Chapter 47 Fletcher
forty-seven
Fletcher
Iwoke up in my childhood bed feeling a sense of Déjà vu. I woke up and just stared at my ceiling for hours, letting the world around me happen while I sat still.
Once I get out of this bed, it’s really over. I have to go tell everyone my relationship ended as quickly as it began. I have to deal with all the questions, comments, and concerned looks.
It reminds me of the first time we kissed. Well, not that night specifically, nor the morning after, but the following morning, after Tate told me it was a drunken mistake.
I was in this bed, staring at the ceiling, convincing myself it was time to move one, but that didn’t happen. And every time I thought maybe I could, I realized I couldn’t just forget about that kiss.
I don’t know how I’ll ever move on from Tate after experiencing the type of love I had with her. It took everything in me to move on after a single kiss, but a relationship… no idea.
“Yo, sleepy head.” Chase opens the door to my room and walks in without waiting for approval. “Your nephew is waiting downstairs for you. You’re the only reason we drove down here today, so you better get out of bed.”
Right. I forgot I told Chase I was going to be home for the next twenty-four hours.
I really drove down here yesterday because I had a feeling Tate was sitting by her favorite thinking spot, trying to write lyrics.
I guess a part of me thought maybe she was trying to figure us out, too, but I fought the thought so I didn’t have to think about the end of us.
I understand why she did it; I do.
That doesn’t mean it doesn’t fucking suck, though.
“Can he wait a few more minutes?” I mumble, my eyes glued to the ceiling.
“What’s going on, Fletcher?” He sits at the foot of my bed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you still in bed at one o’clock.”
“Tate broke up with me.”
The words float in the air between us. It’s the first time I’ve said that out loud since it happened, and every nerve in my body aches.
It makes it feel real.
“What?” The words don’t hold the kind of weight you’d expect from the bomb I just dropped. I can’t tell if he thinks I’m playing some sick joke on him or if maybe, deep down, he saw it coming. “You’re lying, right?”
“Do you think I’d still be in bed for some stupid joke?” I sit up, my hands resting behind my back to support me. “I guess we won’t have the Stella and Chase love story after all.”
“Fletch.”
“Chase.”
“Wh-what happened?”
I stand up, taking a quick peek at myself in the mirror, running my hands over my hair to look more put together.
“Reality.”
I can’t tell if I look hungover or exhausted, but what I do know is I look like shit. I didn’t change out of my clothes when I got back here last night.
We sat outside, looking at the stars, until just after midnight. We didn’t say anything to each other after it all went down. And when we decided it was time to go to our respective houses, we didn’t even look at each other; it was a silent goodbye.
I don’t know if it was better that way or made everything ten times harder, but I also didn’t know what to say.
“What does that even mean?” Chase’s eyes follow me as I dig through my duffle bag for a clean shirt.
“We were living in a bubble until one day we weren’t.” I shrug, sniffing one of the shirts in my bag, a shirt that should be clean but smells like I haven’t washed it in years.
Or maybe that’s me.
Maybe I smell.
I drop the shirt and lift my arm, sneaking my nose near the pit and taking a light whiff—
Yup. It’s me.
I drop back down to my bed.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“I think we just did.”
“Fletcher.”
“Chase, really, it’s still fresh, I’m trying to figure out how we move forward as friends, and I really don’t want to get into it.”
“Okay.”
Chase doesn’t usually give up that easily. When I told him Tate basically rejected me, he pried for hours until he got me talking.
He knows this is different.
“I’m gonna go take a shower, and then I’ll be down to see my favorite guy.”
“What do you mean?” His brows pinch. “I’m sitting right here.”
“Fuck off.”
I flip him the bird, heading into the hall and yanking a towel out of the closet. I lock the bathroom door behind me, turn the water on, and strip off my clothes.
The steam escapes through the door when I open it, and when I step in, the heat heals the aches in my body.
I didn’t think that’d be possible because the aches aren’t physically there, but it takes each nerve in my body and erases the pain that settled in last night.
My head drops, the water running down the back of my head and hitting the shower floor.
I’ve been numb since last night.
I think deep down, I was waiting for it. Tate was always able to see right through me, and even though this fucking sucks, I don’t think she was wrong to end it.
But it doesn’t matter if it was wrong or right because right now, it hurts.
And in order to heal—
I have to let it.