if only

chapter 9

november

Three weeks passed, and I didn't hear from Billie, not even once.

I didn't even try to contact her. I knew what she'd seen. She'd read the intense love poem I'd written about her, left for all to see on my open laptop. I knew what happened.

I'd spooked her.

Just that morning, I'd been the scared one. I wasn't used to being the one in a relationship that actually felt something, and it had absolutely freaked me out. I had only ever been the one who distanced themselves when feelings began to form over time. That had only happened once, and I was out the moment I recognized the feelings.

But now she was the one on the run. I wanted to give her space, hoping that after enough time had passed she'd call me again.

But a week went by, and nothing. So, I reluctantly reached out to a mutual contact.

"Don't you fucking dare," Mags glared at me before class one afternoon when I finally got up the guts to ask. "I fucking warned you, Shawn. I told you not to go there."

I sighed heavily and sank down in my seat. I hadn't slept properly in a week. I went from having her in my arms at night to cold nothingness. I missed her so intensely my stomach hurt.

Mags noted my helpless depression with a heavy sigh of sympathy. "I'm sorry, honey. No one ever goes there and comes out unscathed. She's a force."

I felt tears well for the millionth time, and ran my hand roughly over my face. "Yeah."

The lecture started, and Mags turned away sadly, unable to do anything for me.

I started going on runs, even though I hated them. I was wildly out of shape, so it required me going in five minute intervals, on and off, first walking, then running. By the end of the 3 weeks without her, I could run 30 minutes without stopping. It was a great accomplishment for me.

Too bad I didn't give a shit.

It was something to do, nothing more. I liked the ritual of it. I finished my schoolwork first every evening, then I pulled on my tennis shoes and ran. Afterword I'd take a shower, hot as I could stand it, and zone out until the water ran cold.

I got yelled at a couple times by Ana, furious for leaving her no hot water. She wasn't so nice to me anymore, now that my celebrity girl wasn't around.

I was finishing up one such run one evening, rap bass pounding in my earbuds, when a sleek, dark car pulled up next to me. I slowed to a stop as the tinted driver window slowly rolled down. I tapped an earbud and stared at her.

"I hope you have pepper spray."

It was late, almost midnight, the streetlights dim. Her point was valid.

But I narrowed my eyes. "Sorry, I don't take advice from ghosts."

Billie winced. "Ana... said you were out running. Wanted to talk to you."

I considered her for a moment. She looked cocky and self assured, a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth. But her eyes gave her away; her normal sparkle was missing, and a note of desperation had crept into its place.