Page 53 of The Other Half

I pocket my phone without replying, feeling my heart shred apart in my chest. I’m such a piece of shit, and I don’t know how not to be. Which is exactly why I need to let her move on.

Chapter 41

Oakley

I wake up to a splitting headache. Rays of sunlight splinter through the blinds onto my quilt, it must be getting close to noon if the sun is already on this side of the house.

I sit up in my bed and moan, feeling a mixture of pain and nausea settle in my stomach. Flashbacks from the night before invade my mind. The eggnog. The asshole jock from St. Frances. The red dress that kept slipping down too far.

Suddenly I remember the picture of Oliver’s abs. His perfect, incredibly chiseled abs. My eyes go wide. Holy shit, what have I done? I reach over to my nightstand and unlock my phone. No new messages.

I tap Oliver’s name and scroll through our conversation. I feel my entire body heat from a combination of embarrassment and lust. I’ve never, ever sexted anyone in my life. I’ve always found it disgusting and crude. But apparently drunk Oakley doesn’t care about those inhibitions.

I read the last message I sent.

Oakley: I miss you.

No reply. What an asshole. He didn’t mind sending me a picture of his penis, but he doesn’t actually miss me, just “my body”. Another wave of nausea engulfs me, but this time I think it has less to do with the eggnog. If it wasn’t humiliating enough that I sexted him in the first place, he’s gone ahead and proved to me again that I might as well be dirt on the bottom of his shoe. I feel like the world’s biggest doormat.

After a quick shower, I pad down the stairs and into my kitchen, hoping to find some ginger ale to settle my stomach.

“Good morning, sleepy head.” My mom says.

“Morning,”

“You got something in the mail I think you’ll be excited about.” She hands me a white envelope, she’s practically bouncing up and down.

I just stare at it. I can’t believe people like drinking, especially now that I know what a hangover is like. I feel awful.

“Well? Open it.”

I grab it from her and read the return address. ANGELWOOD UNIVERSITY - BROOKHAVEN, GEORGIA

I take a deep breath and exhale. I was hoping I’d find the letter before my parents did, so I could open it in private. I tear it open slowly and unfold it. If I didn’t already feel like puking, I definitely do now.

Congratulations! We’re pleased to inform you that you’ve been accepted into the B.A. in History program at Angelwood University.

I know that I should feel happy, or proud of myself at least, but I don’t. I want to rip up the paper and throw it in the trash. I don’t want to move away. I know that’s all I’ve dreamed about for over four years, but after meeting Oliver everything has changed so drastically that I don’t really know what I want.

My mom just stares at me, her face void of emotion.

“I got in,” I say soberly.

Her face lights up with a huge smile, revealing her sparkly white teeth. “Ahhh! I knew you would!” She runs out of the kitchen giddily. “Dan! Come here!”

Fuck, of course the first thing she does is tell him. I take a deep breath, preparing myself for this conversation.

“What is it?” Dad says as he walks into the room.

“She got into Angelwood!” Mom trots back over to me and squeezes my shoulders. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

Dad gives me a hint of a smile. Those are so rare nowadays, I hardly recognize him. “I never doubted she would.” He walks over and gives me a quick hug. I’m ashamed of the fact that it makes me a little bit happy, I feel like he never shows me any affection anymore.

“Are you excited?” Mom asks with a huge smile still plastered on her face.

“Yeah,” I lie. “I applied to a couple of other schools, too, just to keep my options open. So I’d like to wait until I hear back from them to make a decision.”

My mom’s face looks suddenly crestfallen, you’d think I just told her I killed our cat.

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