A day goes by.
Two.
Three.
I’m losing my sanity.
Each day is a struggle. I mentally spar with myself every goddamn hour not to text Cass, not to call, not to get in my car and drive over to her flat.
My head is full of her. My thoughts circle around the beautiful blonde non-stop. I’ve hardly had any food since I left the hospital on Wednesday evening. I’m surviving on coffee, apples, and beer. I don’t know why apples, so don’t fucking ask.
It’s Saturday now, and I’m not sure how much longer I can cope with the incessant back and forth my head is playing.
Go and see her.
Don’t go.
Admit that you care.
It’s just a crush.
I want to see her and make sure she’s okay. I want to check if she needs help with anything. Shopping, maybe. Or getting her car fixed. Although I doubt it can be fixed. She needs a new one. I could help with that.
I’m drinking alone for the first time in a very long time. It’s not like I can call one of my brothers to keep me company in my misery, so a case of Corona and Ghost it is.
He doesn’t give two shits about me, curling himself around the armchair.
I spill my beer, jolting out of my seat when my phone pings on the coffee table, thinking—fucking hoping—it’s Cassidy, but no. It’s just the Hayes group chat.
Nico: Logan, meet me at Rave in an hour.
Colt: What about me? I want to go, too.
Cody: Yeah, and me.
Nico: Let the record show I voted against adding 3Cs to the chat before they turn twenty-one.
Me: Thanks, bro, but I need to pass tonight.
Shawn: *Dun dun dunnn* The plot thickens…
Theo: Record shall so reflect. Not that anyone cares. You were outvoted, Nico. And why am I not invited?
Nico: Because I pay attention. It’s the first weekend of the month, and that means wifey time. Date night, isn’t it? You’re grounded, bro. And Logan? You can pass if you’re fucking or dying. Which one is it?
Fucking dying.
I’m dramatic as shit, but a part of me feels like it’s fucking dying right now. I dim the screen and throw the phone on the seat beside me. The incessant pinging doesn’t stop, and I know the six of them will show up here if I stop replying. I grab the phone again to tell them I’m busy with some chick, so they leave me the fuck alone, but I almost choke on the sip of Corona instead. Among a gazillion notifications from the chat, there’s a message from Cassidy.
My Princess: Turns out I don’t have an STD. Unless you lied when you said we were exclusive, I guess you’re fine. I’m sorry I screamed at you.
I tap out a reply, my heart beating out of my chest with a hammer, and my soul sitting on my shoulder, watching the unfolding scene with arms crossed and a dubious look.
Me: I didn’t lie. How are you feeling? Do you need anything?
My eyes are glued to the screen the whole time the three dots dance. It takes half a minute before a reply comes.
Three words.
Three fucking words that kill me dead.
My Princess: A time machine.
My Princess: I’m fine. I’ll see you around.
Fuck, that hurts. She throws the line I whispered in the darkness of her bedroom time and time again right back at me, and it pierces through my composure with a sniper’s precision.
My head hits the back of the couch while the phone keeps pinging. It’s not Cass, though. It’s my brothers blowing up the group chat.
I try to imagine cutting her out of my life, going back to the way we were before Thalia’s birthday party, but I can’t.
There’s no going back.
I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to pretend she hadn’t told me she loves me. I want to move forward; check what we can make of this. Us. I want to man up and stop fighting the overpowering feelings; stop pretending we’re just physical.
That ship has sailed.
No, it sunk to the bottom of the ocean.
The last three days were pure torture. I powered through, working and keeping myself distracted during the day, but there were no distractions to stop my mind from wandering while I sat in my silent house, alone.
I miss her.
Not sex.
I miss her.
The smell of her hair, her sweet smiles, her voice, her lips, and the way she tastes. I miss seeing her, being around her, watching her tuck the blonde strands of silky hair behind her ears and chew on her bottom lip when she’s uncertain.
I miss hearing her voice and seeing her smile or scrunch her little nose. I miss the warmth of her body, hooded eyes, and my name on her lips sounding like a prayer. I miss how she plays with my hair when I lay with my face buried in her boobs right after I come and I’m catching my breath.
There’s so much I miss. So much I love about that girl.
I sit up, my eyes wide open.
Love?
My heart beats faster, trying to match the pace of my thoughts, and my chest constricts like it’s cramping.
Am I…?
Is this what it feels like?
The constant worrying, my thoughts spinning around her like a vulture that spotted a wounded animal, the need to be with her all the fucking time… is that it?
My heart swells, fluttering like a caged bird.
Holy shit.
And as if at a touch of a magic wand, my mind empties the static and clutter. I discard the thoughts of my brothers hating my guts for pursuing Cassidy.
Love me or fucking hate me.
There’s not a single thing I wouldn’t forgive them.
Not a single thing would make me turn my back on either one of my brothers, and I hope it works both ways.
Even if it doesn’t, I shouldn’t have to choose between them and her. They should be there for me no matter what. My happiness can’t be conditional on their approval.
I grip the phone to shoot Cass a text and let her know I’m coming, but sixty-nine notifications on the screen steal my attention. “Shit,” I hiss under my breath, seeing that five minutes of no replies on my part was enough for the Hayes to assemble like fucking Avengers.
They’re on their way to my house, but I don’t have time for this right now. They can wait. I need to talk to Cassidy first. I snatch the keys, lock the house and reverse out of the driveway, tires squealing when my foot drops the pedal to the floor.
