“Thomas Robert Daley stop ignoring me!” I whine as his answering machine dings once again prompting me to leave yet another message.This was about the fifth time I tried calling since I arrived back at my hotel and once again he’s ignored it after the first ring.
I know he had to be getting a small bit of enjoyment out of my pleading voicemails. I could just picture him snickering as he listened to me becoming more and more frustrated and threatening in each and every one. I’m just picture that devilish smirk emerging on his smug little face when suddenly I find myself biting my lower lip ever so slightly: god dammit why does he have to be so hot when he’s being a such a jerk.
“I know you told me you were going to leave me alone for a little while, but I didn’t think you were actually going to. Please just talk to meeeee: I don’t want to be alone: I’m alone in this room every night so just answer you’re damn phone you stupid little fucker! I’m going to get in the shower and if you don’t answer me by the time I get done don’t expect me to come see you before or after the ten meter finals- I might not even come; maybe I’ll give my ticket to a random bum so I won’t have to see you until you come home. So yeah, that’s basically it: answer me or don’t talk until after all this is over, which I think we both know you can’t hold out for that long.” If you could send facial expressions through the phone I would most definitely be winking at the end of that. “Alright well I love you even though you’re a complete jerk: please please call me back” I resort back to whining once again before hanging up the phone
Before stepping into the shower I check to make sure that my phone’s volume is up on full blast: not only to make sure that I can hear my music over the shower’s water continuously pounding against floor but also the fact that if I missed Tom’s call I wouldn’t talk to him for the rest of the night as he uses his ‘I called like you told me to, it’s not my fault you didn’t answer’ excuse. It has happened before and I’m not going to let it happen again.
As soon as I step into the shower’s mist, little ringlets of curls begin to spring up all over my head. Even the slightest bit of moisture was too much for them, it has and always will refuse to stay in its previously flat ironed state creating a lion’s mane of curls all around my head. I just stand there letting the warm water cascade downward from my hair all the way down to my toes. The soap and shampoo fill the room with their fruity clean scents, I inhale deeply letting the scents lull me into calm and peaceful state of being; eventually only a small residue of their scents are left in my hair after they disappear, finding their way spiraling down the drain.
I’m in the middle of stepping out of the shower and wrapping myself in one of the hotel’s fluffy towels when the short break in the middle of a song alerts me to the new message on my phone. A smile instantly spreads out on my face and there is suddenly only one word floating around in my mind: Tom.
Without a moment of hesitation I neglect the fact that I haven’t dried my hair in the slightest bit and make a mad dash out of the bathroom with my sopping wet curls dripping and flopping all over the place with each bouncing step I take towards the bed, where my phone is lying right where I left it in the center.
My moment of extreme and utter excitement is cut short when it is quickly exchanged with disappointment: the word Tommy with a kissing emoji next to it is not lighting up my screen but instead it reads Sophie Lee. My vision blurs out and all i can see is red: those two little words, that one short name causes near black out anger in the few quick seconds it takes to read it. In what world would it ever be in the slightest bit okay for her to text me. I don’t want to talk to her now and I’m pretty sure that there is never going to be a point in time when I will actually want to talk to her. She is always going to be the girl who slept with my boyfriend and nothing was ever going to change that. I contemplate not opening the text and just chucking it across the room, but hey that would probably break my phone and she’s not worth that.
Silently yelling every obscenity known to man in my head I continue to stare blankly at my phone, I fight to be the like the girl in my phone’s background: the girl with her eyes closed and nose all scrunched up from smiling too hard, even though the bruises on her face told you that she must be in pain, and it was all because of that boy next to her, he was kissing her face and had his arm wrapped tightly around her. He was protecting her and taking away the pain. He loved her and that was all she needed at that very moment to make everything okay; it was all she should ever need to make her happy: when she was with him she felt as if nothing else in this world mattered, he was all she was ever going to need- I mean that girl in the background wasn’t just any girl, she was me so why couldn’t I be just as carefree and happy as her; maybe it was because of the black box blocking out her eyes with the name of my own personal devil written across it. There was only one way to get rid of it from my lock screen: I have to open the message. But no one said opening the message meant that I had to actually read whatever Sophie decided she was going to text me, I could just as quickly close the text as I did open it and my phone wouldn’t know the difference. Hell I could even delete it and my phone still wouldn’t know the difference, just that the message no longer needed my attention.
But of course it isn’t that simple, nothing in life is that easy. When you get a message from a girl that you once considered to be somewhat a friend who then went and slept with your boyfriend you can’t just ignore that, or maybe I just lack the self control and can’t; this could be highly probable, but never the less I didn’t delete that message: I read it.
I know that I’m probably well no actually change that to I’m definitely the last person you want to talk to right now, but please don’t just delete this message like I know you probably want to. I know that you know I slept with Tom and I’m so very sorry for doing that. I never meant to hurt you or fuck everything up for the two of you. Tom and you are honestly the cutest thing to ever walk this planet hand in hand and are perfect for each other in every way. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t believe me when I say this and I understand that because I mean if I truly thought that why would I have slept with Tom to begin with? And I don’t know why I did it, I don’t have the tiniest clue as to what possessed me to sleep with him it was just something that happened and if either of us had been in our normal or right state of mind it wouldn’t have, neither of us ever wants to hurt you. But we weren’t thinking straight, we were absolutely plastered. Tom had been sitting around all day moping over you and going on and on about how much he loved you and how much of an idiot he was and, being the bad friend that I am, I was sick of it. I just wanted one single night of hanging out with him out of every day from the past two months where he wasn’t miserable, basically I wanted him to just like forget about you for one night, so what else was there to do but to get him drunk. It started off with take a shot every time “Laci”, “Lace”, “Laci-Rae”, and any variation or the word she in place of your name was said; naturally this got out of control very quickly. I don’t remember anything about that night and neither does Tom: the two of us woke up the next morning in my bed beyond hungover with a completely blank mind. Nothing of that night made sense, but evidence of from that night found scattered around my room eventually made what happened abundantly clear. When Tom figured it out he left my room and house as fast as he could physically could. He sat in his car for a good half hour just having a breakdown; he wouldn’t let me in to talk to him. He actually wouldn’t talk to me for a long time. Eventually he started to come back around and we were able to talk about that night, and by talk I mean agree upon the fact that it was never going to be brought up ever again, that night never happened. I’m so sorry Laci for everything we should have told you but we couldn’t. We didn’t want that night to exist, so we chose for it not to. I don’t know what else to say but to apologize for everything ten times over, but what good is that going to do when I don’t even know if you’re still reading this. I promise you that these are the true facts and how I truly feel about everything. I can’t help but feeling sick knowing that I may have ruined everything between you and Tom once again, you two have been through far too much in this past year and I can’t even fathom how much this whole situation has made it more awful. You don’t have have to talk me, we don’t have to be friends but I need to know that I’ve made some attempt to explain myself to you and try to make things right, so if you actually made it through this entire thing please just let me know if you read it I don’t care how you let me know just please Laci please. I’m so so so so sorry for everything xx Sophie
As I finish reading the text I only have three words for her and surprisingly they weren't “Fuck you Sophie!” or “Fuck off Sophie!” Within a few seconds they are typed out on my phone and sent to her without a moment of hesitation: “I read it.” That was all I had to say to her and all I ever wanted to for a long time. She could apologize all she wanted but it wasn’t going to change my views on her or how I felt
