covehasem.blogg.se

It’s comforting knowing that we don’t really have to talk to understand each other. There’s a soft silence that exists between us then. I’m sorry, Wren, but I can’t let you go.” But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you go. “You want realism? It’s going to be difficult. And I literally don’t care how far we are from each other-if there’s trust then everything will work out.” And he must notice, because he smiles bitterly. The thought of being with anyone other than him makes my stomach churn. “Are you saying that you’re going to find someone new in college?” I thought you knew that this would happen.” His voice turns wary. “I don’t understand how that’s a problem. He furrows his brows, clear-cut confusion dousing his features. “There’s no chance of us getting into the same university,” I say, dumbly. His face falls, and my chest aches when his anger is replaced by genuine surprise. “Forget you? Do you really think it’s that easy?” I want to tell him that what happened that night changed me so much that I don’t know who I am anymore. My sister was in the car when it happened. When I was sixteen my dad died in a car crash, I want to tell him. He looks like he wants to burst, but he takes a deep breath, and that steely calm from before returns. “About me.”įor a second he just stares at me, incredulity painted all over his face.

“You were supposed to forget about it,” I say quietly.

“Tell me, Wren, what else was I supposed to do?” What else was I supposed to do?” His voice breaks. I’ve been trying to give you space, and then I thought Fuck it. Then, frustrated, he runs his hand through his hair again, messing it up further. “Where were you?” He rips his hand away from my face like it pains him. “What exactly,” he says, steely calm, “is going on, Martin?” It’s dark circles and puffy eyes and desperation. His hand reaches for the side of my face as he tips my chin up with his thumb, peering down at me. ” I trail off as he frowns and edges closer to me. But it would all be one big, festering lie. Mine probably look the same, if not worse.įor a second, I freeze in the hallway. And I notice the dark shadows under his eyes. My eyes tear up before I can control anything, but I stay quiet, waiting for him to say something.

Staring at him, guilt clogs up my throat. He’s right here, in front of me, now, and I want to cry. And when my mom calls me downstairs, I don’t think much of it either.īecause Reed is standing on my porch. So, when my phone lights up with his face once again, I don’t think much of it. For some reason, I haven’t changed the lock screen, so every time my phone lights up with his face, my chest twists painfully.Įvery single time I find myself smiling at the sight of his face, and every single time my eyes tear up when I realize that I tore it all up. A few days ago, he’d stolen my phone and made his face my wallpaper. I leave my phone on silent, because Asher has been calling incessantly. When I’m not studying, I read, but I can’t make it past a page without reading the same sentence over and over. Mom’s worried, but she can’t force me to do anything other than eat a few bites, but nothing tastes like anything. I don’t go to school for the next three days. As I ruin one of the best things that’s ever happened to me, my vision is so blurry I can’t even read what I’ve typed, but I’m forced to blindly trust my autocorrect. I’m crying now, choking back sobs, and before I can stop myself, I’m typing out a message. We’re not going to the same college, and this is just some stupid high school thing. How long until those differences finally catch up with us? And maybe the starkest realization: we’re short lived. All over the place.Īnd suddenly I’m panicking, and all the reasons we shouldn’t be together, all the reasons we’d never work, come soaring in: I’m too boring. And then I realize how not ready for this relationship I really am.