"I want to be needed."
2
I have to stop crying. I know I have to, but I can’t.
“Why the tears, C?” Warren tenderly cups my face and wipes the wetness trailing down my cheeks. Any other boy, I would have shirked away in disgust, but not him. He’s different. He’s very warm. Why is he so warm? “It’s not like I’m dead or something.”
There's a limit on how dense you can be, W.
I force a saucy grin on my face, drying my cheeks with the edge of my long sleeves. But the tears just won’t stop. As if each tear carries a bit of sadness that fills my chest, and it is not running out anytime soon.
“I-I just can’t believe it. I thought I’ll be the first one to tie the knot.”
“Even though you’re younger?”
“By a week?” My chuckle hurts my ears. “I’m awesome like that.”
Warren laughs my favorite throaty laugh and playfully squeezes my nose with his thumb and forefinger. God, it’s like he never changed. How can three years not change a man? I swat his hand away. My skin is ice cold against his. Did he notice?
I continue with a raised brow. “Who would have thought that the snotty boy who used to cry over a neighbor’s cat have all manned up this fast?”
He scowls, and it was all I needed to compose myself. I step away from him, crossing my arms over my chest defensively. His touch is a painful reminder of things that would never be mine. I have to distance myself.
I can do this, I mentally cheer.
“I was seven!” he dramatically frowns, a hand on his heart. “I loved Crook, and he’s your cat, and we were both crying!”
“Whatever.” I pull out my hanky and dry the rest of my face. The white cloth is stained black; my mascara must be running. He grins at me.
“You look like a zombie.”
Thank you for stating the obvious.
Good thing that I didn’t blush, or else, my embarrassment will be ten times more apparent. Seriously, why didn’t he say earlier? I give him the stinky eye. “It wouldn’t have hurt to tell.”
“You’re cute, even in zombie mode.”
“Shut up,” I emphasize my annoyance with a slap at the back of his head. But he catches my wrist and presses a kiss on my open palm. Hastily, I leave the counter. “Uh, be back in five.”
“Okay.” His disarming smile dissolves all sense of reason in my head. Oh, god, what on earth is he doing to me? How can he give me these mix signals? Is he really not aware how much he drives me crazy? “I’ll order two more fries. Any for you?”
I force a timid, “Nah,” and I eagerly make my way to the comfort room. I almost trip because my vision has turned blurry with unshed tears. As soon as he is out of sight, I can’t help but let my frustration show. I march towards the huge mirror and pound on it like a crazed girl.
Marriage!
My reddened eyes quickly dart away from the image of the miserable woman in front of me. Small, broken and so so pitiful.
This is not the Carla that I know. This is not me.
“I don’t understand you, Warren,” I whisper to my reflection. “Why are you making this difficult for me?”
I hug myself, fingers tightly gripping my arms in an attempt to make myself feel. I take quick gulps of air to calm myself before pushing myself to the sink. I wash my face like the water can take some of my feelings with it down the drain.
And then I close my eyes.
I don’t know how long I’ve been there, but when I hear another woman enter the comfort room, I am yanked back to my senses. For a moment, I see pity flash through her eyes before she enters one of the stalls. She knows.
If I go out like this, will he know as well?
I can’t let that happen.
Only when I’m sure that I look presentable enough did I decide to go out. I plaster a big, big smile on my face.
I probably look fake, but who cares?
Hastily, I scramble out of the room, back to the booth where my unfinished milkshake and Warren’s fries are littered.
He’s gone.
Warren is gone. He left me.
More tears fall and this time, I do not bother to hide them.
“Why her, Warren?” I ask the empty space in front of me. “Why not me?”
I felt my phone buzz.
Emergency. Mom needs 2 see me. Sorry. Next tym, I’ll bring Rach. BTW, I paid 4 our meal. Love ya’ P.S. eat my fries 4 me, k?
Eyes on the road, snotty boy, I text back with shaking fingers. Without waiting for an answer, I toss the thing inside my bag. Groaning, I sink on my sit and bury my face onto my hands.
It is one thing to know that your first love reciprocates your feelings. It’s an altogether different issue knowing that his love for you isn’t enough.
#
Due to public demand, I posted this chapter. This was supposed to be a one-shot short story, but... I'll feel bad not listening to your requests. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
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Best Friends
Short Story"Once you loved someone, you can never stop loving that person. Maybe more or maybe less, but it never stops." This is more than just a story. This is their reality. About a girl waiting in the sidelines, a boy who made his choices and their beautif...
