As I reach for the Styrofoam box, a thick piece of paper tickles my fingers.
A note.
Win.
Like a brick smacking my skull, I remember the doorbell video and swipe my phone screen open, staring down the icon. Denial has worn off. Desperation flutters like fragile wings in my chest as anxieties crowd my mind.
Holding my breath, I start the video.
Tingles erupt, spreading from my scalp to my toes as a fallen angel crests the landing and walks towards my apartment. Each step closer brings clarity to the tiny details. His raven hair is damp like he just showered. He’s wearing black socks and slides. Tattoos peek through his white ribbed tank top, his sweats riding low on his hips. Concern and something heavier weigh down his shoulders as he sets the bag on my welcome mat.
Grey eyes stare directly at me through the lens.
“I’m sorry it’s taken me all day to get here but I… I had to go to a meeting after last night and the closest one was in Cape Cannon, but it wasn’t enough so I made an emergency call to my therapist from Crestview—” He cuts himself off with a scoff and shakes his head. His outline blurs from my tears. “Anyway, I decided something.” He clears his throat, dropping his head back and blinking rapidly. “I’m going to back off. Not because I want to— fuck, I want to be near you always, but what I want with you doesn’t come from forced acceptance. So I'm giving you the choice.”
Then he leaves. Tears roll freely down my cheeks as I carefully withdraw the note.
Sunshine,
My number hasn't changed.
I’m falling apart. I memorized those nine digits scrawled in his messy handwriting years ago and never forgot them. Crumbling to the tile, I recreate his contact and without hesitation, type out a message.
Neither has mine.
21
Win
You skipped class.
Idon’t really blame him for holing up in his apartment— it’s hot as fuck today. Even with the AC on full blast, I’m sweating through my shirt. It doesn’t help that I'm wearing black either. I put the Rover in park and push my hair out of my face as my phone dings.
Remy: Calm down creeper. A friend sent me the slides.
My jaw clenches, thumbs flying over the screen.
What friend? Better not have been Twinkle Tooth.
Who the fuck is Twinkle Tooth? You mean Henry?
I’ll drown him in coffee if he talks to you again.
You’re certifiable.
So it was him?
No, you psycho. And you do realize I’ve been with more women than men, right?
Who is she?
You’re annoying.
That’s not an answer.
I’m gonna turn my phone off if you don’t stop.
Is it this girl? *screenshot*
