The Girl

THIRTY-ONE: BÉSAME

"Bésame, a destiempo, sin piedad y en silencio. Bésame, frena el tiempo, haz crecer lo que siento..."

SONG: BESAME
ARTIST: CAMILA

I was miserable. It felt like I couldn't eat and I couldn't stare at anything pink without thinking of Brianna. I couldn't go on Snapchat because she was all over it. Twitter either. My tweets became a once a week thing rather than daily. Instagram was a little better, but not the same. My habit of going on her profile and scrolling through her pictures hadn't worn off and I hated myself for never wanting it to. She was Sirius and I was Betelgeuse. Smaller but brighter.

I huffed and threw my phone at the end of the bed and rolled onto the other side only to start gagging at the feeling of hair in my mouth. Faded pink strands of hair decorated the pillow and I tried to keep myself from crying.

You broke up with her, I reminded myself and picked off the strands and placed them in the trash bin. You made the mistake of breaking up with her.

I scowled at myself and sat up. I needed to do something. You need to apologize at her feet and hope she takes you back.

"She won't want me back," I spoke to myself and reached for my phone again. I stared at the darkness of my screen before deciding to unlock it.

I still hadn't changed her contact name. And I wouldn't because it still held truth.

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to loml:

Hey.

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from loml:

What do you want?

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I winced. Harsh.

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to loml:

I just wanted to talk to you. I miss you.

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from loml:

Now you want me to stay? Honestly, Luke, make up your mind. I'm not going to be here forever and you know that. You know how much the thought of leaving you hurt. You knew how much I wanted you to hold on. Stop trying to protect and start treating me like the girl you love, not a possession.

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to loml:

Are you still in LA?

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Twenty minutes later I found myself at a book store she told me she had found while wandering the streets. Open Book, the store name read. The lights were outrageously bright, the darkness of the shop threw me off a bit and she walked out when I thought she had spotted me.

"Frank owns the shop," She explained and sat down in front of me with a latte in her hands. She brushed her hair out of her face.

"Oh," I whispered and exhaled. "I--How have you been?"

"Can we skip the part where you pretend to care how I'm doing and tell me why you decided to text me after two weeks?" Anger shown through her features and she was boiling hotter than the latte in front of her. She wanted to hit something.