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“Something like that.”
The air conditioner hums around us as the unit works to cool the space. It’s nice, having Oakley here even if we’re just sitting in silence. I’ve missed her company.
Ever since Ollie left, his apartment felt so empty. I stayed there alone, wondering how a home could feel so different once we were no longer sharing the space. His presence remained somehow, like a ghost haunting me. I could feel him every time I entered the front door even though he was hundreds of miles away now. I could still smell him on the sheets and pillows and see him lying in the bed beside me. I could practically feel his hands on my body. But it was all my imagination because Ollie was gone. He’d left over two weeks ago, and every day has felt heavy, like I’m underwater with my clothes on.
I miss him so much.
I disappeared the night before he left. I crashed at Henley’s place. Part of me regrets bailing the way I did, but I couldn’t handle saying goodbye. I couldn’t watch as he walked out the door for good the next morning. I thought it would make things easier for both of us if I wasn’t there.
But nothing makes the separation easier. I now know what it feels like to be at the center of a storm. To be so utterly consumed by another person that I don’t know where he ends and I begin. And it scares the hell out of me.
I’ve always been good at being alone. I thrived on my independence. But after this summer, I don’t know how to breathe with Ollie gone. He always sucked up all the oxygen in the room when he was around, and I fear he took that lifeline with him when he left. I don’t know if or when we’ll see each other again. I don’t know what we were or how he feels about me now. Not knowing is the worst. This is what I’ve always feared the most—that someone would come along and burrow themselves so deeply inside of me that I couldn’t get them out. That my heart would be forever changed, forever scarred by that person.
I know I need to let go of what we were. I just don’t know how to.
The backs of my eyes burn with unfamiliar tears as the thoughts swirl in my head. Oakley notices.
“Hey,” she murmurs softly, sitting up and placing her glass on the coffee table. Her soft palm lands on my leg. “What’s wrong?”
I’m not a crier. I’m not an emotional person by nature. So, when a tear slips over my lower lid, I don’t know how to feel about it. If Oakley thinks my tears are strange, she doesn’t mention it. Her expression is filled with concern, not judgment.
“Talk to me, Mads,” my bestie gently probes.
I feel raw and untethered. I’m one second away from the dam completely bursting. And all it takes is a gentle word from the person who knows me best to rip me right open, straight down the center of my chest, until I’m practically hemorrhaging to death.
“I think I love him.” I choke out the words. My voice is small and broken when I admit the thing that makes me feel the most vulnerable in the world.
Her eyes soften even more. She removes the glass from my shaky hand and sets it next to hers on the table.
“Ollie?”
I nod once while wiping away another tear that escapes down my cheek.
Her smile is small, but so sweet and loving that it tears me open even further. “He’s hard not to love.”
Ollie and Oakley have always been close even though they like to bicker like rivals most of the time they are around each other.
“How does he feel about you?” she asks.
Her face is blurry as I stare at her through watery eyes. “I don’t know.”
“Have you asked him?” she presses gently.
“No.” My lower lip trembles.
“Well, maybe it’s time that you did.”
“He left, Oak.”
“Yeah.” She nods, glancing away. “He left for work. He left to pursue his dreams.” She waits until our gazes connect again before adding one last thing. “But he didn’t leave you.”
Logically, I know she’s right. But practicality doesn’t come into play when you’re talking about matters of the heart.
I wipe my face dry and lean my head on my bestie’s shoulder while trying to pull myself together. I already feel better, just having her here. Talking on the phone and texting don’t compare to physically being in the same room. We sit like that, me drawing strength from her, for a long time before she speaks again.
“Do you remember when I was so upset about Sam last fall?” Her voice is low and serious.
“Yeah.”
