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At first, we made it work—constant texts, nightly calls, stolen moments of laughter that made the distance feel less unbearable.

But now, it’s hard to tell if it’s just my insecurities or if I have a legitimate reason to be worried.

I hate that it feels like I’m reaching for something slipping through my fingers.

Nate? Are you okay?

I can’t keep my eyes open any longer. I’m sorry.

Please text me and let me know you’re okay. I’m worried.

ILYSM xoxo

Still nothing…

Hey…

Camila: Still no word?

Nope. I’m going to go to bed. I can’t wait any longer.

Camila: Do you want me to call him?

I hesitate, torn between desperation and being too much of a pushy girlfriend who acts clingy and panics the second her boyfriend doesn’t respond immediately.

But their boyfriends aren’t Nate Davenport.

No, it’s okay. I’m sure he has a good excuse.

Camila: Fuck that shit, Maddie. If he says he will call, he should call. Don’t put up with that

A small smile tugs at my lips. Camila has no filter, no patience for crap.

She’ssoNew York, and I love her for it.

She reminds me of Addie.

Maybe that’s why they’re the only two girls I trust completely.

I know. But you know your brother isn’t a jerk. He’ll call.

Camila: He’s my brother, and I love him. But if his excuse isn’t that he fell asleep or got hit by a car, I’m cutting his dick off.

CAMILA! Don’t even say that.

Camila: Bad joke. Sorry.

Camila: I can text Leo and see if he’s with Nate.

Nah…I’m going to sleep. <3<3<3

Morning light filters through my curtains as I blink against the sleep still weighing me down.

My hand fumbles for my phone, and my heart stutters when I see a notification.

Nate.

Thank God!