The Way It Was Before

eleven

And so, it kicked up my urge to chuck my phone out of the window every time it vibrated.

Michael might just be sending me casual greetings—nothing harmful or indecent—but his text messages made my stomach churn, which was why I couldn't eat and think properly. They even managed to change my mood for the whole day, and I didn't know how that was possible.

I didn't reply to his messages because I thought he would stop if I ignored him. Besides, I wanted to make it clear that I didn't want to strike up a conversation with him. But he kept texting me, anyway.

I decided to talk to Clover about it, despite my initial hesitation not to because it might break her heart even more. The minute I told her, however, she went squealing and jumping around in our bedroom, much to my bewilderment.

"Really? You guys are texting each other now? Awesome!" she cried and slammed her hands on my shoulders. "Listen, Autumn. I know I've been asking you so many favors, but this will be the last, I swear." She pressed her palms together. "Will you please ask him to forgive me?"

"Huh?" I stared at her incredulously. "Wait, what? I-I'll ask him to forgive you? Are you for real?"

"Yes!"

Something in my brain clicked.

"Aha! The plot thickens!" I exclaimed, and it was her turn to be surprised. "You gave him my number so you could make way for me to talk to him and ask him to forgive you!"

She frowned. "What are you talking about? I never gave him your number."

I crossed my arms across my chest. "Clover, are you lying again?"

"No, I'm not. Maybe it was Clint. Or Rose! She asked for your number, right? Whatever. It's good that you and he have each other's number, anyway."

I looked at her grimly. "So I can ask him to forgive you."

"Please? I need your help."

"Clover, if you want to make peace with him, why don't you talk to him? I told you, I'm not cleaning up your mess."

"I can't. I still don't have the nerve to speak to him."

"So you think apologizing through text is a good idea?" I groaned. "Do you like him?"

"Not just like him. I really like him."

"So put on your big girl pants and apologize in person. Not through a text message. It sounds insincere."

"I. Can't."

I threw my hands up in frustration. "Write him a letter."

"Letter?" she scoffed. "That's so thirty years ago."

"Good luck with your suffering, then."

"Oh, come on. Just convince him."

"You convinced your Literature teacher to change your Cs to Bs. Surely, your powers of persuasion will work on Michael."