Page 59 of Don't Leave
Although, I don’t think it’s working. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be such a mess.
It’s all I can do to hoist the corners of my mouth into something that hopefully resembles an anemic looking smile. For the past week and a half, I’ve been going through the motions. It’s just easier that way.
I’d like to think I’m getting pretty good at faking it.
Or not.
With almost a year of therapy under my belt, I’ve learned how important it is to talk about your feelings, generate a plan, and face your problems head on. Since the breakup, I remember how much easier it is to curl up in a tight ball and ignore the pain that throbs through every spore of my body.
Everything hurts.
Everything feels tender.
It’s like an open sore that refuses to heal.
It’s like I’m back to square one again in the healing process. It sucks ass.
On the bright side, at least I’m no longer having anxiety issues.
Brooklyn snorts.
We’re both bundled up in thick winter jackets with hats pulled low over our ears to protect them from the icy cold winds that blow through leafless trees and around squat stone buildings. To make matters worse, we had our first snowfall the other day, which made everything feel even more depressing.
“Cassidy, you are so far from fine that it’s not even funny.” There’s a pause before she adds in a serious tone, “I’m worried about you.”
I don’t bother to argue because the effort seems pointless. There’s also the fact that she’s spot-on in her assessment of the situation.
I’m not fine.
Even more concerning—I have no idea when I’ll befineagain.
I’m in such a bad place that I’ve actually kicked around the idea of popping in to see Dr. Thompson, but the idea of actually coming face-to-face with her makes me gut sick.
Brooklyn slings an arm around my shoulder before hauling me close as we trudge to our nine o’clock classes.
A small smile tips one corner of her mouth up as she says, “Who would have ever thought that we’d be having so many penis problems.”
I shake my head and force out a weak laugh. “I don’t think we have problems with penises.”
Of course we do. Penises are usually at the root of every girl’s problem.”
“Well, Cole and his penis don’t want anything to do with me, and you and Austin’s penis are nothing more than?—”
“Fuck buddies?” she supplies with a bright smile.
“That wasn’t exactly how I was going to describe it but sure, we’ll just go with that.” There’s a moment of silence as we both dwell on our penis problems. “So, how’s that situation working out for you?”
She shrugs. “It’s not. The wholesleeping-with-him-to-lose-interest-in-himstrategy hasn’t been going according to plan.”
I raise a brow, unsurprised by her pronouncement. What does amaze me is that she’s admitting defeat. “No? How shocking. I mean, your plan had foolproof written all over it.”
She gives me a little shove. “Oh, shut up.”
A chuckle slips free from me in response. Although, it sounds a bit rusty around the edges. There hasn’t been much to laugh about lately.
I glance over at her. “Does that mean you’re going to finally put an end to all this hooking up business?”
She scrunches her nose and gives me aare-you-off-your-fucking-rockerlook. “What kind of question is that? Of course, I’m going to keep knocking boots with him. The guy is freaking phenomenal in bed.” She tugs me closer before whispering in my ear, “And when I sayphenomenalwhat I really mean isfreaking amazing. Remember when I mentioned what he could do with that tongue of his?”
