twentysix
Aaliyah's POV
I don't remember driving home.
I don't remember the stoplights.
I don't remember turns.
I don't remember breathing.
I just remember her.
Her bare legs.
Her smudged makeup.
Her voice.
"Who are you?"
My chest caves in all over again.
By the time I pull into the parking lot of my building, my hands are shaking so badly I can barely turn off the engine.
I sit there.
In silence.
Everything blurry.
The steering wheel cool under my palms.
My breath breaking in tiny, uneven gasps.
My heart squeezing so tight it feels bruised.
I press my forehead against the wheel.
"Don't cry," I whisper to myself.
"Please don't cry-"
A single tear slides down anyway.
Then another.
Then my whole face crumples and suddenly I'm sobbing.
Ugly, painful, chest-hurting sobs that feel like they're dragging themselves out from my ribs.
I dig my fingers into the steering wheel, trying to hold on to something, anything, but my hands won't stop trembling.
"I'm so stupid," I choke out.
"I'm such an idiot-"
Last night flashes behind my eyes.
His hands on my waist.
His lips on my skin.
His voice whispering my name like it meant something.
You look beautiful in my bed.
I want you.
I want us.
My stomach twists.
Because now all I can see is the girl in his shirt.
His shirt.
Did he give it to her too?
Did he hold her like that?
Did he kiss her forehead the way he did mine?
Did he whisper slow, soft things into her neck too?
My throat closes.
"No, no, no-"
I squeeze my eyes shut, tears spilling hot and fast.
"Stop thinking. Stop-"
But the thoughts claw their way up anyway:
He probably never stopped seeing other girls.
You were just the latest one.
You got attached.
He didn't.
A fresh wave of tears hits.
I pull myself together enough to get out of the car.
Barely.
My legs feel weak.
My eyes burn.
My breath hitches with every step.
I make it into my apartment building, to the elevator, to the hallway-
Unlock my door with shaking hands-
The second it closes behind me, my knees buckle.
I drop to the floor.
Right there.
In the entryway.
Still holding my keys.
Hair sticking to my cheeks.
Mascara streaking down my face.
I cover my mouth to muffle the sobs.
My voice breaks around a whisper:
"He wouldn't do that to me... he wouldn't..."
But the image of that girl won't leave.
Her standing in his doorway.
Bare legs.
Casual attitude.
Comfortable.
Like she belonged there.
Like she belonged with him.
My chest tightens until I can barely inhale.
All the warmth Leo gave me last night-
the tenderness, the safety, the way he whispered "yes"...
it all collapses under this sharp, cold pain that slices through me.
I curl into myself.
On the floor.
Arms wrapped around my stomach like I'm trying to hold the pieces together.
My phone vibrates on the tile.
I don't look.
I can't.
Another vibration.
Then another.
Then it rings.
His name on the screen.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
My voice cracks out loud:
"Don't call me. Please... don't call me."
My phone buzzes again.
I let it ring.
My tears drip onto my shirt.
My breathing is sharp, uneven, painful.
I whisper into my knees:
"You told him you liked him.
You slept with him.
He moved on immediately.
You should've known better."
My phone vibrates again.
I flinch.
I drag myself off the floor, hands shaking, heart pounding so hard it hurts.
I stumble into my bedroom.
Collapse face-first into my pillow.
And let myself cry until my entire body feels heavy and hollow.
Outside my bedroom door-
my phone lights up again.
Leo:
Liya please answer.
Where are you?
Nothing happened.
Please just talk to me.
I'm begging you.
I bury my face deeper into the pillow.
Tears keep coming.
And for the first time since I met him-
I wish he'd stop trying.
Because hearing him so desperate?
Hurts worse.