14. Sebastian
Sebastian
M y phone buzzes on the nightstand, the vibration loud in the quiet of my bedroom. I leap up from my bed, my heart knocking against my ribs as I reach for it.
I peer over at my nightstand, staring at my phone, the screen black, waiting. What am I waiting for? For her to text me? For some kind of sign that she’s thinking about me the way that I’m thinking about her? Fucking pathetic.
I’m acting like some lovesick kid, waiting for a message that, in my heart, I know isn’t coming. I’ve got better things to do. And yet, my eyes flick back to the screen like maybe something’s changed in the last five seconds.
I thought we had a moment that day in the lake.
I could’ve sworn she was feeling everything that I felt.
Or maybe I’m just an idiot. Maybe I’m reading into something that means nothing to her.
She’s left me before; maybe she doesn’t feel the same.
The thought lands like a punch to the ribs, and I shake it off before it settles too deep.
My house is too damn quiet and too damn big, I hate it.
The silence and open space are a reminder of everything I want but don’t have, my thoughts too loud, taunting me. I push off my bed, the restlessness crawling under my skin like a slow burn.
I let out a sharp breath and pace back and forth, rubbing the back of my neck. My entire body feels this wired, restless, chaotic energy coursing through me. Like I need to move.
Like if I just continue to sit here, waiting around, I’ll end up doing something stupid. Like running to Mariana’s house and telling her everything I feel.
I grab my keys before I can think twice.
I don’t realize where I’m headed until I’m already on the road. The streets are quiet, the town winding down for the night, bathed in a dim orange glow from the streetlights.
I roll down the window, letting the crisp air slap me in the face, trying to cool the heat creeping up my neck. Most places are closed, their signs dark, but the diner—our diner—still glows in the distance.
I pull into the lot out of habit. I’ve been here plenty of times since she left; it’s not exactly a place I could avoid living in a town as small as ours.
But every time I come here, I force her out of my head, never letting thoughts of her infiltrate my mind—not about the way she used to sit cross-legged in the booth, stirring her hot chocolate like it was some kind of science experiment, not about how she’d swipe my fries without asking or how she always knew exactly what to say to make me forget everything else.
I sure as hell never sat outside, staring at the place like some idiot caught in the past. Yet, here I am, sitting in the parking lot, gripping the wheel, wondering what the hell I’m doing.
I reach for my phone before I even realize what I’m doing. Her name is there, at the top of my messages. I stare at it, my thumb hovering over the keyboard.
Sebastian
Hey.
The cursor blinks. I type something else.
Sebastian
Been thinking about you.
Delete.
Sebastian
Hope you’re doing okay.
Delete.
I exhale sharply and lock the phone, tossing it onto the passenger seat.
What the hell am I so afraid of? That she won’t answer?
Or that she will? That I’ll say the wrong thing?
That she’ll remind me why I never should’ve let myself hope in the first place?
I run a hand down my face, letting my head fall back against the seat. This is stupid, I’m being stupid.
But the truth is, she’s in my head. Mariana is woven into me, threaded through my being so deeply that I can’t pull her loose, no matter how much I try.
It’s not just the memories of her. It’s the way my chest tightens when I hear her name. It’s the way my mind drifts to her when I least expect it.
She’s under my skin in a way that feels impossible to shake. Like the scent of rain on pavement, lingering long after the storm has passed. Like an old injury, healed on the surface but aching when the weather shifts. Being without Mariana isn’t just an absence—it’s a loss I feel everywhere.
It’s an empty seat beside me on long drives, where she used to sit with her feet tucked under her, singing off-key just to make me laugh.
It’s reaching for a hand that isn’t there, feeling the ghost of her touch in places she used to rest against me.
It’s hearing a joke and turning to tell her, only to remember that she’s not here.
It’s passing the old movie theater and remembering how we used to sneak into R-rated films, her gripping my wrist, trying to hold in her laughter so we wouldn’t get caught.
It’s hearing a song from high school and feeling my chest cave in because I can still hear her belting the lyrics, getting half the words wrong, not caring at all.
It’s waking up in the middle of the night, heart pounding, convinced for a split second that she’s still mine. That if I just reach across the sheets, I’ll find her there. But my hand only meets empty space, and reality crashes down so hard it steals the breath from my lungs.
It’s not just missing her, it’s more than that. It’s carrying the share of her absence everywhere I go. She’s everywhere because she was my everything.
No matter where I go, I see her—I feel her. I can’t escape it because, for so long, she was my whole world. I tell myself I got used to life without her. I tell myself that I’ve moved on.
But the truth is I don’t think I ever learned how, and that terrifies me.
Just as I’m about to start my car, my phone vibrates. My pulse kicks up, my breath catching. I snatch it up, half dreading, half hoping. But it’s not her. It’s Mateo. I debate letting it go to voicemail, but the alternative is sitting here, drowning in my own thoughts.
I swipe to answer. “What?”
Mateo laughs. “Damn, good to hear your voice too, man. You good?”
I rub my temple. “Fine.”
“You sure?” Mateo drawls, amusement lacing his voice, the hint of a smirk clear without even having to look at his face.
I don’t answer.
“Let me guess.” Mateo chuckles. “It’s about your hot ex who came back into town, and everyone’s thirsting over her?”
Something sharp and possessive coils in my chest. I scoff, gripping the wheel tighter. “Shut the hell up.”
Mateo laughs. “Ah. So it is about Mari.”
My jaw locks. Mateo must hear the silence, because his grin practically drips through the phone. “Dude. Are you seriously still in this pretending you don’t care phase? Because I’m gonna keep it real with you; some other guy out there won’t hesitate the way you do.”
A muscle in my jaw ticks. “Yeah?” I say, voice low. “Well, some other guy better not fucking look at her like that.”
Mateo barks out a laugh. “See? Now we’re getting somewhere.”
I roll my eyes. “Did you just call just to be a pain in my ass, or did you need something?”
Mateo is quiet for a second. “I’m just saying… If you still care about her, maybe stop pretending you don’t.”
I swallow hard. “It’s not that simple.”
“Yeah, it never is.” A beat of silence. “But maybe it doesn’t have to be as complicated as you make it.”
I don’t have an answer to that.
Mateo sighs. “Alright, I’ll leave you alone. Just… don’t let fear make the decision for you, man.”
The call ends, and I sit there, gripping the phone, my knuckles white. I let out a long breath, staring at my reflection in the rearview mirror.
I know what I want, I just don’t know if I can survive losing her again—but maybe Mateo is right.
I grab my phone again, open our messages, and—the screen goes black. Battery dead.
I huff out a laugh, shaking my head. Maybe that’s a sign. For now, I throw the phone onto the seat, put the car in drive, and head home.