Oh.
It’s fine. It’s perfectly fine.
At least, that’s what I repeat to myself as I reply to my mother’s text.
It’s fine, he’s just… busy. That’s all.
But still, my stomach sours, every drop of excitement I’d been feeling minutes before dissipating.
Ikeep myself busy for the rest of the evening, making myself some dinner in hopes that the process of chopping vegetables and boiling water for my pasta, will keep both my brain and my hands busy.
It doesn’t work.
I eat dinner alone while watching some reality TV, something that doesn’t usually bother me, but tonight only increases the loneliness I’m feeling and then I head to bed.
Sliding beneath the covers, I close my eyes, hoping sleep will catch a hold of me quickly so I can start a fresh tomorrow, but instead I toss and turn. My phone, now lying on my bedside cabinet, taunts me with its lack of notifications.
It hurts to even think it, but maybe, just maybe, this morning didn’t mean nearly as much to him as it did to me.
I pull the bedcovers up to my chin. Just like the collar of my fluffy robe, they still smell like him; the deodorant he wears and something citrusy.
Everywhere I look, everything I touch, he’s permeated with his presence. The unused pillow beside me still bares the dent of his head, the empty coffee cup he’d sipped from hours ago still sits on my table, the extra set of plates and cutlery I stacked in the dishwasher this morning after he made us breakfast…
Unable to take the silence surrounding me any longer, I jab my finger into the power button of my TV remote, flicking through the channels until I find a familiar American sit-com. I close my eyes as the laugher reel washes over me, fighting back the urge to check my phoneone last time.
With a huff, I turn my back on the tiny, but scarily mighty, mobile device, forcing my breath into a meditative state, untilfinally, I drift off.
Isleep fitfully, my mind and body in states of disarray. By the time I’ve had enough of tossing, turning, and watching the timestamp on my phone jump from midnight, to 3 a.m. and then 4:02 a.m., I finally decide to just start my day with the birds.
Even though I know deep down what I’ll find, I still fall into the trap of swiping up and down the empty notification panel on my mobile.
Not a single notification from Hudson graces my screen.
I want to fucking scream.
With rage, with frustration, with disappointment; both at myself and at Hudson.
Swallowing past the lump building in my throat, I reread the text message I sent him last night. The knot in my stomach grows unbelievably even tighter as my eyes dip down, noticing four bold letters –READ– sitting beneath my message.
I can’t believe I believed him; I can’t believe I fell for his pretty words and his promises and I—
A fresh cup of coffee in hand, I slump into my sofa cushions, biting back the tears threating to spill over.
Using my thumb, I wipe away the steam building on my gold ring from the heat of my mug. A distorted version of my face peers back, face pale, eyes red.
I let Hudson take part of my body, for fucks sakes.
God, I feel sick.
I never meant for this to happen, but I allowed him in, allowed him in to see a hidden part of me, and this… this is his repayment.
I should have known; once a heartless playboy, always a playboy. I stupidly thought last night meant something to him, but apparently not.
I’ve let myself get caught up in his web and now I’m the one paying the consequences because I’ve developed feelings for the man.
Sipping my much too hot coffee, I click through a few social media apps simply on autopilot. I know I shouldn’t, I should do something proactive for my mind and body instead – yoga, breathwork, maybe even get a head start on a spring clean – but it’s too tempting, too easy to scroll through without much thought.
For a moment, it numbs the jumbled-up bag of emotions I’m feeling. I can get lost in someone else’s world, in someone else’s seemingly perfect aesthetic life.
