The Bucketlist Bitches

913

I haven't eaten, I haven't slept, I haven't been able to concentrate in class, not since i called Seth. A week has passed and I've found myself in a perpetual state of absentmindedness. And now it has reached its absolute peak, five hours before I get to meet him.

"How is it going?" the text from Evan ticks in. "Awful." "Terrible." "I don't want to go." "I can't do this."  I write the texts one after one, shamefully deleting them before I can send them. I can't admit I'm this scared. He's just my stepbrother anyway,  no big deal. I shouldn't be freaking out.

But I am, every bone in my body is shaking and I keep pulling out strands of my hair while I pace back and forth in my bedroom.

I haven't seen him in two and a half years. Two  and a half years.

913 days.

A lot can happen in that time.

I crouch own in a fetal position,  hugging my knees to my chest, rocking back and forth trying to prevent a panick attack. My breathing is heavy and the goose bumps on my pale legs bear witness to the fact that it's freezing in here.

"Breathe Cat, Breathe." I say to myself, trying to calm my rapid breathing.

After a while, I calm down and my heart beat slows down. "Don't be ridiculous,  it's going to be okay." Or at least I hope so.

My feet hit the wooden floor with the softest thump, and I look at the snow falling outside as I start walking back and forth again. I shiver a bit from the cold radiating from the walls, and my already low body temperature sinks even deeper. I'm only clad in my purple bra and underwear because I can't decide what to wear. And I know that it is a very superficial decision,  but nothing  I try on feels right. It's like every single outfit I find is screaming at me not to wear it. Maybe I should just go in my underwear.

"Cat, you need to answer me!" The thousandth text from Evan reads. I know I should probably respond, but I can't make myself do it, because if I tell him how much I'm freaking out he'll feel so helpess. And if I say im okay and ready for this, I'm lying to him, and I can't do that.

So I don't respond at all.

In stead I crawl into bed and fall asleep under a pile of blankets, trying to get all my worries to dissappear.

"Cat," someone whispers in my ear. "Cat, you need to get up, we're going to be late." Why is someone trying to get me out of bed? It's friday night and I want to spend it in bed. "Seriously, you need to get out of bed." "No" I really don't want to get out of bed.

I hear a sigh and I can almost see him running his hands through his hair. I knew hwo it was the moment I heard his voice. And even though I know boys never come running after you or climb up to your window in the middle of the night to tell you they love you, or that he is my firend and will never be anything more, I like to imagine a world where those things do happened. And Evan make that world less of an imagination and more of a reality.

With my heart in my throat I stretch out a hand and pat the duvet beside me, trying to tell him to lay down beside me.

I feel the whole bed jiggle as het settles down on the bed. "Come here," I whisper and wrap my arms around him. Even though we've done this before,  I can't help but feel my heart race in my chest. Evan is my friend. Nothing more. Right?

"What's wrong?" He asks, and through my closed eyelids I can see him knitting his eyebrows together. "I'm scared." My vocie is still barely a whisper, it feels like if I  speak out loud I'll really loose it.

"Why are you scared?"

"I don't know, it's just."

"Scary?"