Page 42 of Ghosted By Texas

No texts.

And certainly, no knocks on my door.

It felt like history was repeating itself, only I’d done the right thing this time and opened communication between us. So, why wasn’t he communicating?

I bargained with Karma, explaining that the Uber driver had been payment for anything that could have been past due on my account. I even tried to tell her I would take on Austin’s karma, if it meant we could have a simple conversation and I was no longer left in limbo.

Karma ignored me. Not that I truly expected a response from an ideal that had been personified.

When another hour ticked by, I thought maybe Austin was angry with me for leaving without a word and decided to sleep on it before coming to see me. At some point, my eyes drifted shut against my will and my body shut down. It probably had something to do with the mental and emotional drain of sobbing for the past two hours.

Sleep didn’t claim me for long. It was around nine in the morning when my blurry eyes tried to focus on my phone only to see that there were still no calls or texts. I needed my best friend. It was time to come clean to her about how stupid I’d been. She would talk me off the emotional ledge, maybe tell me I’d simply hit my head and imagined the past two weeks with the one who got away. Then, things could get back to normal.

I reluctantly peeled Austin’s shirt from my body, though it was evidence that proved I wasn’t having some crazy weeks-long delusion. Then I hopped in the shower and attempted to wash the previous night away. What had been the greatest night of my life, turned into another nightmare instead.

The worst part was, I knew this would happen so long as things remained in limbo where Jordan had been concerned. We hadn’t talked about her. We had avoided his house altogether until tonight, and now I knew why. At least, what Jordan wanted me to think about why his house had been off limits. I wouldn’t take anything she said for gospel, until Austin and I spoke.

I managed to get all the way downstairs, into my car, and over to Clea’s house without actually thinking. It was like my brain was on autopilot, trying to get to the one person who might help me make sense of everything.

Only, she wasn’t there. I assumed she was at the other Texas boy’s house. Hopefully, things went better for her. As I sat there, wondering what to do, a text pinged my phone. I grabbed the damn thing so fast that it dropped and I ended up having to get out of my damn car to search under the seat for it. Once I had it back in hand, I glanced down and was disappointed to see that it was my best friend, not my boyfriend.

Yes, I was at her house, looking for comfort, but there was still a stubborn part inside my heart that refused to believe history was truly repeating itself. I had hoped it would be him.

Clea: How was your night? I got food poisoning, tell you about it when I see you.

That sounded so normal. Why couldn’t I have gotten food poisoning at dinner and then we wouldn’t have had a fabulous night together, so there would have been no reason for it to fall apart in the end. Denial was a bitch, because then I thought about what would have happened if I’d gone home alone, sick while Austin went back to his place and Jordan showed up. Would the night have ended in more than an argument between them? For that matter, did it? I still hadn’t heard a thing from Austin, but she’d been there with him when I left. Maybe she still was.

Was I that easily replaced when push came to shove, and Jordan was the one doing the pushing? It felt like it in the bright light of day. I glanced down at the text my best friend sent because I needed something to ground me and keep me from going down the ‘what if’ rabbit hole of my relationship.

Clea: How was your night? I got food poisoning, tell you about it when I see you.

Nope. It hadn’t changed. Still just a message from Clea about food poisoning.

Becs: Will you be home after lunch? I stopped by, but I’m guessing you’re at lover man’s place.

Clea: I can leave now, if you need me.

Becs: No, I’ll see you for lunch.

Clea: Okay, see you then, but I’ll probably just be on a liquid diet, so no need to bring food for both of us.

Becs: No need for food then. Gotcha.

There was no way I’d have an appetite either, so I guess we both had our own illnesses to attend. Clea had her food poisoning, and I had my heartbreak. I didn’t wish this feeling on anyone, so trading places was out of the question, but I wished that food poisoning was all I had to deal with. My heart ached for that to be what ailed me instead of what was happening.

By the time my pseudo lunch rolled around with Clea, I decided to keep things vague. Dallas had apparently warned Houston and my best friend that something had gone down involving me being at Austin’s place as a hookup and Jordan showing up and throwing a fit.

I don’t know why I lied to her, maybe it was because I wasn’t ready to deal with everything just yet. Part of it was because I couldn’t handle the pity or lectures about how I should have known better. Not that Clea would lecture so much as pity my situation. Truthfully, there was no way to admit that I’d spent the past two weeks falling for Austin all over again, only to have the past repeat itself. There was nothing my friend could do to help me with that, so I sugarcoated things. I told her we basically had a one-night stand and that it was ruined by Jordan.

“Did he at least text you or call to make sure you got home safely?” She asked me, when I explained that Jordan was saying some shitty things about me being there in the house they’d built together. It was understandable that I ran. My bestie would have done the same thing and we both knew it so there was no reason for her to voice that part.

“No, and he’s the one that drove me to his house.” I left out what the rest of our night had been like, because if she heard about it, she would know. She would know how fucking heartsore I was and then try to hug me, at which point I would fall to pieces on her.

“I walked three blocks from his place before I could even call for an Uber to come get me. Then, I had to wait there for the guy to show up, and to top off my miserable morning he was playing showtunes on the stereo.”

“What do you have against showtunes? You like musicals.”

“Sure, when the people singing them can actually sing, but you didn’t let me get to the part where my driver thought it was a ride and a show. He was singing along at the top of his lungs, and it wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t even ugly, Clea. It was so awful that I think a little bit of my brain might have leaked out of my ears in an attempt to escape.”

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