I should be used to being abandoned by now, whether by choice or circumstances outside of anyone’s control.
I should be used to being alone.
Was that really something anyone could get used to, though?
I’d gotten used to the discomfort of it, that was for sure.
I lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling after hanging up with my grandma, telling myself I should get up and go to class and not doing it.
When my phone buzzed again at some point, I thought maybe it was my grandma calling me back for some reason.
But it wasn’t her.
It was Dakota.
My heart started pounding as I unlocked the screen, and when I saw the message I felt like I’d just been dropped off a cliff.
Dakota:
Stop bothering me.
I reread the words over and over again, trying to make them make sense or hoping that they’d change, that they weren’t what I thought they were, that I was just projecting my own insecurities onto the screen and was imagining it all.
But I wasn’t imagining it. They were there. They weren’t changing, and the ugliest feeling snaked through me.
Was this a joke?
He was joking, right? He was fucking with me? Or had he been fucking with me the entire time and I’d fallen for it? For all of it?
Had Everett not been lying?
No, this wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening. Everett had to be lying. It wasn’t true.
My hands were shaking as I typed a message back. I’d finally heard from him after two days of radio silence, and I wished I’d never heard from him at all. His silence was better than those words. I’d rather stay in that void of uncertainty than this black hole of incredulous disappointment and gut-wrenching anguish.
Me:
What? That’s not funny, Dakota, I’ve been worried out of my mind!! Where are you???
I replayed the last time I’d seen him in my mind, his smile, the softness in his eyes, the fondness in his voice. He’d told me I was precious. He’d come undone beneath me and held me so tight, like he was afraid I’d float away if he didn’t.
How could that be a lie? How could I have misread this so badly? Was I that desperate to be noticed? To be the object of someone’s affection and attention? Was I that fucking foolish?
I thought of my dad in that moment. Because yes, I was that foolish. I was that desperate to be noticed. People never ended up being who you thought they were, no matter how much you believed you knew them. No matter how much you loved them. It was all a fucking illusion, and the truth was always veiled in a tempting lie.
A hum of agitated energy buzzed beneath my skin, so I paced the room to try and get rid of it. His neat books lined up so perfectly on his desk caught my attention, and right when I was about to go grab them and throw them across the room, my phone buzzed again.
And like the desperate fool I was, I ran to read his message, still hoping he’d tell me this was just a cruel joke.
Dakota:
I’m actually not joking. It’s really creepy.
I was having trouble breathing, every breath too shallow, my heart not moving fast enough to get sufficient oxygen into my blood.
This couldn’t be him. Someone had taken his phone and was messaging me. This couldn’t be Dakota. He’d never spoken to me like this. The Dakota I knew would never say these things to me.
But who the hell would have his phone? Who would say these things? Everett, maybe, but how would he have gotten Dakota’s phone?
