Page 105 of The Accidental Text

I reach over and give her a couple of her signature impersonal pats on the arm. “Good try.”

She turns her body to the side so she’s facing me. “What are you going to do?”

“Nothing,” I say. “I’m going to go to work tomorrow and just live my life.”

“That sounds so boring.”

“It sure does.”

Chapter 30

Ihaven’t heard from Chase again. Not since Sunday morning when all he said was “Please call me.” I never texted him back. I just need more time.

It’s Tuesday now and I’m at work, trying to focus. It’s been hard to do that. I feel kind of lost right now. The irony is that the person I would have texted right now, to tell him how lost I feel, is the same person who’s causing that feeling.

Life feels hard right now. It feels like too many things coming at me at once. I feel like I’ve lost so much in the past six months. My mom, texting my mom, and now I feel like I’ve lost Chase.

Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe I could have just kept things the way they were.

I keep thinking about what Hannah asked … her hard question. Is this love? Is what I feel for Chase … love? It kind of feels like it. Hannah’s quote she used—the wrong one about the bigger the jump, the harder the fall—kind of works in a different context. Like the bigger the feelings, the harder the heartbreak. It feels like that. My feelings were big, and now my heartbreak is equally big. Or bigger.

I feel tears prick in my eyes and I do that rapid blinking thing to get them to stop.

“Are you going to be ready for Saturday?”

I look up to see Devon standing in my doorway. He’s got ondark jeans and a Cooper’s polo. “What?” I say, as I reach up and dab the corners of my eyes with my fingers.

“Saturday? You’re not going to chicken out again?”

“Did Chelsea send you?”

“Of course.” He comes in and takes a seat in the chair opposite my desk.

“Of course,” I echo. “Well, I hope I don’t.”

“I can’t report back with that answer. I need a firm yes.”

“Go away, Devon.”

He smiles. “What’s wrong with you?” He gestures with a hand toward me.

“Nothing.”

“Your eyes look all watery or something.”

“Just … having a rough day.”

“Right,” he says. “Mom?”

I give him a sad smile. “Not Mom this time. Surprisingly enough.”

“Then what?”

I already know that Devon will not offer me anything I need right now. This is our MO. I’ve tried to talk to him about feelings, and he’s never been a source of advice or comfort.

“Boy troubles,” I say, hoping that will get him off it.

“Try me. I’m a boy.” He points to himself.

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