𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓! | harry styles

𝐗𝐈𝐕

LAUGHING. Evelyn was laughing.

I feel sick, but then I take a few more drags, and I'm sure she's putting on an act, trying to make sure no one suspects she had anything to do with my departure.

She's a smart girl.

She's my girl. Still. I know it.

She's still protecting me.

I sit for hours, watching the ducks bob and dip under the water, planning out in my head what I'm going to say to Lydia when I get home. I'm sure she'll be okay, but honestly, when she asks what I plan to do now I have no answer.

I have no fucking idea.

There's no career. There's no plan. I envision myself working in the local hardware store or something, and I just don't see it. How do I explain that?

Fuck.

I need a strategy. I need to look like I had one all along. It's not like I have a teaching or coaching position waiting for me. My heart burns, my stomach gives me sharp pains. Lydia's going to be hurt that I didn't tell her I'd been planning this. I didn't let her in, I didn't communicate. I didn't fucking consider her, that's what she's going to say with that hurt look on her face that makes me feel like shit.

So what does Harry Styles, fallen coach, fallen respected citizen do?

He fucking pussies out again.

Lydia doesn't seem to know anything when she gets home, her greeting as loving as usual. I sit on the couch, nursing a beer as she skips around the apartment. My father hasn't called, and my paranoia wonders if he's sitting there in the living room of my childhood home playing a game of chicken. Waiting for me to come and tell him just so he can have that moment he's been waiting for to make me feel like I'm not good enough.

I don't think I'm lucky enough to have escaped the town gossip that would reach his ears, but for some reason, the evening passes with no call. Lydia watches her wedding dress show, and I sit there, like stone, one arm cemented around her like a statue.

Tense. Waiting. Unsure.

Like the proverbial other shoe is going to drop from the tallest building in the world and crush me like a bug.

I'm in and out of thought, what am I going to do, when am I going to see Evelyn, when can this charade end. Maybe I'll leave immediately for California. Take a road trip, clear my head. Spend Christmas with Santa and his elves in the desert heat of Las Vegas.

But I can't plan anything until I hear from her. It's not until I see Lydia checking her email that it hits me.

I can email Evelyn. There's a slim chance her dad might be monitoring her email, but could he? My girl would be slick enough to not give him that password. I've never emailed her before, but I have her address.

When Lydia goes to bed I reach for the laptop and stare at a blank screen. What the fuck do I say?

'Hey there, wow, what a mindfuck, hope you're okay.'

That doesn't even cover it.

I start typing, deleting, typing again. What comes out isn't what I really want to say, but it's short and to the point.

Get a hold of me. Somehow.

My email stays silent, the Groupon and Best Buy spam emails sitting there, looking at me.

And then it dings that incoming email sound and her name appears on the top of my email list.

evecastillo33