Chapter 53
Ace
My phone is on my chest, screen still lit from the Instagram post I shouldn’t have opened again, but I did. Third time tonight. Fifth, if I’m honest. I’m not even sure what I’m hoping to find. It’s not like the photo’s changed.
I look fine in it. Better than fine, even. That same easy grin I’ve had since high school, arm slung around a girl I barely remember. She was laughing and kissing my cheek at the same time. Truthfully, I don’t even know the girl. Don’t even know her name. She just wanted to take a picture with me.
But it’s all a fucking lie.
Because I am not fine.
And I shouldn’t feel guilty about that photo, right? I shouldn’t care. Julia’s the one who walked away. She chose someone else.
Except…I do care. And I do feel guilty. Because if Julia saw it, then maybe she’d think I’ve moved on. Maybe she’d think that I’m perfectly happy and fine and not at all slowly dying in my misery.
Clearly, I’m not fine.
I haven’t been since the night I kissed her.
Since the night I told her I was in love with her.
Since she looked me in the eye and basically told me that she’s always been the girl on the sidelines in our story.
That I didn’t really see her. That I never have.
She told me she didn’t believe me that I’m in love with her.
God, I don’t know how to explain it. I didn’t even realize what I was feeling until a few months ago. And once I knew…once I knew I was in love with her, it felt like it had always been that way. Like I’d been blind and suddenly I could see and everything made sense.
But now, I’m the ghost of a guy who thought he had a shot. I see her across rooms, in hallways, sitting in class—right fucking there—and it’s as if my body doesn’t know what to do with itself. As if some part of me still thinks I get to walk over and make her laugh.
And then I remember I don’t.
I unlock my phone and open a new note. My fingers hesitate over the keyboard, like they know I’m about to say shit I’ll never have the balls to send.
But I start typing anyway.
I know this is dumb and you probably don’t give a shit, but I was tagged in a picture on IG last night that doesn’t sit right with me. If you saw that picture, it’d make you think I’m doing okay. Which is a fucking lie.
I don’t even know the girl’s name. She asked for a photo and I said yes because it was easier than saying no. She kissed my cheek right as the flash went off. I don’t know if you saw it, but I feel fucking guilty that it even happened.
I feel like I cheated on you or some shit which is fucking stupid, I know, because you probably don’t care and you’ve moved on with Drewbacca. But I can’t change the fact that even though you don’t want to be mine, I still feel like I’m yours.
Fuck, I hate that I look okay in that stupid fucking picture.
I’m not okay, Julia. I’m fucking miserable without you.
I meant what I said, Julia. I meant all of it.
I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU.
I know I should stop thinking about you.
I know I should stop hoping.
But if you knocked on my door right now? I wouldn’t ask a single question.
I’d let you in. And I’d pull you into my arms.
God, I miss us.
I miss you.
But again, you probably don’t care about any of this shit and that’s probably why I shouldn’t bother sending it to you.
I stare at it for way too long. The screen dims, and I tap it back on. I even copy and paste the fucker into my text chat with Julia. My thumb hovers over the send button like I’m going to push it.
But I don’t.
Instead, I select all and hit delete.
And poof. The words are gone.
I flip my phone over, screen down, and press the heels of my hands into my eyes.
I miss her so fucking much, it’s physically painful.
But I guess that’s the price of loving someone who doesn’t love you back.