woman like me - j.f✔️

XXVII

They'd made it to the weekend, and Love was drained. After the two weeks she'd had at school, she wanted nothing more than to sleep. It was so hard departing with her bed that morning, but she'd gotten up anyway and showered in time to meet Justin at noon.

Today was hotter than most days, so shorts and a shirt was the only appropriate wear for this weather. And she'd met him at Paolo's once again, walking to the theatre with a vanilla latte and a coffee. In time to see Civil War. This movie had sparked a lot of conversation between the pair on their journey, and it came down to the crucial question.

"Team Cap, or team Iron Man?" She challenged, standing in line by the snack counter. He knew that there was a wrong answer, but answered honestly anyway.

"Team Iron Man." He responded slowly, and he knew it was the wrong answer as soon as her face shrivelled up. "Don't you dare say this friendship isn't working out. I know you too well." He did, in fact, so well that he ordered her usual candy order as she'd waited in line for the screen. 

"You never told me you lived alone." She mentioned. They were walking down the street, after their movie, and finishing the last of their snacks. Love was throwing Mike&Ikes into the air and catching them in her mouth.

"I'll explain everything soon, I promise." He mentioned, they'd gotten to her porch once again. But he wasn't staying for dinner, he'd be going home and FaceTiming her before bed. As he said goodbye, she stopped him and pulled him in. If there was anything Justin needed right now, it was a hug from Love. He wanted to savour every moment they had before he ruined it all.

"Goodnight, Justin." She whispered, kissing his cheek. And to her, it was kissing her friend on the cheek and going in for dinner without a second thought. But to him it was everything — it solidified everything he'd felt for her, and confirmed any unsure thoughts in his head.

He liked her. He really, really liked her. And what made it harder was that he couldn't do anything about it. She had Rowan, who didn't deserve even a fraction of Love's time and energy. And she wouldn't want the boy who let Hannah's life be ruined by his friends.

The walk home was slow, agonisingly slow. The trees weren't as beautiful, the lights weren't as capturing, the sky had faded to black. When you figure out your feelings for someone, it should be a good feeling. It'll give you the confidence to go for that person, but why did he feel so fucking awful? Because he knew he'd ruin Love's life. Like he did Hannah's, like he did Jessica's, like he did his own.

Love had a wonderful evening, however. She'd had a great meal, a warm bath, and was cozied up in her freshly made bed. It was a perfect end to a perfect day. She waited for the FaceTime call, after receiving a text from Justin.

Justin: I'll call in 10 minutes.

He spent that ten minutes pacing his bedroom, should he call? Will it make him feel worse? He couldn't ghost her again, or she'd never forgive him. For her, he decided to call. He was laid in bed and watching as she propped her phone up against the kitchen wall, making her tea. She was adorable. And Justin noticed all of these features in a different light. Her messy hair that she had tied into a ponytail, the way her nose scrunches when she smiles, and the glasses she needs in order to see yet she hides them. He remembered that conversation, she'd FaceTime'd him and she'd popped up on her screen, this time wearing glasses. It was a surprise, and he mentioned it. She'd forgotten she'd been wearing them, but Justin wanted her to keep them on. And she did. But she'd never leave the house in them, she was adamant on contact lenses for school and outings.

"Are you okay?" She asked quietly, looking down at the screen. All of these wonderful memories had distracted him from how terrible he was feeling, and he finally felt okay.

"I'm happy." He replied honestly, smiling back at her. "I'm really, really happy." They spoke for hours — which Justin needed more than anything. The second she would end the call, all of the negative feelings would come rushing back. He'd talk about anything that came to mind, anything that would keep her on the other end of the line.

And this time, he had fallen asleep on FaceTime. She was still sat in bed, sipping on her tea, watching his eyes flutter before closing. And she could hear his soft snored erupting through her phone speakers. She almost didn't want to end the call. But with a giggle, she whispered into the phone, "Goodnight, Justin."