by Monroe, Max
They only spurred more anxiety, more dread, more emotion.
And I could only imagine how awful and uncomfortable I looked to Jordy.
“Do you want to go back to the hotel?” he asked, and I nodded.
“Yeah, it’s probably a good idea to go ahead and get the check.”
That was my nonchalant version of “Yes, I need to get the fuck out of here.”
He grabbed our waiter’s attention immediately, and a few minutes after that, I had the rest of my fish boxed up in a to-go container and was standing up from my chair.
All the while, I kept glancing inside the restaurant to find Ollie and Amelia still sitting beside each other at the bar.
I convinced Jordy to leave the restaurant via the beach exit, giving some lame excuse about wanting to inhale the fresh air coming in from the water.
And he unknowingly enabled my avoidance tactic. Instead of walking through the restaurant and out onto the street, we walked down the back stairs and onto the sand.
By the time I reached my hotel room, I sent Ollie a text telling him I needed a rain check on the drink, that I wasn’t feeling too well after eating dinner with Jordy and was just going to call it a night.
And he responded back right away with Are you okay? Do you need anything? I can stop by your room after I finish up with this business dinner.
Business dinner? The only business he had was un-fucking-finished business with his ex-fiancée.
I sent him one last text before I put my phone on silent for the night. Nope. I’m good, thanks.
Was I good? Hell to the no.
I was angry.
I was upset.
And most of all, I just felt bone-achingly sad.
It was the fact that he’d pushed me to feel that awful, intense emotion that really messed with my head the most.
I know there are probably one thousand things you would have done differently if you were in my shoes.
For one, you probably would’ve asked him about Amelia after the interview.
And two, when you saw him in the restaurant with her, you probably would’ve walked up and made yourself known.
[groans]
Yeah, I know I made some mistakes with the way I handled the whole damn thing. But the pain of it all was too real, and my need for self-preservation was too strong.
So, what did I do? I buried my head in the sand. Again.
* * *
Episode 19: “Love feels like a lose-lose situation.”
So, I guess it was a day or two after I’d spotted Ollie and Amelia having dinner together.
Well, apparently, it was a business dinner, but yeah, some time had passed.
[sighs]
And what had happened in that short amount of time?
Well, my next two Dear Ex-Boyfriend letters had gone live, and both had been well received by readers. And not only that, both Mac and Ronnie had commented on the posts themselves.
Mac commenting was one thing.
But, Ronnie? Current convict Ronnie?
Yeah, to say I was a bit shocked was an understatement.
I mean, who knew you could comment on shit on the internet from the slammer?
It was definitely news to me.
I guess pop culture is more prevalent in prison than I was aware.
[laughs]
To be honest, both their responses had been similar to Josh’s.
Not angry. Or mad. Just…kind for the most part.
If anything, I’d gained even more closure on the past from their words.
But that closure didn’t feel as poignant since my relationship with Ollie was pretty much a fucking mess.
Speaking of him, surfing article number two had also gone live.
It revolved mostly around Ollie and how he’d taken the time to teach me how to swim…and sort of teach me how to surf.
Everyone loved it. Especially his horde of female fangirls.
And truthfully, I didn’t know if Ollie had seen it.
Probably because I’d yet to spend any alone time with him…
[short pause]
For the most part, I’d kept really busy.
The Silver Surfer Pro in Huntington Beach had officially kicked off, and it was the biggest event I’d attended since I started the assignment.
The men’s and women’s competitions had collided and were spread out nearly a half mile across the beach.
It was quite the sight.
The sand was littered with male and female surfers, journalists and media from all across the world, and fans. So many fans. Huntington Beach was a surfer’s wet dream, and the local support was, hands down, the best I’d ever seen.
Honestly, it should have all felt pretty damn epic, seeing the badass female surfers of the world out there crushing waves like they were made to do it, but my mood had taken an all-around nose dive after I’d interviewed Sage Gilmore and Amelia Erickson.
Things hadn’t been the same since.
And like I mentioned before, I hadn’t had a chance to spend any time with Ollie.
Well, I guess that’s kind of bullshit, huh?
I’d had time, but I’d avoided it. Which, looking back on things, I know wasn’t necessarily the best approach. If anything, it only added more complication to the already confusing situation.
I should’ve talked to him. But ever since I’d pushed pause on our relationship—whatever our relationship was—I couldn’t seem to find the play button. I couldn’t seem to do anything except evade him like I’d committed some sort of crime and he was the damn cops.
And it wasn’t that he hadn’t reached out.
He had.
Even that morning, when I was heading down to the beach, he’d texted me.
I miss you, little fire.
And I had texted back.
I miss you too.
Because the fact remained, I did miss him.
I liked him.
Hell, who am I kidding at this point, huh?
I more than liked Ollie. And I hadn’t just fallen for him. I’d gone kamikaze-style, thrown caution to the wind, and let my heart get involved.
But my matters of the heart weren’t the priority of the day.
I had interviews, I had event coverage, I had my fucking job.
I was at the event for a reason, and I had to force myself to focus on that reason.
And my concentration stayed strong for most of the event.
I took some amazing photos for my articles.
I chatted up a group of young female surfers about the challenges of being a woman in what used to be a mostly male-dominated sport.
And I even had the cutest interview with an eight-year-old fan wearing a Sage Gilmore T-shirt. She had dreams of being just like her female surfing idol when she grew up, and my heart warmed at the light in her eyes when she watched Sage take to the water and receive the highest scores from the judges.
All in all, it had been a good day.
Until, well, everything I’d been fighting so hard against slapped me straight across the face.
I’d headed toward the tent to grab a bottle of water. And just before I stepped inside, I spotted them, Ollie and Amelia, standing inside the tent near the media section, while a journalist from Surfing World asked them questions about the competition.
From my viewpoint, I could see and hear everything.
And from my current overthinking headspace, instead of going on about my business, I stayed put and eavesdropped.
[sighs]
Definitely not my proudest moment, guys.
But that’s what I did, and I can’t exactly take it back now…
“How is Sage feeling today?” the journalist asked, and Amelia smiled.
“She’s good. Focused. And taking this competition one event at a time. I’m extremely proud of her and all that she’s accomplished thus far.”
“What do you think about Sage Gilmore?” He redirected the question to Ollie. “Do you think she’s someone to keep watching over t
he next few years?”
“Of course, I do. She’s a bloody good surfer and—” Ollie grinned and nudged Amelia playfully with his elbow “—she has one hell of a coach. One of the best out there, in my not generally humble opinion.”
The journalist smiled at them, his gaze volleying back and forth between Ollie and Amelia, and I knew his next question would be focused on that very fact.
My breath caught in my lungs at the anticipation of it all.
“It’s been a while since the world has seen you two together,” he noted, and his lips crested up with a knowing smile. “Is it safe to say the past is in the past now?”
Amelia looked at Ollie, and Ollie looked at Amelia, and eventually, he took the lead on the question.
“Amelia will always hold a special place in my heart,” he said and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “We’ve been through a lot together. Seen each other at our best and our bloody worst, but we will always be close. We’ll always have each other’s backs.”
The journalist looked toward Amelia, and she smiled.
“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
[deep sigh]
Amelia will always hold a special place in his heart…
They will always be close…
Yeah, those words cut like a knife.
They sliced open my insecurities, which tumbled out in big, soul-crushing waves. Not to mention, the realization of the depth of my feelings for him hit me straight in the chest.
I was in love with him. Present tense.
By that point in the interview, I had to walk away.
The sight of them together. Their familiarity. Their secret smiles. His words. Her words. It was just too much.
My eavesdropping had clued me in to things I very much didn’t want to hear.
To an unbiased outsider, it might not have seemed like such a big deal. I mean, Ollie hadn’t said anything that indicated he was still in love with his ex; he’d purely showed admiration for her. He’d acknowledged that they still cared about one another. And she’d done the same.
And, hell, maybe you’re thinking that very same thing right now as I tell you this.
But the fact remained, it was torture for me.
I’d opened up my heart to him. And the possibility of having my heart torn to shreds wasn’t something I wanted to entertain. In fact, I would do just about anything not to feel it.
[deep breath]
God, is it just me, or does love feel like a lose-lose situation?
When you give yourself to someone, when you let them into your heart, they hold all the power. They can either love you right back, or they can destroy you. And even if that someone loves you right back, there is no guarantee.
I had what felt like a never-ending list of past relationships that had ended in destruction.
Not just the ex-boyfriends, but my mother too.
She had loved me with everything she had, yet I’d had to live without her since I was sixteen. Even as time passed, even nearly twelve years later, the void from her presence never diminished. It still ached. Every. Single. Day.
[sighs again]
Love was a real bitch sometimes, folks.
A real fucking bitch.
And I had planned on giving you more of this story today, but…
[shaky breath]
Well, I just need a minute before I can go on.
Be back soon.
* * *
Episode 20: “Don’t fall in love. Fall off a fucking bridge. It probably hurts less.”
Okay, I’m back.
Sorry I made you wait, but yeah, I just needed a little time to process it all, you know?
So, I definitely appreciate your patience.
And, well, if you weren’t patient at all and were pretty much cursing me out after yesterday’s episode, I appreciate the fact that this is a podcast and I was oblivious to your rage.
[snorts]
Anyway, back to the story…
[big, deep breath]
So, that afternoon, after I’d eavesdropped on Ollie and Amelia’s interview, I’d left the competition a little earlier than I’d originally planned to head back to the hotel.
I’m sure you can understand why…
Of course, I’d told myself it was to get a break from the California heat and sun, but I think we all know better.
I’d left because of Ollie.
I was terrified over how deep I’d let myself get.
I was scared that he held my heart between his hands, and any moment he’d clap them together and I’d be crushed.
And I feared the worst. A man I’d spent the last few months trying to stay away from, but who had somehow slipped into my life, into my heart, would show me what I’d assumed from the start. He was no better than the Joshs and Ronnies and Macs and Tiagos of the world.
When I’d gotten back to my room, I’d dived straight into work.
Yeah, a Type 3 Achiever trying to avoid matters of the heart pretty much equates to an evading workaholic…
I powered up my laptop and uploaded my notes from the event into a fresh Word doc, and just before I started to piece them into a rough draft of an article, I decided to peruse the latest pop culture news articles for the day.
Prince Harry and Meghan Markle are the It Couple of the century.
Chris Martin and Dakota Johnson are in LOVE and now have matching tattoos.
Ariana Grande and Pete Davidson are the cutest, and we’re here for them.
I kept scrolling through the latest headlines.
Nothing really stood out to me until, well, one pushed my heart straight into my throat.
Oliver Arsen and Amelia Erickson: Reunited and it feels so good?
Did I click on it? Of course, I did. Apparently, I was a masochist.
Instantly, a photo stared back at me.
It was of Ollie and Amelia at the restaurant that was apparently the location of their business dinner.
They were standing by the bar, she had her arms wrapped around his waist, and his lips were pressed to her forehead.
[sighs]
Yeah. Talk about a kick to the chest.
And, good God, it hurt, you guys.
It felt so damn intimate that I immediately shut my laptop and didn’t torture myself with reading the article itself.
I mean, what more did I need to see, you know?
Between the way he’d skirted around the truths of his past, the way he’d told me he had a business dinner that was actually a dinner with his ex, the way they’d candidly talked about one another during that interview, and now, the photo, I would’ve been a stupid, stupid girl to ignore it and act like everything was perfectly fine.
Like there wasn’t anything going on between Ollie and his ex.
Like this was all just a coincidence.
I’d done that with Josh.
I’d seen the signs and the red fucking flags that he’d been cheating on me.
The clichéd late-night work hours. The immediate showers whenever he’d come home. The way he’d grown secretive with his calls and text messages.
It had all been right there, staring me in the face, but I’d been in denial for a good two months before I’d finally let myself see it.
[audible pause]
My mind raced.
And the emotions that consumed me were damn near intolerable.
I pretty much wanted to be anywhere else but where I was.
I wasn’t due to leave for New York for another two days, but fuck, I wanted to be back home. I wanted the comfort of my family and friends.
And I really did not want to see Ollie.
My heart already felt like it was broken into a million tiny pieces. The last thing I needed was to be faced with his gorgeous eyes or sexy smile or be reminded of all of the good memories we’d shared.
He’d taught me how to swim.
He’d taken care of me when I was sick.
He’d kissed me and made love to me in a way
no man had ever done before.
The walls of my hotel room felt like a vise, and every minute I was stuck inside them, the harder my lungs had to fight to breathe.
I just wanted to…escape.
I searched for flights to New York on a whim.
Maybe there was a red-eye I could catch tonight? Maybe I could just head home a few days early and find a way to get myself in order before I’d have to finish up the assignment with trips to France and Portugal and Hawaii?
Before I’d actually have to face Ollie again.
Maybe by then, I’d be rid of this horrible feeling that I’d just given my heart to a man who had been secretly pining away for his ex the whole fucking time?
I’d found a flight to New York that left in three hours and would only be a nine-hundred-dollar drain on my bank account.
Sure, it wasn’t peanuts, but it was doable.
I’d been able to save a lot of money over those past few months since the trips on the assignment had been an all-expenses-paid kind of thing.
Two clicks later and a quick entry of my credit card information and my flight was booked.
I sent Vanessa a quick email, letting her know I’d managed to get everything I needed for my next article and would be headed home a little early to work from our New York offices.
She’d responded a few minutes later with a short and sweet Okay.
In no time at all, I was showered, packed, dressed, and headed with wet hair toward the airport inside an Uber.
I didn’t bother saying goodbye to anyone. Definitely not Ollie. And not even Jordy.
I just left.
And two hours after that, I was boarding the plane.
The flight was long and boring, and my anxiety had been through the damn roof.