“I’m not fighting anything. Being around Hayes is just so… Intense. He acts like just yesterday we were still best friends, and the last 11 years never happened. Like he’s waited for me all this time…” I shake my head in disbelief.
“What if he has?”
“I can’t believe that.”
“Why not? You said yourself that you would have waited for him.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Was it?”
Kate squeals, and I look at her, avoiding Thea’s knowing gaze. “It doesn’t matter. He stole my choice from me all those years ago. He changed my life, and I had no say in it. How am I supposed to get over that?”
“Is your life so horrible?”
“Of course it isn’t.”
“Then how do you know he wasn’t right? Do you think it was easy for him to accept that you were better off without him?”
“Why are you taking his side?”
“I’m not. I’m on your side, and I think your stubbornness is only punishing both of you.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I see the way you light up with him. I’ve never seen you like that with a man, not even Elliot.”
“Yeah, Elliot was a sick joke.”
“No, Elliot was a safe bet. Or, so you thought.” She sighs. “You didn’t have to unthaw your entire heart for him because you weren’t in love with him.”
“I loved him.”
“But you weren’t madly in love.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“You’re in love with Hayes.”
I hang my head in my hands. “It’s not that easy.”
“It can be. He’s made it pretty clear where he stands, but he’s waiting for you, and he doesn’t get to make the choice this time.”
He doesn’t get to make the choice this time.
Hours after Thea and Kate leave, I pull his dress shirt from under my pillow, the one he left behind last week, and I bury my face in it like I have every night.
I slide my arms through the sleeves, draping it over my satin pajama set, and stare at my reflection in the mirror. The fabric of his shirt touches my skin, and tears well in my eyes because I’m craving his touch so desperately.
Memories of this same feeling haunt me. I drop to myknees, digging out my suitcase from under my bed. There’s only one thing inside when I open it.
A faded gray hoodie. More illegible than the day I received it because of the nights I cried myself to sleep in it.
The months that it went unwashed.
The panic attacks it endured.
I caress the rough fabric, remembering all the bad that it’s seen.
