Grooving to Life's Beat

Special Delivery: M&M's and Blushing Cheeks

The next morning, I stirred awake, disturbed by the relentless streaks of sunlight that sneaked through the closed curtains. After several blurry minutes, my eyes finally adjusted and I squinted at my wristwatch abandoned on the bedside table. It read 8:30 a.m. – definitely early for someone who had only hit the sheets a few hours ago. It's too early for adulting, I mumbled to myself, promptly burying my head back into the comfort of the perfect white sheets.

But my treacherous phone decided to join the wake-up party, buzzing enthusiastically on the bedside table. In my befuddled state, I reached out to grab it, wondering who in the world could be calling me at this early hour. The screen lit up, and I nearly fumbled the phone when Alexander's name flashed on the display again.

"I need to talk to you! Please call me when you see this!"

His message screamed at me from the screen, glaring back with an urgency that clashed against the exhaustion I felt. My heart lurched in confusion, a mess of anger and guilt swirling inside. At some point last night, I had stopped returning his messages, letting the silence stretch out longer than usual. But what good would it do to respond now? This entire back-and-forth over texts felt pointless. Besides, what was there left to be said? Alexander made his choices. He moved on.

It had been strangely easy to ignore him last night, caught up in the energy of the studio, surrounded by music, laughter, and the unexpected distraction of being near Marshall. Somehow, in that chaotic, vibrant space, I'd managed to forget everything for a while. I was having fun, letting myself get lost in the moment. But now, in the quiet aftermath of the night, those moments of relief felt dangerous. What was it about Marshall that made me forget, even if just for a little while? I barely knew him, and yet, there was something pulling me towards him—a kind of magnetism that left me with more questions than answers. Was it attraction? Or was I just looking for a way to numb the pain Alexander had left behind?

Ignoring Alexander's message, I flung myself back onto the bed, burying myself under the soft sheets like a child playing a dramatic game of duvet-hide-and-seek. Yet, even with the covers shielding me from reality, that persistent sense of emptiness lingered, clinging to me like an unwelcome guest. How could I just brush off all the years we spent together?

But my phone, relentless in its mission to disrupt my self-imposed duvet therapy, buzzed once more. Annoyance cranked up a notch, I tossed the duvet aside and stood up, dramatically planting myself in the center of the bed.

"Fine, Alexander! You wanna talk? Let's talk!" I declared to the empty room, my frustration building as I marched toward the phone, ready to unleash everything I'd been bottling up.

However, just as my finger hovered over the screen, my anger deflated. A bigger problem loomed. This time, the incoming call wasn't from Alexander.

It was from Mom.

This can only mean trouble.

"Emma, why aren't you answering your phone? What's going on?" Her voice hit like a crack of thunder, sharp and abrupt. Typical Mom. No preamble, no easing into things—just straight to the heart of the matter. I'd been dodging her calls for days now, sending off half-hearted excuses via text, hoping she'd let me breathe. But apparently, today was judgment day.

"Hey, Mom," I said, trying to sound casual, as though I hadn't just crawled out of the emotional wreckage of the last few days. "Sorry, I've just been caught up in... stuff." My voice trailed off, weak, as if that would fool her. It wouldn't.

"Don't give me that, Emma," she snapped, not missing a beat. "I spoke with Alexander. What happened between you two?"

Of course. She'd already spoken with him. Just perfect. Now I was cornered. I had barely made sense of it myself, and now I had to explain it to her? A shiver of frustration ran down my spine.