Get ready. It's a crazy one.
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I was sitting on the floor in the bathroom, shakily pressing my phone to my ear. I was doing this, I was taking a step forward. I shoved all of the negative and worrying thoughts running through my head and just concentrated on breathing in sync with the faint ringing.
Ring.
Ring.
Ri-
“Hey.”
I nearly choked on my spit, “Ne-Neil, hey. I cal-”
“This is Neil, just leave a message.”
I sighed and hung up before the knowing beep would record my sighs of disappointment. I closed my eyes and felt slightly relieved...but also hurt.
He ignored my call. He saw my name pop up on his screen and ignored it, sending me straight to voicemail.
I mean, it’s not a big deal. I don’t even know what I would say.
Hey, so I took some time and thought about what you said and you were right?
Hey, it’s been a while, maybe we could grab a coffee and catch up?
How’s school going?
Why’d you quit Caribou Coffee?
Why haven’t I seen you?
Why haven’t you called?
Do you not miss me?
I miss you.
I’m sorry.
Did you really have to leave me?
You told me you would always be here for me, but it’s been four months?
I ran a hand down my face as I tried to gather my frazzled thought and heaved myself up from the ground, effectively causing my knees to pop.
“Ew, I heard that from my room,” Mel wrinkled her nose at me as I walked into her room laying on her bed. She swiveled around in her chair from her desk to look at me with speculating eyes.
“What?” I asked exasperatedly after she continued staring at me in silence.
“Why are you all angsty?”
“I’m not angsty,” I protested.
“Ana you wrote poetry in the eighth grade,” she deadpanned.
“THAT WAS ONE TIME AND I BURNED IT,” I sat up and glared at her.
“My point is proven,” she smirked at me.
I rolled my eyes before looked at my nails and picking at the chipping paint. “I called him,” I muttered bitterly.
“Who?”
“Neil.”
She was quiet for a moment and I heard her get up before I felt the bed dip and she sat next to me. “What did he say?”
“Nothing, he ignored my call.”
“Maybe he was taking a shit,” she said lightly.
“Or maybe he was poaching elephants,” I mocked.
“Well who cares about that fuckboy? We still have three days left for spring break! Let’s go get drunk!”
I looked up and smiled a shit-eating grin at her before we both jumped up to get ready.
YOU ARE READING
Falling to Flying
Ficção GeralHer name is Anabelle and she didn't mean to cause her mother's death. With the disowning of her father and burden of her past, Ana struggles to pick herself back up. Her roommate, Melissa, forces Ana to come with her to the grocery store in attempt...
