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A week. It’s been a week since I’ve spoken to Nick, and I can’t believe the way I feel. I thought I’d shake it off after a couple days, maybe try to hook up with someone. My instinct is to get under someone to get over Nick, but the thought isn’t appealing. It makes me feel a little sick, actually. Not as sick as the thought of Nick with someone else, though.
I’m trying to control my emotions. After all, this is exactly what I didn’t want. To feel so…crazy over someone. I’ve tried to just go on about my life; work, come home, hang out with the neighbors before crawling under the covers and trying to sleep. But the days are unbelievably long, and a coworker I rarely speak to asked me if I was okay yesterday, so now I know I’m not good at hiding…whatever this is.
It can’t be a broken heart, can it? Not after a month. It’s ridiculous.
Mallory’s words from last week at the pool keep coming back to me and make me ask myself a question I thought I answered long ago. Do I really want to be alone? I thought I did. I never really felt lonely until recently, and while Puffbutt may have helped, it’s not the same.
I want to cuddle up with Nick in the evenings to watch T.V. I like waking up to him in the morning and having breakfast together. I just…love being with him.
I’m only torturing myself, so why am I being a stubborn bitch about this?
My hands tremble as I pick up my phone and call him before I can change my mind. I have no idea what I’m going to say, but I know if I don’t do it now, I’m going to chicken out. After a few rings, my call goes to his voicemail. There’s no way I’m talking to his machine.
Instead, I text.
Me: Can we talk?
That’s it. Short and simple, but I’m sure he’ll feel the weight behind it as surely as I do. Fuck, now all I can do is wait.
