𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐄 | 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐭

Chapter 46

tw: use of derogatory word used towards oneself (sl*t)

...

tommy you hung up??

wait that means i won

but why? why did you leave?

is everything alright?

i feel like i should be bragging
about my victory but i'm really
worried right now

please tell me everything's okay?

shit was it me?

i hope i didn't make you uncomfortable or anything

i'm sorry istg i dont know what
happened so please text me back
as soon as possible

...i hope you're not dead in a ditch

*sent 30 minutes ago*

...

There was still no sign, no text, no call from Tommy. Nothing. She was beginning to expect the worse like he was mugged. Pushing aside her anxiety, she tried to remain calm for his sake.

Maybe his phone died? But that wouldn't make sense either because he was charging it earlier.

The only solid conclusion she can come up with is that she either pissed him off enough to hang up, or he died. Maybe a bit extreme, but her mind operates in mysterious ways. Although he did sound mad earlier when she talked about him being her wingman... and maybe talking with Alphonso, the man from the bakery, he couldn't have been mad because of that, right?

She hits her forehead, mumbling, "Stupid stupid stupid. I'm so fucking stupid." She wasn't flirting with Alphonso, was she? At least she didn't mean to. Is that what Tommy thought—that she was flirting? In that case, why would it upset him? Unless...

NO, her mind interjects, YOU ARE SO GODDAMN STUPID. HE WOULD NEVER LIKE YOU.

Ouch, brain.

She numbly scrolls through their past texts looking for any incriminating evidence of her suspicion. Of course, she finds nothing—he would never like a slut—his messages have been the same since the beginning, maybe even more sincere. There's no reason someone as good as him would love someone as unworthy as you. She throws her arms around her head and pleads for her mind to STOP IT! DON'T THINK LIKE THAT! Then, you've upset him. He probably never wants to speak to you again. Pathetic. Her eyes fill with tears, eventually cascading down her cheeks. Why could she never be at peace with herself? She really needs to get professional help.

The ache in her heart intensifies as her phone eventually buzzes.

...

I'm sorry

I didn't expect you to
worry about me

And no, I'm not mad at you

...

She hesitates. How can she talk to him in this state? Broken down and sobbing. No, how is she supposed to speak to him ever again when her feelings don't permit it? She's a mess. Unlovable. She wishes it weren't so.