𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞

63. secrets

11/7/19

I sit in the middle of what seems like a thousand pillow cases, but in reality is only twelve. They're dumped in no formation is a mix match of colours, ranging from blue to yellow.

I don't really know what I'm doing.

I've been sat here for two hours now, not doing anything apart from blowing my nose and feeling my eyes well up with tears before I push them away.

Tom and I had a fight.

And not a small one, at that.

It started about three days ago, the day before my birthday party. He asked if I was free to come over, and suggested we could watch a film. I couldn't go because I already had plans with Harry.

I've been working with him for a while now on a special project. But I couldn't tell Tom that. Mainly due to the ever present fact that the project is not announced yet, but also because I know that Tom would get jealous.

Which is why exactly what happened.

ON THÉ PHONE,
(8/7/19)

Tom
What's wrong Cam?

Me
Nothing, Tom.

Are you sure you're alright?

Yes, of course. Why do you keep asking?

You just seem off, that's all.

Well I'm fine.

Okay, okay. Calm down.

An awkward silence passed through the invisible barrier between our phones. I nibble at the loose skin on my thumb. A long, drawn out sigh leaves my lips when I get a message from Harry, asking if I can call him.

What's up?

Hm?

You just sighed really loudly.
I could hear you through the phone.

Oh sorry.
No need to be sorry, Cam.

I could hear his laughter. It was warm, and summery in contrast to the winters breeze outside.

Honestly, England needs to sort out its weather.

What are you doing today?

Oh, um, not much,
just some running around.

Oh, do you want some company?

Oh, no it's fine.

Sure? I need to get some stuff done anyway.

I said it's fine, Tom.

As soon as the words rolled off my tongue, it felt like my stomach had been stabbed by regret. I didn't have to see his face to know it would be covered with hurt.

I've known him long enough to know when I've hurt him.

Have I done something wrong Camryn?

No, no of course not.

Then why are you being so closed off?

What are you talking about?

You won't answer any of my
questions, and to be honest,
you're being a bit rude.

Well, it's not my fault you
got me at a bad time.

I took a large sip from the juice in front of me.

Are you drinking?

What do you mean?

Are you drinking?

No.

I heard him groan in frustration and mutter a few words to himself.

Jesus, fine. You know what? I'll leave you alone.

And with that he hung up the phone. I slammed it down onto the counter and stormed away.

And now I'm here. Bathing in my own self pity. Like I do every time I get in an argument.

You could say it's a habit.

It feels different this time though. It doesn't feel like it will last forever, but I know that I'm the one who will have to apologise this time.

Tom and I have had plenty of arguments in our friendship, but they were always small, and meaningless, even though they seemed huge at the time. We always resolved them within the hour, or at most two hours.

Anthony would say that we argued like toddlers; petty and stupid.

I remember once we got into a pretty heated debate about whether chocolate should be stored in the fridge, or in the pantry. I personally think fridge, but Tom disagreed.

I think you get the message.

I trace my fingers over the faint ruffles and ridges on the pillow case. It's a beautiful shade of turquoise.

The same shade of turquoise as Tom's sweater is.

I frown briefly, before standing up and walking to my closet. The bright colour stands out. I take it out, and immediately throw it over my t shirt.

It feels like home.

And guilt.

It only stays there for approximately 45 seconds before I rip it off and shove it messily back into place. Tears spill from my puffy eyes as I sulk back over to my pillows, and plop myself down.

I don't know how to talk to Tom.

But I know I need to.

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this chapter made me sad🥺