Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 234779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1174(@200wpm)___ 939(@250wpm)___ 783(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 234779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1174(@200wpm)___ 939(@250wpm)___ 783(@300wpm)
He looks up from his things, flashing me a smile. “Have a good night.”
I slow to a stop. “Um… Hunter Maxwell didn’t show up today. I have his phone number. If you want me to send him an assignment, I could reach out and catch him up on what he missed.”
“Oh, thanks for the offer, but that won’t be necessary. Hunter reached out to me earlier this week. Unfortunately, his obligations to the football team proved too demanding, so he won’t be able to work on the paper, after all.”
Hearing that shouldn’t make my stomach sink, but it does. “Oh.”
Mr. Lohman nods. “Too bad. His article was really good.”
My chest feels heavy as I make my way out of the school.
I have to walk home today, and instead of taking the long way like I have been, I decide to take the shortcut through the woods.
When I get to our footbridge, I stop. I look around, as if expecting my presence here to summon him, but of course it doesn’t.
I know I should walk the rest of the way home, but I want to feel close to him in some small way, so I sit down on the bridge. I take out some books and attempt to get started on my homework, but I’m too distracted thinking about everything Mr. Lohman said.
Thinking back on how unwelcoming I was when Hunter showed up at the first newspaper meeting, I feel guilty. I don’t own the school paper. If Hunter was interested in it and good at it on top of that, he should write for the paper. I would hate to stand in the way of that. I don’t think he signed up out of genuine interest, but… what if he did, and he only quit because of me?
Setting my books aside, I take out my phone. I navigate to Hunter’s contact information.
I hesitate, but only for a second, then I unblock his number and start a text to him.
“You didn’t have to quit the paper. I hope it wasn’t because of me.”
I press send before I can change my mind, then I stare at the screen, but it doesn’t register as read.
I know I should wait, but I can’t seem to stop myself from texting him again. “Mr. Lohman said your article was really good, and I agree. You’re talented, Hunter. If you want to write for the paper, you should.”
I wait longer that time, but he still doesn’t answer.
It starts to make me feel desperate. A tight, constricting feeling starts in my chest. I haven’t felt this way in a long time.
Not since middle school.
Not since last time he gave me the cold shoulder.
It’s similar to the feeling I get when I’m fighting with my mom, but there’s a desperation with Hunter I don’t feel with her. No matter what it’s about, I know I’ll never lose Mom over a fight, but that’s not the case with Hunter. I can lose him. I did before.
That wasn’t what I wanted.
I know I told him no in my bedroom, but this isn’t what I wanted.
I know I shouldn’t, my rational mind all but expressly forbids me from texting him again when he hasn’t responded to my first two messages, but without my mind’s permission, my thumbs start flying across my phone screen again.
“This isn’t what I wanted, Hunter. I don’t want you out of my life completely. Just because we can’t be together that way… does it have to be all or nothing? Can’t we still be friends? I still care about you.”
I sigh, putting my phone down on the aged wood and trying my best to study again, but it’s impossible when I’m sitting there waiting for messages that aren’t coming.
I finally pack it up and head home.
I hope I’ll accomplish more once I’m there, but when I get to my bedroom and spread out all my school books across the bedspread, I still find my gaze going back to the damn phone.
It’s like that all night. Trying to study is an exercise in futility. I’m so frustrated by the end of it, I give up and go to take a shower. I don’t even need one, I usually shower in the morning, but I need to do something that forces me away from my phone, and showering is all I can think of.
As soon as I’m out, I run back to my bed and grab the phone.
Still nothing.
I sit down on the edge of the bed and sigh, realizing I made a big mistake. I gave up a lot of ground texting him. The ball is in his court now. I don’t know when—or even if—he’ll hit it back, so I’m tempted to just keep throwing balls at him.
I can’t, though. The more I do that, the more power I’m giving him. I’m letting him see that being without him is making me crazy. If he sees that, I’m doomed.