Page 18 of Regretting You

“Yes!” I say, sitting up. “On SNL ? Oh my God, it was so funny.” I’m smiling, but I hate that I’m smiling.

It feels weird to smile when I’m so full of sadness, but this is how Miller makes me feel every time I’m around him.

He’s the only thing that seems to be able to take my mind off everything, yet he’s the one person I can’t really hang out with. Thanks for that, Shelby.

It sucks. I don’t like thinking about it, even though we’re together right now. But when I eventually return to school, things will go back to how they’ve been. Miller will keep his distance. He’ll respect his relationship with Shelby, which will only serve to make me respect him even more.

And I’ll just continue to be in a depressing funk.

“I should go,” I say.

Miller hesitates before moving. “Yeah, I think my break was over ten minutes ago.” We both stand up, but I can’t get out of the aisle because he’s blocking my way, facing me, not making an effort to walk away. He’s just staring down at me as if he wants to say something else. Or do something else.

“I’m really sorry about what happened,” he says.

At first, I’m not sure what he’s talking about, but then it hits me. I press my lips together and nod, but I don’t say anything because it’s the last thing I want to talk or think about.

“I should have said that the other day. At the funeral.”

“It’s fine,” I say. “I’m fine. Or at least I’ll be fine. Eventually.” I sigh. “Hopefully.”

He’s staring at me like he wants to pull me in for a hug, and I really wish he would. But instead, he turns and walks out of the aisle, toward the exit.

I stop at the restroom on our way out. He grabs a trash can and starts to pull it toward the theater we just came out of.

“See ya, Clara.”

I don’t tell him goodbye. I walk into the restroom and don’t even bother pretending things will be the same between us the next time I see him.

He’ll avoid me while being all faithful and shit, and whatever .

That’s okay. I need to stop interacting with him anyway, because as good as it feels when I’m around him, it’s starting to hurt when I’m not.

And I don’t need another painful thing added to my already existing pile of excruciating feelings.

When I get home, I expect my mother to be waiting up for me, pissed and ready to argue. Instead, the house is quiet. Her bedroom light is off.

When I get to my own bedroom, I’m surprised to find my cell phone on my pillow.

A peace offering. That’s unexpected.

I lie back on my bed and catch up on my messages. Lexie wants to know if I’ll be at school tomorrow. I wasn’t planning on going back so soon, but the thought of being in this house sounds way worse than school, so I tell her I’ll be there.

I open Instagram and browse through Miller’s profile. I know I said I needed to stop interacting with him, and I will. But first, I need to send him a message. Just one. Then we can go back to how things have been between us for the past year. Nonexistent.

Just wanted to say thank you for the free movie and the shitty popcorn. You’re the best sibling I’ve ever had.

He doesn’t follow me, so I expect it to go to his filtered messages and take him a month to read, but he actually responds within a few minutes.

Miller: You got your phone back?

I grin and roll onto my stomach when his message comes in.

Me: Yeah. It was on my pillow when I got home. I think it’s a peace offering.

Miller: She sounds like a cool mom.

I roll my eyes. Cool is being very generous.

Me: She’s great.

I even put one of those smiling face emojis to make my response more believable.

Miller: You coming back to school tomorrow?

Me: I think so.

Miller: Good deal. I should probably stop talking to you here. I think Shelby knows my password.

Me: Wow. That’s like next level. You proposing soon?

Miller: You love to make fun of my relationship.

Me: It’s my favorite pastime.

Miller: I guess I make it easy.

Me: Has she always been a jealous person? Or did you do something to make her that way?

Miller: She’s not a jealous person. She’s only jealous when it comes to you.

Me: What?! Why?

Miller: It’s a long story. A boring one. Good night, Clara.

It’s a boring story? Whatever. The fact that Miller has a story that includes me in the narrative is going to be the only thing I can think about for the rest of the night.

Me: Good night. Make sure you delete these messages.

Miller: Already have.

I stare at my phone, knowing I should stop, but I send him one more message.

Me: Here’s my number in case you get your heart broken again.

I send him my phone number, but he doesn’t respond. Probably for the best.

I go back to his page and scroll through his pictures.

I’ve looked through his page before, but not since I’ve actually had a conversation with him.

Miller is good with a camera. There are a few pictures of Miller with Shelby, but most of his pictures are of random things.

None of him by himself, which I like for some reason.

The picture that catches my eye is a black-and-white photo he took of the city limit sign. It makes me laugh, so I double tap the picture to like it.

I’m still scrolling through my feed when a text comes through from a number I don’t recognize.

Troublemaker.

His text makes me laugh. I honestly didn’t like his picture with any ill intent. I genuinely thought it was funny, and for a minute, I forgot that me even liking it could send him back to the interrogation room with Shelby.

I immediately save his number in my contacts. It makes me wonder if he’s going to save my number under my real name or a fake name. Shelby would flip if she knew he had my number in his phone. And I’m sure if she has his Instagram password, she probably goes through his phone.

Me: You saving my number under a fake name so you don’t get in trouble?

Miller: I was thinking about it. What about Jason?

Me: Jason is a good name. Everyone knows a Jason. She wouldn’t be suspicious.

I smile, but my smile only lasts a fleeting second. I remember the last thing Aunt Jenny texted me. “ You don’t want to be the other girl. Trust me. ”

She’s right. Aunt Jenny was always right. What am I doing?

Me: Never mind. Don’t save me under a fake name. I don’t want to be Jason in your phone and I don’t want to be your fake sibling at the movie theater. Call me someday when I can just be Clara.

The dots appear on my phone. They disappear.

He doesn’t text me back.

After a few minutes, I screenshot our messages and then delete his number.