by Tilly Kane
It takes me more than a few attempts to type out an appropriate text message to send her. My original message is far too forward, too aggressive. She has a boyfriend, my brain reminds me. She’s not yours. Right, right. I consider my options, knowing that I want to be direct while also being respectful of the fact that she could very well not want to see me so soon.
Me: Hi, hope you’re having a good day. Was wondering if you might be interested in hanging out sometime soon?
I set my phone down immediately, not wanting to see the little typing dots or not see them, whichever it ends up being. Before I can even finish that thought, my phone buzzes and I nearly choke on my own tongue. I take a moment to compose myself before checking it.
Daisy: i’ve got some free time today if that works. what did you have in mind?
A current of satisfaction passes through me -- she is open to seeing me again. This is great. Now I need to focus on making this afternoon perfect.
Which is definitely what I’d do for an outing with any friend, of course. Because that’s what we’re going to be -- friends.
In the end, after much consideration on my part, I decide to have her meet me for coffee and maybe a croissant. It’s simple, but I don’t want her to feel overwhelmed by me. And I really do just want to talk to her and see how she’s been. I arrive at the coffeeshop about 15 minutes early because I was too antsy to stay at the house.
When Daisy arrives, looking breezy and gorgeous in a casual shirtdress, I almost fall over rising from the table to greet her. She shoots me a weird look but graciously doesn’t mention anything.
“I’m gonna go grab my coffee. Need anything?,” she asks, looking at the cup in my hands.
“No no, but let me get that for you,” I say, following her to the cash register.
“You really don’t need to do that. Sorry I was late,” she says.
“You weren’t late,” I say with a frown. “I was just stupid early and I needed to do something with my hands.”
I know I shouldn’t have confessed that, and her widening eyes just confirm that I should have kept it to myself. Still, it’s true and there’s no sense in hiding it.
Once she gets a coffee and a croissant that she begrudgingly lets me pay for, we settle down in some plush armchairs in a quiet little nook of the coffee shop.
It’s awkward, at least for a moment. We both just kind of stare at each other. Her brown eyes are huge and she looks nervous for some reason.
“How -- “
“What -- “
We both laugh as we try to talk over one another. There’s no way we’re going to get to a point of being friends if we have all this unspoken tension between us. We have got to clear the air. I angle my head down to catch her eye until she looks up at me.
“Okay, so listen,” I say, and already she has her eyebrow quirked. “I was serious about wanting to be your friend. And I feel like that won’t happen with all this heavy shit from the past weighing on us. So, what do you want to know? I’m an open book and I want to put it all out there so we can clear the air.”
She swallows thickly and I can barely take my eyes away from the working of her smooth throat as she does so, my dirty mind choosing that moment to call up the dirtiest memories of us together.
“Um. I feel like we’ll need something stronger than coffee for this talk,” she says, with a little laugh.
I shrug. “Try me.”
She fiddles with the cardboard sleeve of her coffee cup, seemingly looking at everything and everyone in the coffee shop except for me.
Finally, she lands those expressive eyes back on me. They’re clouded over with worry and more than a small bit of hurt. But she powers through.
“When you left… I’ve just always wondered and you never said it so… sorry this is going to seem so lame but I kind of need to know… did you,” she trails off and swallows again, carefully forming her next words. “Did you love me? Like, were you in love with me? The way I was in love with you?”
It’s a gut punch to hear that question, but I can tell it’s more of a gut punch for her to ask it. She’s so fucking brave. Jesus, I never wanted to hurt her like this.
I’m nodding before I even consider withholding any of the truth from her. “I was so in love with you, you have no idea. Leaving the way I did, god it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
Her eyes shine with unshed tears and I swear I feel actual shards of glass embed themselves into my heart.
“So then why did you? Leave that way?”
That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? The one I’ve asked myself every day since I hopped on that plane.
“You don’t have to answer that, just forget it,” she says, quick to soothe over any perceived discomfort she’s caused.
“No, you deserve the answers. I owe you that much, at the very least.”
Just suck it up. She deserves to know the truth.
“I left because… I didn’t think I was good enough for you, to be honest. You were -- I mean you still are -- the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen before. And not only that, but you were so damn brilliant and hilarious, I felt like you could change the world. I really did. And then there I was, three years older than you, a college dropout with nothing going for me. It just didn’t seem fair to saddle you with that.”
She frowns and shakes her head. “That is… such bullshit. And it makes no sense,” she says, with a challenge in her eyes like she wants me to do better.
I laugh and hold my hands up. “It sounds like bullshit but that’s just where I was back then. I wasn’t in the right place to be with someone like you, especially when you had your whole college career to look forward to.”
“And you ghosted me why, exactly? You couldn’t even tell me in person,” she points out. I hang my head.
“I know, I know. I was the absolute worst. But if I told you in person you would have tried to convince me that it didn’t need to be that way. If I kept the lines of communication open, I was nervous you’d spend all your precious college time pining away for some douchebag hours away who didn’t deserve you, instead of going out and having new experiences and memories.”
“For the record,” I say, “I’m the douchebag who didn’t deserve you. In case that wasn’t clear.”
This earns me a small, sad smile. “I gathered that, thank you,” she says with a whispered edge to her voice.
She takes a sip of coffee and clears her throat. “So you made the decision for me then. And did it ever occur to you that maybe you didn’t know what was best for me? Maybe I should have been able to make those decisions for myself? And maybe, if you wanted me to have such a great college experience, you wouldn’t have left right when it was starting. You ghosting me meant I spent like the first two months freshman year in a fog of tears and dreams about you.”
Oh, so this is what it feels like to actually have your insides slowly crushed to death. I can barely breathe with the concrete proof of how much pain I caused her.
4
Daisy
Chase looks seriously distraught when I tell him how sad I was after he left me. And though I hate to see him upset, part of me just wants to laugh. Because honestly, what did he think was going to happen?
He answers without me asking the question. “I swear, I thought you might cry over me for a week or so, but not that long. I just thought -- “
“You thought what? That I’d find some frat guys to fuck my way through and just have so much college fun that I’d immediately forget about the boy who broke my fucking heart?” Now I’m really angry. He doesn’t deserve it, not right now, but that’s too bad, because I need some place to unleash it.
He’s still wearing that look of pain, and I know I shouldn’t ask my next question but I want to know anyway. I have to.
“You just admitted you were in love with me at that time, yeah?” He nods in response.
“Okay so, tell me -- how long did it take you to get over it? To get over me?�
�
The air in this coffee shop feels thin as we stare at each other across the small space between us. At first, I worry he won’t answer my question. Maybe he doesn’t feel like hurting my feelings in the wake of me confessing how long it took me to get over him. Good thing I didn’t tell him it was actually closer to six months before I started to feel remotely normal again. Yeah, he doesn’t have to know all of that.
“I never did,” he says. I’m confused for a second because I don’t remember what the last question I asked him was. He shakes his head like he knows my confusion.
“You asked me how long it took me to get over you. What I’m saying is I never did. I never got over you.”
He lets out a ragged breath that trails off into a laugh.
“Shit, I thought this would be a great way to clear the air but now I’m not so sure if this whole friend thing is going to work out. I’m so sorry. I know that puts you in an awkward position so… just uh, reach out if you want to talk.”
And with that, he all but runs out of the coffee shop, leaving me with the fallout of his massive confession.
He never got over me?
Why would he tell me that and then run away?
Ah fuck. He thinks I have a boyfriend. Right.
I spend the rest of the afternoon in a funk, trying to figure out just how I want things with Chase to progress. Do I even want them to progress? I try to consider the situation objectively, but I know I can’t.
I want desperately to talk to my best friend and roommate Ellie about this, but she and I had just become friends when the whole drama went down with Chase, and I know without a doubt that she will tell me to delete his number and never see him again. And I don’t blame her, honestly. She nurtured me through the breakup from hell, and she is definitely not Chase’s biggest fan. So yeah, that counts Ellie out as a potential sounding board.
Without anyone to talk this over with, I’m forced to think things through on my own. Here are the facts as I see them: Chase Hall is my motherfucking kryptonite. And the worst part is? I should hate him right now, I know I should. But god if I don’t want him to hold me tight and kiss my hair and tell me we’ll be together forever. I am so beyond fucked.
5
Chase
A few hours after our disastrous coffee meetup, I’m surprised to see Daisy on my front stoop, looking nervous for some reason. I frown at her. The surprise isn’t unpleasant, of course, but I don’t like the way she’s looking at me.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
She nods but then shakes her head. “I mean, yes, everything is fine. I just -- do you have a second to talk?”
Once we are seated in the living room, I look her over once more. She’s beautiful but she looks so nervous and worried, it pains me. My blood pressure spikes as I consider whether this has anything to do with her boyfriend. I swear, if he did something to hurt her…
“Can you tell me what’s going on? Because you’re scaring me and I need to know if I have to go kick someone’s ass or not,” I say.
She’s confused for a second before understanding washes over her features, easing some of the worry that’s been etched there since she arrived.
“No no, it’s nothing like that, I’m totally fine. Seriously.”
“You sure? Is this about your boyfriend?”
I wonder if the bastard told her she couldn’t hang out with me anymore. Not that I can blame him, really. If she were mine, I imagine I wouldn’t be thrilled by her hanging out with someone who is so clearly in love with her the way I am.
Still, the idea of someone trying to control her like that makes me angry. She deserves so much better.
The guilty look she gives me in response to my question basically confirms that my assumptions are correct.
“God, this is so embarrassing but I just have to get it over with,” she says, puffing out a huge breath before continuing. “So, I lied to you, that first night at the bar. I told you I had a boyfriend, but that wasn’t true.”
I open my mouth to question this but she holds up her hand.
“Let me just… let me say what I need to say and then hopefully it’ll clear things up, okay?”
I nod and try to relax in my seat, even though my heart is racing and my mind is reeling, trying to piece together what she means.
“There’s no boyfriend, no guy I’m dating, nobody. I -- I just panicked. You were so close in the bathroom, and you wanted to know if we could hang out, and seriously I swear I could feel myself falling for you a hundred times over. And I was scared. Because I wanted to spend time with you but I knew if I got too close, you could break me again.”
Ouch. That’s painful to hear.
“So, I just blurted out that I had a boyfriend, not really thinking it through. But in my head it made sense -- at the time, at least. Because, if you were just trying to get in my pants, then the boyfriend would be a deterrent and you’d back down. I’d probably never see you again. But, if you were being honest and you really did just want to be my friend, then the boyfriend would allow me to hang out with you but also keep my distance. Like I said, it was stupid. And I’m really sorry.”
She pauses, taking a breath for the first time in what feels like minutes. Her big brown eyes are full of worry and apology. She’s seriously too sweet for her own good. I’m still struggling to make sense of what the hell just happened.
I nod, mainly because I don’t know what else to do, to be honest. She’s kind of turned my whole world upside down. It’s not like the existence of a boyfriend made me want her any less. No, it just made me try to tamp that down, to be happy with the attempt at friendship she was so generously offering, when I surely didn’t deserve another shot.
But now, it’s like all of those inconvenient feelings I tried to tamp down are bubbling up to the surface again, and I need to at least try to control them.
“Sorry, uh, I just… I’m just surprised. I don’t really know what to say.”
“Do you want me to leave?”
“What? No, of course not. Honey, just give me a moment to process this, okay?”
6
Daisy
Chase doesn’t seem particularly angry or smug, which would all be perfectly valid responses. Instead, his initial surprise has now given way to something else. Something like determination.
“Why are you telling me this now?” he asks.
Maybe I’m an idiot, but I wasn’t expecting that question. I don’t even try to respond, but I can feel my cheeks flaming with embarrassment. How transparent am I?
“I’ve got something to confess to you too,” he says. “When you told me you had a boyfriend, it was like a punch to the gut. It just burned me up inside — and I did almost just walk away. But I wanted to be your friend so much that it was worth the pain of not being able to have that other part of you. So you telling me all this now… well, I don’t know if I can hold back from what I’ve been wanting to do since I saw you.”
Chase gets up, walking over to where I sit on the couch. He reaches down and clasps my hands, pulling me up to stand next to him. We’re inches apart, just a breath from going over that ledge. Gosh I want to go over, I do, but this is such a bad idea.
Still, instead of pulling away, which I have every intention of doing, thank you very much, I lean closer to him, so that our chests are flush together. We’re both breathing heavy, and suddenly we’re back in that blissful period of time, years ago, exploring and touching for the first time -- just two smitten kids on the precipice of something wild and true.
My heart aches with the memory, knowing that we could have been together this whole time if he had just… stayed. Ultimately, it’s that ache that causes me to pull away from him, a gasp threatening to unleash all of my unresolved emotions.
“I -- I’m sorry,” I tell him. His kind eyes don’t judge me or anything. Instead he just stares at me with emotion settling into every pore, every line of his face.
“Don’t ever apologize for no
t doing something that makes you uncomfortable,” he says, firm and strict. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
I can’t face the concern in his eyes, so I turn away. I feel him moving beside me. I shouldn’t notice it but his body heat is delicious. Suddenly, I’m so turned on I can’t think straight. Turned on and angry and sad and terrified all at once.
His gentle hand on my back nearly causes me to burst into flames right there. I hope against all hope that he can’t tell that I’m crying, but I never was able to hide much from him. He grasps my chin between his thumb and forefinger and slowly tilts it up so he can see my face. I’m sure it’s a blotchy mess of tears and snot.
Even through my own blurred vision, I can tell that his jaw goes slack when he takes in my appearance. Now, it looks like he’s on the verge of tears himself, which makes me feel slightly better about my own reaction.
Without another word, he opens his arms to me, and I know he wouldn’t pressure me for a hug, but I also know there’s nothing I want more right now than to let him hold me.
So I do.
7
Chase
After a brief hesitation, she walks straight into my embrace and loops her arms around my back while I bring mine over her shoulders. I cradle her head to my chest, burying my face in her hair.
For a long moment, we just stand there, both of us seemingly holding our breath, afraid to break the spell. But I can’t take it any longer. I squeeze her tighter and inhale a big whiff of her scent. She feels it, I know she does, because suddenly it’s like the dam breaks inside of her and she’s sobbing into my chest. Huge, painful, gut-wrenching sobs. God, I must be in hell. This must be my penance for being such an asshole when I left her. My sweet, gorgeous, vibrant girl.