Page 4 of Taking Chances

“No, Bryce,” I bite out. “I’m not. How could I be?”

“I’m really sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Well, you certainly did your best.” Sarcasm drips from my tone, but moisture pools in my eyes.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Annie. It just happened. She’sthe one.” He has the audacity to look sorry.

I thought I was the one.The words echo inside of my head. I’m on the verge of a breakdown and I want to be alone for that. “Just leave. Please.”

He dips his head. “Most of my stuff is already downstairs.”

“I don’t care.” My voice breaks, showing my bluff.

“I really hope we can be friends,” is the last thing he says before I close the door.

I slide down the door as an imaginary weight settles on top of my chest, constricting it. Tears fall from my eyes, hitting my cheeks. This time, rather than being devastated, I feel empty.

Bryce hates conflict. It was one of the things that brought us together. I was raised not to argue, not to stir any commotion. And I especially don’t like fighting in relationships, which should be peaceful and effortless.

Our relationship was exactly that, but I’m guessing it was effortless because he was putting in effort with someone else.

Instead of spending my Saturday morning volunteering at the domestic violence safe house like I usually do, I stress clean my entire apartment with blurry vision and a runny nose. I would hardly be useful there in the mental state I’m in, so I focus on erasing every mention of Bryce from my apartment. Luna, my cat, follows me around, concerned with my unhinged behavior until it’s time for me to meet my friends for drinks.

I expect to see him all around my apartment where he lived the last three months. However, nothing’s different than before he moved in. He was even considerate enough to take the few photos of us we had in the living room. Too bad he wasn’t considerate enough to not fall for someone else.

“He what?”Natalie shrieks, her dark brown curls bobbing as she gets into the booth across from me. The most secluded booth in Factory, just in case I didn’t hallucinate the guy from yesterday. I would like to avoid seeing him ever again.

“He said he was in love with someone else and he’s leaving to be with her,” I repeat, hoping that it will get easier the more I say it.

“Fucking idiot,” Rina scoffs, taking a swig of her drink. Natalie nods in agreement.

“I’m so sorry, Annie.”

I wince at Matt’s words. “Don’t call me Annie, please.” I used to hate that nickname, but found it kind of sweet when Bryce used it. Now it makes me sick.

“Sorry.” His green eyes are apologetic, and I know he’s sorry for more than that. The three of them work with me at the Butterfly Youth Center, also known as BYC, and are, without a doubt, my best friends. Matt’s arm wraps around Natalie’s shoulders and tears return to my eyes.

“Don’t rub it in, guys,” Rina scolds them and Matt quickly removes his arm.

“Don’t listen to her. I’m happy to see you in love.” And it’s the truth. Even though Matt and I used to be partners in the ‘finding true love’ crime and their hate to love story is disgustingly romantic.

Yesterday I gave up on the notion of love, but seeing them today, I know it’s possible. Just not for me, I guess.

“Seriously, what’s wrong with me?” I’ve been looking for love since learning what the word means, and I’ve made exactly zero progress. I would dare to say I’m even worse off than when I started.

“Absolutely nothing. Don’t you dare get on the self-hate train. You’re amazing and those assholes are not your fault.” Rina shows her protective mom side, her hazel eyes full of honesty.

“I’m the one choosing these a-holes.” I don’t really curse.That’s not what ladies do, as my mom would say.

“Only because the right one hasn’t appeared yet. But I’m sure he will.”

“It’s easy for you to say, Rins. It’s getting harder to believe it when I’m nowhere close to finding my Connor. Where is Connor, by the way? Watching Eric?” Connor is Rina’s husband and Eric is their seven year old.

“No, no. He went to meet an old hockey friend. He’ll meet us here when they’re done.” She glances at the door. “Oh, there he is. Connor!” she yells and waves.

I turn around to say ‘Hi’ but quickly regret it.

“Shoot,” I say, mostly to myself, noticing he’s not alone.

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