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Nearly four years of that feeling. It wears on a person.
My heart and head are both yelling at me, trying to be heard over the din. So, instead of making a decision on who’s right, I’ve just frozen.
Another text from Kira comes in on my phone.
Did you thank him?
I chew on my upper lip. I’ve thanked him for everything, of course. I’m not a monster. But it’s always been very, well, platonic. Something like. “Wow, thanks!” or “Drew, you shouldn’t have.”
Kira. Again.
You know he’d love to hear from you…
I mute our conversation and let out a sigh. She’s right. However, I don’t know what to say.
Tapping my phone in my hand, I pace back and forth. What would sufficiently communicate what I want to say? Hell, what do I evenwantto say?
I settle for something simple.They’re beautiful. I feel like I need to find a way to thank you.
Shit, that reminds me I still owe him a Christmas present. I’m a terrible friend.
Or whatever I am to Drew.
I pull up my phone and go to our text chain.
The last thing that was sent was a message from him, an article from Psychology Today accompanied by the “mind blown emoji”. I reacted to it with the exclamation points.
Because I couldn’t think of anything else.
I type out my message and hit send. I’ve got about twenty minutes before my next client and I need to take lunch. I grab the salad I packed from the minifridge and go to sit in my office.
My phone starts ringing before I can even sit down.
And I know exactly who it is.
“Hey, what’s up?” I answer as if I haven’t just texted him.
“You don’t have to thank me, Dana.”
My heart cracks. “Of course, I do, Drew.”
“Seriously, it’s not–”
“Drew, I’ve been a crappy friend, let me figure out something I can do in return.”
Drew goes silent for a second.
Maybe I was a little too harsh. “Sorry if that was curt. I haven’t been feeling myself lately and–”
“Look, I’m sorry. It’s been a bit much, hasn’t it?”
I collapse into my office chair and sigh. “Yes, but that’s a me problem, not a you problem.”
“I don’t want you to feel pressured to get me anything or do anything for me or–” Drew sighs. “I’ll stop.”
I don’t want him to stop. That’s the whole thing. What girl wouldn’t want flowers every week? I just don’t want them from my best friend. I want them from something more.
“I just want you back in my life, Dana. And if you’re not ready, I get it, but–”
