Page 69 of The Consequence of Loving Me

Because it’s obvious by the bag that now sits in her passenger side that she’s leaving.

She’s running.

And even though I could run out and try to change her mind, my feet stay planted. I’m tired—exhausted—of chasing her. There were only so many times she could tell me I was nothing but sex to her before I started to believe her.

I’m still confident it meant more to her, but I won’t continue to try to make her admit that. If she wants to convince herself we were just two people having fun this whole time, then I’ll let her believe it.

Veronica climbs into her car and slams her door shut. I watch from the window as she looks up at the spot where I stand. My blinds are drawn—I know she can’t see me—so I allow myself to be fascinated with her one last time.

She swipes underneath her eyes, making it obvious that she’s crying. It seems like two hours, but it’s probably only two minutes that she stares at the window.

A piece of my pathetic heart hopes she’s changing her mind about leaving—about us.

But her car engine starts, proving me wrong yet again.

Veronica looks up at my window one more time before she starts to reverse down the driveway.

Her rearview lights disappear in the early morning sun, taking what’s left of my heart along with her.

38

Veronica

“Done.” I click the green button to turn in my last final of the semester before slamming my laptop shut. This earns me a look from my mother from across the long table.

She’s flipping through a magazine, mumbling judgments of different celebrities as she does so. “You know you’re very fortunate your father could pull enough strings to allow you to finish this semester fully online.” Her tongue sticks out to lick her finger as she continues to rifle through the pages.

She’s right. After my confrontation with Maverick, I fled. I came back to South Carolina. That week break turned into a month. Once I was home, I couldn’t muster up the courage to return to Kansas. Any time I thought I could face Maverick, I remembered the disappointed look on his face as he watched me from his bedroom window. I could barely see him through his blinds, but I saw enough to know I’d let him down.

I was always letting people down, and I couldn’t go back there just to do it again.

It took a lot of begging—and lies—to get my father to contact the dean of my college. They have mutual friends, so the dean agreed to let me finish the rest of my classes online. And for the last month, I’ve been hiding. I never thought I’d run back to the place I had initially run from, but my life is quite ironic. I’d rather face my past here than face my present in Kansas.

My heart still misses Maverick. When I’m alone at night, I cry. I cry because I destroyed the one good thing in my life because I was too damn scared to have him destroy me instead.

I haven’t heard from anyone on campus except for Lily and she is freaking persistent. I hadn’t been in South Carolina for a full day before she started blowing up my phone. At first, her voicemails and texts were all angry. She even cussed me out via video using a pretty filter on Snapchat.

But then she started to give me random updates. Updates on her volleyball team. Updates on her relationship with Aspen—or lack thereof. Updates on her skincare routine.

Her updates on Maverick were the ones I craved the most.

Her texts that assured me he was still single. Her texts that told me what he was doing. Her texts that made me feel like shit because she told me he was doing well.

He’s doing fine, and I’m barely getting by here at home.

I miss him.

I miss him so fucking much, and I don’t know what to do about it.

“Veronica?”

I look up to find my mom watching me with a curious stare. I have no idea what she was saying before I got lost in my thoughts, so I adjust my position in the uncomfortable chair and wait for her to repeat herself.

But she doesn’t, so I say, “What, Mom?”

“I was asking if you’ve decided yet if you’re going back to Kansas or not when the spring semester starts. It’s silly that we’re still paying for that house on campus when you aren’t even there. I think it’s time you decide what you want to do next.” Her hand reaches across the table and rests on top of mine—a comfort.

I stare down at her nude fingernails. She’s been wearing the same color of nail polish for as long as I can remember.

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