Getting Along

8. Obstacles

But now that I’m staring at him in front of me, his expression begging and pleading for another chance, I couldn’t think about when our relationship was going downhill. I looked in his eyes and all I could see was the happy times we had at the music festival, and when we visited each other. I remembered our rough patches that we overcame in only a couple hours, the times when we laughed, and when we talked before bed. I remembered all that clearer than I could remember exactly what our fights were ever about or whose fault it was. That’s all I could see when I looked at him and I wanted it all back.

But it wasn’t adding up—it didn’t make sense.

“Why didn’t you talk to me?” I whispered. “If you wanted me back why didn’t you try harder? Why did you wait five years?”

His eyebrows shot up, “I did! I tried for months to contact you but you wouldn’t answer.” I stared at him disbelievingly.

I shook my head, “When? I…I never heard anything from you!”

“It was a year after we broke up. I kept asking Louis about you and he just said you were fine and happy. Then I would text you and you wouldn’t answer and I never saw you on twitter…” My stomach dropped. He was asking about me and Louis never said anything?! He was trying to contact me while I was phoneless and no one told me!? “So after a couple months I just gave up. I accepted that you probably moved on.

“Then four years passed and I was busy with my own life and still thinking you were a personal assistant at Vogue—but then I see you in a fucking commercial! Hunter, I thought I’d moved on too, but there you were in that fucking shampoo commercial talking about frizzy hair and staring into my soul. Everything came back…and now….now look at me.”

He let his arms fall, hitting against his things, “I’m a fuckin’ mess.” I stared at him completely speechless. My brain was frozen and silent, giving up trying to figure out which emotion to feel as I just…stood there numb. My lip trembled and I put my face in my hands. I didn’t know what else to do.

“Don’t cry.” He said quietly. I felt his hands wrap around my wrists, pulling them down so I could look at him. “Please don’t cry.” I turned my face away as tears slipped from my eyes and he pulled me into a tight hug, rubbing my back and trying to sooth me. I melted against him for a second before pushing him away and starting to pace.

Do not be that girl Hunter. You spent months trying to get over this idiot and you can’t just fall into his arms because he said he wants you back. You can’t just trust him so easily like nothing happened. He could fucking be lying. It doesn’t matter if deep down you want him back too—it’s too late. It’s too fucking late. He let you go and you can’t just go crawling back; you won’t. It’s not like you can’t live without him—you clearly fucking can. You need space from him.

But…I thought about all the times when I almost called James or Michael by the wrong name, just when we were talking to each other. Niall’s name has been slipping out of my mouth for years, let alone all the times I thought about him. I’d see him at an award show with Harry and think ‘wow Niall, you made it’ or I would stupidly half expect him to call me and say how much fun he was having. I never really stopped thinking about him—he was everywhere so how could I?

Fucking damn it. This is exactly why this friend shit was a bad idea. I lose your head when I’m with him and it’s always been that way. He wasn’t good for me, and neither was anyone else you’ve been with. You just need to wait it out like every other woman does. Stop fucking thinking about him. It’s been five years! Get over him.

“Hunter, I’m sorry.” He begged stepping towards me. I choked out a sob and pushed his hands away as he tried to touch me again. “No, no Hunter. Please don’t do this. Just forget I said anything—we can just be friends again.”