Outside

23

I couldn't really sleep last night.

Or the night before that.

Or the night before that.

It had become hard to sleep with the knowledge that I'd wasted almost two months falling deeper in love with him all whilst he just saw me as a friend. He saw me the way he saw Larry and Benji, the way he saw Lois and every other friend he has. He saw me as a friend all whilst I saw him as the reason to wake up in the morning with a smile on my face, the reason that whenever someone asks me if I'm okay, I say yes and actually mean it.

It had become hard to sleep when I'd become so used to looking forward to the next morning, because before I knew that when I awoke, I'd have a text waiting for me, I'd most likely have plans that day, I'd have someone to call and tell him the dream I had that night, no matter how weird or otherworldly it was.

It had become hard to sleep when all I could think about was him, he corrupted my whole mind, I couldn't dream about anything because he took over my thoughts. He became my dreams. And he only became my dreams because he was no longer my reality. Because I could only dream about him liking me the way I liked him. I could only dream about his lips on my lips, his soft touch on my skin, his arms wrapped around me. The safety and the security I felt whenever he was around.

I couldn't even look my parents in the eyes every time one of them told me to get a grip and grow up and find another job because I'd absolutely deteriorated my chances with the last one I had. I couldn't look them in the eye because all I felt towards them was utter anger, because they were the cause of the argument Van and I had. They were the reason Van had torn up my happiness like a piece of paper. And I almost hated them for it. I hated them for encouraging us to talk about something so ridiculous which resulted in me laying in bed at half three in the morning wondering why I was never good enough to be more than just a friend.
I hated myself for agreeing to invite Van over in the first place.

I felt so puerile saying all of this about him. It's embarrassing to even think about the fact that the feelings I have for Van were never mutual and I was just holding onto the tiny bit of hope that maybe, just maybe, he'd feel the same way.

He hadn't called me since he walked out, nor had he texted me. It made me think maybe I was right, that he was definitely stringing me along the whole time because he had nothing better to do. 

It made me think about the time when Lois told me a while ago, when I realised I considered Van more than just a friend, that Van had a reputation for getting with girls when he was touring, and it was the same when he wasn't on the road too. It only made it more believable to know that his best friend had told her about it. And to know that Larry didn't tell me for whatever reason, the truth hurt ten times more.

Although I was kept out of the gossip about Van sleeping around, I giggled when she told me, acted like some silly teenage girl who'd found out some dirty rumour about the boy I fancied. I found it funny, saw it as a joke, and Lo did too.

But now when I remembered Lois telling me this, it made me sick to my stomach, made me feel so stupid and gullible. And so maybe that's why I assumed I was actually right. Because he'd done it before, he led girls on when he was bored and he did it to me too.

But there I was, thinking I'd finally found a boy who treats girls how they're supposed to be treated, instead of treating them as if they were a slab of meat. There I was, naive and stupid like usual, melting into the bright eyes of a lad who did the same thing to every girl he came across, thinking maybe this time it's different. Maybe this time he'll look at me and stop to think I was the end of it. The end of all that sleeping around, messing with girls' feelings because he had the power to do it, because he was famous and because he had girls swooning over him where ever he went, whatever he did.

It hurt, I can't deny that. It hurt to think about him. Who knew five weeks was enough time to fall completely head over heels for a lad who couldn't care less about you?

I'm back to square one if I really think about it. Minus the job, I'm just who I was before I met Van, if not worse. Unhappy. With nothing to look forward to and no one to call when I'm in need of a stupid conversation about nothing in particular. It sounds stupid saying Van had changed my life, but I wouldn't be saying it if it wasn't true. In five short weeks, he'd had become the most important person in my life and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't fallen a in love with him.

Truth is, I miss him. For almost three full days, I've had little to no interaction with anyone, not even Lois. And it wasn't because of what happened with Van, it was just simply because she was busy with Bob, busy being in love with someone who actually wanted to commit to her. Larry had texted me though, told me he was throwing a party tomorrow night, asked me if I wanted to come. I said no, told him I wasn't feeling too well and that I probably wouldn't be tomorrow either. It was a blatant lie, I could sense his knowing tone through the texts he sent back but Larry being Larry, he understood and told me to take care.

It was even hard to concentrate on finding a new job when all that occupied my mind was Van. It was silly of me to be so caught up in the thought of him to the point where literally everywhere I looked, every word I read, it all just lead me back to him.

I'd spent all the days just listening to music and applying for jobs in little cafés downtown, knowing full well I'd never be able to afford a new place before the year ends if I end up working in some shitty café that wouldn't even pay me a living wage.

Maybe I should have taken Van's offer and just said yes the first time he asked, maybe this whole thing wouldn't have happened and I'd be laughing away with him on that overly uncomfortable sofa in the apartment he shared with Larry. Maybe if I'd said yes, Van wouldn't have told everyone we were friends, maybe he would've thought of me as something more than that. Maybe my feelings would've been mutual and he liked me just as much as I did him.

But that's not the case. Because I was trying to be sensible, trying to think about how much I'd be leaving behind. At the time he asked, I was still working for that bunch of wankers, and although they irritated the shit out of me, it was the biggest reason as to why I couldn't leave, I needed the money. Now the only thing stopping me is my parents, the look on their faces if I ever told them that I was flying across the globe with a bunch of lads they've never even met. The disappointment they'd feel towards me if that's what I decided to spend my life doing.

I hate how he has corrupted my whole mind. I should be out with my friends, I should be having the time of my life dancing on tables at the shitty bar that for some reason I adore. But instead I'm cuddled up in bed, waiting for a miracle to happen, waiting for it all to just be one big dream and I'll wake up and have no trace of his leather jacket in my mind. It's only five in the evening but it's already dark out and I'm tired and extremely bored.

I can't deny that I'd rather be drinking half my body weight with Lois and the lads. I could call her, Lois I mean, ask her to come over so I can drown her in my problems like I usually do. She'd understand, not from experience, but because she's good at understanding and putting herself in my shoes. She's good at listening, and that's Just what I need right now.