Page 90 of Still Here Without You

“Doubt it. We didn’t even exchange numbers.”

“Joel then?”

“Yep.” I texted him earlier to tell him I got home safely.

“Oh, sweetie. You need to explain everything to him.”

“You know what he’ll say. He’ll say it’s okay. That he still wants to be with me, but then…what if he regrets it or resents me?”

Mom pulls me into a hug as the tears fill my eyes. “It’s better if we hate each other.”

“That’s never the best option.”

“Maybe. But I don’t know what else to do.”

Picking my phone up off the table, I check Joel’s reply, immediately cringing. I texted him as I left Eli’s car.At six thirty!My stomach churns as I realize my mistake.

Delilah: Home safe. Walking in now. X

Joel: Right, okay. Point made.

Fuck!

I stand under the shower for what feels like hours, trying to wash away the fight with Joel. I can’t get the images of him out of my head, so when I get back to my room, I pull out my laptop, needing to get my thoughts down on paper—well, on the screen. After writing that first email to Joel last year, I’ve found it very therapeutic to tell him how I feel. He was the one person I could talk to, and when I lost that, I struggled. Having this outlet has helped me to cope. Like he’s still a part of my world. Even when in reality, I can’t let him be.

Joel,

I’m sorry that I keep hurting you even though it’s the last thing I ever wanted to do. I promised myself I’d stay away from you, but one touch and all my reasons fade away. You deserve better. I know it’s wrong, but fighting with you makes it easier for both of us. Also, nothing happened with Mark. I thought you should know that. And, I love the jacket, but it’s time I let it go. I’m sorry.

Delilah.

I stare at the screen when I’m done until my phone alerts me to a text. From Joel. He was so mad at me, I honestly didn’t think I’d hear from him again. At least not until the dust had settled.

Joel: I’m sorry

Dropping my face into my hands, I sigh. He’s not even doing anything wrong, and I hate that I’m making him feel that way. I just don’t know how else to play this. If I knew that all he truly wanted was friendship, this would be a lot easier, but after the club last night, it’s safe to assume that’s not the case. For either of us. I just don’t know if I can stay away.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Delilah

Forthenextmonth,Joel texts me every few days. It’s usually just to check in and ask me about my day or to say something sweet. There’s never any pressure to reply, but I always do. I can’t stop myself. In fact, I’m finding it really hard to keep my distance. Every time I see him, read his texts, or even hear his name, I’m reminded of what we had and how fucked-up it is now. The only problem is that the more he acts like he’s not giving up, the more it cements my decision to keep my distance. If I’m around, he’s never going to move on, and yet, why the hell can’t I just let him be?

There’s a package waiting on my doorstep when I get home from cheer practice one day in late February. It’s unmarked, but I know it’s for me, and I know who it’s from.

I take it inside but leave it on the kitchen counter, unsure if I want to open it. But as I continue on with my day, it haunts me, drawing my eyes whenever I’m close by. After an hour of procrastinating, I tear off the paper like I’m ripping off a Band-Aid and then cry.

Inside the package is a soft brown leather-bound notebook with unlined pages and two pencils. The cover has an intricate design of swirls and lines that create different images depending on what direction you hold the book. It’s exactly like the one I use for designs. The one I’ve only mentionedonceto Joel in passing. He’s never even seen it. Picking up the book, I run the paper through my fingers, enjoying the sound of the flapping pages. When I get to the first page, a note falls out.

Del,

I found this randomly when I was Christmas shopping for my family. It reminded me of the one you’d described to me the day before you left for Paris. Although, maybe I’m remembering it wrong. Anyway, I thought of you when I saw it, so it should be in your hands.

Take care,

Joel

The tears fall even harder for this beautiful man. The man that deserves everything he’s ever dreamed of, and I wish for the millionth time that things were different. But they’re not. So I cry for a solid hour before I have to pick myself up off the floor and rush to my late-afternoon class.

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