Naomi POV:
Neither one of us said anything. What could we say? We were practically strangers at this point. It had been three years, and whatever small part of us we had left from when we had known each other was probably too small to even be considered there anymore.
He had definitely changed since the last time I'd seen him. His ruffled brown hair was now slightly more calm and he had grown several inches taller. His smile seemed slightly smaller, and mine probably did too. I guess that's what heartbreak does to you. But the one thing that had remained exactly the same were his eyes. His eyes were still the brightest color of blue I had ever seen. They were the same eyes that once made me feel like the most special girl in the world. The same eyes that made me feel beautiful. The same eyes that used to love me. Or at least I thought they did.
Parker roamed his eyes over my body, not in a suggestive way, but more to take in everything that had changed about me, too. I still wondered why he'd slid into my booth when he saw me at the cafe. He could've just kept walking and maybe, just maybe I might not have even noticed him.
"Of course you would've noticed him," my mind told me. I ignored the thought and opened my mouth to speak, but Parker beat me to it.
"You're different," he noted. I shifted in my seat and awkwardly nodded my head.
"So are you," I pointed out. I didn't want to admit that it still hurt. To anyone else, it would've been nothing more than a high school fling. It wouldn't mean anything. But Parker was the first boy to ever love me. The first boy to ever hold me in his arms and tell me I'm beautiful. The first boy to ever make me feel special. And it hurt so much to know that I never really was. But I'd also like to think I've grown. During the past three years, I'd been able to shove all the hurt and bitterness to the back of my mind. But now he's here. He's here and he's seeing me and it brings back every bad feeling I'd worked so hard to keep away.
"So... how's everything going?" he questioned, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. I don't give him an answer. Instead, I ask him a question of my own.
"Why are you here?" he doesn't seem at all surprised by my question.
"I just came for lunch and-" I cut the bloody idiot off when I hold my hand up.
"Not that. I mean why are you-" I gesture to the seat with my arms- "here. Sitting down next to me. Talking to me. You could've easily just walked past and I wouldn't have even known you were here. You didn't have to sit here," I told him. He was silent for a moment, taking in what I'd said.
"Would you have wanted me to?" he asks quietly. I try to keep a firm voice when I answer him.
"Yes," I tell him. He looks down for a minute, but doesn't answer, and I take it as a sign to continue.
"I'd worked so hard to forget about you, Parker. You haunted me day and night. It took me over a year to be okay. To be able to hear your name and not immediately break down into tears. You hurt me so badly, and seeing you here is just a reminder of everything you'd put me through," I explained. He kept his gaze on the table as he took in my blunt statement.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. I shake my head at him.
"I know that," I say. "I've always known that. I know you feel bad. I know you regret it. And I know you wouldn't make the same mistake again." He slowly lifts his head to meet my gaze.
"Then why can't you give me a second chance?" his gaze is pleading and pained, and it almost breaks my heart. I hesitate before answering.
"Every time I look at you, my heart breaks. Again and again and again. It hurts me so much to even think about you, and as much as I'd like to think I'm over you, it only takes the slightest thing to make me break down again. When I see someone with the same smile as you, when someone has your voice, when I see someone who looks like you, all those memories come flooding back to me and I can't deal with it," I tell him. His prodding eyes are a sign that I can continue. A sign for me to finally tell him everything I've wanted to tell him for the past three years.
"That feeling never really left me," I say. "It's always there, shoved to the back of my mind. At first, I was only upset. I was upset about how you played me so easily. I was upset about how everything had been fake and about how I was stupid enough to believe it all. I was upset because once again, I had lost. But then I always had that small spark of hope that maybe, just maybe it hadn't all been a lie. That maybe you had at least felt something. And then I felt anger. I was mad at you for being so good at everything. I was mad at you for being so charming, so kind, so considerate, so loving... I was mad at you for being everything I thought I'd never have. And then I was mad at myself for being stupid enough to think it was real.
And then I felt empty because you stole a part of me. And after that, it was just bitterness. Bitterness at the world, bitterness at you, and bitterness at myself. I would spend hours a day wondering what was wrong with me. Why did you leave?
Was it because I was ugly? Because I was too plain? Was it because I was too dramatic and you grew tired of putting up with me? Was I too annoying? Why did you hate me? Why did the world hate me?"
"I didn't hate you," he interrupted me.
"But you didn't love me enough to stay," I said quietly, looking down at the table to avoid his eyes. "And for a long time I hated myself for it. I hated that I was so unlovable, so disgusting, so unwanted... I learned to hate every little thing about me." I looked back up to see his reaction, but his expression remained unreadable. "At some point I wanted to die. And every night I'd think about how strong I was against my bullies, every single one of them. How I never let anything they said get to me because I knew better. And then I'd wonder, after standing up against hundreds of people, how could one person have finally cracked me so easily. Because you didn't even tell me you hated me. You didn't tell me I was ugly or fat. You didn't tell me I was worthless. You didn't need to feel disgusted or mad or superior when you saw me. All you had to do was feel nothing. That was what hurt the most. Because I was nothing to you when all I wanted to be was something. It hurts to know that there are people who hate you, Parker. But it rips you to pieces to know that people are incapable of loving you, especially when you yourself are one of them." His eyes were now filled with guilt, but I continued on anyways.
"I've had so many bad feelings built up in me for so long. I wanted to take back everything. I wanted every moment we shared to suddenly be erased. I wanted every memory of you to be forgotten. I wanted you to have never been a part of my life." His expression had now changed to one of hurt, but I'm not really one to feel guilty about being honest.
"I spent so long learning not to love you, Parker. I spent so much time taking myself back from you and trying to regain control of my life and I am still haunted by everything. And I'm guessing you probably feel similar." He nods at this. "But you see, the difference is that you want to start over, and I just want to forget it." He says nothing to this, and I know that's the end of the conversation. With that being said, I leave. And that's when I felt a strange new sense of freedom.
Slowly, the hurt bitterness I'd felt towards both him and myself had dissipated. Instead, it was slowly replaced by relief, hope, and even satisfaction. I felt like I was finally myself again. Slowly, I turn around with a small smile on my face.
"I take back what I said. I'm happy you sat down with me. It was good to let that out," I tell him. He gives me a small nod.
"Have a nice day, Naomi. I really am sorry," he says.
"Me too, Parker. Me too."
Next up will probably be Bennomi. Tell me if you want me to continue the Lost boys story. I wasn't too happy with how I wrote the first chapter and the others will probably be pretty bad too, but if you want me to continue then let me know :)
