Just because things aren’t right now doesn't mean that they will be hard forever.
20
BECKETT
JULY 5TH. THURSDAY.
Ishould go in today. But I don’t want to. I don’t want her to feel abandoned any more than she already does.
I call in and let them know to reach out if anything happens. I want to be with her.
My chest is all tied up with knots. I wish it were guilt over what we’re doing. Over how I was betraying my best friend in probably one of the worst ways you can.
I feel awful because the look on her face yesterday killed me. Watching her sit in the corner by herself while everyone else conversed. Watching all the happiness be ripped away from her, the moment Lottie made the one comment made to Sloane, about herself.
My chest ached; all I wanted to do was pull her into my arms and hold her tight and keep her safe.
It’s what I should’ve done.She deserves someone who will love her out in the open. Not just behind closed doors.
I want to be that person for her. I have no idea what we’re even doing.She leaves in September, and then what? We just pretend like this never happened?
I’m scared. I’m falling for this girl, and I don’t know what to do.She leaves, and I’m just supposed to go back to normal? Just supposed to look at Briar like I haven’t been doing things with his daughter behind his back for weeks?
I can’t risk compromising the only steady relationship I have over awhat-if.He’s been my friend for most of my life, never once wavering from my side, no matter what life decided to throw in our direction.
But watching her implode last night.
Listening to her cry after we went to bed when she thought that I’d fallen asleep.
That in itself was almost enough to sayfuck it.
We lie in my bed as I watch her sleep. The soft morning sun coming in through the windows lights up her features. Her hair draped over my pillows, her face buried into my chest, the little dusting of freckles on her cheeks even more prominent in the morning light. I brush my finger over them softly, counting every one of them. She’s so perfect, and I have no idea why she’d ever want someone like me.
When she wakes up, her eyes are a little puffy and bloodshot, but for her sake, I pretend not to notice.
“Good morning,” I whisper into her hair, and I feel her whole body relax as she lets out a sigh.
“Morning,” she replies.Mocha lets out a littlewooffrom his spot on the edge of the bed.
“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” I whisper. She nods, snuggling back into the blanket as I take Mocha outside to use the bathroom.
I watch him run around the backyard through the kitchen window while I make her some breakfast.
Hopefully, as a start to make up for yesterday.
I toast her favorite gluten-free bagels and top them with a thick layer of cream cheese. I slice some avocados, layer them on the cream cheese, and squeeze just a little bit of lemon on top.
By the time breakfast is almost ready, Mocha scratches on the door, and I let him in. He runs to the laundry room, and I hear him aggressively slurping up as much water as he can. And a few seconds later, he’s chomping on his food.
I would make Sloane a matcha. I know how she likes it, with vanilla, a little honey, and some cinnamon, but I have no idea where to even start with measurements. So I pour some coffee into a mug, put some sugar into it and some cream, and decide it’ll have to do.
“Here you go,” I say, coming back into the room. She’s curled up in the fetal position, and she looks like she’s in pain.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, setting the food and drinks down, kneeling down next to the bed.
“Period cramps,” she whimpers.
“Oh…” I trail off. I’d never had to deal with that before.
