesn't miss a moment of my reaction to his words. I start, "Bry—"
"Before you say anything, I don't want you to think I came here expecting anything because I don't. I've known from the beginning that you don't see me as anything more than one of your best friends. The problem is I've always wanted more, and I think you know that."
I swallow hard, not sure what to say. Is he mad at me right now? He glances over my shoulder and steels his spine before looking back at me. I quickly look back to see what caused the change in his posture, and that's when I see August standing right outside the front doors.
Of course, I don't see his ass all morning, and then he decides to show up right as I'm in the middle of an important conversation with Bryce.
I turn back to him and say, "Just ignore him." To which he replies, "I planned on it." Then, clearing his throat, he continues. "I don't think I can move on from my crush unless I leave. If I stay, then I hold on to hope that things between us will change in my favor, but seeing as how it's been four long years, I need to get a grip and extinguish that hope. This is my way of doing that."
He runs a hand through his shaggy brown hair before putting both hands in his pockets. The thing is I understand all too well about holding on to hope. I’ve done it for years with Mason, but I never had the luxury of running away. Glancing behind me I make sure August hasn't moved. He's now leaning against the wall, glaring daggers at me. Screw him. If anyone should be angry, it should be me. I turn my attention back to Bryce.
"Bryce, I've honestly wished I could catch feelings for you because it would have made things a lot easier. I'm sorry I've caused you pain. It has never been my intent." He shakes it off.
"Gigi, you know you've never caused me pain. Crushing on you was one of my favorite past times, but it is time to move on. Of course, I still expect you to come to Florida once we get settled." I shake my head and laugh. "Yeah, I'm sure Aiden would just love that!" He chuckles. "He's not mad at you in case you were wondering. He hasn't really said much about what happened, just shrugs it off, but he doesn't blame you."
"Well, I guess that's good to know."
He shrugs and then steps forward to pull me into a bear hug, where he picks me up a spins me around just like he used to do in the hallways at school. He sets me down just as we notice August walking in our direction. Bryce calls out, "I know fucker, I'm leaving." Then he kisses me on the head and says, "I'll call you when I get there." And just like that, he's walking to his bike and taking off.
I'm watching Bryce drive off on his motorcycle, and for some reason, I'm happy. While I'm sad to see my friend go, it feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. His leaving means that I have one less person in my life to let down. But he’s also one of the last people I have here supporting me. Before I can put any more thought into my feelings about Bryce leaving, I'm reminded that I'm not alone. August bursts my moment of reflection. "We need to talk and not here in the parking lot."
I turn around and simply stare at August with a look that I hope shows my annoyance with him.
“August, we have absolutely nothing to talk about. You can go to hell.” I practically spit the last part. He puts his tongue in his cheek before pressing his lips together and saying, "You get off at 4 o'clock today?" So that’s how it’s going to be. He’s just going to act like I didn’t just tell him to fuck off.
Of course, I'm no longer glaring at him. In typical “Gianna sees August” fashion I’ve thrown all my good sense out the window, and now I'm drinking him in from the bottom up. He's wearing brown wingtips, light khaki pants that slightly stretch across his thick muscular thighs, with a dark green polo button-down rolled up to the elbows that make his hazel eyes pop. Meeting his gaze, he narrows his eyes at me as if to say, "are you seriously checking me out?"
"Gianna, I'm going to need you to act like an adult today. I know the concept is new for you, but I need your words." I scowl at him. How dare he interrupt my lunch hour once again just to hurl insults at me.
