Page 93 of Take Care, Taylor

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She winked and blew a kiss before the screen went black.

I replayed it.

Again.

And again.

And again—until my reflection blurred in the dark screen, and I couldn’t tell if I was looking at her face or mine.

TRACK 43. CLEAN (1:21)

AUDREY

Three weeks later

Dear Audrey,

How much longer are you planning to avoid me?

I’m trying my best not to go fucking insane, but this is torture—and I know you know that.

I wake up every morning wishing you were still in my arms, that your lips were still pressed against mine.

I can’t concentrate on much of anything else. My friends and family won’t answer my calls because all I do is talk about you.

Not that that’s your fault—it’s all mine. I’m asking—no, begging you to unblock me and let me talk to you, so I can make things right between us.

Please.

I’m really sorry, and I really fucking miss you.

(Are you watching my games, by chance? Would you like to come see me play in the VIP box again?)

Take care,

Taylor

Ireread Taylor’s latest letter for what had to be the hundredth time.

My heart ached with every word, begging me to give in and at least text him that I’d received it—but I refused.

Every hour without him was time slowly sweeping away the pain, and he would eventually become a distant memory I’d write about someday.

Once a bully, always a bully.

Folding the paper, I tucked it into a box with the others and walked into the living room.

Cecelia was sprawled across the couch, fanning her latest manicure.

“How long exactly do you plan to sleep on my couch?” I asked.

“You said I could stay here as long as I needed to.”

“That typically means two weeks.”

“Well, you never actually said that.” She shrugged. “Alas, let’s reset the time so today counts as my first day, okay?”

“Fine.” I laughed, plopping onto the chair across from her.

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