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)
This is the tenth email I’ve written you this week. I’ve yet to send one of these fuckers to you and I probably won’t send this one either.
-Ace
Unsent. Saved to drafts.
Friday, October 25th
Julia
“You want anything?” Drew asks, stretching as he stands and nodding toward the vending machines. “They’ve got those weird sour gummy worms you like.”
“Uh…” I pause, my distracted mind needing a minute to catch up with his words. “Only if they’re neon,” I murmur, still staring at my laptop screen.
“A woman of taste.” There’s a smile in his voice, but I don’t look up to see it. “Be right back.”
For the past hour, we’ve been camped out in one of the quieter corners of McKinley Library—laptops open and notebooks scattered between us. Drew’s been helping me study for our upcoming calc exam, and I’ve been pretending I’m not distracted. That my thoughts haven’t been drifting. That I haven’t checked Ace’s Instagram three times today.
It’s not who I am, and it’s embarrassing. Calculus is something that comes easy to me. All last year, in Calc 1, I didn’t have to study for a single exam. But this year, I don’t know, my focus is that of a squirrel trying to fight its way out of a tube sock.
But once Drew is gone, I glance up from my laptop and move my eyes toward the large window by our table that looks out over the quad. And out of all the people I spot moving across the sidewalk, I don’t expect to see Ace. It’s like the universe is playing tricks on me.
He’s walking fast across campus in his favorite black hoodie with his headphones on.
He’s heading somewhere.
Or maybe he’s heading to someone?
The thought slips in before I can stop it. Is it going to be a meet-up with her? The glitter girl from the Instagram photo?
My stomach twists, and before I even realize what I’m doing, my eyes are back on my laptop screen and my fingers are on the keyboard.
I open my school email inbox.
I click the button to start a new message.
To: ace.kelly@dickson.edu
Subject: Just So You Know
I almost texted you last night.
Actually, that’s a lie. I did text you. I typed out the whole thing. Twice. But I deleted it. Twice.
And sadly, that’s not the first time I’ve done that. I do it a lot.
I don’t know what we are anymore. Strangers? Enemies? A thing we can’t talk about?
Everyone keeps asking if we’re okay. Scottie asked. Kayla asked. My mom asked. Even Drew asked me last week if I still talk to you. I said no. And then I couldn’t breathe for an hour after.
You’re everywhere. You’re in my classes. You’re in the way your mom still texts me every day, trying to make sure that you’re not, like, in jail or on drugs, and I have to give some half-assed response back because I have no idea if you’ve told her what’s happened between us. You’re in the way my coffee order gets made because you used to pick it up for me without asking. You’re in the background of every laugh that doesn’t quite reach my chest anymore.
And maybe you don’t care. Maybe you’re out there living your best President-of-Double-C life and you have a new random girl who loves, I don’t know, stupid glitter eye shadow, and maybe you don’t miss me at all.
But just so you know…I miss you, and there’s a part of me—one that gets bigger every day—that wonders if I was too harsh on you when you told me you’re in love with me.
But it was all such a shock, Ace. You had been lying to me, keeping stuff from me, and then, you told me a bunch of insane things that you’d done. And for years, I guess, I was secretly waiting for you to come to that realization and want to be more than friends with me, but you didn’t come to that realization until I’d finally let myself lean into the idea of not always being the girl who is silently waiting around for you to want more.
But it’s all probably too late, huh? I’m with Drew. You’re with glitter girl. And our friendship doesn’t feel like a friendship at all. It feels like…nothing. Which is the most painful thing of all.
-Julia
Unsent. Saved to drafts.
Thursday, October 30th
Ace
I should’ve stayed in bed.
It’s what I keep thinking as I take a seat two rows behind Julia. It’s not like I haven’t spent the past month watching the back of her head and wondering what the hell she’s thinking—but today already feels worse. There’s something in the air. The professor is too chipper for a fucking English lesson. And I swear to God, Drewchebag is humming. Fucking humming.
I really hate that guy.
“Okay, everyone!” Professor Dudley claps his hands like we’re in kindergarten. “We’re doing something fun today!”