Love Is Symphony |✓

| 41 |

"Are you sure about this?"

I popped one of my freshly glittered lid open and frowned at my best friend. Imogen looked unamused. She had her jean-clad hip jutted out and her arms crossed over her chest, mascara wand dangling from her fingertips. It was the night of Miranda's birthday party and she volunteered to do my makeup and lend me one of her favorite dresses.

My stomach was filled with butterflies. Everyone would be there. Swarms of photographers, media, Miranda's friends, the management and even your family, Sean. If being sure about going to the party was what Imogen was asking for, then truth was, being sure was the least I was. But if she were asking if I was sure about what I was fighting for, then the answer would be a straight-out yes.

When the seconds turned to a full minute and I still wasn't able to answer her, Imogen rolled her eyes. She raised up her hands in defeat and began picking up her makeup tools, shoving them inside her drawers. "I give up. Not gonna ask you again."

"You know how I feel about him," I rushed to defend myself as I twisted in my seat. My eyes followed her every move. "I know he isn't the ideal guy, romance-novel-wise but I love him."

She let out a groan that filled the inside of her room. A pang of annoyance settled itself in my stomach. She was being over-dramatic. Didn't she promise to support me and my decisions? This was the last thing I needed tonight. "Are you fucking kidding me, girl? He isn't the ideal guy, romance-novel-wise and unwise. Like he's—" she waved her hands, trying to come up with the right word to say, "just ugh. You get me?"

"I honestly don't."

"Oh god. Of course you don't."

"I get that you don't like him, but I really love him, Imogen. He's there for me when I need him most."

She turned to look at me. Her brow raised, hairbrush pointed at me. "And I wasn't?"

"You were!" How could she even question that? I loved her. "You're always there for me. But I'm just pointing out why he matters a lot to me."

"Well when will your excuse be more than just 'I love him, Imogen'? Will it be just that for the rest of your life? What did you even see in that guy?"

I sighed, eyes falling to swirling patterns on the dress that I was wearing. "Imogen, this is the night that I've been dreading of. Please don't make this any harder for me."

She pulled at the ends of her hair that have grown significantly longer since the last the time I saw it this free. It now reached her mid-back, ends curled. She let out a louder groan this time. "See? See?! This is what I'm talking about! This wouldn't be hard at all if you aren't with him. There are lots of other guys out there. Heck, even that prick named Matt was better than Sean. At least that idiot didn't use you to feed his ego unlike your poor excuse for a boyfriend."

My throat tightened at the mention of his name. There it was again, Sean. The never-ending fear that somehow I would never be able to forget him. I was in love with you, I knew. Your name was tattooed into my skin, but his... Mathew Wallace imprinted his name onto my soul. It felt like cheating and that was the last thing I wanted to do. I would never be like my mother. Never.

I wanted to tell Imogen everything that transpired two nights ago. I had been hiding the truth from everyone—swallowing down the cries that would come out of my mouth in the middle of the night whenever Matt's call would cross my mind again and was lying beside you. The words were forcing my mouth to open up, to spill the truth to the only person I could talk to. I still miss him. His voice still makes me shiver. I think he still matters to me a lot, I wanted to tell Imogen, but settled with two words instead, "He called."