FROM THE AWARD-WINNING AUTHORS OF THE CHEATER.FAKER.TROUBLEMAKER SERIES (WATTY'S 2016, FICTION AWARDS 2016, HACHETTE AUDIO 2017), JENNY ROSEN & KRISTEN MAGLONZO.
After bullies, braces, and brutal heartbreak shatters his faith in love, soon-to-be fre...
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NOTE: So happy to finally get this chapter to you guys (after a crazy 2 weeks)! Brace yourselves for quite the emotional read from kaelking12!
CHAPTER 58
Lacey
There are some mornings where waking up feels a lot like drowning.
While most people open their eyes and take on the day, I start out by sinking back into my sheets. Back into myself until there's barely any air left to breathe.
It's been two weeks since Elias and I started talking again. The process was slow at first. Awkward. Like we were reacquainting ourselves with new, less confident and more careful versions of each other. But even with a lot still left unsaid and official "relationship" questions left unasked, just knowing his texts would be the first ones I see each morning made getting up easier.
I've slowly started looking forward to going to school again. Even though people still whisper. Even though Elias and I have gone back to hiding our on-ish again status from the gawkers that haunt Mission Bay's halls. I like knowing that in between classes we can hide away in empty classrooms and talk. That I have someone to talk to again. And that that someone is him.
Elias has become a reason to pull myself out of my sheets and out of the dark. A motivation to open my eyes and tread water as soon as the sun rises.
But, right now, I'm sinking.
And I don't know how to make it stop.
I snap my eyes open and stare out into total darkness. My room's bathed in it. So much so that the photographs of my mom and I strung along the opposite wall are nearly invisible. Those pictures are my last pieces of her. My only physical proof of how present and wonderful she used to be.
Mom always said the Polaroid camera was invented just for her. No matter how small the family trip, she never left the house without one strapped around her neck. She'd spend hours snapping wild, crazy, and usually unflattering photos of us together whenever she got the chance. And I used to hate them. I hated the way I smiled. The way I looked. The way my class laughed at me the one time I brought in some of Mom's photos of our family for my 6th grade project.
After that day, I went from being carefree and fun in front of her camera to caring too much about how other people would see me. It only takes one comment to make you hyper-aware of all your imperfections. And I spent most of middle school being horrifically aware of mine. Getting me to agree to take Polaroids with my mom was especially difficult after that.
So I threw away my time with her. Time I took for granted, and now I only have a few handful of the last few pictures we have together as keepsakes.
