My Lovely Jerk {Completed}

Chapter - 49

I’d never been an expert on dating and this is because all throughout high school I never dated a guy. I’d blame the reasons I wasn’t unable to catch a single guy’s eye on a long list of things, to which I will not bore you with. It is because of my serious lack of experience in the relationship department that I’ve never been heartbroken or let down by someone that I like. So, it was an understatement to say I was hurt and crushed when I walked out of the bathroom of the hotel to find no Bryson - just a simple note that said: “Don’t wait up”.

I wish I could describe to you the way I felt but fact is I can’t. All I know to say is, I was hurt and humiliated. He left me, when I asked him not to, after I admitted how I felt. I put myself out there, only to get rejected...

Looking out the car window of the taxi I was in, I sighed. Maybe this was his form of payback. He wanted me to feel how he felt when I rejected him. Yet, at the same time I felt that he wouldn’t do that to me...

I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. He did, after all say that he wasn’t going to promise to be there when I got out.

Resting my head on the warm glass, I wondered when anger would consume me for in this whole time of eight hours, I’ve not felt one single ounce of anger and hate towards him. I would have figured when I was packing my bags (after I read the note) that I would have been blanketed with anger. However, I wasn’t - not even when I boarded the plane a day early and by myself.

Instead, I was feeling sick - like literally sick. I knew it was stress. I get this way when I’m stressed out, I hate it but it was my body’s way of handling the heavy emotions that a normal person in my position would feel.

“Ma’am, we are here.”

I removed my head from the window glass and looked out to see that the cab driver was right; we were here - in front of my mother’s house. I dug in my pocket and pulled out some cash I stole from Bryson’s suitcase before I left the hotel. “Here, keep the change,” I proclaimed and got out.

Walking over to the trunk of the car, I pulled out my suitcase and carry on bag. Closing the trunk, I started to make my way to my mother’s front door. Once at her doorstep I exhaled loudly.

She was without a doubt going to ask me a million and one questions about why I was at her house at three in the morning. Most questions after that are going to be directed towards the honeymoon and where Bryson was.

I knocked a few times before ringing the doorbell twice. I knew I was waking her up and I can’t say I didn’t feel bad, but I needed a place to crash for the night - Bryson’s apartment was out of the question for I feared, slightly, he might go home early too when he notices I have left the hotel. The last thing in the world I wanted was to be confronted with Bryson, alone.

It took a few minutes but soon the door opened.

My jaw nearly hit the porch flooring when I saw, “Coach Daniels?” I spoke with shock for I was staring at Coach Daniels, a Coach at my - former - high school. He was the guy my mother had a deep crush on, I can still remember her making lame excuses to come to my school. It was all to see him though. Peter and I always picked at her to ask him out, but she would always change the subject or shrug us off.

Coach wiped his tired eyes, “Well, this is awkward...” He muttered with a sense of humor laced in his voice.

I gave a dry chuckle, “Tell me about it...”

“I will go wake up your mom,” He stated. Coach Daniels turned around and walked towards my mother’s room, leaving the door open for me to come in.

I stepped in the house and closed the door behind me. I set my suitcase and carry on beside the door and strolled into the living room. My eyes danced around the room and I, very soon, took note of all the boxes littering the living room. My curiosity got the better of me and I walked over to one of the boxes. Looking in, I saw that the box was full of my things. Peeking in a few more I realized that every single box in here was indeed filled with my belongings. I raised an eyebrow wondering why in the world my mother would pack my things up and put them in here.