I Just Wanted to be Edgy Too

Chapter Eighty-One

Van

She looked different.

It'd only been three...almost four weeks, and she looked different. What would months do? I felt the panic shoot through me.

She'd done herself all up too, which didn't help alleviate the desire to close the space between us. Her hair fell in soft waves over her chest, and her eyes were all smoked out, the way she used to do them back on tour before we'd go out for the night. My mouth went dry at the memory of the first time i saw her look like that. She looked more beautiful than I expected her to tonight. I drug my teeth over my lower lip again on a sigh.

She hadn't said a word to me yet, just stared at me from the kitchen, shock and embarrassment washing over her features. Her cheeks reddened as she wiped her face again, doing her best to hide the evidence of fresh tears. But I'd heard her crying, watched her break down. I already knew what she was trying to conceal.

She was upset.

And she was upset because of me.

Why won't he call?

I swallowed my guilt as I stepped toward her slowly. I hadn't kept my word to her, allowing myself to get so wrapped up in what was going on around me that I'd forgotten to reach out again and again. Interviews, photo shoots, podcasts, contracts, all of those things combined, wrapped me up so tightly that I didn't even think to pull out my phone until it was too late.  The last few days were the worst, and I couldn't tell you the last time I had a decent amount of sleep on top of it all. I wasn't looking for excuses, but I knew myself well enough to know that I'd get wrapped up in this lifestyle from time to time and forget to breathe if it wasn't a habit. And she said it was okay, she wanted me to keep doing what I loved, but I promised her I'd call. I promised I wouldn't let her down, and I did.

I was near enough to her that I could reach out and touch her, and the thought of being this close to her and not touching her was eating me alive. This wasn't the reunion I'd expected. I expected to come home, knock on the door, and find her shocked to see me. She'd jump into my arms and we'd have a hard time keeping our hands off each other. But instead, she wasn't here when I arrived. I'd unlocked the door and let myself in, shocked to see that she left her phone but taken her purse. She couldn't have gone far, maybe to my parents, but I knew she wouldn't drive much further than that. I'd waited for a few hours, becoming more anxious at the thought of her absence. Where was she spending her time? What was she doing? What was her life like when I wasn't there to live in it?

But then she arrived. And she staggered in slowly, I laughed at her gait and how she didn't even notice my boots by the door or me, slumped in the chair in the corner. She'd gone right to her phone, as if she was expecting to find something there, but I never called her or messaged her when I realized she didn't have it. The way her face fell when she realized I hadn't reached out to her, was enough to break my heart on its own. I felt hollow watching her stare at the screen, and I wondered how many times in a day I did that to her. That's when I stood up. But she still didn't see me.

Why won't he call? Her voice cut through the silence as she spoke out loud to herself. I paused, unmoving as I watched her react to her own question.

She fell apart then, leaning into herself and covering her face with nervous hands. She let herself fall victim to her own sadness and I wondered how many days of being let down, were overlapping with her current feelings. I felt my bones turn to ash as I watched her cave in and wrestle with her emotions. She turned slowly toward the living room, toward where I was standing and I stopped breathing.

When she spotted me, she froze, and I couldn't think of anything to say other than surprise. It came out of my mouth all crumbled and hoarse. And now, now I didn't know what to say next.