He's My Neighbour

46: Break Up

A/N: We have surpassed 50,000 reads by a long way, and that is truly insane. How has this book gotten this type of recognition? It's beyond me! Never the less, I am so incredibly grateful for every one of you reading this right now. Love you all.

I just want to apologise for not writing in months. I do intend on completing this book- there's no doubt there, but I just don't know how long it will take to do so, as I have so much plot left to cover, and minimal-no spare time. However, I knew from the beginning that this would be a long-winded story, so please don't be discouraged after reading this chapter- trust me, we still have a lot lot more to see!

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Chapter 46: Amy's POV: Break Up

Leila's mother eventually dropped me off home.

Thankfully, he wasn't at his home. Presumably, Jake had gone to Zac or Caleb's after seeing me at the bus stop. Therefore, his house was vacant, but sure as hell not for long.

I was trying to be brutal- disavow my emotions, and portray the opinionated takes-no-shit woman that I had a small part of inside of me. The old me. That version of myself seemed the most appealing at the moment. However, there was the problem: the aforementioned, confident boss-ass girl was just a small part of me, and although I had wiped away my tears and put on a brave face, that small part was not capable of mending the pieces that had fallen apart when I found out what Jake did to me. Something was broken, and I needed time and space away from him to fix it. I needed my own strength back instead of constantly relying on Jake to supply it for me. Because of all this, I was emotionally... gutted.

I'd make it through- how hard could it be?

Stone-cold, ruthless, inconsiderate.

I had ran over my lines countless times inside of my head, until they all become an enormous puzzle. My brain was screaming out insults and hate towards Jake.

Shakily, I opened my bedroom window to open his- of course, it wasn't locked- it never was. After crawling through, and landing on his floor, the disconnection between the two of us became unmistakably apparent. As I stood in his empty, dark room, I felt like a trespasser. In there, no longer did I feel welcomed or homely. No longer did I feel at ease or steady.

I felt as though time had rewound.

No longer did I feel relaxed to be in my boyfriend's space.

I felt as though I was back being the unrecognisable face obsessing over the popular boy.

Uncomfortably, I perched on the tip of his bed, and waited... and waited. I twiddled my thumbs repeatedly, counting on him to walk through his door any second. My newfound courage dwindled more with every minute passing that he wasn't there, with suffocating nerves wrapping their evil bodies around my chest. For an hour, my eyes were transfixed to the door- I didn't shift my attention- not once! Not even to check the time on my mobile. I just waited... and waited.

I grew restless, as the boredom began to kick in. However, every time I felt the urge to move, or better yet leave his house, I thought to myself- just one last time. Only once more did I have to wait on him, before I was by myself again.