The Dating Game

FORTY-FOUR

Saturday, March 17th

I can't lie; it's been hard trying to process everything I've been feeling these last couple of weeks. Not only has Chase been a constant thought on my mind, but my mom ended up revealing to me that my dad was choosing to go to rehab to be a better man. The only thing is, I'm glad he's deciding to get help, but I don't think I can keep him in my life anymore. And I think that's the only thing I've been sure about this whole time.

But when it comes to the whole situation with Chase, including my complicated feelings for him and whether or not they matter more than the pain I felt as a result of the whole fake dating game, I haven't had a clue what to feel.

Since our conversation in his car that night, I feel like all I've been doing is replaying the most painful moments of our relationship, including everything I felt afterward, and comparing them to the happiest moments, trying to decide which one overpowers the other. But for weeks, I haven't been able to figure it out.

I remember after we spoke, he drove home and I went back inside to hang out with Naomi. She'd already started to feel tired so I was getting her ready for bed when she asked, "Is he your boyfriend again?"

I told her no, but the moment I did, my chest ached. I tried to ignore it as I read her a bedtime story, and for the most part, it worked. It worked for hours, and then days, and then a week passed by and I realized I understood everything from Chase's point of view.

If he had asked me, back then, if I'd gone on a date with him, I definitely would've thought he was playing a prank on me. I mean, Chase and I never really spoke to one another all throughout school, even though we had known each other for years. Not to mention he was the biggest heartthrob around, and I was anything but. I never would've been able to picture us together—not in a million years.

But now, I can't imagine my life without him. The world is so gray when he's not around, yet I've been pushing him away to "process" feelings that I've been groveling over for far too long anyway. There's nothing left to process anymore; I know how I feel and I know exactly what I'm going to do about it.

Except I don't. Because I haven't actually spoken to Chase since that night, two weeks ago.

I glance at him in the halls, of course. He smiles at me, I look away and pretend my heart isn't pounding inside my chest. I pretend I'm not smiling back when the grin on my face is so deep it starts to hurt.

It doesn't help that he's been leaving little notes in my locker every single day. Every. Single. Day. Literally one constant stream of notes, all with silly little messages that mean nothing but also mean everything.

Because it means he meant what he said. He wouldn't dare to give up on me.

No matter how much trouble I've given him, no matter how much I've fought him and teased him and pushed him away and shut him out—he continues to fight for me. He continues to love me the way that I am, even after everything I've done to stop him. I couldn't be more imperfect and he knows that. And still, despite it all, he loves me.

I would be such a fool to let that go. I would be absolutely insane to let him go.

Monday, March 19th

There's a new energy in me today. It's even better than what I felt last time, when I was so convinced that I was finally over Chase and that everything was back to normal. Now, my energy stems from the realization that I'm loved by someone for who I am, despite what I've done to prevent it. So who cares how we came to be? We are Chase and Michelle, point blank. It doesn't matter how we got there.