Jourdan Mathews has a secret, and she knows she needs to take this one to the grave.
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Her life was never complicated: a college student with a close family, good friends, and a plan for her future as a doctor. Had that night had never happened...
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Andee and Bex refused to leave me alone all day today until I told them every detail of both my Sunday night and last night with Ryder. Both of them squealing like school girls when I recalled him telling me that I'm important to him. They seemed to believe that we were a match made in heaven . . .but what they didn't know was that hearing that set off a domino effect of anxiety that hasn't left me alone since.
It has to be everything that happened with Miles.
The fear that if I let myself care about someone again, I won't survive it. I barely survived Miles, that night, and the aftermath. What's worse, is that my past has been fresh in my mind. Sunday night when I went to bed, I dreamed about memories of Miles's funeral.
The cold grey day, rain drizzling over black umbrellas as we marched in a numb procession across the empty cemetery. It was like the universe knew what had just happened, what I was reliving every waking moment then. Everything felt eerily silent in the weeks following his death, as I barely left my room, having gone home for the rest of the semester.
At the time, Andee and Bex didn't question it, knowing I couldn't set foot in my old bedroom ever again. Not after what had happened there. Later, they'd even confessed to me they barely spent time in that apartment, unable to be there with the knowledge of Miles' overdose.
They'd hidden out at Justin's apartment then, shacking up on his couch.
In my dream Sunday night, I stood in the graveyard, staring at Miles's tombstone until I turned to stone myself, unable to speak or move as I became rooted to the spot where he'd been laid to rest.
Then, last night I essentially bared my soul to Ryder.
I told him everything that I swore I'd never say to another person, confessed the pain I've been holding on to, let him hold me and comfort me because he's been the only one who can do that for me lately. I think it's because he was so gentle with me that night a couple months ago, when we really talked for the first time at the end of the double date with Tristan and Andee. Once I got a taste of the ease and understanding in his nature, I needed more.
I still need more.
But now I am staring at myself in the floor length mirror of my bedroom, examining my outfit for my date tonight with Emerson. A date I didn't even really want to go on, but Bex said it might be good for me not to put all eggs in one basket again so quickly and I had to agree with her. Even if what I really want to do is call Ryder and tell him I'm not going, change the expression that'd been on his face this morning when I mentioned this date.
I'd straightened my hair, applied a bit of makeup and chosen a light yellow dress, low cut and ruffled. It felt sunny – happy, the opposite of how I am feeling. Maybe part of me hoped wearing this would lift my mood enough to convince Emerson I am just as normal as he is. Then I remind myself he'd introduced himself to me mid-anxiety attack at the beginning of the school year.
