Page 135 of My Debacle with De Lorenzo

19. Isabella

August 31, 2019

Icheck my phone forthe billionth time and still nothing. I’ve decided to stop being so pathetically desperate and calling every five minutes. I have some self-respect. For the last two days, I’ve only been calling every twenty minutes. I go a little more insane every time my call goes unanswered. I’m fluctuating between broiling anger and worried out of my mind. I’ve been sitting outside on the porch for almost the entire day trying to clear my head. I keep telling myself that I’m not waiting for him...but I am.

The last time I saw him, he was okay, but not a hundred percent himself, and I’m worried because I don’t know what he’s going through. But at the same time, I’m fucking pissed off because there’s someone who does know what he’s going through and she’s the one he’s with right now. I keep replaying the conversation in my head, wondering if maybe I’m overthinking it.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” I greeted the unfamiliar voice. “Who’s this?”

“It’s Francesca.”

I’d been waiting six hours for him to pick me up for our little adventure, so hearing her voice on the other side made my heart drop straight into my stomach. “Uh...hi. Is Dylan around?”

“Yeah, hang on...It’s for you.”

The sound muffled, like she was covering the microphone, but I could still make out most of the words. “Franny, I’ve been fielding calls the entire morning, and if one more person has to ask me how I’m doing, I’m gonna lose it. Please, just switch my phone off.”

She comes back over the line. “Sorry, Dylan’s...busy. Can I take a message?”

“We had plans for today,” I say, my voice squeezing past the hard lump in my throat. “I just wanted to know if he’s still coming.”

“Um...something came up. We’re...sort of on our way out right now, and we won’t be back for a while, so I don’t think he’ll be coming. I’ll tell him to call you back later. Can you give me your name and number? It’s showing as private caller.”

I hid my number because he wasn’t taking my calls. “No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Thank you.”

She hung up, his phone went off, and I haven’t heard from him since then. I took a cab to his house probably three to four times a week, but Oscar kindly informed me that he had strict instructions to not let me in. I saw a black Lexus parked in the driveway almost every single time I went there. One of those times, I saw Fran and her parents getting out of it, so it’s just me that Dylan has decided to shut out. The same rules don’t apply to Fran.

Fran knows about a lot of things that he intentionally keeps from me, and I accepted that because he fed me that bullshit about me being his air pocket. I was stupid enough to believe that. He also said that when he pulls away like this, it’s because he wants to be alone. He told me he wasn’t with Fran or anyone else, and like an idiot, I believed that, too. Blatant lie. I saw it with my own eyes.

Now, I’m trying not to let my thoughts run rampant, but with each passing day, I’m becoming more anxious and edgy. Yesterday, I asked Scott if he knew where Dylan disappeared to, but he’s giving me the silent treatment now and refused to answer any of my questions. It’s understandable. I went with Lana to a party over the weekend. There were some college guys there and let’s just say that we had a bit too much fun. Word got out, obviously. Charlotte was there, too. There’s also a video making its way around, one where Lana is drinking body shots off me and it conveniently ends with me disappearing into a bedroom with one of those college guys, Bradley Kemp. Scott saw the video and, being the blindly loyal friend that he is, he doesn’t understand that I had my reasons for doing what I did. So, now he barely talks to me.

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