Page 58 of Broken Hearts
I hesitate. “I’ll text you.”
17
Rhett
“Look who it is!” Adam smirks from the kitchen when I finally get out of bed. Sienna had to leave for practice, but I went back to bed after she left to catch up on the sleep I didn’t get last night.
I grab a Powerade from the fridge and fall onto a stool at the counter.
“Heard you had a good time last night.”
“I did.” I take a long drink. “Wait, who did you hear that from?”
“You. I literally heard it. We all did.” He waves the spoon in his hand around and points to a giant box of condoms I somehow didn’t see when I sat down. “Mav dropped that off for you.”
Fucking nosy roommates. I shake my head and chuckle as I pick up the box of glow-in-the-dark condoms.
“Does Mav just have these in bulk or what? Never mind, I don’t want to know. Not sure I’m going to need them, though.” I run a hand through my hair, pushing the long strands out of my face.
“What happened?”
“Carrie,” I grumble. “She called a dozen times last night.” Nothing ruins the moment quite like your ex obsessively blowing up your phone at three o’clock in the morning.
“Chick is relentless.”
“No kidding. I don’t know what to do. Talking didn’t work. Ignoring obviously isn’t working either. Sienna took off as soon as it was daylight.”
“That sucks. I’m sorry. Still no to the blocking her number?”
“That just feels… wrong.”
“You could always change your number.” He smirks and goes back to stirring his oatmeal.
“Yeah, maybe.” I stand, taking the Powerade and condoms to my room.
We have the day off practice, but a meeting with Coach to talk about our next game. We play the Ice Bombers at regionals. Another do-or-die game.
Saturday night when we get back to the apartment and Sienna still hasn’t texted, I know she’s avoiding me.
Fuck. How did things with Carrie get so out of control? We’ve talked so many times about the breakup, hashing it out again seems pointless.
I call Carrie and while I wait for her to answer, I pace my room. Part of me hopes she doesn’t answer, but if she doesn’t then I’m just delaying the conversation. Something has to give. I can’t keep going like this. I want to move on. I wantherto move on.
“Rhett!” She answers after the third ring with a chipper tone that I didn’t hear a lot of the last few months we were together.
“Hey, Carrie. You have a few minutes to talk?”
“I answered the phone, didn’t I?” She laughs softly. “Congrats on your game! I’m sorry I called so late. I went out with some friends and didn’t realize what time it was when we got in.”
“It isn’t just that you called so late.” I screw my eyes closed. “You can’t keep calling.”
She’s quiet and I feel like an asshole.
“We broke up,” I add. “This isn’t healthy for either of us.”
“I miss you.” Her voice softens. “Don’t you miss me?”
I miss the routine of it sometimes, but do I miss her? No, at least not the same way she misses me. It brings me no pleasure to be the one shutting her down.
