53. Alana
ALANA
The days bled together in shades of grey.
It wasn’t just the weather—though New City seemed determined to match my mood—but the way time passed without Eden.
I told myself I was doing the right thing. That I needed to focus on school, on finishing the semester strong. That cutting him off was necessary. But each day I walked through campus with my books hugged to my chest, I felt the weight of everything I hadn’t said pressing harder.
Austin caught up with me on Tuesday after class.
“Hey, Alana,” he said, flashing the same practiced grin he always wore. The kind that thought it could charm its way through walls. And maybe it would’ve worked on me once upon a time.
I offered a tight smile, barely glancing up. “Hey.”
“You going to the end-of-term party on Friday?” he asked, walking a little too close to me for my liking.
“No.”
“You should. I’ll be there.” His voice dipped slightly, the implication obvious. “We could hang out, just the two of us.”
I stopped walking. “Austin,” I said plainly, “I’m not interested.”
He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying… seems like you could use a distraction.”
I didn’t reply. I just kept walking.
But his words stuck with me more than I wanted them to.
Was that what I was to Eden in the beginning? A distraction? A temporary deal with an expiration date? I told myself it had all been fake, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw the way he looked at me when I laughed. When I ranted about a book I loved. When I let my guard down.
That hadn’t felt fake.
Maybe that’s what scared me.
I spent most of Wednesday in the library, headphones in, but no music playing. I just needed people to leave me alone.
Eden used to do this thing whenever he spotted me in the library. He’d walk past me when I was working, drop off some stupid snack with a dumb note, and walk away without a word. Like I was some kind of museum exhibit he didn’t want to disturb but couldn’t ignore.
I missed that. I missed him.
And I hated myself for it.
Because I was the one who pushed him away.
I should’ve known better. I should’ve listened to him. But I didn’t.
Instead, I threw his past in his face. Well, what am I supposed to think about someone with a reputation like yours?
The words echoed in my mind constantly now. I hated how smug they had sounded. How cruel. As if I hadn’t spent months learning there was more to Eden than his past. As if I hadn’t fallen for him—fully, deeply, stupidly.
Thursday came with rain. The kind that soaked your clothes no matter how fast you ran. I stood under the awning outside one of the lecture halls, watching people dash across campus, and wondered if it was raining in Staten Island, too, and if Eden was rushing wherever he went.
“Hey,” Austin said, appearing beside me again. “You look like you could use a warm body.”
I laughed dry and humorless. “You’re exhausting.”
He grinned. “And yet you keep running into me.”
“No, I just keep going to my classes. You’re the one who won’t take a hint.”
That seemed to shut him up, at least for a minute.
“You know, I get it,” he said eventually. “You and Eden… whatever that was. I just don’t get why you’re still hung up on him when you could have someone who actually wants you.”
I turned to him slowly, anger rising in my chest. “You don’t want me. You want what Eden had.” Austin blinked. “You only started paying attention to me once he did. That’s all this is. So don’t pretend it’s something more.”
He opened his mouth, but I didn’t give him the chance to respond. I walked off into the rain, soaked within seconds, but I didn’t care. I needed to feel something, literally anything, that wasn’t this hollow ache in my chest.
By Friday, everything felt heavier. Finals loomed, but I couldn’t bring myself to study.
Every time I sat down, my thoughts wandered to him.
To the time we baked anything and ended up with charcoal.
To how he danced like a maniac just to make me laugh when I was having a bad day. To the voicemail I never listened to.
I still hadn’t deleted it. I couldn’t.
Some part of me believed that if I listened to his voice, I’d break.
Saturday morning, I woke up with his name on my lips.
I stared at the ceiling, wondering if he hated me now. If he wished he’d never proposed that stupid deal. If he’d already moved on.
Maybe he had.
Maybe he was already baking muffins with someone who didn’t doubt him, who didn’t question everything good that came into her life.
Maybe that’s what it all came down to.
I wasn’t used to things going well. To people choosing me without a motive. And when Eden did, I sabotaged it because I didn’t believe it could last. Because people like me didn’t get the kind of happiness he offered.
I told myself I was protecting my heart.
But all I did was break his.
Sunday was quiet. Too quiet.
I tried calling my grandpa just to hear another voice, but even that felt wrong.
I sat on my bed for hours, phone in hand, debating whether to text Eden.
Just to ask how he was.
Just to say sorry.
But what was the point? I’d said everything with my silence already. He didn’t need another half-hearted attempt from me. He deserved better than that.
Still… I typed out his name.
Deleted it.
Typed it again.
Deleted it again.
I hated myself for being a coward.
That night, I sat on the floor of my bedroom with the lights off, the only glow coming from the screen of my phone as I hovered over the voicemail.
I pressed play.
His voice cracked halfway through. He sounded broken.
“Alana, I—fuck—I didn’t cheat on you. I never would. Not with her, not with anyone. You have to believe me. I don’t know why you believed her, of all people, but I swear to God, I didn’t do anything. I didn’t even think about it. I just want you. Only you.”
I paused the message, my throat tightening.
He hadn’t lied.
He’d told me the truth from the start.
I knew that. I knew it the second I read the blog entry.
Eden wasn’t a cheater.
I pressed play again.
“I know I’ve screwed up a lot in my life, and maybe I don’t deserve someone like you, but I thought… I thought we had something real. I thought you felt it, too.”
I paused the voicemail again, needing to take a break for just a second.
Then I pressed play once more.
“I know you think I’m some awful guy who was just playing with you, but I swear, Alana, I meant everything I ever said to you. I… Fuck. I love you.”
Tears slid down my cheeks as the voicemail ended, and I realized I’d been holding my breath.
I buried my face in my hands and cried. For the things I said. For the things I didn’t say. For the boy who’d tried to love me and the girl who didn’t believe she was worthy of being loved.
Maybe I wasn’t ready then.
Maybe I still wasn’t.
But I missed him more than I’d ever missed anything.
And I wasn’t sure I’d ever stop.