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I knew Jaxon never meant to hurt me by dating or talking to other girls. We had the same conversation all summer, yet nothing changed. Until now. Until he decided to actually try dating someone else.
Do I hate Jaxon?
No. I don’t think I could ever hate him. Believe me, I tried after the World Series. I wanted to blame him for what happened, but I couldn’t.
Am I disappointed in how things played out?
Yes. I am.
I wish he’d been honest from the beginning when he started to lose feelings, or was questioning our relationship. I wish he would have chosen me, but he didn’t, and that’s reality. It doesn't mean I’m not good enough, even though it feels that way. He chose something else for himself and I can’t fault him for that.
“Why do you think he likes her?” I ask Callie when we’re inside the Uber, the brake lights from the cars in front of us glowing red on her face, casting shadows that make her look older than nineteen.
“I don’t know. I can’t tell.”
I can’t either. After meeting her, I’m even more confused. It’s so bizarre. Jaxon is athletic, loves sports, working out, lively when he wants to be, but I guess in some ways I see it because there’s a side to Jaxon most don’t see. The quiet, intellectual side, his love of abstract art.
Maybe that’s what they have in common. I don’t know, and trying to figure it out only confuses me more.
As we sit in traffic, inching forward once a minute, Callie chats with the Uber driver and I stare down at my phone. I want to text him. I want him to text me. I miss him so much my stomach literally hurts at the thought of him.
Tucking my phone inside my hoodie pocket, I stare out the window as hordes of people walk through an intersection, umbrellas bobbing like black bubbles under the streetlights.
The Uber driver drops us off in front of our dorm, but we still have a few blocks to walk. Seattle has a high crime rate—even on campus. Which is why Callie holds her pepper spray like she’s about to torch anyone who tries to talk to us.
She has before. Warning: don’t approach her after dark.
We’re at the doors when my phone vibrates in my pocket. Thinking it’s Brynn, I check my screen and it’s not her.
Jaxon
Yo how’s softball going??
I nearly drop my phone. “Holy shit.”
“What?” Callie whips her pepper spray around, ready to fire. The neon lights from Dick’s Drive-In across the street cast an orange glow through our window, making her look ready for battle.
“Don’t spray me.” I push her hand down. “It’s a text.”
“Oh.” She giggles and lowers her hand. “Did the hockey guy text you and ask for my number?”
“How the fuck would he have gotten my number?”
“I don’t know.” She pulls open the dorm door, grunting because it sticks every time, swollen from Seattle's constant rain. “Who was it?”
I blink, my heart doing that stupid flutter thing. “Jaxon.”
“What?” she screams, then slaps her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, are you for real?” Before I can show her, she snatches my phone. “What’d he say?”
I don’t have to tell her because she’s staring at it. “Do you think he texted her?”
Callie’s wide eyes slide to mine. “Ask Brynn!”
“Oh, yeah. Good idea.”
Camdyn
Hush, hush on this