Misunderstood

9 | Roman & Liv

Split POV so I can speed things up/make the chapter longer. Starting with Roman.

I haven't talked to Liv in two weeks, and it's not for lack of trying. She won't talk to me in class. She'll only email me about our project together. Every cookie and coffee I've brought her has been left on the desk untouched, every class. The worst part of everything is she's not talking at all. At least before she had her smart remarks.

There's nothing.

I think I actually fucked up hard enough where she truly hates me. And it's killing me. It's throwing me off my game and I don't really know why. I haven't known her for long, but we lost our game the other night because I can't think of anything but Liv and how bad I messed up.

At first I thought I just wanted to make her like me because it bothered me that she didn't like me. But now, I know it's more than that. I like her, a lot. Everything I know about her, all the time we've spent together, it's the first moment and girl in my life I've ever wanted to constantly be around. Sarah didn't have that much of an effect on me and we dated on and off throughout high school, for four years.

Speaking of Sarah, I haven't heard from her. I don't think Liv has either, because she probably would have cussed me out for it. I want her to talk to me so bad, but I've tried everything I could think of that would make her happy, annoy her, make her laugh, and nothing. Not so much as a twitch of a smile in two weeks. I'm losing my fucking mind.

I've tried talking to Avery, who is usually willing to talk to me. She's been keeping me updated on Liv, after giving me a stern talk, of course. She says Liv is pretty normal, keeps to herself, quiet as usual. I don't want anyone to convince her to forgive me, I want to earn that so I haven't tried that avenue and I won't.

"Earth to Roman," Angelo taps my shoulder.

"Fuck, my bad," I shake my head, trying to bring myself back to basketball practice.

"Rome, we can't have you fumbling tomorrow like you did last week." Coach sighs, shaking his head. "Come talk to me, son."

Coach begins to walk away and I sigh deeply, following without hesitation. "You guys keep practicing. Andrews, take my spot."

Coach leads me to the hallway of the locker rooms for some privacy. He's not one to talk about personal issues in front of the team.

"What's going on, kid?" He leans against the wall, holding his hands together in front of them. Coach is an older man, in his mid-fifties. I don't take offensive to him calling me kid or son, because he treats me and the rest of the team like family.

"Just some," I pause, not knowing how to explain. "Girl trouble, I guess? I kind of messed up a friendship I wanted to keep and it's all I can think about."

"Have you apologized?"

I nod, "a thousand times. I'd put it on a billboard and give a public speech on how sorry I am if that made her forgive me any faster."

He raises an eyebrow, "you sure she was just a friend?"

This makes me shrug, looking down at my feet. "I wanted her to be more, I think. She didn't really like me much at first but things were going so great til I went and ruined it."

"Well, all you can do is give her time. My advice would be don't stop trying. And I don't mean pressure her to forgive you, son. I mean don't stop showing effort, but don't pressure her forgiveness. Do the nice thing, expect nothing but silence in return."

I nod slowly, "I get what you mean."

"As far as the game goes, I think you should let Andrews fill in for you tomorrow. He's a good player, he can handle the pressure."