Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
But now, I’m the ghost of a guy who thought he had a shot. I see her across rooms, in hallways, sitting in class—right fucking there—and it’s as if my body doesn’t know what to do with itself. As if some part of me still thinks I get to walk over and make her laugh.
And then I remember I don’t.
I unlock my phone and open a new note. My fingers hesitate over the keyboard, like they know I’m about to say shit I’ll never have the balls to send.
But I start typing anyway.
I know this is dumb and you probably don’t give a shit, but I was tagged in a picture on IG last night that doesn’t sit right with me. If you saw that picture, it’d make you think I’m doing okay. Which is a fucking lie.
I don’t even know the girl’s name. She asked for a photo and I said yes because it was easier than saying no. She kissed my cheek right as the flash went off. I don’t know if you saw it, but I feel fucking guilty that it even happened.
I feel like I cheated on you or some shit which is fucking stupid, I know, because you probably don’t care and you’ve moved on with Drewbacca. But I can’t change the fact that even though you don’t want to be mine, I still feel like I’m yours.
Fuck, I hate that I look okay in that stupid fucking picture.
I’m not okay, Julia. I’m fucking miserable without you.
I meant what I said, Julia. I meant all of it.
I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU.
I know I should stop thinking about you.
I know I should stop hoping.
But if you knocked on my door right now? I wouldn’t ask a single question.
I’d let you in. And I’d pull you into my arms.
God, I miss us.
I miss you.
But again, you probably don’t care about any of this shit and that’s probably why I shouldn’t bother sending it to you.
I stare at it for way too long. The screen dims, and I tap it back on. I even copy and paste the fucker into my text chat with Julia. My thumb hovers over the send button like I’m going to push it.
But I don’t.
Instead, I select all and hit delete.
And poof. The words are gone.
I flip my phone over, screen down, and press the heels of my hands into my eyes.
I miss her so fucking much, it’s physically painful.
But I guess that’s the price of loving someone who doesn’t love you back.
Friday, October 17th
Ace
To: julia.brooks@dickson.edu
Subject: SOS
One month and four days, Jules.
That’s how long it’s been since I told you I’m in love with you. Since we kissed. Since you chose someone else over me.
I still sit behind you in class. I still know the way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re thinking really hard about something. I still catch myself waiting for you to turn around and smile at me like none of this ever happened.
But you don’t. You never do.
It all feels like a really horrible fucking nightmare that I can’t wake up from.
Every fucking day, I want to call you, text you, talk to you, share something stupid about my day with you. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve even reached for my phone before I remember this shitty reality where we’re not talking at all.
Hell, I talk to your mom more than you. I still get her nearly daily check-in text messages. And now I have to respond with some vague shit because I don’t know what you’ve told your mom and we’re basically strangers, even though our families have been best friends for our entire fucking lives. I’ve even talked to Evie more than I’ve talked to you. Yes, fucking Evie texts me more than you. I helped her arrange some lawsuit over Kline’s dick pics. My dad and your dad are friends again. The Crocky rift has been officially laid to rest, you know, just in time for our friendship to fucking implode into smithereens.
But you laugh with Drew now. You kiss him goodbye in front of our building like I’m not standing twenty feet away pretending to talk to Blake or Finn on the phone so I don’t have to look like a complete idiot.
And maybe I am an idiot.
Because despite all of it, I still check my phone like you might text. Like maybe you’ll remember how we used to talk about anything and everything and spend hours doing absolutely nothing together and still call it the best part of our day.
We were best fucking friends, Lia.
BEST FUCKING FRIENDS. OUR WHOLE LIVES.
Fuck, the silence is so loud.
And I guess I get it. I mean, I crossed a line, right? I broke the rules.
I fell in love with you.
I just wish I knew if there was ever a second, just one fucking second, when you felt the same way.