The Fake Girlfriend

Chapter 13

I am so so sorry for not uploading in such a long time. Lately I've gotten terrible at articulating my thoughts, it seems, which made writing this chapter extremely challenging. Please forgive me. I can't promise it won't happen again but here it is...

t h i r t e e n

"No offence, but you look sorta dead."

I looked up from my hardback copy of Looking for Alaska and saw a pair of unwanted grey eyes beaming back at me. "Don't worry, according to Vogue bony and dead are the new black."

Oliver's smile faltered meaning my glare was working.

He cleared his throat and pulled a chair to sit opposite me.

Before I could object, he hurriedly raised his hands, "Before you tell me to fuck off, it is compulsory that I explain myself. Once I have, I promise to leave you alone." He paused for a moment, studying my expression, before adding, "That is.... if you wish for me to do so."

His eyes pleaded with me and I contemplated saying no. What was there to explain? He left without saying goodbye; I got hurt, he didn't visit; end of. What more was there to it? In truth, there was a time when I blamed myself for him leaving. Constantly I asked myself what it was that I did so impossibly wrong that it would make him run away to Brussels. I stared at my bedroom walls long enough until it nauseated me at how disjointed everything looked and that's how I felt- disjointed. It took a long time coming to terms with the fact that none of what had happened had been my fault. I had simply made the horrible mistake of opening up my heart and letting him inside to mess it up.

I wish I was satisfied with not knowing, but I wasn't. I needed to know, perhaps that need was what drove me to say, "Meet me at Joe's Cup on Harper's Street. I'll sacrifice no more than five minutes and if you're any later than 4:30 then you've missed your chance and I won't listen. Come early and you'll sit in the corner until 4:30. You better be prepared because I can hold a grudge longer than my father can hold his liquor."

Oliver broke into an uneasy grin. "That's pretty long."

"Good. So you know what you're in for." I replied.

Oliver's mouth parted as if wanting to say something, then quickly closed suggesting it was a better idea not to. I quirked an eyebrow, but didn't care enough to ask questions.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I need to speak to my boyfriend before class starts." I stood up, tucking my book under my arm and grabbing my satchel.

A choking noise came from Oliver and sudden realization hit me as we exchanged bemused looks.

He looked just as confused as I felt, softly whispering, "Your what?"

I struggled to form an intelligible explanation as irrevocable guilt clogged my throat. Oliver smiled forcefully. To anyone he would look genuinely happy for me, but those eyes were so sad and they didn't look like the eyes of someone smiling.

"Does he make you happy?" he asked, surprising me with how hoarse his voice had gotten.

I thought back to the night of meeting his parents and found myself nodding.

I understood his pain. It was the realisation that the person who had once loved you more than life itself had moved on before you did and that was what hurt. It hurt because you noticed that they would no longer be laughing or smiling because of you. Someone else had been able to replace you when all along you concluded yourself to be irreplaceable, when you weren't.