He never texted me on Saturday.
Or Sunday, for that matter.
In fact, that nervous pit had returned as I forwarded off the bus Monday morning and started heading to homeroom. Because… how was he going to act towards me in front of people now that he knew how I felt?
The ten minutes of roll call went way too fast, and, next I knew, I was getting out of my seat again and shuffling along to English.
I fully expected the usual. He’d show up once the class was already seated, needed a pen, all that jazz.
However, as I rounded the corner of the building, my feet came to a halt. Already waiting in front of the classroom, his blue eyes shined bright in the daylight. And my heart tripped.
Either he had amazing timing, or he could feel my gaze on him, as his gaze flickered up, meeting mine across the way.
I expected a wave. Or a smile.
But he just turned his head back down.
Placing a foot in front of the other, I tried to not read into it. Nothing about the weekend—other than his absence of texts—suggested he’d be ignoring me. Yet, as I threw my bag on the portrack behind him, it almost seemed like he flinched away from me.
Heart wringing with pain, I plucked my books and stationery from my bag before joining the line behind him. Not much longer, Miss Fitzgerald turned up to let us in.
As Harley sat down in his usual spot behind me, he quickly placed a pen down on the table—a Papermate—brows furrowing as I watched him. But he never glanced up.
So I took my seat in front of him, finally admitting what he was trying to tell me.
Lara meant more than he let on… and I would have to be the thing he let go.
•❃°•°❀°•°❃•
“He definitely said you add ‘colour’ to his life?” Carys asked me at lunch after observing my noticeable melancholy all biology.
“Definitely said them.”
“And he definitely said he’d text you and that Lara didn’t matter?”
“Yup. But now I’m starting to think I hallucinated it…”
She pressed her lips together as she thought it over. “Maybe he was drunk when he came over?”
Heaving a sigh, I admitted, “He didn’t smell like he had alcohol on him… he seemed pretty sober.” But as my heart continued to feel like it was tearing in two after all the hope I let brew over the weekend that maybe he’d just need time to warm up to me, my bottom lip eventually began to quiver. “Am I that unattractive that he’d need to be drunk to make me feel special to him?” I choked.
“No, no. Definitely not.” Carys scooted closer to me on the bench, gathering my hands in her hold. “More that… I’m just trying to justify his 180. Like, maybe you misinterpreted. But I really don’t think you did… I think you’re right and that he just… regrets it. Or perhaps something happened with Lara that made him realise it is wrong to keep being close to you given how you feel…”
“I wish I never told him,” I said, knowing the tears were leaking out of my eyes by now. But what was the point in holding back my despair anymore? It hurt more bottling it up.
“Oh, Indi. No, you did the right thing. And now that it’s out there, at least you won’t have regrets about not giving it your all. You can move on with ease knowing that at least he knew the truth.”
“But I lost a friend.”
“He wasn’t really your friend to begin with and you know it. You just wanted him romantically, not as a friend.”
“And now I get neither,” I cried, falling into her shoulder. Her arms were ready to catch me as she pulled me into her, rubbing soothing circles into my back.
We went on like that for a while, Carys holding me while I let the pain of rejection pour out of me. But our moment was disturbed when a soft voice said, “Indigo? Are you okay?”
Head moving away from Carys, I turned my watery stare up to the voice. Miss Fitzgerald crouched by us, eyes tainted with worry.
Wiping the wetness from my cheeks, I gave her a brief nod.
“Just… boy drama, Miss,” Carys told her for me.
I shot my best friend a glare before turning back to the teacher.
“Those wretched boys,” she said, corner of her mouth going up. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with a specific boy who seems to sometimes be overly nice to you in my class and the next minute your enemy?”
“No,” I mumbled, turning my head to my lap. But we both heard the lie.
“Look… I’ve eaten my words on this warning before when I tried to warn a previous student of mine about the… misalignment of personalities. But, I really think you’re better off not chasing someone like Harley Brooks.”
“Who said it was—” I started, but her face—and Carys’s as I glanced at her—said it all.
Because really, Indi? Who do you think you’re fooling?
“Anyway,” Miss Fitzgerald went on. “You’re a good kid, and you’re very studious. You don’t need someone like him weighing you down. I’m sure the right person will come along.”
“He’s not a bad person,” I quickly replied, not sure why I felt the need to defend him.
“I know he’s not,” she said softly. “I never said that. But… I don’t know how well you know him, but his life isn’t exactly easy or straightforward. He has a lot of baggage, and you have your own challenges to juggle. You don’t need to carry his weight and yours.”
What weight? The delinquency? The fact that he’s in foster care? “But—”
“I’m saying this is a good thing, Indi, if he’s let you down. Use this pain to overcome the affection and move on to someone else… or to just focus on your studies.”
“Ah, but, Miss, Indi is currently in the phase of ‘what is life without love’,” Carys said, shaking her head. “Teens these days, am I right?”
Miss Fitzgerald’s eyes narrowed at my friend before turning to me. “Just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. Happy for you to take another spot in the room, and, if you need a break from class, put your hand up and I’ll happily sign your diary, okay?”
Nodding, I thanked her before she went on her way.
But I just wondered… could I really get over him? Just because he was done with me?
•❃°•°❀°•°❃•
That afternoon, I kept my gaze forward as he boarded the bus. And he paid me no mind as he shuffled past, heading up the back. I told myself to face the front and not glance after him.
But, eventually, the urge outweighed my logic. Turning in my seat, I sought out his familiar locks in the crowd—just in time to watch Lara take the seat next to him.
Facing back towards the front, I slipped in my headphones and popped on one of mum’s swear-by heartbreak albums that was supposedly all the rage in the early 2000s: Taylor Swift’s Fearless.
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