Rosalie
I pull the sheet over my head when I hear the front door close. Leila has been in and out of my apartment ever since Grayson and I broke up.
Technically we didn’t break up because, according to him, we never happened. But we happened. At least to me. He was my first kiss, my first time, my first love. He was my first everything. He showed me how he lived, he showed me freedom, and I loved the version of myself that was happy with him.
I felt like I could be myself with him without feeling like I had to impress anyone. There were no rules, restrictions, or expectations. He took me as I was and made me fall for him.
The last connection I have to Grayson is the bank notification of the money being returned to my account. He’s done with me. He wants nothing to do with me, not even my help. And now here I am in bed on a Friday, heartbroken over a boy who never even loved me.
Not to mention I missed class this whole week. I can’t even get out of bed and get in the shower. I can’t stop thinking about the time he filled the bath up and took care of me when I was high and delirious. How could he not feel anything for me when he treated me like I was everything?
He completely ruined every other guy for me. How the hell can I find someone who measures up to him and looks at me like he did? How can I find someone who will whisper sweet nothings in my ear and call me angel? How am I supposed to believe that love is real if Grayson did all of that and doesn’t love me?
“Hey,” Leila says, walking into my bedroom.
I groan and ball up under the covers, wanting her to get the message that I don’t need an intervention, or a pep talk, or whatever she’s here for. I just want to wallow in my misery of being a stupid, naïve, inexperienced girl who fell for Grayson even though he warned me not to.
“How are you feeling?” she asks.
I bury my head into the mattress, groaning again.
I feel the bed dip as she sits on the edge. “Listen, Rosie. I’m here for you. Whatever you need, I’m here.”
I don’t respond. I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling my lip tremble as tears spill out of me. I don’t want anyone here. All I want is Grayson. But I can’t have that.
She sighs and stands up. “C’mon. You’ve stayed in bed all week. I think it’s time to get up and move on.”
I roll my eyes and pull the sheets down, looking up at her. “I don’t want to move on.”
She frowns a little and shakes her head. “Rosie, you can’t stay depressed forever.”
“I’m not depressed,” I tell her. “I’m just sad. I’m allowed to be sad.”
She nods and then scoots closer beside me. “What happened with Grayson?” she asks.
That day after Grayson broke my heart, I came upstairs and buried myself in the sheets, still smelling his body wash, and cried myself to sleep. And when the girls came over, they found me in bed crying and asked what had happened. I didn’t tell them. I just told everyone to leave and let me cry it out.
I don’t know how much longer I’ll feel like this. Leila might be right. It may be time to move on. Ever since I started this with Grayson, I knew how it would end. I just never expected to fall for him and have him tell me he feels nothing for me at all.
Am I stupid? Because I saw how he looked at me, how he smiled at me and took care of me, and I’m supposed to believe that meant nothing?
“Maybe I should rethink Paris.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Is this you wanting the job offer, or you trying to run away?”
I sigh, tipping my head back. “I told him I loved him,” I whisper. Of course, I want to run away. How can I stay here and see him around campus?
“You told him?” she asks. I nod, squeezing my eyes shut. “And what did he say?”
“That he doesn’t feel the same. That he feels nothing for me at all,” I say, my voice breaking.
“That’s bullshit,” she says. “There’s no way he feels nothing for you, Rosie. He called me, angry as hell, telling me that you could have died. He said, ‘what were you thinking giving her drugs? That was so stupid of you. If you were really her friend, you wouldn’t have done that.’”
“He said that?”
She nods, her face dropping as a frown forms on her face. “I’m so sorry, Rosie. I would never have thought that would happen.” She swallows. “I don’t have much experience with weed. I just thought edibles would be easier for you. I should have written a note or something.”
I shake my head. I don’t want her to blame herself. “It’s not your fault. You texted me.”
“Yeah, and that wasn’t enough. I should have known your phone would have died or—”
“You couldn’t have known that,” I say. “I don’t blame you, and you shouldn’t blame yourself.”
“I do,” she says, her eyes welling up. “I honestly can’t apologize enough.”
I reach out from under the covers and squeeze her hand. “I love you, Leila. You did nothing wrong. You helped me with something I asked for. It’s not on you, plus I’m okay.”
“Yeah,” she says, smiling as she looks at me. “Yeah, you’re okay.”
I smile. “I can’t believe he yelled at you.” I think this is the first time I’m smiling in a week, and it’s about Grayson. The thought of him yelling at my best friend about my safety makes me want to laugh, but then I think of everything that happened, and that empty feeling returns.
“Yeah,” she says, chuckling. “And by the way, how did he get my number? You know I hate giving people my number,” she asks, raising her brows.
I bite my lip. “I’m sorry, he must have gotten it from my phone,” I say, shrugging.
“It’s fine,” she says with a sigh.
“Why do you hate people having your number, by the way?”
She shrugs. “I just don’t want someone to get a hole of it. People get too clingy. I strictly only do one-night stands,” she says.
I furrow my brows. “Doesn’t that get lonely?” I ask her. I couldn’t imagine sleeping with a new guy every night. It sounds horrible to me. I’m so glad I felt comfortable with Grayson before he finally took my virginity. It was a complete game changer, being able to trust him with my body.
“It works for me,” she says, shrugging.
I sigh. “The one time I try to hook up with a guy, and I fall in love.”
“It wasn’t just about the sex though. It sounds like you hung out and talked. Of course, you’d get attached.”
She’s right. It wasn’t just about the sex. I trusted him and liked him and then gave my body to him. I should have known this would happen. “Then why didn’t he?” I ask. If he liked being around me too, why didn’t he get attached?
She looks defeated as her shoulders slump. “I don’t know,” she says. “But I don’t believe he feels nothing for you, though.”
I sigh and look away from her. “Trust me, he doesn’t.”
She finally stands up from the bed and pulls the curtains open. “Okay, get up.”
I snap my eyes closed and bring the sheet back over my head. “What are you doing?” I ask her, my eyes struggling to adjust to the light I haven’t seen in seven days.
“An intervention,” she says. “You’ve wallowed enough. Now it’s time for step two.”
“Which is?” I ask her, popping my head out from under the sheets, squinting from the light flowing into the dark room.
“Get back out there,” she says, standing with her hands on her hips.
I shake my head. Nope, not yet. “Isn’t there some steps in between that?”
“Well, you missed denial, anger, and bargaining, and went straight to depression, which means the next step is acceptance.”
I shake my head again. “I’m not ready for that.”
“And you never will be if you stay in bed all day,” she says.
I pull the covers over my head, snuggling into the mattress. “But it’s so comfy here,” I say.
“I bet,” Leila says, ripping the covers off the bed, leaving me in just the sheet. “But how about we go out tonight?” she says. I groan, turning over and burying my head in my pillow. “C’mon. The girls are going to the bar later tonight. You can get dressed, look sexy, and try to move on.”
None of that sounds appealing to me. “I just want to sleep,” I tell her, the noise muffled by the pillow.
“You can sleep all you want after we go.”
I look up and squint at her. “Can I eat a whole tub of ice cream?”
She smiles and holds up two fingers. “Two. But you need to get your butt off this bed first. You in?” she asks.
I pout. “Do I have to?”
She nods. “It’s the only way you’ll start to get over him, Rosie.”
All I know is that I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I don’t want to sit and cry over Grayson and think we did and realize it was all a game to him. A favor and nothing more. “Okay.”
“What was that?” she says, lifting her eyebrows in shock.
I roll my eyes, throwing my pillow at her. “I said okay.”
She laughs, grinning, and I laugh along with her. Maybe it won’t be so bad. “Let’s go,” she says, pulling my arms up and off the bed. “You need a shower,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “You stink.”
“I do not,” I say, defensively.
“Rosie, te quiero, but you smell of misery and desperation,” she teases, shoving me out of my room. “C’mon,” she says, trailing behind me. “Let’s find something hot for you to wear.”
