Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
My sobs only increase when he doesn’t protest, and I nod at his silence, seeing only a blur through my waterlogged eyes.
“If… if that’s what you want,” his voice shakes when he finally speaks.
“It’s not.” I bite my lip to stop the quivering. “But this is too hard,” I pause.
“You were right and I lied when I said I don’t expect us to be more than we are. I mean, I know it’s not like you’re going to take me to prom or anything, but… I dunno… I guess I did turn into that delusional girl who wants to find any way we can to possibly make this work for real.”
I love you.
I don’t say it.
“Luci,” his voice is soft and suffering.
“Shit, Josh,” I heave. “You know, I didn’t even apply to college?”
He starts to speak, but nothing comes out, just unintelligible sounds. He reaches out to wipe away my tears, but I back away before he can.
“I didn’t apply anywhere because I want to stay here, with you,” I confess. “I don’t want to ever let go.”
I swallow hard, spitting out my harsh honesty.
“I’ve been picturing how I was going to tell you that - that I want to stay here and be with you, and I could never see it. In my mind it went without saying, and that’s when I realized I was too far gone. Because, stupid me, there was no reason for me to say it, because I never thought we were going to end. We were a given.”
“Luc-”
“I know how ridiculous that sounds,” I whisper. “I thought we were so in tune to one another too,” I shake my head. “I don’t understand how I could’ve gotten this so wrong.”
He’s about to speak, but I can’t stop my rant, my mouth just vomiting the words.
“I know I’m the one who kept pushing us,” I point to myself. “I’m the one who wanted to go out for Valentine’s Day,” I finally meet his eyes. “You’ve made it perfectly clear you don’t want to see me over breaks, or weekends, or outside of these walls. You told me how this was going to be, and I was only kidding myself when I didn’t listen,” I sigh. “You should know I don’t blame you.”
This was just about the sex to him.
The thought pops into my head, but it suddenly makes sense.
The sex.
Of course it was the sex! That’s what 99% of our conversations ended in. None of his sweet words were meant to be anything more than words; they were just to increase the sex, the idea. Don’t get me wrong, I totally get the attraction, how the sex was inevitable. It was phenomenal sex, but that’s all it was to him. Just sex.
He says I’m the one who’s trouble, but it’s him. He’s trouble!
He’s ruined me.
I’m forever broken.
“I don’t know what to say,” he mumbles, and his words, or lack thereof, shatter me. “There’s so much.”
“No,” I plead, stopping him before he can go on. “If it’s not that you feel the same way I do, I’d rather you not say anything at all.”
“Luci, please, I need to say some things and I need you to listen,” he pulls out a chair.
“Don’t,” I squeak. “Let’s just leave it like this. There’s nothing more needed, because let’s face it, we were never really actually together.”
The strange thing is, while I didn’t leave school early today, he did.
He returned the following day with a miserable expression that matched mine. Every time I saw him in the hallway I wanted to run to him, and multiple times, I almost do.
I try to tell myself there’s only a month and a half until school is over. Then I never have to see him again, but that’s just the thing: I always want to see him.
That’s when I knew it was probably best that I finally switch classes.
I stop in the main office on my way to chemistry, grabbing the form. I don’t think as I place it on his desk on the way to my seat. This has been one of the worst weeks of my life, and I can’t do it anymore. I can only hope this solution will take away some of the misery. It’s going to be a long next year of not seeing him, and an even longer future. Better get used to it now, while I still have time to pass by his classroom when he’s not looking - to slowly be weaned off him like the addict I am.
I finally look up, and he’s already staring my way, holding the paper out in front of him, like some disease.
His eyes remain on mine as he rips it - a swift motion, tearing the paper into two before crumbling it up and tossing it in the trash.