𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧' 𝐆𝐮𝐲 ➺ 𝐵𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓃 𝑀𝒶𝓎 & 𝒬𝓊𝑒𝑒𝓃

(13) 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘩é

Why do boys have to be so complicated?

"Maria, I've said like ten times now. Just call him."

"I have fucking called him, and it keeps going to the answer machine, Emma!"

"Don't shout at me, I'm trying to help you!"

I clenched my fists, whining and dropping on the sofa. Emma was sat at her piano, flicking through her collection of sheet music. She'd been absorbing my complaints and paranoia for about an hour and I didn't know how she handled me. I hadn't talked to Brian in five days and I couldn't figure out why that was. And through my ranting and raving I concluded that it was purely because I left without saying anything to him. I think anyone would have been pissed off at that and I felt like such a bitch. The work experience I had met with the boys to do had been completely forgotten about and I hadn't looked once at my study notes throughout that week. I only noticed when I saw we were nearing the end of October. Happy Halloween, Maria, you made the only guy you've ever liked avoid you.

"I'm sorry, I'm just scared I've done something wrong. Well, I did, I fucking left him on his own." I rolled my eyes at myself, resting my head in my hand.

"Well, you won't know if you've done something wrong unless you ask him. So ask him, and then you'll stop worrying." Emma smiled at me reassuringly. "They're at that new place tonight, aren't they?"

My eyes shot open, my head whipping round and looking at Emma. "Yeah, they are." I nodded. "I can go and see him without looking too desperate."

"But you are desperate..."

"Thank you Emma." I rolled my eyes, getting up to find something to wear for that evening. There were too many options, yet not enough options. I quickly settled on the idea that it didn't matter what I wore that night, considering the nature of what I was going to be talking about with him. And if Brian couldn't accept how I looked, then it proved that I shouldn't put effort into caring if he was mad at me.

So, instead of dwelling over my appearance, I spent the time Emma and I would have spent in the library studying looking through my notes. Exams weren't until January, but you can never be too early to study.

Alas, my confident streak was completely compensated with the anxiety flooding back in when my mother, of all people, decided to give me a call for the first time in two weeks. I know, the amount she cared for me and my wellbeing was fucking indelible.

But, being on the phone with a woman with 43 years of life experience got me thinking: could my mum actually give me advice on dating and guys in general? It seemed way too late to even bring this stuff up, being 22 and all of my friends having the relationship talk at 15, but it was worth a shot. She was my mother, after all.

"Mum?" I interrupted her story of how her and Dad had been gardening all morning. There wasn't any response from the other side, so I just continued. "Can I ask your opinion on something?"

"Of course, sweetheart, you can ask me anything."

I took a deep breath, leaning against the wall. "Well..." I started, finding ways to articulate my situation. "There's this guy... At uni. And I'm getting really close to him—"

"Maria, I don't want any boys around you." Here we go.

"Mum, I'm 22." I said with an exasperated sigh. "I just want your advice on something."

"Carry on, then, I haven't got all day."

"I stayed at his house on Saturday night and... I left without saying anything in the morning. And I feel really bad about it. I really like him, mum, but he hasn't called me since then and I'm scared to call him because I feel like I've messed it up. I feel like I've upset him, and I don't know what to do. His band are playing somewhere tonight, and I don't know whether or not to go and see him or if that will make me look desperate." I let out a huge breath, everything coming out at once.