Page 26 of Wreck Me
Either way, I knew I needed to stay hopeful while I continued to try and better my life.
One day, things would be easier.
I let out a relieved breath when my phone restarted, rushing to the messages as soon as I could unlock the home screen. My brows pinched together when I had none waiting for me, but I typed a quick message to Isla without stopping to put much thought into why.
I’m so sorry, Starlight. My phone died and my errand took a lot longer than expected.
Send.
Minimizing the messages, I went to my call log next to check to see if she had called. She hadn’t.
I checked the time, seeing it was almost nine.
Nine and a half hours had passed, and she hadn’t reached out to me either. Hadn’t she wondered why I didn’t show up?
Immediately, I clicked her name, and the phone began to ring. The abrasive sound echoed through the speaker, my foot tapping anxiously while I waited for her to pick up.
“Hey, you’ve reached Isla, sorry I—”
I hung up, not wanting to leave a voicemail. I switched back over to the messages, typing another one to her, explaining myself further.
I needed to stop and get an estimate on getting my car worked on, and it took a while for the guy to do. I’ll make it up to you. Call me, I just want to hear your voice.
Fuck.
I knew she was mad. It was too early for her to be asleep, and despite her busy course schedule, she’d never not responded to me within a few minutes. Until now.
The way I saw it, I had two options. Sit here, do nothing, and hope she’d respond at some point tonight or tomorrow, or show up at her place and demand she talk to me. Even if she was pissed off or refused. With any luck, she’d hear me out, and I’d explain why I wasn’t there, even if the embarrassment killed me.
This wasn’t the end of her and me.
Quickly, I typed out‘I’m coming over’, pushed send, and tossed my phone down onto the bed. I needed to change into some fresh clothes: I could still smell the scent of tires on me. What I really wanted was a hot shower, but the idea of wasting more fucking time had me reaching for my deodorant instead. After swiping it beneath my armpits, I recapped it and shrugged on my slate gray tee shirt and black hoodie, turning to reach for my keys off my dresser, only to remember they weren’t there.
I ran my hand down my face again, feeling completely exasperated. Looking around the small space of my bedroom, I took an inventory of the things in this room that were trulymine. A tattered copy ofCatch-22and my phone charger sat on the nightstand. The clothes in my closet and the couple pairs of shoes sat beneath them. The shoebox I kept in the far corner of the shelf in my closet held a few baby photos of me and my mom, along with the necklace—two hearts—one for me, one for her. She’d always remind me that the necklace represented the two of us, and I remembered her wearing it every day.
Finding it under the end table in the living room after she left, laying carelessly beneath it with the clasp broken, had always been unsettling to me. There was never a time I could remember her taking it off, and I’d never been able to figure out why she would have left it behind.
A notification sounded from behind me as I continued to stare at the box, pulling my attention to the phone sitting in the middle of my bed. Picking it up, a smirk played on my lips at the name flashing across the screen. Swiping the notification, our string of messages pulled up and I read the newest one, my face falling as I scanned the words.
Don’t bother
“Fuck,” I roared, pocketing my phone.
Ripping my bedroom door open, I stomped out of the room, letting the door slam behind me. The lights were still on from when I had returned home earlier, and my father was in the same spot on the couch, head tilted back so far it looked painful, open-mouth snoring loud as fuck.
Ignoring him, I left the house, not slowing until I reached where the sidewalk met the street. I looked around, taking in the thick fog that’d rolled in tonight, and began walking in the direction of the bus stop. Pulling out my phone again, I found the schedule I had taken a screenshot of earlier, hoping I hadn’t missed the last bus. I picked up my pace, realizing I had less than five minutes to make it to the bus stop two blocks away.
I swear, I was so fucking done with tonight. This was the last bus running, and if Isla didn’t let me spend the night—or worse, not let me in at all—I’d be completely screwed.
Picking my pace up into a jog, I felt a fat raindrop hit the bridge of my nose, and then another on my cheek as the rain came out of nowhere, falling hard and fast until drops colored the sidewalk. My feet hit the pavement fast and as I rounded the corner of the street I needed, I watched as the bus veered away from the sidewalk, driving away without me on it.
* * *
I feltlike a literal fish out of water as I approached Isla’s apartment door, soaking wet from the rain, my hand already hovering in the air, ready to knock. My mind was spinning, trying to rehearse exactly what I would say, but sounding like a dickhead idiot, even in my own thoughts. I knew I should just be honest and tell her my car was a piece of shit and I didn’t feel comfortable putting her in the passenger seat. She’d understand I tried to do the right thing by getting an estimate to get it fixed, but I ended up fucking myself in the process because there’s no way I could actually afford to fix it.
Those are the things I should tell her, but fuck if that didn’t make me sound pathetic and weak.
But I wasn’t. Just broke. And my mouth went dry, realizing she meant more to me than anything money could buy.
