Ducking my head, I left the warmth of her bakery and pulled my jacket collar up around my neck as the springtime air cut through my clothes like a blade.
I shouldn’t have done that.
I shouldn’t have dumped my shit on her doorstep, hoping that she’d fix me somehow.
She didn’t owe me anything.
And if I made myself a problem, she’d have a reason to cut me free.
I was too selfish to give her that. I needed her too badly.
Regret was almostas cruel as the universe was.
As the day went on, the burning in my gut grew while I replayed both my interactions with Tanner and Goldie in my head on repeat. I was an idiot.
And I probably messed up any chance I had at finding real happiness because of it.
Again.
Goldie probably wouldn’t ever speak to me again.
But even as that thought circled my brain, a figure appeared in the dark parking lot of the fire station, walking across the pavement.
Goldie.
My sweet, golden angel.
Her arms were wrapped around herself, clinging to a hoodie with the graphic of a cat sleeping upside down with drool dripping from its lips.
It was so perfectly her.
She sat across from me at the picnic table I was hiding at, but she didn’t say anything right away. She just looked at me with that familiar warmth in her eyes that I had loved just yesterday.
Yet now, it felt like pity.
I stared at the trees past the fence, trying not to look back at her, trying not to let my throat close up.
If she showed up for me, then I had to at least try to help her understand how my brain worked.
She deserved that and so much more from me.
“I was seventeen.” I said finally, swallowing to wet my dry throat. “I met the first girl I ever really liked when I was still in high school.” I went on, and Goldie stayed quiet, giving me space to say the things that hurt. “She was beautiful. Soft-spoken, sweet through and through. There was a tenderness to her soul that made me feel like I always mattered.”
She laced her fingers together on the table between us, like she was stopping herself from reaching out and touching me as I told her my sordid tale.
“She had strict parents. They were very religious, our town was small, and their minds were even smaller. So, we were a secret, keeping our relationship hidden for years, hiding behind the facade of our girlie friendship instead of a budding romantic love.”
“Something happened.” Goldie whispered.
I nodded, “She got accepted into this art program in New York.” I admitted. “I remember the day she told me about it, and how my heart leaped in my chest, imagining all the ways we were finally going to be free of our secrets. I imagined moving with her to New York, starting fresh in an openly bisexual relationship. We were going to be so happy.”
“But that didn’t happen, did it?”
“No,” I shook my head, finally meeting her stare. “She told me that she couldn’t choose me for her future, no matter where she lived. Her goodbye to me was final. There was no someday, or even a maybe to it. It was just done.”
“Rhea,” She whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, but wait, there’s more.” I smirked sarcastically. “A month after she moved away, she changed her relationship status to ‘In a relationship’.” I scoffed bitterly, “To some jock she met from NYU. He looked like he was straight out of some preppy photoshoot with perfect hair and perfect teeth and a pedigree that would make her parents proud.”
