Eli
I’ve triedto call Emma twice now. She hasn’t answered either time. I’ve left a voicemail too.
Okay, before you think I’m completely pussy-whipped, I’ll just say, hell yes, I am. I was away from school, my house, and her for two weeks. Now, I’m just stuck at home. Sure, I got to see her for a few hours today, but it’s not the same has having her nearby. Hell, just sitting on the sofa, watching TV would be enough for me. I’ll opt for the next best thing––hearing her sweet voice.
Since it’s late, very late, I don’t feel like calling is the right thing to do. A text message will have to do.
Me: Hey, babe. I’ve been trying to call. Miss you.
See? Pussy-whipped.
I stare at the screen of my phone watching for those three little vibrating dots to appear. You know the ones that tell me she’s writing back. I glance at the clock on the screen. 1:37 a.m. That’s not late for a student. Not for me but maybe it is for her. I stare for several more minutes but give up.
I’ll take a shower and grab something to eat before I crawl into bed. Maybe by then, she’ll have sent me a response.
By the time I get back to my room, I see my phone is glowing. Grabbing it up, I flop back on my bed, ready to talk to my girl. But the second I read the screen, a feeling of hurt so deep strikes me to the core.
Emma:Thank you so much for tonight. I’ve never felt such passion. Your touch burned my skin. I can’t wait to see you again. Just name the time and the place.
I stare at the screen, doing my best to process what I’m reading. “Thank you so much for tonight?” I guess I enjoy torturing myself because reading it silently isn’t enough for me. I need to hear the words too.Your touch burned my skin.
“Fuck.” I read on: “I can’t wait to see you again.”
This can’t be right.
This has to be a mistake.
Emma wouldn’t cheat on me.
Would she?
I stare at the screen again. Reread it a third time.
And then it hits me.
I don’t really know Emma. Not well.
I only thought I knew her.
But this message says everything I need to know.
She’s not the girl I thought she was.
I thought she wasmygirl.
Apparently… she’s someone else’s.
* * *
“Fuck, Bax.”Cody sounds angry. “You’ve got to get over that girl. Get back on the fucking horse.” He chuckles. “I mean that. Thefuckinghorse. The best way to get over a girl is to get under another one.”
He thinks he’s so funny.
“It’s been two fucking weeks and all you’ve done is mope. You’ve been back on the ice for a week and your game is pathetic. Coach is going to bench you, which means your dad is going to lose his shit.”
He’s right. About everything. It was two weeks ago today that Emma sent me that text. Well, she sent it to me on accident. I know because a few minutes after that one came, another one appeared.
Emma:Golly, Eli. I didn’t mean to send that to you.
