Deleted Messages

Deleted Messages

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Tue, Oct 29, 2019
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Fiction
Mystery
I'm not sure about this guy, I've been talking to him for awhile...Sure I've known him for, what? 6months? But he sounds sincere. Then again...he did mention that he knew someone...dangerous All my life I've been taught to stay away from online "friends". They would always say that in school, "they're not your friends, you can't trust people on the internet." Yeah, I get that, but that's the problem. You forgot to mention the people that are there for you, the ones that help with the problems you had at school. Unlike the friends you have in real life, to be honest, they're the ones you have to look out for. They might sound trustworthy, but that's what they want you to think. This guy is different, if not, trouble..and he might not be the best way to go. Sometimes I catch a slip. He would say the wrong thing and delete it. I don't mean those "oops, wrong person" messages, I'm talking about the little details in the texts that they send you. A bit of a hint that something's off. If you're a normal person, you'd think nothing of it and convince yourself you're thinking too much into it. Thinking you were adding a new meaning to every word, like they did in those reading passages in grade school. But you know? I've never really been good in reading, especially if it means reading in between the lines.
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Unlikely

I got more and more annoyed as he drove up, parked and unmounted his bike. He pulled off his helmet and shook his head, noticing me there staring at him. We just stared at each other, neither moving, neither speaking. He started to make his way up his driveway, not even bothering with a greeting, so I called out to him. "Hey! Where've you been?" I tried not to sound accusatory or angry, and I succeeded. Though I sounded more hurt than anticipated. He stopped and walked towards me. He walked kind of slowly, like he was trying to avoid me. I stood on the steps, fighting the urge to walk towards him so we could talk. Never ever did I think I'd want to talk to him, yet here I was. Once in front of me he stayed at the bottom step, not climbing up further. He said nothing and I repeated my question once again, "Where have you been?" He shifted then just replied with "Out." "Out?" I repeated, getting refueled with annoyance. "That's it? You've been missing all day and all you have to say is you were out?" "Fuck, dude, what are you, my mom? I was out! Are you trying to keep tabs on me or something?" I was angry at him, and started to feel feelings towards him that I haven't felt in months. I stepped down two steps to look at him eye level, ready to argue with him. But, rather than open my mouth to fight, I found myself staring at his tired gaze and freezing for a moment. I didn't want to fight with him, and I saw he didn't want to fight with me-at least, that was my hope. I let my glare fall and closed the distance between us, wrapping my arms around him in the tightest hug I could muster. He seemed shocked, remaining rigid in my arms until I quietly muttered, "I was worried about you, jackass," into his neck. He just sighed before relaxing and hugging me back.

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