26. Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Six
Tage
I stare down at my phone, even though I need to get up and finish getting ready, but there’s this heavy pit in my stomach that won’t go away.
I need to get dressed and head to work. I need to stop letting my relationship with Lane allow me to be late every day.
It’s not fair and it doesn’t feel right.
I need to set an alarm on my phone, though I’m not sure that’ll do any good.
His never wakes me up. I sleep so heavily when I’m with him.
When I’m home, there is no issue because I don’t sleep as well.
I don’t know if it’s from him tiring me out or just feeling safe, but I’ve never slept better in my life than when I’m with him.
My screen goes dark, so I click the button to light it up again. What’s the point in even having the thing? I don’t have anyone to talk to, and that’s what’s causing this pit in my chest.
For the first time in my life, I am happy with where I am at. With who I am surrounding myself with. And I don’t have a single person to share it with.
Sure, there are plenty of people I could call—I’d have to unblock them all first, but it’s possible.
But it would mean nothing to them. They’re all shallow, and only care about one thing.
Okay, two things.
Money and reputation.
The people I’m used to being around don’t care about love and happiness. They believe in pills to make you happy and that love is something you see on TV and read about in books. It’s sad the way their brains work.
What’s even more sad is that I tried to make them see how wrong they were, but none of them cared. They were too brainwashed.
Does it matter that I left them all behind? No. I’m not sad because I miss them, I’m just sad because I’m alone.
Yes, I have Lane.
But no one else. No friends. No family. No one to share good news with. I could tell him how happy I am, and I know he’d be happy for me, but who do I have to share stuff about Lane with?
No one. I can’t even tell anyone at work because I’m trying to avoid them finding out. I don’t even know what the policy is on office relationships.
Now that I’m settled and where I want to be, I’m noticing the loneliness.
It was a relief at first. I’d felt suffocated my whole life, and getting away was a breath of fresh air.
I’d loved the ability to do what I want, when I wanted, without judging eyes or words.
I didn’t feel like I had to live up to anyone’s expectations, and I still don’t.
But now that it’s all passed, now that I’ve settled in, I realize how much I miss being around people. There is a comfort in that, even if those people aren’t the best type of people.
So now… I have to make friends.
How the hell do I make friends at twenty-eight?
People at this point in their lives already have established friends.
People they’ve known for years—since school.
Before that, even. Twenty-eight isn’t the age that you go out and make friends.
It’s the age you start to settle down and have your friends by your side to share it with.
Everything about my life is backwards. It’s not something that’s going to deter me, and I’m not going to let it bring me down, it just sucks.
I realize, though, as I get up and get dressed, that Lane doesn’t have friends either. At least, none that I know of. None he speaks about or has mentioned introducing me too. Family either.
Is he as alone as me? His life is busy with work.
I don’t even know how he has time for me.
But no friends? None? It’s weird, isn’t it?
Maybe not. Because he isn’t the same type of person I ran away from.
Lane doesn’t care about reputation enough to have friends just to show off too.
He’s not that kind of person. His relationships are meaningful.
Maybe he’s okay not having friends. Or maybe he’s lonely too.
Maybe we can make friends together. We can go out and do couple things. Make couple friends.
The cold weather is coming now, so it may not be the best time, but we could. Yoga in the park. Paint nights. Wine tastings. There are things we could do to meet people together. Why not?
That thought has me feeling a little better, so I quickly finish getting ready and grab Lane’s keys before heading down to the garage.
I press the button for the seat and mirrors to auto adjust to me, driver II in his car.
He set it up for me so I wouldn’t have to manually do it each time.
I didn’t even know this was an option. Driving was relatively new to me when getting behind the wheel of his car because I was driven everywhere before.
The radio is already set to my favorite station, and I put the volume up as I back out of the spot.
If I hurry up, I’ll only be a few minutes late.
Still, no matter how late I am—one minute or twenty—I hate how David sees me walking in.
He’s never judgmental on the outside, but I do wonder what he thinks on the inside.
Does he wonder if there’s something going on with me and Lane? Does he know Lane is into men?
I sing along to Bon Jovi’s “Bad Medicine” as I come up to a red light. There’s less traffic today than usual, which is odd for a Monday morning. Maybe I missed all the morning traffic since I’m leaving a little later than usual.
The light turns green and I step on the gas.
I see the car flying toward me when it’s too late to do anything about it.