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But here was the thing: Neil had become my best friend. (Yep, I said it. My best friend. No way was I telling Sydney that, because she’d kill me, but there it was.)
He was my go-to text, my go-to phone call, and the person I found myself wanting to hang out with more than anyone else—you know, before everything went sideways. Did that make me a totally patheticchicks over dickstraitor? Probably. But I got what I deserved in the end, because it was ripped out from under me, by my own two hands, and I was left with a severe case of emotional whiplash. I was carrying around the mess of feelings in my arms, wearing them on my sleeves, struggling to bury them back deep down where they belonged.
What I was seeing these last few weeks? Again and again? Was that I was even more screwed up than I’d thought possible. I was so afraid offeelingsomething for someone that I’d run from Neil like such a coward. In the end, more damage had been done than I’d realized. There was an aversion to these things—relationships, feelings, love—living somewhere in the shadows of my bones, and it was obvious to me who had planted them there. Seeding and watering them my entire life.My mother.
It was embarrassing. And hard to come to terms with—that there was something about me I needed to fix, wires that needed to be rerouted in my brain. I didn’t even know how to go about doing that.
But I wanted to try. For Neil, I wanted to try.
If heeven wanted to fix what was broken between us in the first place. I wasn’t forgetting that he brushed me off, scoffing like the idea of us actually being together was absolutely ridiculous. Throwing theno girlfriend, no boyfriendthing in my face. It was a dick move, honestly.
But I was hoping he regretted it as much as I did.
And the not knowing of it all, of where we stood now, was slowly killing me. Even though I tried to convince myself it wasn’t.
I guess I wasn’t so good at lying to myself anymore. The flood gates were open, and my feelings were screaming in my face, refusing to be ignored.
It was a mess.
I was a mess.
A week had passed. It was Christmas Eve, and I was all alone. Linda was off in Vegas, doing her thing. Herthing.
As if I wanted to spend Christmas with her anyway. Though, in her defense, she had asked me first—if I was okay with her taking off. Considering the perma-scowl I’d been wearing all break, adon’t fucking approach mevibe like I was born with it (well, I think I actually was, literally, born with it, but that was beside the point), she practically ran out of the house when I told her I didn’t care.
I was lounging in bed now, twiddling my thumbs. I might’ve been all Netflix-ed out. (Gasp!Said no oneever.Something was definitely wrong with me. Obviously.) I flipped my phone around between my fingers, closer to breaking and texting Neil than I’d been all break.
I unlocked my screen. Pressed on the green message app. Scrolled down and tapped Neil’s name. Which was still input as“Mr. Wingspan”in my phone. I cracked a smirk, and then rolled over and groaned into my arm, purposely tossing my phone to the end of the bed, and then kicking it off with my foot for good measure.
It clunked onto the floor with a satisfyingthudandsmack.
I was not breaking and texting him first.
I wasnot.
Screw that.
After a sufficient enough amount of time and feeling like I could trust myself again, I got up and grabbed the remote and turned Netflix back on instead.
Whatever.
I settled on a nice holiday classic.Silent Night, Bloody Night.
How was that for a Christmas mood?
A message pinged.
I rolled over and stretched out, before growling and pulling the blanket back over my eyes.Too early.The sun wasn’t even up yet.
But the message reminder chimed again.
I reached out, picked up my phone, and pulled it into my dark cocoon. It was a message from Neil. At three a.m.
I perked up. (Mentally.It was still too early for the physical part.)
He’d sent me a message. He broke first,and he sent me a message—his screenplay, actually, upon closer inspection. I sat up and looked over the text feed again, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. There was definitely nothing there but the manuscript. Not since our messages from a few weeks ago.
Still, it felt like a peace offering.