Wish You Weren't Here (A Romantic Comedy)

Chapter Twenty Three

Figured you could use a bit of space to think, so I've headed out for the day. I'll see you later.
- L x

I had the best sleep I had in a long time last night. Unfortunately, Lewis had performed a vanishing act when I woke up this morning, leaving only a note and the usual croissant in his place, and the suite now seems somehow empty without him.

It's probably very thoughtful of him to clear out, since he obviously can tell my brain is all over the place at the moment, but I'm typically annoyed all the same; the realisation quickly dawns on me that it was because I actually wanted to spend this free day we have with him, rather than hover in this Lewis-free limbo I now find myself trapped in. That revelation, in turn, then makes me angry at myself: I've never been good at dealing with big feelings.

I listlessly swim lengths in the pool before flinging myself on a lounger and trying to enjoy my current book. It's an enemies-to-lovers story where the lead characters have been unexpectedly forced to spend time together . . . Sounds familiar, right? It's all a bit too meta for me, and I need to stop reading. Funny how these plots seem so clear-cut when you're reading them, rather than living them.

They say there's a fine line between love and hate, but what happens when you finally reach the conclusion that you never really hated someone? You find yourself going back over memories, unpicking each interaction, and finding Easter eggs you'd never spotted previously. These clues had been hidden in plain sight, but the filter you'd been using previously concealed them.

I remember all the times on group nights out where my eyes would (apparently unwillingly) seek him out, and be surprised to find he was already there, waiting for me to join him: his lips would usually already be schooled into that classic smirk but occasionally his guard would be down and something unidentifiable would be flashing in his expression. I never let myself examine what it could mean, as that . . . blip would usually immediately pass with a blink of those beautiful eyes, or one hand scrubbing down his handsome face like a motion detected off-switch had been activated. Poker face: enabled.

I then revisit what Lauren had pointed out to me - travelling back in my mind, with the exception of that first meeting (as adults, obviously), I piece together parts of conversations Lewis tried to start up with me over the years, and it's clear now he was trying to get to know me better, albeit in his own special teasing "Lewis-coded" way. But I had just felt so rejected by him, so forgotten . . . And so my brain rapidly developed a special - and extremely niche - talent, one which allowed me to twist anything and everything he said and assign him the role of bad guy.

He did eventually give up trying to be nice to me - Lauren wasn't wrong there - but even when he started verbally sparring with me instead, it didn't seem nasty or bitter. It just felt like he'd finally decided to play at my level rather than trying to raise the bar any higher.

And that night where my drink was spiked by the random arsehole who was trying to chat me up? I had only been standing alone in the first place because I'd watched a beautiful girl with an extremely impressive flirt game try to work her magic on Lewis, and it had just reminded me too much of the night where he'd failed to remember me and left with the gorgeous redhead. I'd had to walk away from the group in an attempt to try to regain my composure, and that was when the sleazy guy had tried to make his dodgy move on me.

But Lewis had been paying attention to me all along that night. Watching me, looking out for me, making sure I was safe. Just like he always had 

Despite not remembering our original meet-cute, he clearly cares a lot about me.

And I care about him too. It's just taken me a long time to move out of the denial zone I've been parked in for years. But stricter restrictions have finally kicked in, and I'm about to end up with a massive fine if I don't journey elsewhere.