I don’t know what answer I was really looking for from August, but his response still threw me off. In a way, I was surprised. I asked him for his honest answer and when he laid it all out there, it was almost like a punch to the gut. We’ve both been trying so hard to make this friend thing work out and now I know I’m not the only one who is struggling.
I think part of me wanted him to say he wanted to just be friends and didn’t want to pursue anything else between us. That maybe it was just the lust and the hormones between us that had us unable to keep our hands off one another when we were alone and the tension was high.
Instead, he told me that we’ve both been pretending and screw him for hitting the nail on the head. I wish what he said wasn’t true, but it is. We really are pretending and the closer we get, the worse we get at this charade.
And here I lay, at almost midnight, alone in bed, still replaying our conversation from earlier in the day over and over in my head.
Sleep should have found me long ago, especially with how exhausted I was after the day, but it’s as if my mind was refusing to let me go to sleep with this still lingering. I couldn’t give him an answer then and I still don’t think I could now.
He dropped me off back at campus after we had lunch and promised he would give me space. He said he would wait for me to reach out to him when I was ready and I could tell it pained him just to utter those words. I can still picture the pain washing over his eyes as he stared back at me as it began to drizzle in the dreary afternoon.
I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It consumed my every thought during the rest of my classes and after I got home. My mom could tell something was on my mind when we all had dinner, but Benjamin told her to let me be when she attempted to question me. I silently thanked him, because sometimes it was as if my stepfather knew what I needed when my mother was being overbearing.
After retiring early to my bedroom, I took another hot bath in an attempt to calm my heart and soul, but it failed. Nothing seemed to help right now and I kept checking my phone as if I were expecting a message or a phone call from August, even though he had promised me he would give me space.
I shouldn’t reach out to him, but a part of me feels desperate to talk to him right now. This is what he does to me. Somehow he has a way of fucking with every part of my brain and I can’t get him out regardless of how hard I try. For once, I just want some peace, but my heart won’t let me have it, not when it feels like it’s missing the vital piece it needs to beat.
Rolling onto my side, my stomach protrudes a little more than normal and I feel the same fluttering inside that I did earlier today. A gasp slips from my lips and I press my hand against my abdomen, feeling for another kick. It’s a small one, just like when I was with August, but it’s still there. Our little miracle—the unexpected thing that came from us being together and one thing I would never do over.
It’s almost as if it’s a sign. August is going to be a part of my life for the rest of my days, whether things work out between us or not. Would it really hurt to try? To try and at least make things work for ourselves, not even just for the baby. We both deserve that chance and sometimes there are risks in life that you have to take, even if it feels like it’s too big of a gamble.
And as much as it scares me, as much as I loathe gambling, I think it’s time I roll the dice. How much could it possibly hurt? The worst thing that would happen is one of us would end up with a broken heart and I’d be willing to bet it would be me before it would be him. I think I’m at the point where I’m ready to take that risk, to put everything on the line and see what happens…
Even if he does hurt me in the end.
Reaching over to my nightstand, I grab my phone and unlock the screen before I go to my messages. I know it’s late and August is probably asleep, but I can’t help myself. Sometimes there are things you need to get out, regardless of the time of day. And even if he doesn’t read it until the morning, at least I know I said what I needed to say.
The thought of calling him passes through my mind, but I quickly push it away, opening the last messaging thread between us instead. I don’t know whether I can handle hearing his voice right now or it might derail my plans of how I want to go about this.
Poppy: I’ve been thinking after this afternoon… and you were right, August. We’ve been pretending this whole time and it’s not working anymore. I can’t be your friend. I want to be more than that.
I wait for a moment, staring at the screen, but nothing happens. It says at the bottom corner of my message that it was delivered, but I figure that August is probably asleep, like I should be. A sigh slips from my lips and I lock the screen, setting it back down on my nightstand as I tuck my hands back under my pillow and nestle my head into it. Pulling the covers back up to my chin, I bury myself underneath.
Closing my eyes, I block out the soft light glowing from my night-light across my room. Yeah, I’m an adult and still sleep with a night-light. When I had my own apartment, I slept with the TV on every night. It was more out of habit than comfort. Since I moved back in with my parents, I never got around to hooking the thing up in here, so I’ve been sleeping with a night-light and an easy listening playlist on my Spotify account that I have on my phone.
Focusing on my breathing, I attempt to push the lingering thoughts of August from my brain. Inhaling deeply, I count and hold my breath before exhaling for another few counts. I feel it as it begins to slow my heart rate down and my body begins to relax deeper into the bed. August’s face still doesn’t leave my mind, but it makes it easier—the only thing that has made me feel somewhat relaxed since we had our conversation over lunch earlier.
My phone suddenly vibrates, startling me. I peel my eyelids open, my heart pounding erratically in its cage as if the breathing exercises I just did didn’t mean anything anymore. My breath catches in my throat as I lean back over and pull my phone into my hand from the nightstand and pull it closer to me.
Unlocking the screen, I see a message with August’s name on it. A smile touches my lips as the anxiety runs through my system. He was the one who said we weren’t just pretending and he wanted more from me, so I don’t know why I’m nervous. What I said to him is basically wanting the same thing he said to me. But what if he changed his mind since we last talked? I wouldn’t blame him if he did. Not only is having a baby a huge commitment, but so is being with someone.
August: Baby, baby, baby… You really mean that?
The smile on my lips spreads further, a grin completely consuming my face as I laugh lightly. Emotion clogs my throat and tears prick the corners of my eyes. I’m relieved and elated at his message. I hope I didn’t wake him up from sleeping, but I’m thankful he responded. That he read my message and knows what I want—that I want the same things he does.
Poppy: More than anything, but I only have one condition.
I don’t bother closing my phone, staring at the message thread and the three small bubbles popping up as he quickly responds. They don’t go away and come back, instead they disappear as his message comes through immediately.
August: Lol, you and your conditions, Poppy Williams.
A laugh falls from my lips again and I bury myself under the covers, feeling like a little kid with a first crush as I hold my phone under with me, typing back to him. The butterflies spring to life in my stomach, scraping my insides with their wings, and I love the feeling spreading through my body. The effect August has on me…
Poppy: I want to take things slow. I don’t want to rush into anything, even though we both know we’ve always been more than friends and have clearly had sex before. I just want to go slow and make sure this is what we both really want.
I swallow hard over the emotion in my throat. I know this is what I really want, but what if it isn’t what he wants? Or he could change his mind at any given time. I always knew that if I had kids, I didn’t want them to come from a broken home like I did with my parents. I have more faith in August than I did in my real father.
As much as I want to believe that he wouldn’t do the same things my father did, it’s hard to tell what someone will do. You think you know someone and then they turn around and prove that you really didn’t know them all along. I know how much hockey means to August—how that comes first in his life and always has.
But will it always come first? Having a baby changes everything and I need him to understand and realize that. I would never be the one to come between him and the sport he loves, the sport he’s working so hard to turn into a career. But I need to know where his priorities lay, because if it comes down to it, I will choose the baby and its well-being over him.
A child needs at least one reliable parent and if August can’t be that, I will have to be the one that makes that choice, even if it breaks me in the process. The only thing I can hope for is that it never comes down to that.
August: We can take things as slow as you want, baby. You know I would never pressure you or force you into something you don’t feel comfortable with. You’re more important to me than I would ever be able to explain and I just want you to give me the chance to prove that to you. Let me show you how I really feel about you, baby. No more of this being friends bullshit.
I stare at his message, my heart crawling into my throat as it restricts my airway, and I swallow hard over the emotion building inside me. Three small bubbles pop up again before I get the chance to respond.
August: Be mine, Poppy. Let’s make it official. You’re my baby momma, but I want everyone to know that you’re my girl. My girlfriend.
The emotion has me choked up, my heart pounding erratically in its cage as I reread his message over and over again. I wanted to tell him how I was feeling, that I wanted to be more than friends as well.
And he wants me to be his.
Poppy: I’m yours, boyfriend.
My stomach does a flip as I type out the words and send the message.
August: You always have been, baby.
