“You’ve been through hell—remember who you are, Jainey. You’re one of the baddest chicks I know—plus you’re a great person with a big heart. And someday, a fine ass man—not some little boy—will actually deserve you.”
“I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you,” I admit. “I’m still trying to figure out my next move.”
She snorts, rolling her eyes at me. “What do you mean? GIRL, you’re breaking up with his ass. I don’t know how you’re gonna do it, but either way, he’s getting kicked to the curb.”
“Yeah. You’re right.” I say—and for the first time, I actually mean it.
“Good. Now hurry up, because I need a wingman.” She flashes that grin I can’t resist.
“You mean wing-woman,” I correct, laughing, wiping my tears with the back of my hand.
“Yes, bitch. Wing-woman. Now get your life together so we can go fuck some shit up.” She walks off, already plotting.
God, I love her. I don’t even want to imagine what my life would be like if I didn’t have a friend like her.
Chapter Sixteen
Over It
T
he next few dayssmear together, one long loop I can’t break. I clean like it’s the only thing holding me together—counters gleaming, the garage reorganized, again. I’m scrubbing so much I swear I can taste bleach in my mouth—and trust me, it does not taste good.
And the second I stop, I’m firing off job applications in bulk.
Most of them I don’t want. I just need something that proves my whole life isn’t falling apart.
Arina tries to drag me out every day, and every day I tell her no. I’m not built for outside right now. Not until I end things with Jacob. And honestly the thought of pretending I’m okay in public makes my skin crawl.
I need closure first… or at least whatever version of closure doesn’t completely destroy me.
Every night I crash into bed, tired in my bones but unable to stop checking my phone, hoping for something real—some sign he still cares. But it never shows up. Instead, the screen stays dark, mocking me for waiting on a boy who’s damn near already gone.
I tell myself I won’t look tomorrow, that I’m done giving him the power to hurt me. But every night, my stupid heart still reaches for a version of him that doesn’t exist anymore.
It’s Saturday evening, and I hear the hum of his car pulling into the driveway. My lunch shoots up my throat, I’m two seconds away from throwing up.
Amazing how a California roll can taste like heaven going down and straight-up betrayal on the way back up.
Some days we don’t talk, and when we do, it’s not even a real conversation—so when he knocks, I almost don’t answer. I want to leave his ass standing out there, let him feel even a piece of the emptiness he’s been putting me through.
But my body betrays me.
My legs carry me to the door, my chest flutters like I’m excited—though I know this is the day I have to let him go.
I can’t keep living in this cycle. It’s only been a couple weeks, but feeling like this is already too much for me. He’s cheating, sneaking around and lying to my face like my feelings are optional. And then he has the nerve to drift away, acting like he’s not the one who blew everything up.
Loving someone who gives the best parts of themselves to someone else is a special king of hell—one I can’t survive.
The boy who once felt like home, is standing on my porch with that half-smile that used to calm me.
But it doesn’t work this time.
I see the bags under his brown eyes, the faint smell of weed clinging to him, laced with someone’s perfume hethinks I probably don’t notice. The word chill is stamped across his grey tee, paired with black shorts, and his blue-and-white Dunks.
Inside, I curl myself up on one end of the couch, needing the distance to try to breathe properly. He sprawls out across the other end, casual, not knowing this is a funeral for us. The silence sits between us, heavy as concrete. He scrolls his phone a couple times before stuffing it in his pocket.
Finally, he broke the silence. “So… what’s up Jaine? You’ve been distant this week.”
