Page 37 of Left on Read

River: so I don’t know the etiquette for messaging someone after a date I didn’t know I was on but I had a really great weekend with you and I’m sorry for how I reacted. I’d like to see you again. Maybe we could chat when you have some time?

I added my phone number and sent the message. Hopefully I hadn’t just fucked everything up. Again.

“Feel better?” Zane asked when I slipped my phone back into my pocket.

“Yeah.” I climbed to my feet. “I’m gonna go decompress. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Night,” Noah said.

“Don’t forget to set your alarm,” Zane added.

“Yeah, you know that’s not happening.” I shot him a wave as I headed into my room. “Thanks for the wakeup.”

Zane’s answer was muffled by my closed door.

Usually the mess in my room didn’t bother me because it was what I liked to call “organized chaos.” My system didn’t make sense to anyone else, but it worked for me.

Tonight, however, the mess was a glaring reminder that I couldn’t even keep the one space in the apartment that was mine clean. I also regularly forgot to eat, never remembered to bring water or my sunglasses or a sweater to work or when we went out unless Zane reminded me. And I was always misplacing things I used daily, like my phone and keys, but could somehow remember where a random notebook I hadn’t looked at in months was.

I was twenty-four years old and couldn’t survive without my brother taking care of me.

Dejectedly, I peeled off my clothes and tugged on an oversized hoodie and a pair of Noah’s sweats that had ended up in my basket.

When I had my comfy clothes on, I flicked off the main light and flopped down on my bed. Using the remote I kept on my bedside table, I turned on the galaxy light on my desk.

I didn’t know much about space, but something about the fake twinkling stars and the swaths of color moving over the walls and ceiling of my room helped calm some of the noise in my head.

Normally I’d put some music on to help me focus on my thoughts, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to think too hard right now.

My phone vibrated softly. I picked it up and checked my notifications.

I didn’t use social media because I’d learned the hard way that my brain liked to disassociate while I doomscrolled random people’s posts, and I always read comments on videos and reels, even when I knew they’d be filled with people being mean or saying terrible things just because they could.

I knew doing it would just upset me, but I couldn’t seem to stop once I got caught in a doomscrolling spiral. It was like I needed to feel anger and sadness at how cruel people could be to distract me from the anger and sadness I always felt about myself.

The only notifications I got were emails, push ones for the various dating apps I’d tried when I was active on them, and texts.

This one was a text from an unknown number.

Hayden?

I opened the text thread and read the message.

Unknown: Hey. It’s Hayden. I’m not sure what the etiquette is now either.

Little flutters moved through my chest. I quickly changed his name in my phone before I forgot, then settled back to answer.

River: are you okay? I’m sorry I bailed like that. I just… there’s no excuse

Hayden: Considering I pretty much molested you when you thought we were just hanging out as friends, I’d say you were justified.

River: don’t do that

Hayden: Do what?

River: say it like that. You didn’t molest me. Not even close. I don’t want you to think you did something wrong or bad because you didn’t

Hayden: I’m so embarrassed.

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