Chapter Ten: Delete for Everyone

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POV: Steven

Steven stared at the ceiling fan in his bedroom for so long he could swear it was mocking him.

Three slow rotations. One fast twitch of guilt. Repeat.

He hadn't turned on a single light. Just laid there, hoodie still on, sneakers kicked somewhere under the bed, replaying every second of that kiss like it was footage from a crime scene.

What the hell had he done?

It was supposed to be comfort. Just comfort.
And then it was not just comfort.

He rolled over, groaning into the pillow. His phone buzzed on the nightstand. He ignored it. Probably someone asking if he was planning to sleep at Lauren's again. Or if he'd organized her sock drawer alphabetically yet.

He sat up. Pushed his hair back. Got up. Paced.

He thought maybe eating would help.

It didn't.

He microwaved something he didn't finish. He opened his laptop to try watching a show but muted it before the opening credits ended. Then, like a fool, he opened his Notes app.

Title: Don't Be Weird.

Bullet one:

Don't bring it up. Just act normal.

Bullet two:

But not too normal. Then it looks fake.

Bullet three:

Just say it didn't mean anything?

Bullet four:

Did it not?

He closed the Notes app.

Opened Messages.

Typed:

Hey. Are you awake?

Didn't send it.

Deleted it.

Typed again:

I just want to say I'm sorry if I crossed a line.

Paused.

Deleted.

Typed:

I shouldn't have done that.

Deleted.

Typed:

You looked really pretty today.

Deleted with a full-body cringe.

He stood again, walking a lap around his apartment like movement would shake it loose. He rubbed at his temples, then opened his phone again.

Typed:

I've been thinking about what happened.
Maybe it was the stress. Or the timing.
I just think maybe we shouldn't do that again.

He stared at it.

Then, without thinking—sent it.

The second his thumb left the screen, his stomach dropped.

Sent to: Lauren Cohan

His hands fumbled over the screen.

Hold → "Undo Send"

Too late.

Read 10:41 PM

The three dots appeared almost immediately.

His heart was in his throat before he even saw what she was typing.

Scripted to BeDonde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora