Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Heyyy, I know you’ve been busy with school and all, and I just wanted to say I totally get it.
I got this internship at a stable on the park border, and between that and classes, I’ve been really overwhelmed.
I think it’s better if we take some space for a while.
I have to figure some things out on my own, and the whole long-distance friend thing is distracting.
Probably even more for you with everything you have going on. It’s for the best.
I stared at Daisy’s message for what felt like hours before sending a reply. And another. Then I called multiple times. Desperate, I texted Gwen instead.
I need to talk to Daze.
Three little dots appeared, and I held my breath for her response.
It sucks, I know, but I have to respect her wishes. You do, too.
Is she mad at me or something? I typed the reply in a panic.
I think it’s just hard for her, you know?
Why was Gwen being so cryptic?
It’s hard being friends? I texted.
She needs space.
We had thousands of miles of space. I replayed the stilted phone calls, interrupted FaceTimes, and missed texts. Sure, we hadn’t nailed friendship from afar, but I still wanted her in my life. I would never not want her in my life.
Daisy’s trying to figure stuff out right now, and as her friends, we can’t pressure her, Gwen went on. You know how she is. She has to do things on her own time.
All the years I wasted flashed through my mind. The missed moments. I should have kissed her at prom. I shouldn’t have done the summer program. I should have gone to school in LA like my original plan.
I lay back on my bed, my eyes stinging. During orientation, one counselor talked about adjusting to college life and how homesickness might hit. But I didn’t miss home. I missed her.
This summer, I’d been a terrible friend, and every decision I made dragged me further from Daze. I was angry at her for pushing me away, too, but I was angrier with myself—especially because Gwen was right. The more I tried to patch up the damage I’d done, the more Daisy would withdraw.
Can you at least tell her I’m thinking of her? It was probably overstepping bounds, but I didn’t care. She could ask me to stop reaching out, but she couldn’t control if I thought of her. And I would, all the time, until I could find a way back into her life.