Maybe It Was Fate

Chapter Thirty One

For the rest of the day, Chris and I don't see each other which is probably for the best. We both need time to relax and let the situation sink in.

I sit on a bench by the edge of the festival. My fingers subconsciously trace over the grooves of the wood as my thoughts run free.

I watch as people pass me by, trying to submerge the desire that a black-haired boy would walk past.

Soon enough, the sun is bleeding into the sky leaving traces of pink and orange to stain the sky almost as if it's a canvas.

Chris would love this. I sigh thinking about the fact that he's probably two hundred metres away from me, watching the sunset as well.

A text lights up the screen of my phone leaving me to scramble to pick it up. My heart sinks when Chris' name doesn't appear. It's from Ingrid telling Chris and I to walk home when we're ready because she left.

I stand, wanting to just leave this stupid place. Exhaustion creeps up on me, my eyelids feeling heavy. Today has been a long day.

Guilt creeps up on me. I know I overreacted. The thought of Chris not trusting me blinded me with rage. Every single day I'm watch Madison flirt with Chris and pretend it doesn't bother me, even though the urge to pull each individual eyelash extension out is suffocating.

The fact that Chris can't handle a situation that he completely misunderstood just infuriated me. I didn't want to fight with him. I still don't. Walking away and letting us both cool down was probably the best option.

I decide that I should probably go find him and walk back. I start weaving through the stalls, looking for the black-haired boy. The orange tainted sky seeps into the clouds that look glued into the darkening sky.

The little arms of grass reach out from the dirt, grabbing at my ankles, leaving a tingling sensation behind. The sea of people merge together, like waves in the ocean, making it harder and harder to find Chris.

Eyes stare me down. Eyes of all different shades. Blue eyes, grey eyes, green eyes, brown eyes. But not the eyes I'm looking for. It's like searching for a diamond in the sand.

I walk through what must be the entire festival. I do it again. But not once do I find the person I'm looking for.

I take my phone from my pocket, swiping on the screen, ready to call my boyfriend when his phone number flashes on the screen. I hesitantly press the green button and drag the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" I begin, waiting for a reply.

"Hey. I've already started walking back to the hotel. Come back whenever you're ready."

The line cuts out, indicating he hung up. My stomach drops, a sudden nausea settling in the bottom of my stomach.

I've messed up big time.

When my feet find the pavement of a winding footpath, I put one foot in front of the other, letting my steps fall into a natural pattern.

My eyes follow the cracks in the footpath, the inner child in me manoeuvring my feet to dodge the cracks.

It didn't take long for me to arrive back at my temporary home. I took the stairs instead of the lift. The intention to waste time and delay the time that I had to see Chris. It gave me time. Time to think. Time to prepare myself for my apology speech.

I follow the long abandoned corridor, my eyes scanning each door, searching for the room number 39. The gold numbers screwed into the door coated in a plain white mocked me. Daring me to open the door. My conscious tells me to run down the hallway and sleep in the lobby tonight. I tell my conscious to stick it.